Iron Kingdom, Mount Meikneoir, The Iron Capital, The Iron Palace, The Iron Room, The Iron Throne.

1st Year of God, Friday, 3rd Week, Month Of Jonah.

Mount Meikneoir, a 7738 meter tall mountain that towered the rest of the kilometer-size mountain ranges. It is considered the tallest Mountain in the Third Civilization Zone, but not in the top 10 tallest in the world.

It is also where the capital city of the Iron Kingdom resides.

Built inside the mountain, with small metallic pipes on top of the hill to allow fresh air and light to seep through the city below.

In the middle of the city, a great waterfall dropped through a hole at the top of the mountain, forming into a pool in the central square where a massive statue of a dwarf was erected.

Beside the statue, there were many uniquely shaped infrastructures that ranged in sizes. However, though they were all different, the infrastructure brought anyone to feel a sense of awe upon looking at it.

From afar, they all looked like structural masterpieces as each infrastructure was built to the most delicate of details, showcasing the dwarves’ masterful craftsmanship.

Right now, the Iron Capital was excessively lively, as the streets were overflowing with numerous celebrations transpiring everywhere in the Iron Capital.

The recent news about the victories of the Iron Kingdom against the Tarxan Coalition and its allied nations was all singing through the ears of the citizens and had become the talk of every corner. But the same could not be said towards the inferiors, who were scapegoated as the root cause of the war.

It all happened because of some inferior cunt who dared to challenge the natural order by believing that they could be better than the magical superior, so it triggered a conflict that had consumed countless lives. As of now, these individuals faced harsher persecution than ever.

Meanwhile, the dwarves carried on their daily lives merrily happily, blissfully unaware of the news about reaching the Iron Palace, news so shocking that even the third civilization zone, sheltered from the chaos of the higher zones, would be left reeling. For while such phenomena were theoretically possible in the upper echelons of civilization, they were deemed impossible here, where magical knowledge reigned supreme and science remained a neglected curiosity.

Moving on, the news of many victories of the Iron Kingdom had rejuvenated the spirits of every soldier who had an entirely negative outlook before the war even started, especially those stationed at the Iron Wall, a volatile border perpetually besieged by the Orc Warbands.

That place has always been in a constant time of warfare and so this morale boost was the one the soldiers of the Iron Kingdom needed the most, especially those who had long endured the endless grind of war.

At the heart of the capital, the dwarven king, or the Grandlord, hosted an extravagant feast for the kingdom's people. The halls of the palace echoed with laughter, clinking glasses, and the bustle of butlers and maids serving the people.

Dwarves, true to their reputation, reveled in their love of alcohol. However, they considered attempts to bribe them with alcohol a grave insult, a nuance outsiders often failed to grasp.

“Ah, you dandies, prancin’ about with ya heads full of eyeballs!”

“Did you see what I did to that elf? He was like KA-BOOOOOM!”

“*Unintelligible Gibberish Drunk Noises*”

“Howfur wis yer day at wirk?” one dwarf asked, barely coherent.

“Ugh, tell me aboot it,” his companion grumbled. “All I've been doing today be hit tha hammer until me hands turned numb.”

“Good thing we showed those bastards their place!”

Boisterously laughing out loud, and putting his little bulky leg on the table, a drunken dwarf raised his half-finished pint in the air.

“Har, Har, Har, them bloody elves. We sure showed them a good time a day ago. I bet they be still pissing their pants at what we did ta them.” he laughed out loud until he noticed a maid passed by

“Aye, me bottle o’ scrumpy!” he shouted as he smacked her butt with a drunken chuckle, causing the maid to pout cutely, at which the female dwarf would proceed to shake her butt, much to the amusement of the crowd.

“Haha! Time to get buttered!”

It was a blatant display of degeneracy, and unfortunately, such things were all but common in this forsaken world.

At the very center edge of the grand stone-hewn table was the Grandlord of the Iron Kingdom, commanding the attention of the room with his presence. With a tankard of golden ale in one hand and a cigar in the other, he conversed animatedly with his generals while their laughter echoed through the lavish hall.

“Hah! Those Tarxans thought a few ironclads could challenge us, the greatest power in the Third Civilization Zone!” the Grandlord scoffed with sarcasm. “Their feeble magic and crude ships were no match for dwarven ingenuity!”

