Kai floated high above the border city of Eldovar, wind tugging at his cloak as he looked down on the city spread beneath him. From here, the streets looked neat and quiet like painted lines. But he knew better. This was the gate to Caelond. Rich houses, tall warehouses, and hidden routes under the ground… all of it made the city something more than stone and walls. If a single place could stab him in the back, it was Eldovar.

Merchants had grown fat here from border trade. And smugglers had thrived even more. There were whispers of tunnels under taverns and sewers wide enough to carry out millions of gold coins worth of trade. Kai imagined Caelond soldiers crawling up those tunnels one night—appearing in the heart of the kingdom before anyone even sounded a bell.

Not happening. Not while he breathed.

Wind gathered around him in a tight spiral. The air roared below—loud enough to drown screams and shatter signs. His tornado twisted through the streets like a blue-gray serpent, sweeping soldiers off their feet. Helmets spun. Spears vanished into the clouds. Men reached for the ground and found nothing but wind dragging them up toward the sky.

Kai raised his hand each time a soldier shot too high. Thin lines of mana wrapped the falling bodies, slowing them as they thumped into a growing pile of unconscious men on the city’s walls—stacked like sacks, arms spread, mouths hanging open in surprise.

He didn’t take any joy in their fear. He just didn’t have time to play polite anymore.

Sweat slid down the back of his neck. Holding the storm steady while also catching every tossed soldier felt like pulling two horses in opposite directions. If he slipped even a little, the tornado would tear roofs clean off, take innocent people with it.

So he didn’t slip.

His breathing slowed. His focus sharpened. Every gust bent to his will.

[Solun] would have been quicker. But he hadn’t brought soldiers or drones with him to protect him as he cast the spell.

He couldn’t waste days fighting with one prince when two others waited for him. So he’d flown up himself, sent a message for reinforcements to march to the city by midday, and had started tearing the enemy forces down.

Eldovar held only one real threat: an aged Fourth-Circle Mage from Archine Tower who’d stepped out of the ward to meet him. Kai respected that he wasn't hiding, but the Mage was an alchemist, not a duelist. He tossed potions into his spells, trying to stiffen their power, but most of it was easily dodged. The man’s core aspect was fire, and when their spells met Kai simply poured wind over them until the flames ate themselves. It was quick. The old Mage had died easily.

Other Mages tried to stand, some slinging barbed bolts and arrow spells from the walls, but Kai’s wind shield ate at them. He ignored the chaff and pushed for the real obstacle: the ward. Once he broke it, the ranged attacks lost their bite. He moved out of the Mages’ reach, raised a controlled tornado, and let it sweep anyone who still stood in his way—soldiers and Mages yanked from walls and street corners, spun into the sky, and dropped in a tidy silence onto piles of unconscious men.

It felt cruel to take a city in hours and it made him feel like a tyrant. But in a world built on power and abundant with mana, his four circles gave him nearly eighty percent of the mana he could draw in his peak. If he did not push every ounce now, he would soon be standing in a broken and poor kingdom. The war couldn’t be a long, slow thing; months of siege and attrition would sap the kingdom dry. He needed to end it fast, even if some would call him a tyrant for the way he did it. There would be time to make amends later, once the throne was secure.

As bodies stopped falling from the sky, Kai hovered a moment longer, eyes narrowed in concentration. He released a soft pulse of mana downward—like a wave sweeping through the walls. It wrapped around each unconscious form piled neatly. Heartbeats… shallow but steady. Good. No deaths.

Only then did he release the tornado. Mana snapped away from his grasp, and the whirling winds lost their teeth, unwinding into harmless gusts that kicked up dust and fallen leaves. The roar quieted. Roof tiles settled. A strange hush rolled through Eldovar.

Kai stayed in the air for a few minutes. People needed time to peek out and realise that the storm was truly gone. Slowly, shutters creaked open. Faces peeked from behind broken doors. A few soldiers crawled out from wherever they had taken cover, coughing on dust, eyes wide and confused.

He descended like a falling star. Boots touched cobblestone in front of a stunned squad of soldiers. Their armor rattled from shaking hands alone. Two tried to bolt.

Kai didn’t raise a hand—his voice was enough.

“If you run,” he said, “I will catch you. You know that.”

The words froze them mid-stride. They turned back around, pale and breathing fast, as if the air itself had locked them in place.

Kai looked over the group—scraped armor, bruises, terrified eyes. They weren’t warriors. They looked more like conscripts.

“I’ve already dealt with the majority of your forces,” he said, lowering his voice. “The Mage who protected this city is defeated. There is no point in resisting further.”

