On the ruins above, Varesh watches with tired, half-lidded eyes as a group of humans break into a sprint.

One tries to climb over a collapsed wagon.

"Please! PLEASE! I don't want to die—!"

A tail pierces him clean through the chest.

He collapses, eyes wide.

Erel'na lands beside the corpse, blades still dripping. She flicks the blood from her arm with a hiss.

"Your fault. You run too slow."

Vordon lifts his halberd and slams its blade into the ground.

The earth shakes.

A shockwave ripples outward, knocking down dozens of escaping soldiers. Their screams twist and shatter as the monsters pile onto them.

Erel'na tilts her head. "Just like that… the city is ours."

Ruk snorts. "They would've done worse to us if they won."

Vordon watches the humans vanish through the western gate. "Enough. We've done what we came for."

For a moment, only the crackle of burning buildings fills the air.

Then Erel'na raises both arms into the sky.

Her voice rings through the ruin.

"VICTORY!"

The roar from the monsters shakes the remaining walls.

"VICTORY!"

"VICTORY!"

Another beast howls, claws raised high.

"For the King!"

More voices rise.

"For our King!"

Ruk throws back his head and bellows.

"FOR KING ALIX!"

The chanting spreads like wildfire.

"Long Live King Alix!"

"For King Alix!"

"For the Wild King!"

"For the Sovereign of Beasts!"

Every monster, from the smallest goblin to the largest brute, roars his name into the smoke-filled sky.

A victory proclamation.

The final echoes of the monsters' roars vibrate through the broken streets when a sudden pressure ripples across the sky.

Every beast freezes.

Every monster bows instinctively.

A shadow descends from above.

Alix drops from the clouds like a falling star, Zevran perched calmly on his shoulder.

The moment his feet touch the cracked stones, an unseen force washes across the city.

Every monster—Ruk, Vordon, Varesh, Erel'na, and the thousands below—drop to one knee with a thunderous BOOM.

"King Alix!"

"Your Majesty!"

"My lord!"

The streets shake from the sheer force of their loyalty.

Alix looks over them with quiet pride.

His aura retracts just enough for them to breathe.

"Get up," he says. "You all did great."

A wave of warmth rolls through the monsters. Even the injured straighten with renewed vigor.

Alix's gaze settles on Erel'na.

"Erel'na."

She snaps upright instantly. "Yes, my lord?"

"Go to Nam City. Bring back builders. I want Plison rebuilt immediately."

Erel'na's grin widens, venom glinting on her fangs.

"As you wish, my lord."

She darts away in a blur of silk and shadow.

Alix turns toward the remaining three commanders.

"Ruk. Varesh. Vordon."

All three bow deeply.

"You three will stay here and stabilize the city," Alix instructs. "There are still humans hiding in the houses and shelters. Mostly civilians."

He narrows his eyes, voice cold but firm.

"Any who surrender—do not harm them."

Ruk slams a fist to his chest. "Understood, my King. They'll be treated properly."

Vordon bows his massive head. "As you command."

Alix nods once.

Then he lifts into the air, Zevran clinging comfortably to his shoulder. He rises above the rooftops and glides toward the largest structure in the ruins.

---

Inside the mansion, the doors hang open.

Dust floats through shafts of fading light.

The luxurious carpets are abandoned, chairs overturned, cupboards half-open. Jewelry boxes lie tossed aside—emptied in a rush.

"Empty," Alix mutters. "They ran fast."

"They didn't even take their valuables properly," Alix says as he walks deeper.

He heads straight toward the back corridor, where the treasury chamber sits behind thick reinforced doors.

Alix stops in front of a locked steel door.

He places a hand on it.

Mana gathers.

S C R E E E E E C H—

He rips the door right off its hinges and tosses it aside.

Inside, piles of gold glitter. The chamber is stacked with chests filled with wealth, though not as much as Nam city.

Alix raises a brow.

"That's it?"

He waves his hand and stores all the gold coins into his system inventory.

Ding.

His balance jumps instantly.

50 million → 70 million.

The golden glow fades as the last coin vanishes into Alix's inventory.

Alix crosses his arms, unimpressed.