The surrounding men started laughing hysterically, clinking their tankards in agreement.

“Aye,” one of the generals added, leaning forward with a conspiratorial grin. “Did they think we’d just sit idle? While they schemed in secret, we perfected our magitech right under their noses. Fools, the lot of them. Elves have always underestimated us.”

The Grandlord leaned back, his eyes gleaming with ambition. “Mark my words, once we unify this civilization zone, we’ll rebuild these fractured lands from politics, economy, infrastructure, and everything will serve the Age of Progress! For the Age of Technology! For Innovation! For the Greater Good! For Socialism! And for the glory of the Iron Kingdom! FOR ROCK AND STONE!”

The room erupted in cheers, the dwarves pounding their fists on the table in fervent agreement. Servants bustled about, refilling goblets and serving platters piled high with roasted meats and spiced bread.

“And don't forget, we will make sure this barbarian world respects women!”

As everyone nodded in agreement with the Grandlord's words, he laughed and called for a maid.

One maid responded and arrived directly at the front of the Grandlord and bowed first. However, before she could even bow properly, the Grandlord immediately grabbed hold of her and forced her down with her back facing the chest of the dwarven king.

Don't mistake, the dwarven king did this degenerate act in front of his audience.

“But first, I need to have my own desert.”

The Grandlord first licked the neck of the maid, to which the maid squealed in pleasure. The Grandlord followed by grabbing hold of the maid's breast and bursting the clothes open, which fully presented the breast of the maid towards the audience. He grabbed it and started massaging her breast.

Meanwhile, the audience were also feeling a bit more playful than usual, so they moved closer towards the scene, but the Grandlord glared at them coldly.

“Wait for your turn.”

After knowing that they would have their turn at the gorgeous maid, they were practically salivating from the mouth and from the bottom.

The maid, meanwhile, was moving with pleasure and was squealing very cutely, which made the surrounding people more playful. However, one of his Generals interrupted the intense moment.

"Your majesty, the Queen is staring at your antics." He commented.

The Grandlord smirked and said, "Let her be jealous. Maybe you guys could play with her for a while. While I finish impregnating this maid, I'm sure my wife, the Queen must have been very lonely,"

Numerous men smiled and stood up from their seats and immediately started heading for the queen. A few minutes later, squeals of pleasure and sounds of slapping could be heard from their direction. Though some dwarves stayed so that they could have their turn at the maid.

While this scene was happening, a small drone can be seen through the window, and the human who watched couldn't help but feel utterly disgusted.

“Oh… my goodness… I think I really need to go to therapy… and go to Church.”

After massaging the breast of the maid for a reasonable amount of time, the Grandlord then started moving from the breast towards her clitoris. With a few sets of manoeuvres and a bit of force, the maid was nearing a climax. However, the party was interrupted by a loud banging sound from the door.

"Your Majesty! Your Majesty! We have a problem at hand!" the dwarven man shouted from outside the chamber.

Upon being interrupted by his playful antics, the Grandlord stood up and threw the maid at the floor.

"Finish the deed!" He said to the other dwarves.

The Grandlord moved towards the door, while the other nobles began removing their bottom clothes as the maid opened up for them to go in.

The Grandlord arrived at the towering iron door and threw them open, revealing a visibly shaken messenger clad in the crest of the Iron Kingdom’s elite guard.

"Your majesty, we have a severe problem!"

“Speak quickly,” the Grandlord demanded with a sharp and commanding voice. “You interrupt a moment of triumph.”

The dwarf messenger, drenched in sweat, spoke rapidly. “Your Majesty, troubling news has reached us from the Kingdom of Edgellaf, one of our conquered territories. An unidentified force of manaless soldiers has attacked our forces, wielding weapons and wyverns unlike anything we’ve seen. Their wyverns don’t flap their wings, yet they flew effortlessly through the skies and they’ve decimated our occupying forces.”

The Grandlord’s expression darkened with suspicion flickering in his eyes. “Manaless soldiers? A rebellion, no doubt instigated by those wretched inferiors. Investigate this immediately. If it’s a revolution, I want it crushed before it spreads.”

The messenger hesitated. “Your Majesty… there’s more.”