The oldest man—a man with grey in his beard and dents in his breastplate—gulped hard. His boots scraped the stone as he stepped forward.

“What… What do you want, Sir Mage?” he asked, trying—and failing—to sound brave.

“I am Duke Arzan Kellius,” he said, voice steady. “I believe you missed that when I introduced myself.”

The soldier’s entire body jerked with a tremor.

“I—I’m sorry, my lord,” he stammered.

Kai exhaled softly, forcing his tone to warm. He had no intention of scaring the men. They had already been frightened enough.

“It’s alright,” he said. “I don’t want to hurt anyone who surrenders.”

Kai forced the kindest smile he could and kept his voice soft. “First, no one here will be hurt. Not the soldiers, not the common people. Do you know there’s a civil war?”

The old soldier’s hand clenched. He nodded slowly. “Aye, my lord. News reached us. The princes are taking forts and trying to divide the kingdom. The new king—he’s declared war on his brothers. And also… on you.” His voice cracked on the last word.

Kai nodded. “Yes. That’s right. A lot of men are fighting the war and a lot of forts are falling. I have also gotten control of the border forts and I think you know that. But listen to me: I won’t let this city starve. I won’t force any of you to march for me. You keep your homes. You keep your trades. I only want to end this war fast so fewer people suffer.”

A younger guard behind the old man breathed out loud, eyes widening. “Really? I don’t have to go to war?” he blurted, hope sharp in his voice. The older soldier shot him a warning glare. “Quiet, Tomas. Sorry, my lord,” he added quickly. “He’s new. None of us are soldiers by trade. We are just guards that patrol the streets. We kept watch, but the soldiers pushed us on the walls due to the war.”

Kai let a tired smile touch his mouth. “Good. That helps. You know the city and the people better than I do. Was the Mage who defended this place the one in charge?”

“Lord Judas, my lord,” the man said. The name came out like a curse. “He was in a council led by the baron, but had control of the city more than him. The baron fled the city weeks back, same with the other council members. Only Lord Judas remained, but I guess he's dead now.”

“Yes, he's dead and that’s fine. No one in charge makes it easy,” Kai said. “My men will be here soon to lead the city. But like I promised—no plundering, no food taken. Life goes on as normally as possible for you and the residents.” He let the words hang, watching the faces around him for signs of relief. There was little of it.

Then he stepped closer, voice lowering so only the man could hear. “One more thing,” he said. “You know this town. You know how goods move. I need to shut down the smuggling routes. Tell me where they hide the tunnels, the sewer paths they use. If Caelond can sneak men in here, the whole kingdom is at risk.”

The soldier stuttered, eyes flicking to the men at his back. “I—my lord—I don't know much. I’ve heard of sluice by the old mill—folk say small boats go in at dusk.” He swallowed. “But I don’t know the whole system. People who run those lines don't mingle with guards.”

Kai nodded. “Start with what you have. Tell me about the people who run this. If you help, no one here will be punished.”

The old man looked down, then up again, as if weighing his next decision. Finally he gave a single, slow nod. “I’ll do what I can, my lord.”

“Good. That is all I ask. Let's move to clean up this city.” Kai straightened, already planning the next steps, while the city around him took the first uncertain breaths after the storm.

***

Regina sat alone in the tall-backed chair, the room quiet except for the soft scrape of parchment as she smoothed the corners of another report. Selwin had left minutes before, leaving behind every information they had collected on the ongoing war. Now the bundles lay in front of her: maps, letters, enemy movement details, names underlined three times.

Most of the pages were about the fight with Thalric’s men at Eden City. Duke Renard Kestrelain led their side—an old soldier with a lot of experience. Eldric was also there, leading their campaign, and Regina had felt a small, sharp ease when she had first found out about it. Maybe the boy had finally learned how to please her. He stood with the common soldiers, gave orders that the soldiers and Mages listened to. His presence steadied them. That steadiness should have made her feel more certain in their victory. Instead, the reality was completely opposite.

Regina couldn't help but miss the presence of one person. Veridia, her strongest pawn. For years Veridia had been the blade Regina could point anywhere and she would do the job. With Veridia and her affinities, a small strike could topple a wall of men. Without her, Regina had only thinned knives: Fourth-Circle Mages who just weren't good enough to tilt the tide of the war.

She pushed back from the table and stood, walking to the window. Below, the royal castle buzzed with servants. Regina watched it all and felt how fragile the view was, how easily it could break.

No matter how much she thought about it, fate had played a bad hand with her. She remembered the arena, how Arzan had defeated Veridia and even now, reports about him displayed more clean victories.