"Only twenty million gold coins."

Zevran leans forward on his shoulder, tiny claws gripping Alix's cloak. The small dragon squints at the now-empty treasury room.

"That's… kinda pathetic," Zevran says bluntly, his small voice echoing in the chamber.

"For a city this big, I expected at least three times that, master."

Alix nods. "They prefer mana stones on this continent."

He moves deeper into the chamber, opening chests until he finds what he's actually looking for—crates filled with shimmering stones, each one glowing faintly with elemental light.

"Ah. Here it is."

Zevran hops onto the edge of the crate and peers in.

"Oooh! High-grade mana stones. Those are tasty."

Alix flicks his forehead. "You're not eating these."

Zevran rubs his head and huffs, "Okay..."

Alix smirks, then lifts a handful of stones, letting them sparkle between his fingers.

"A high-grade mana stone is worth a thousand gold coins," he says. "And judging by the pile… there's at least fifteen thousand of them."

He stores the entire crate with a wave of his hand.

Only the low-grade and mid-grade stones remain, glowing weakly in the dim light.

Alix glances at them once.

"We leave those," he says. "Vordon and the others can distribute them as rewards."

----

In a city called Celes, The jewel of Alnera Kingdom.

Celes City stretches like a living tapestry beneath the twilight sky—towering spires, mana-lit avenues, floating lanterns drifting gently above the main plaza. Merchants close their shops; nobles stroll under enchanted lamps; guards in polished armor patrol with disciplined precision.

With nearly five million citizens, the city hums with wealth and order. Its beauty rivals even the capital itself.

At the very center rises a grand palace draped in silver banners, The Duke's Estate.

However, inside the atmosphere is far less peaceful.

In Duke Charles's working chamber

The chamber smells faintly of ink and burning incense. Stacks of neatly arranged documents sit on mahogany tables. Maps of the kingdom hang on the walls beside crystal sconces. A cold breeze slips through the half-open balcony doors, rustling the curtains.

Duke Charles sits at his desk, fingers steepled, brows furrowed.

He is a man in his forties—calm, dignified, and feared for his decisiveness.

Head Butler Zing stands before him, posture straight, expression tight.

Charles's voice cuts the air like a blade.

"You said General Jared and the other three generals…"

He leans back slightly.

"…failed to defend Plison City?"

Zing bows his head deeply.

"Yes, my lord. Baron Revig have confirmed it. Plison has fallen."

Charles closes his eyes for a moment, massaging his temple with slow pressure.

"And they will return in two days?"

"Yes, my lord. They are escorting the remaining soldiers and civilians fleeing toward Celes."

Charles lets out a long, tired breath.

"How many?"

Zing swallows.

"There were seventy thousand soldiers that come with general Jared."

Charles waits.

Zing's voice tightens.

"Only around twenty thousand remain, my lord. Counting the wounded… perhaps fewer."

A cold silence fills the room.

Charles lowers his hand and stares blankly at the table, as if the text on his documents can answer the questions clawing at his mind.

"…A huge failure," he murmurs.

Charles's jaw tightens. "Monsters have never pushed this far west. Not once. And now two cities fall within days?"

Zing hesitates.

"My lord… Baron Revig claim the monsters were… different. Coordinated. Disciplined."

Charles's eyes sharpen.

"Disciplined monsters. How amusing."

Zing bows again. "Still, we need to wait for General Jared for the detailed report, my lord."

Zing lowers his head again. Charles stands slowly from his desk, the long coat of his robe brushing the polished marble floor.

He walks toward the balcony doors, hands clasped behind his back. Outside, Celes City glows with wealth and life—music drifting from taverns, merchant lights shimmering along the rivers, young nobles laughing in the gardens.

A perfect city.

But Charles's expression darkens as he watches the skyline.

Charles closes the balcony doors and returns to his desk, picking up a sealed document.

"I will speak with His Majesty."

Zing's brows rise. "The King?"

Charles nods once.

"If Plison fell today, and Nam City fell days ago… then whatever is coming, will not stop unless the kingdom responds properly."

Zing hesitates. "My lord, are you certain the capital will listen? It's very chaotic in there, right now."