Namer Island,
unknown
unknown
September 15th 385 Post Global Unification
Eighteen years after the Hailey Incident
Moving through the tunnel, Avrich Ferryn followed the horned figure ahead of him, his gaze cutting through the darkness. He held his briefcase tightly as he stepped carefully through the brown-stained water coating the ground. The last thing he wanted was to soil his immaculate black business suit. He avoided the steady leaks dripping from the ceiling with practiced precision. Even in the near-total darkness, Avrich could see.
As an Ascendant, he applied his Internal senses, allowing his physical vision to pierce the gloom—though only in muted shades of black and white, stripped of color and warmth. The horned being ahead of him moved with effortless grace. Clad in a black robe cinched with a crimson sash, the Asetian paid no mind to the filth beneath his feet. He slowed, glanced back at Avrich's briefcase, then met his eyes.
"Business must be getting pretty good for you people," Gyan said lightly, a chuckle rumbling from his throat.
Avrich smiled. Tensions between the Middle Eastern Alliance and the Eastern Continent were nearing a breaking point. The situation simmered—volatile, unstable. Ever since the Blaze King's intervention in the Kazhan Wasteland, where Aranian forces who crossed the continental border were slaughtered by Kazhan troops, the region had teetered on the brink.
Aran demanded recompense for the deaths of its citizens at the hands of a King-realm being. Kazhan demanded accountability for Aran's provocation. From Avrich's perspective, war between the Global Union and the Middle East Alliance was inevitable. And war was good for business.
Especially for Shadow Garden. The tunnel opened suddenly, revealing a vast hollowed chamber beyond. Avrich stopped at the edge and looked down. They were high above the ground—far higher than he'd expected. Below them waited the true reason he was here.
"Come along," Gyan said.
Without hesitation, he stepped off the ledge. Gravity claimed him instantly. Avrich sighed and activated a Magic technique, his descent slowing as he floated downward. Gyan, meanwhile, adjusted his body mid-fall. As he neared the ground, gravity seemed to loosen its grip, his form growing lighter until he landed softly—without so much as disturbing the dust. Avrich touched down beside him moments later, deactivating his technique.
"Welcome, Broker," a voice called out.
Avrich looked ahead. Waiting at the center of the chamber stood Kars Ma'ha-Ra—a two-horned figure clad in black, a red sash tied at his waist. Before him rose a massive stone formation shaped into a table, its surface alive with holographic projections.
The image displayed the island of Namer. More specifically—
Academia City. And at its heart, the Namer Academy, one of the six most prestigious Institutes for Magical research in the Global Union. Avrich's smile widened. Business had officially begun.
"Kars… never thought I'd be seeing you again," Avrich said as he approached the Asetian.
A smirk curved across Kars Ma'ha-Ra's beautiful, inhuman face. The Asetians were one of many races that walked the world—and the most powerful, even if the Lumerian Church would never admit it. They claimed descent from the gods who once ruled the earth, and judging by their appearance and the sheer weight of their presence, it was hard to argue otherwise. Many Great Magicborn families boasted divine ancestry. But only the Asetians possessed something undeniable.
Immortality.
Cultivation promised power and eternal life—goals most spent centuries chasing. The Asetians were born with the latter, divinity flowing through their veins from the moment they entered the world.
"I heard a rumor," Avrich said lightly, "that the Azural Library suffered a break-in a few months ago. An artifact was taken."
Kars's expression didn't change. "And?"
"You do know Shadow Garden deals in stolen goods," Avrich replied.
"I'm not here to sell," Kars said calmly. "I'm here to buy."
Avrich grinned. He'd expected nothing less. With a soft scoff, he set the briefcase atop the stone table. As it touched down, another presence stirred. An Asetian stepped out of the surrounding shadows, glanced at Avrich with open disdain, then turned away. Two horns. Like Kars's. Curved, elegant, extending from the sides of his head.
A noble Asetian.
Among their kind, two horns signified purity of blood, status earned by lineage alone. Avrich opened the briefcase. Crimson light spilled out, flooding the chamber. The World energy around them shuddered violently, rippling as though disturbed by a predator entering its domain.
"What is that?" Gyan muttered.
He could feel it—the disturbance tugging at his core, trying to force it into rotation.
"A Hexgem," Kars said quietly.
"By Menes' name," Gyan hissed. "Where did you get a raw Hexgem?"
Hexgems were legendary ores, saturated with immense potential. Once refined, they could absorb ambient essence and convert it into Anima—functioning much like artificial cores. Their value surpassed even Anima crystals and stones. This one, however, was still raw. Unprocessed. Which was why it radiated World essence, not Anima. It had yet to awaken its conversion cycle.
"Not from the North," Avrich said dryly. "If that's what you're thinking."
The Northern Continent was one of the few places Hexgems could be mined—a fact that made its empire a rival even to the Global Union. That was how valuable the ore was.
"Do you have the payment?"