“Then speak your mind, messenger! Or you're just wasting my time.” the Grandlord barked, feeling his patience thinning.

“It’s… your son, sire,” the messenger stammered.

The Grandlord’s eyes narrowed. “What about him? Its not like he's dead, he is one of the most powerful 1st Tier Transcendents, stronger than even our best generals like General Lightmoon. He is also a Hammerfall, descended from the God of Thunder! Speak plainly, messenger! What happened to my son?”

The dwarf took a shaky breath. “H-He’s… dead.”

The words hung in the air like a death knell. The entire throne room fell silent. The revelry came to an abrupt halt, the sexual activities ceased, and the once-jovial atmosphere replaced by an oppressive stillness. Even the Grandlord’s drunken state seemed to dissipate, replaced by a cold, smoldering fury.

“Do I hear you correctly?” the Grandlord asked, his voice low and dangerously calm.

“Y-Yes, Grandlord Hammerfall. Your son is gone… killed in battle within Edgellaf, along with 80% of our occupying forces. The remaining 20% are barely holding against the rebels without the aid of the Thunder Warriors, even the Ironstorm Dragon was killed! And-”

“Enough,” Hammerfall interrupted, his voice a mere whisper, but it was enough for the very walls of the Iron Palace trembled under the weight of his wrath.

“Perhaps… we should consider a measured—” one general began, only to be cut off by a sudden surge of power.

“Deploy everything,” the Grandlord ordered, his tone crackling like an oncoming storm.

“Your Majesty, surely you don’t mean—”

“I SAID DEPLOY EVERYTHING!” Hammerfall roared, unleashing a thunderous shockwave that sent furniture and banners flying. The force rippled outward, shaking the entire palace to its foundations. Outside, the Iron Capital and the entire Mount Meikneoir trembled under the might of its ruler’s rage.

“AS THE GRANDLORD, I COMMAND THE FULL MIGHT OF THE IRON KINGDOM! ALL TROOPS, ALL RESERVES, EVERY THUNDER WARRIOR, AND EVERY WAR MACHINE!”

“WE ARE GOING ON ALL OUT WAR!!!”

The palace quaked as arcs of lightning danced across the room, a testament to the demigod blood coursing through the Grandlord’s veins.

The Iron Kingdom’s might would soon be unleashed in a fury that the world would not forget.

————————————————————————

“Oh? So that’s what is going on now…”

Riley, the leader of the Special Operative squad known as Tempest Scion, leaned back on the worn leather couch, staring at the trio seated before him with a sharp gaze.

Across from him sat Barron, Ronald, and the woman he had saved earlier that morning, Mara Terte Greene.

The pleasantries had been dealt with quickly, thanks to Riley’s insistence. He preferred to focus on progress rather than indulge in important affairs such as formalities, a trait that had earned him both respect and an air of mystique.

'How noble…' Mara thought, feeling her heart fluttering as she stared at her savior with wide starstruck eyes.

Ever since she had been rescued from certain doom by the man of darkness, she hadn’t been able to stop thinking about him.

She had waited impatiently for this moment since regaining consciousness, yet now, sitting in his presence, she couldn't let out as much as a squeak before him. When she’d managed to thank him earlier, Riley had waved it off casually, even apologizing for not reaching her sooner.

‘Why is he so dismissive of what he did for me?’ Mara wondered.

It wasn’t just her life he had saved. Thanks to him, the precious documents safeguarding the Terte family’s properties and assets had remained secure.

Mara's family was very thorough with their paperwork, so the mere fact that their legacy didn't fall into the wrong hands was more than enough for her to lick the sole of his feet.

'Lick… his feet? What am I even thinking? Focus, Mara. Focus!' Mara chastised herself and shook her head quickly.

Right now, she had to behave accordingly. Her parents were dead, and she was the last surviving member of their main estate. If she didn’t act decisively now, everything they had worked for could crumble.

'I have to find a way to ally with him personally. To protect my family's assets… and our future!'

Her determination grew as she glanced at Riley. He sat with his usual brooding intensity, waiting for the conversation to progress.

“So, to summarize,” Riley said, breaking the silence, “your plan is to secure the properties of the Terte House and reinforce positions weakened by the losses on our enemies' side?”

“Yes, precisely.” Ronald responded to Riley with a determined gaze. For once, there was a spark of fire in his eyes, something that had been absent before the incident.