Even if she wound up all her forces, it would be hard to kill him without destroying everything she had built.

Even after Valkyrie’s death, her kin continued to be a thorn in Regina’s side. That woman was gone, and yet the shadow of her blood still complicated everything. Regina pressed her palm against the walls, knuckles whitening. If luck had any sense, Arzan Kellius would fall long before their armies ever saw each other.

She had already caught wind of Aldrin’s secret plans—little hints and whispers that carried to her ears. Clever boy. But Regina didn’t hold any hope that he could pull it off. He was sharp but too cautious, too shaken by ghosts of his own weakness. People like him planned for perfect conditions. War never gave those.

Regina walked back to her desk and sat down. The civil war was stretching out like a slow choke on the kingdom. Every day brought more reports, more setbacks she hadn’t prepared for. To win the way she wanted, she needed something stronger.

She needed Maleficia.

She needed the hand of her great lord to tilt the scales once more. But after Shakran’s death, Dravros had locked himself away from her. He had always demanded results. And when she had lost one of his most treasured servants, he had answered with silence.

So she had turned to another for assistance. But that too had been met with silence. Weeks of sending offerings and messages… and still nothing.

Regina’s nails dug into the arm of her chair. This wasn’t the role she played—waiting, begging, hoping someone would finally look her way. She hated the feeling. She knew it was all a game, one she had played many times before. Manipulation was her craft. Being on the other end of it set her blood boiling.

Just one reply—just one answer—and she could set her plan into motion. She could end this war before—

A lazy voice suddenly drifted through the room. “Regina, you look awfully tense.”

Regina froze.

The voice continued, light and teasing. “It’s rare to see you so flustered. Almost cute, if I didn’t know you better.”

Regina shot to her feet, chair scraping loudly against the floor. Her gaze swept the chamber, but she saw nothing.

She immediately recognised who the voice belonged to. “Selenia enough! Show yourself. I am not in the mood for your tricks.”

A soft laugh answered her from everywhere and nowhere. “But I adore games. Especially when it’s you on the board.”

Air shimmered right in front of Regina. Shadows curled like ribbons around a single point. Then, with a ripple, she appeared.

Selenia stepped into existence directly before Regina, standing taller than her. Dark leathery wings unfurled behind her, stretching wide like a creature born from old nightmares. Her hair spilled like ink across her shoulders, and her eyes glowed with a hungry, violet gleam.

Selenia smiled delighted. “Miss me?”

Her face was sharp—high cheekbones and a small mouth—but her presence was both dominating and beautiful as if danger itself had learned to be graceful. Regina had met her a few times, but she always thought that the woman was born to be an assassin. She had even managed to appear before her without alerting anyone.

Regina did not linger on that thought. She folded her hands and said the first thing on her mind. “You’re late. I asked for help to end the civil war a long time ago.”

Selenia curled her wings and smiled. “I’m not your servant to command,” she said. “We have our reach across the world. Your kingdom is a single thread in a far larger tapestry.” She let the words hang, then added, small and bright, “And who said I was here to help you?”

Regina’s jaw tightened. “Then why are you here?”

“Because I like watching good players fail,” Selenia replied. “I wanted to see how you will act after losing Shakran.” Her smile hardened. “Dravros is still angry about that.”

“Let it be,” Regina snapped. “He was weak. He died as he deserved.”

“That may be true,” Selenia said. “But now you are weak—your sharpest pawn gone. It makes a messy, delightful play.” She leaned forward a fraction and Regina frowned

“You’ve been keeping tabs on me.”

“I can’t help myself. It’s interesting. That man Arzan—he moves fast, and there is a heat to him. Handsome, too. Do you think I might be able to get him as a pet?” Her head tilted, amused as she licked her lips.

“Stop,” Regina snapped. “I’m in no mood for your games. I asked you to find a blade for Arzan. Have you come to kill him for me?”

Selenia shrugged. “I don’t know. I prefer to watch. The others think you should handle the civil war yourself. You have been clumsy lately.”

“I need an edge,” Regina growled. “Not words.”

“We all need one,” Selenia answered, and for a long beat she only stared at her. Then, as if she had grown tired of the teasing, she sighed. “Fine. I have something. It will not cut Arzan’s throat, not outright. It will not drop him from the sky. But it will give your forces an edge. It will make them stronger, wilder, more chaotic. It will give you teeth where you have only needlepoints.”

Regina’s breath caught. “What is it?”

Selenia’s smile returned. “Why don't you sit?” she said. “Let me tell you about it.”

***

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