Kars reached into his robe and produced a pouch. From it, he withdrew a storage ring—a magitech artifact that compressed space into a minor dimension. He tossed it casually. Avrich caught it mid-air with his mental force and scanned its contents. Satisfied, he slipped the ring away and slid the briefcase toward Kars. Kars grasped it, feeling the immense power sealed inside. Everything was in place now. All that remained was execution.
"It was a pleasure doing business with you," Avrich said smoothly. "Prince Kars Ma'ha-Ra."
The air twisted. And Avrich Ferryn vanished in a whisper of wind.
****
Security Council Chamber
Global Union Hunter Association
Lumerian Island
September 15th, 385 Post Global Unification
The Security Council was in disarray, its members shouting over one another as reports from the eastern territories continued to pour in. News of the incident had already spread across the world, and now the planet stood on the brink of war.
Aguero—the Blaze King, a titled King-rank Hunter—had intervened personally, leading the forces of Kazak City to eradicate the militant Aran units that had invaded the Kazhan Wasteland. In the aftermath, the people of the Wasteland demanded retribution, calling for the nation of Aran to answer for the audacity of trespassing into their territory.
Aran, however, told a different story. Its representatives demanded compensation for the lives lost—their sons and daughters, fathers and mothers—arguing that Kazhan's response had gone far beyond what was justified. Worse still, intelligence reports suggested that the Aran Kingdom had begun diplomatic talks with other Middle Eastern powers. Tensions were rising rapidly. It was only a matter of time before war erupted.
"The Khan Empire will not let this slide," one council member declared. "The people of Aran dared to step onto our soil. That is an affront to our honor."
The man's accent and posture made his origins obvious. He hailed from the Eastern Continent, and his loyalty to his homeland was worn openly. The Security Council consisted of delegates from the thirteen nations that formed the Global Union—a regime that had ruled nearly half the world since the dawn of the Fourth Age. The Khan Empire was among its most influential members.
"And risk plunging the world into war," another councilor snapped, "all because your pride was wounded?"
"This is more than pride," the eastern representative shot back.
"War is not the answer," a third member interjected. "There hasn't been a global conflict since the Third World War—three centuries ago. The world has known peace ever since. As members of this council, it is our duty to preserve that peace. Isn't that right, Secretary General?"
All eyes turned toward the man seated at the head of the table. He was broad-shouldered, dressed in a pristine white suit. His gray hair was tied into a small bun, and a long scar ran beside one of his brown eyes. Antonio Tiedeman—Secretary General of the Global Union—oversaw its administration and every division beneath it. Within the Security Council, his word was final.
Antonio cleared his throat.
"Yes," he said calmly. "You are correct. For three centuries, we have enjoyed peace, and I intend for that peace to continue. I have no desire to return to an age of senseless bloodshed—of innocent lives lost to pride and retaliation."
His gaze swept across the chamber, heavy with authority.
"My predecessors fought hard to secure these years of stability, and I will not allow their efforts to be squandered. Any minor conflict can ignite the spark of war, and it is our responsibility to extinguish that spark before it becomes an inferno."
He paused.
"Just as we did during the Hailey Incident eighteen years ago."
At the mention of the event, the atmosphere shifted. Faces tightened. That incident had nearly triggered the Fourth World War—an escalation unlike anything seen in centuries. Only the intervention of the Azural King—the Magic King, Patriarch of the Zangrest family—had prevented catastrophe. Countless lives had still been lost that day. And the Azural King himself had vanished. But billions more had been saved. In the end, his sacrifice had been worth it.
"So what can we do about this?" a council member asked. "If we fail to act, the Middle East will respond on its own, forcing our hand. There is also the very real possibility that the Khan Empire may withdraw from the Union if it feels its honor has been slighted."
The room fell quiet as several members turned toward the representative from the Eastern Continent. He gave a slow, deliberate nod—confirmation that the Emperor would not hesitate to sever ties if the insult was left unanswered.
Secretary General Antonio cleared his throat. He understood the Eastern nations and their rigid codes of honor all too well. Though the Global Union held authority on the international stage, its power was not absolute. Each member nation retained sovereignty over its domestic and regional affairs. If a nation chose to withdraw, the Union had no legal means to prevent it. That principle was the very foundation upon which the Global Union had been formed.
"In that case," Antonio said, "we must send an emissary to speak directly with Aran's ruling body. We will negotiate and seek a peaceful resolution."
His tone was measured, deliberate.
"I believe that if we approach them with restraint and goodwill, they may yet be open to diplomacy. I also choose to believe that even the Demon Dragon Goddess has no desire for war."
A ripple of unease passed through the chamber at the mention of the entity that ruled the Middle Eastern continent. They were not cowed by fear—each great power possessed monsters of its own—but none of them were ignorant of the cost. Unleashing such beings, even once, could permanently reshape the landscape of a nation.
"Yes," one council member agreed. "An emissary is the right course."
Others followed, nodding in reluctant consensus.
"Very well," Antonio concluded. "We will dispatch an ambassador to the Nation of Aran.