“The recent attack has shown us that staying passive isn’t an option. We have to act now, especially with the advantage you’ve given us.”

Riley nodded, his sharp mind already piecing together the unspoken. There was already no way the other side would keep quiet once they found out two out of their Executives were killed, and their plans didn't go accordingly, so retaliation was inevitable.

“They’ll regroup and counterattack soon,” Ronald continued. “Even if we stayed defensive, we’d only be backed into a corner. It’s better to strike first.”

The room grew tense as he outlined their current predicament. The Mercenary Gang was completely on Scyllary’s side, alongside much of the business world. The enemy had likely already seized control of Jaune territory, leaving them no foothold to exploit.

“That’s why we’re focusing solely on the Rump and Terte properties,” Ronald said. “Our manpower is stretched thin as it is. We can’t afford to spread ourselves any further.”

"I understand. So, what do you need my assistance with?" Riley asked with a deep, concise tone.

He clearly wanted to get to the point.

Ronald glanced at Mara, his expression softening before he turned back to Riley. "Lady Mara over here would like to secure all the assets of the Terte Group, so it would be really helpful if you served as her guard." He said solemnly.

“Hmm…”

“Please don’t take it the wrong way, Sir Ghost,” Ronald began carefully. “If anyone else were capable, I’d have sent them instead. But this mission is too sensitive to risk failure, especially with the possibility of encountering a Head.”

Ronald, a senior member of the Obsidian Council, couldn’t remember the last time he’d had to grovel this much. But for "Ghost", it was more than justified.

At this moment, it didn’t even matter what kind of reward they were going to offer him in the end, they needed him far more than he needed them.

With that thought currently at the forefront of his mind, Ronald awaited Riley’s answer.

“There’s no need to be so uneasy,” Riley finally said calmly. “I agreed to help, and I intend to keep my end of the deal. Don’t worry about it.”

A collective sigh of relief passed through Ronald, Barron, and Mara.

“I was just wondering…” Riley continued, his tone growing lighter, “if I could take a few detours during my escort missions. Nothing that would interfere with the objective.”

Upon hearing this, Ronald’s eyes sparked a little in curiosity.

“Detours?” he asked, leaning forward slightly. “Would this have anything to do with the Slave Trade Warehouses you mentioned earlier?”

Riley nodded, confirming the question.

“Well,” Ronald replied, “I’ve had my men working on preparing a map for you that pinpoints every known and suspected Slave Trade Warehouse connected to the Union. It’s ready whenever you need it.”

The two had previously discussed Riley’s interest in dismantling the Union, one of Scyllary’s most lucrative and sinister enterprises. To Ronald, it was yet another sign of Riley’s ability to see the bigger picture, something that inspired both awe and gratitude to have him as an ally.

‘I must never make this man an enemy,’ Ronald reminded himself yet again, the thought settling uneasily in his mind.

“I’ll also be bringing my… subordinates along with me,” Riley added. “I’ll coordinate with Barron on the details later. so we don't have to discuss that now.”

Everyone in the room exchanged knowing glances. They were aware of Riley’s secretive ways, even if not everything about his “subordinates” was clear. For now, they trusted him.

“There’s no problem at all, Sir Ghost,” Ronald said, nodding firmly, and so did the other two.

"I'm curious about one more thing."

This time, Riley turned his gaze to the only female, Mara, also the youngest and most vulnerable among them. “What do you plan to do after this conflict is resolved, though?” he asked. “Rebuild the Terte House into a business empire?”

This question had a lot of weight to it, considering the current state of the Third Civilization Zone's fragile economy, and the likely fallout of their current battle, the path ahead for Mara was daunting.

“If we succeed, everything will be in shambles. The ExRump Corporation has ambitions of becoming a multi-civilization powerhouse. What’s your goal in all this?”

There was no doubt that the Terte House still had employees and affiliates in other areas aside from their headquarters.

Mara was not alone, and it was indeed possible to rebuild.

It all depended on what she wanted.

“I… don’t know yet,” she admitted quietly. her clouded face showing a mix of confusion and sadness as her hands tightened into fists. “For now, I just want to secure my family’s legacy.”

Riley gave her a small nod of understanding. Ronald smiled faintly alongside hisnson, their pride in the young woman evident.

