CHAPTER 204: EX 204. GREAT TYRANT.

The vast hall stretched endlessly, lined with towering statues of heroes and kings long dead. Their stone gazes followed the man who strode down the marble floor, his noble attire rustling with each hurried step. His pace was urgent, his body leaning forward as though every muscle urged him to break into a sprint. Yet he restrained himself. Not out of weariness, but because the rules of this household demanded dignity, even in haste.

At the end of the hall loomed a massive door of black oak, banded with gold. Two guards stood sentinel before it, unmoving as statues themselves. They wore Roman-styled helmets crested with crimson plumes, their golden armor gleaming under the torchlight, spears clutched firmly in their hands.

"State your business," one guard intoned, his voice echoing faintly inside the helmet.

The man did not falter. He snapped his reply like a whip.

"It is concerning the Great Tyrant."

For a heartbeat, silence reigned. Then the guard’s eyes widened behind his visor, and his companion stiffened in the same shock. Without a word, they moved aside, spears striking the floor as they saluted his passage.

The man wasted no time. He pushed through the heavy door, and at once, his breath caught.

The chamber beyond was colossal. Its walls were swallowed by towering shelves packed with books, scrolls, and tomes that climbed all the way to the vaulted ceiling. In the center of the room sat a desk carved of blackwood, and behind it rested a man. His face bore the creases of age, yet his body was young, almost unnaturally so, as though time itself had been forced into compromise.

The aged-youth turned his gaze from the parchment in his hand, his voice cold and measured.

"What is it?... I hope it is important, for your sake."

The messenger’s throat tightened, but he spoke without hesitation, urgency outweighing fear.

"It is concerning the Great Tyrant."

The old-young man’s eyes snapped open wide. In one sudden movement, he rose from his chair.

The messenger nearly stepped back at the speed of it, but what truly caught his eye was the sight of the man’s belt unbuckled. Confusion flickered in his mind—

—and then a young girl scrambled out from beneath the desk, her cheeks flushed as she darted past him and out the door.

The messenger froze, stunned, but the master of the room paid it no mind. He adjusted his trousers with a calm, dismissive air and spoke in a low, commanding voice.

"As for you..." his eyes hardened. "...tell me everything."

****

The people of Shantel had lived for generations under the shadow of a single tyrant. Yet this tyrant was not a man, nor a lord, nor even a demon, it was a beast. A monstrous bear of staggering size and power, crowned in scars and thick fur black as midnight. To the people, it was known only as the Great Tyrant, a rank six beast whose dominion over the forests around Shantel had strangled the city’s growth for decades.

Caravans avoided the roads. Merchants shunned trade routes that might draw near its domain. Dreams of Shantel rising from a crumbling town into a thriving city were nothing more than empty prayers, for all hopes of expansion were crushed under the paw of that beast.

And so, it was no surprise that the Lord of Shantel himself treated any rumor of the Tyrant with the utmost priority. As a mere rank three mage, he would have been a fool not to. Compared to the bear, his power was laughable.

That evening, a messenger was ushered into his chamber. The young man’s face was pale, sweat rolling down his brow. The City Lord sat straighter, bracing himself for ill news.

"Our sensors..." the messenger began, voice trembling, "...can no longer detect the Tyrant."

The Lord’s head snapped up. "What!?" His voice cracked with disbelief. "Explain yourself, properly."

The messenger swallowed hard, clutching the scroll in his hands. "Earlier today, before nightfall, the beast’s energy began to flare. It was violent and frantic, that the sensors were preparing to announce a state of emergency. But then... it vanished. All at once. As if the Tyrant had ceased to exist."

The Lords hand clenched against his desk. As His lips trembled. "Are the sensors certain?"

"They were not, at first," the messenger admitted quickly. "But after recalibrating more than a dozen times, the results held true. There can be no mistake."

For a long moment, silence gripped the chamber. The City Lord’s heart pounded against his ribs. For years, no, for generations, this beast had bled Shantel dry. His father’s life, shortened by stress. His grandfather’s too. Even his own body bore the toll: though only in his early sixties, his face sagged with the weight of old age. Such decay was not normal in Pandora. It was proof enough of the noose that had hung around their necks, drawn tighter each year the Tyrant reigned.

And now... it was gone.

His breath came shallow. Relief warred with suspicion, with fear. At last he forced himself to ask, "Is there anything more?"

The messenger hesitated, biting his lip. His silence stretched, but the sharp impatience in the Lord’s gaze cut at him like a blade. Finally, he forced the words out.

"Yes... another energy source was detected. Right next to where the Tyrant’s aura vanished. We... we suspect it was a clash. A battle for territory."

The City Lord’s face seemed to fold in on itself, wrinkles deepening as though years had been carved into him in an instant. His hand struck the desk.

"Shit."

****

After walking for what felt like hours beneath the dense canopy, Leon finally stood before the great bears den. The ground here was scarred, gouged with claw marks that had long since petrified into the stone. The entrance itself yawned like a jagged wound in the mountainside, wide enough to swallow a house whole. This was no ordinary cavern, this was the lair of a beast that had ruled the forests like a king.

Leon narrowed his eyes and drew a steady breath. His senses stretched outward like invisible threads, brushing against the darkness inside. The air was thick with the remnants of a suffocating aura, heavy enough that even the echoes of it made his chest tighten.

"Hm..." His lips curled faintly. "Let’s see what’s inside."

****

A/N: Thank you for reading.