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"So, what did the Cardinal Institute say about the territory transfer?"

In the quiet depths of the royal garden, Leohart had barely taken his seat before Liala eagerly fired off her question.

"Well..."

For once, the ever-decisive young Demon King actually hesitated.

Avoiding his sister's gaze, Leohart stole a glance at the boy sitting nearby, then sighed and rubbed his forehead.

"To be exact... it ended with 'no decision.'"

"Huh?"

Both Bokue and Liala blinked at that.

No decision?

Wasn't he just going there to get approval for transferring control of the Old Capital? If they agreed—great. If not, well... there were ways to make them agree.

But "no decision"? What the hell kind of answer was that?

"It means exactly what it sounds like."

Leohart kept his hand over his face, still reeling from the ridiculousness of the whole thing.

"When I arrived at the Cardinal Institute, Madonis wasn't even there."

"Wait—he ghosted you??"

Liala clenched her tiny fists, fuming.

How dare they no-show on her little brother—the soon-to-be sovereign of all Northern Underworld? These crusty old bats had guts, she'd give them that.

"No, it's not quite that..." Leohart shook his head.

"Apparently, the entire Institute is neck-deep in prepping for the final battle—including Madonis and his decrepit crew. So instead of a proper meeting, we did a remote call."

"Ohhh, so you still talked."

"Yeah... but his attitude was weird."

Leohart tapped his temple and closed his eyes in thought.

"The moment I brought up transferring control of the Old Capital, he looked genuinely shocked—then immediately objected."

"Mmm, that tracks," Liala said, sipping her tea and nodding. "Those geezers want a clear ruler for the North so they can leech off him without worrying about succession. So... did something change his mind later?"

"Nope. Madonis kept opposing it the entire time—claiming it would 'shake the morale of the troops' or whatever. He insisted I take full control of the North myself."

"So, in other words, they don't support the transfer," Bokue cut in. "Then what's the issue? If they're openly opposing you—the new Demon King—then just bulldoze the Institute already."

"That's the problem..."

Leohart shook his head again.

"Even I don't know where those slippery bastards are hiding right now."

"...What?"

Bokue raised an eyebrow.

"Didn't they say they were working on preparations for the final battle? If that's the case, then going off the address from the official invitation, shouldn't they be there?"

"That was a smokescreen."

Leohart cleared his throat.

"I had people scout that location on my way back. Confirmed—none of them ever showed up."

"Ahhh, I see." Bokue nodded. "So basically, they've gone to ground."

"Exactly." Leohart didn't even try to deny it.

"And judging by the way they're acting, they're clearly hoping this final battle spirals into open chaos."

"Wow, subtle much?" Liala snorted.

Openly opposing the reigning Demon King was already skating the edge of treason. This was the Underworld—they didn't do that 'freedom of expression' crap humans loved so much. Power ruled here

Add to that the fact that they refused to meet in person and only called in remotely? Yeah. Super sus.

They weren't just sowing discord—they were basically shoving Leohart into a death match with outside forces and planning to reap all the rewards afterward.

"So is there any way to flush them out?" Bokue asked.

Leohart responded with yet another shake of the head—at this point, he'd probably shaken it more today than the past year combined. "Not at the moment. The Northern Territory might be barren, but it's vast. Finding a handful of people is like finding a needle in a haystack."

"Though there might be one way—"

He paused for emphasis. "They'll definitely want to monitor the final battle. But the live feed is only broadcast to the viewing platform."

"Which means...?"

"If they can't be there in person, the only way for them to watch is to create a signal pathway to their hideout. Once that signal goes out, my people can trace it back to their location."

"Didn't know that was even possible." Bokue gave a thoughtful nod.

Okay, now things were clearer.

The Cardinal Institute wasn't even trying to play nice anymore. Their plan was obvious: bait the Current Demon King Faction into an all-out war with the Old Generation, wait for both sides to wear each other down, and then swoop in to claim whatever was left.

And even though Leohart saw right through them, it wasn't like he could stop now. Pulling back would mean abandoning his campaign and cutting a deal with the Old Faction—which his army would never accept. He wouldn't either.

So the only option was to play along—launch the battle, stretch it out as long as possible, and track that signal while they're distracted.

Of course, the Institute probably anticipated that too. But either they didn't care, or they had something up their sleeve.

In any case... this was starting to get interesting.

"Alright, then let me ask—what's the format of this final battle?"

"It's a tournament. Best of seven, first to four wins—" Leohart blinked. "Wait, don't tell me you're thinking—"

"It's the only play left." Bokue shrugged.

"Unless you've got some miracle plan where you convince both sides to choreograph a fake, drawn-out match?"

"..."

Fair point.

The two factions hated each other's guts. Now that Ramusas was dead, things were even more unbalanced. If they went at it for real, this war could be over in five rounds—or less.

Which meant... staging a few fights was absolutely necessary to buy time.

"Then what about the rules and finer details of the matches—"

"Nah, I've got the gist."

Bokue leaned back. "My girlfriends back in the Human World have something similar between the noble houses of the 72 Pillars. They call it the Ranking Game or something. I haven't formally entered yet... but this'll make for a decent test run."

"..."

"..."

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