That in itself was the most concrete and realistic goal anyone could have given the current situation.

“That’s a worthy goal,” Riley said simply. “For now, I suppose we ought to act fast.”

As he rose to his feet, his cloak of darkness danced like smoke around him. The others followed his lead.

“Our enemies will have realized their losses by now,” Ronald warned. “They won’t take this lightly. Their next move is coming, and soon.”

A tense silence followed, though Ronald found himself smiling faintly as he extended a hand to Riley.

Anxiety? Fear? No, there was no room for that anymore.

‘After all,’ Ronald thought as Riley shook his hand, ‘we have a Black Horse in our ranks.’

————————————————————————

Meanwhile…

"DAMN IT!!!"

The furious cry erupted from the lips of a particularly beautiful woman, making her beautiful kitsune look awfully ugly like a rabid animal as a result.

Her long blonde hair rippled as she moved, and her sharp white canine teeth were displayed in pure rage. She ground them together so loudly it was as if she sought to crush her frustration into dust, and the wrinkles on her flawless face caused her to appear even more hideous.

"How could this happen?!" she hissed with venom and disbelief in her voice. It was the growl of a hungry predator denied its prey, one that craved destruction with an almost desperate intensity.

She was enraged, an electric mix of fury, anxiety, and the faintest trace of fear that radiated from her pretty body.

This lady was Scyllary, Head of the Slave Union and Leader of the New Order.

Her crimson fur coat and sleek black gown should have proclaimed her as one of the most classiest women in the world. But the vulgarity of her words and the coarse manner in which she spat her curses made her seem anything but beautiful.

Fortunately, there was only one witness to her tantrum, her personal guard.

He stood silently in the corner, his presence so unobtrusive that he might as well have been a statue.

It was almost like he wasn't there at all.

The faint glow of his white mask was the only sign of life, yet his impassive demeanor allowed Scyllary to vent her frustrations without feeling watched or scrutinized.

"Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Damn it! Damn it all!!" she snarled as she clenched her fist so tightly her nails threatened to pierce her palms.

The reason for her current frustrations was no trivial matter as it lay in the fact that her entire framework of plans and the foundation of her power were collapsing before her eyes.

For one, the ExRump Western Warehouse had been attacked by a dragon, a beast of incredible power that slaughtered every single worker stationed there.

Phobio, one of the Eight Heads of Destruction, had managed to escape with his life, barely avoiding the wrath of the beast or the jaws of death.

He’d been found unconscious and naked by her patrolling agents. If not for their timely discovery, even he would have been lost.

If this was all, though, then Scyllary would not be in such a frenzy.

Having a Dragon suddenly invade a major hotspot of resources was bad, incredibly so, but it wasn't impossible to resolve the problem.

Unfortunately, that wasn’t the worst of it.

‘Polymorphous, another head, is dead. Same as Anukus, who was a wild card, and also among the Deadly Three, which is already a huge blow for us.’

Scyllary also got news that Fernand was able to return alive, but his men had suffered an unlucky fate at the hands of an incredibly powerful adversary, one capable of forcing Fernand to retreat.

'It seems the Rump House has gotten their hands on someone pretty strong. For him to cause Fernand to retreat, also killing all his subordinates…'

Scyllary wanted to know who it was!

'Even the whole incident with the Dragon can be labeled as a coincidence, the other incidents can't be so easily dismissed.'

In three seperate locations that were considerably far from each other, some of her strongest pawns had been either eliminated or nearly done in.

'I want to know why!'

It wasn’t just a loss of manpower, though that alone was devastating, it was the collapse of key strategies that had taken months to put in place.

'The resources that were meant to be distributed to the Mercenary Gang had been compromised, thanks to what happened in the ExRump Western Warehouse.'

Sure, the remaining Eight Heads of Destruction could be dispatched there to subjugate the Dragon, but that would spread their forces too thin.

And according to Phobio, this was no ordinary dragon, it was likely a three-horned, higher level Transcendent Tier 1 beast.

"Fenrir might handle it if he has his subordinates with him," she muttered.

But even that solution carried unacceptable risks. If Fenrir failed or suffered losses, it would leave her and the rest of her assets vulnerable and her power base dangerously exposed.

There was also the possibility of suffering more casualties, something they couldn't afford at the moment.

Scyllary began to bite her nails very aggressively.

'I already took the combat ability of the ExRump Corporation into account, and there's no one among them who could take down a Head of Destruction. Maybe Ronald Rumpan himself, but knowing that coward, there's no way he wouldn’t dirty his hands on the front lines.'

The facts didn’t add up, yet the outcome was undeniable. Three of her key operatives had been killed at three separate locations.

‘That means there are at least three powerful individuals working against me, mercenaries, perhaps.’ She sighed, her thoughts spiraling. ‘Out of the Eight Heads, I only have six left. It’s not a crippling loss, but…’

The mission was supposed to involve retrieving crucial documents and swallowing territory, forcing the ExRump Corporation into a single corner, the Free Trade City of Aquarius.

‘But now... they’ll start spreading their wings instead.’

The thought made her stomach churn. Her frustration boiled over again and spilled into another string of curses that echoed through the room like the ravings of someone on the brink of madness.

"I need to calm down," she muttered through clenched teeth. "Yeah… let's find a solution to this issue."

The lady considered the most pressing matters at the moment, and she recognized them to be the recovery of the ExRump Western Warehouse and salvaging the lost resources were paramount. Equally important was dealing with the strong forces that had blindsided her operation.

‘We need to eliminate that dragon quickly, or else it'll be difficult to appease the Mercenary Gang.’

For all her rule by fear, there were limits to its effectiveness. Maintaining her grip required balance. ‘I have the stick, but the carrot can’t be neglected.’

Her thoughts circled back to the dragon. If it truly was a three-horned, Commander-level dragon, she’d need to concentrate every resource she had to bring it down. But doing so would mean pausing her advancements, giving the Rump House a chance to regroup, and perhaps retaliate.

‘The issue remains… how do I wipe them completely?’

Her own success had bred this problem. By consuming everything around the ExRump Corporation, she had cornered them, and now they were lashing out with unexpected ferocity.

‘If their forces are as strong as the Deadly Three, or worse, this won’t be an easy campaign.’

There was something Fernand said that his opponent was possibly linked to the Commander-level dragon, but that seemed absurd. The Rump House couldn’t have tamed a creature of that caliber… could they?

And then there was the mysterious figure Fernand referred to as “Ghost”. Whoever, or whatever, he was, Scyllary found it hard to believe he was behind all the incidents. The attacks had occurred simultaneously, spread across vast distances. No single person could have orchestrated that unless they are impossible fast or have teleportation magic.

‘Still, I can’t deny his strength. If there are two more like him... intercepting them will be a nightmare.’

Her lips curled into a dangerous smile as a wicked thought formed. Slowly, she sank into her office chair, her mind clicking into place like a predator locking onto its prey.

"Unless…" Her grin widened. “... it’s time to use my last resort.”

The decision was a bit early, reckless even, but she no longer cared at this point. Desperation demanded boldness.

"Once the Mercenary Gang deals with the dragon in the West, I suppose we'll go full throttle," she whispered maliciously and began to chuckle to herself, growing into a full-blown cackle.

“Kukuku… kukukuku… kukuahahahahaha!!!”

She now had the perfect way to trap the fools who had chosen to defy her and derail her plans.

'Enjoy the next few days of peace, Ronald Dump! It'll soon be over.' Scyllary closed her eyes, and a wicked grin completely replaced her earlier rage which is now replaced by the cold precision of a hunter ready to strike.

"Once I'm done, everything you have… will be mine.”

————————————————————————

"I'm bored." Riley mumbled to himself as he sat all alone in the cavernous luxury of his suite.

The room was a masterpiece of opulence, polished marble floors, a crystal chandelier casting fractured rainbows across the walls, and plush furniture that looked as though it had been imported straight from a billionaire’s private collection.

But for all its grandeur, it felt empty. Too vast. Too still. Riley's solitude only amplified the weight of time as he waited for the ExRump Corporation to finalize their preparations.

He was waiting for the final preparations by the ExRump Corporation before leaving with Mara Terte to secure her family’s properties, a task that would occupy the next few days.

At some point, Riley felt a gnawing pang of isolation and boredom as he just waited.

"Hm, I need to experiment on something," he said, more to himself than anyone else. Extending a hand, he inhaled deeply.

The mana in the air was thick, swirling invisibly around him. He could feel it now, countless tiny particles brushing against his skin like a gentle breeze. Closing his eyes, he concentrated and reached his will out to the formless energy.

"Let’s see what you can really do," he murmured.

With a subtle flick of his wrist, the particles began to gather. At first, the change was imperceptible, a soft faint shimmer in the air, like heat waves rising from the ground. But soon, the mana gathered with growing intensity and condensed into a tangible form. A soft hum filled the room as the shimmering mass condensed, becoming solid yet ethereal.

Riley opened his eyes, and froze.

Before him stood… himself.

The construct was perfect, down to the smallest detail. Its golden eyes mirrored Riley’s own, and even the faint scar on his left cheek was replicated eerily perfect. The clothing, his stance, the way his chest rose and fell as if breathing, it was all there. But the construct’s surface shimmered faintly, like sunlight dancing on water, betraying its magical nature.

“What a handsome guy…” Riley found himself smiling sheepishly, circling the construct. He marveled at the level of detail and wondered just how far its capabilities extended.

‘Does it have a mind of its own? That… could be problematic.’

As if in answer to his unspoken question, the construct’s head turned to follow him, mimicking his movements flawlessly. He stepped forward, raising his hand, and the construct mirrored the gesture as if they were reflections in a living mirror.

"Time for the real test."

Riley crouched slightly, tensing his muscles as he lunged forward with a sharp jab. The construct moved in perfect unison, matching his speed and precision as their fists collided in a resounding crack, and the force of the impact sent vibrations through the air, sending a sharp jolt up Riley's arm.

“Ow! Damn it!” Riley staggered back and held his throbbing hand, “You hit like me too, huh?” he muttered, shaking his hand to dispel the ache.

The construct remained motionless with a neutral expression, waiting for his next command.

Riley couldn’t help but grin. This wasn’t just a replica, it was a perfect copy, capable of matching his strength, speed, and precision. He could already envision the possibilities from sparring, decoys, and infiltration. The potential was endless.

But as he extended his will to dispel the construct, he hesitated. A faint resistance pushed back, almost imperceptible but undeniably there. Its unblinking eyes locked onto his, and for the briefest moment, Riley thought he saw something flicker within.

Curiosity? Awareness?

"No," he said firmly, shaking off the thought. "You’re just made of mana."

He clenched his fist, focusing his intent, and the construct dissolved into a cascade of shimmering particles, vanishing as quickly as it had appeared.

The room fell silent once more, save for Riley’s steady breathing.

“That was… interesting,” he murmured to himself softly, his lips curling into a small smile.

‘Not only can I manipulate mana particles and bend the world around me, but I can create entirely new skills with nothing but a little creativity.’

Then, Riley paced across the luxurious room, buzzing his mind with the possibilities of his new skill. He couldn’t help but push the boundaries of what this skill could accomplish. If the construct could replicate him so perfectly, could it adapt further? Could it take on forms beyond his own?

Right now, he felt like a child who wanted to try out new things.

With a mischievous glint in his eye, Riley focused on the swirling mana particles again. This time, he allowed his thoughts to wander, to the image of someone familiar.

A form began to materialize before him, starting as a vague silhouette. Slowly, details sharpened from a lithe figure with golden hair cascading down her shoulders, sharp black eyes, and the confident posture that Riley had come to associate with this person.

The construct was formed into a flawless replica of Agent Amelia.

As the construct solidified, Riley realized, too late, that his focus had neglected one critical detail. The replica was flawless, down to every minute detail. Every detail. Including the fact that it was entirely, unmistakably, naked.

His breath caught as he took a step back with widened eyes. "Oh, crap."

The construct tilted its head, mirroring Amelia’s signature no-nonsense expression. It crossed its arms over its chest, an action Riley suspected was unintentional since the construct wasn’t sentient. Still, the uncanny resemblance sent a shiver down his spine.

"This was a mistake," he muttered, running a hand through his hair.

The construct mimicked the motion perfectly, brushing a hand through its golden locks.

Riley’s face turned crimson. “Nope, we’re stopping this right now.”

He extended his hand to dispel the construct, but before he could, it took a step forward. Its movements were fluid, confident, almost unnervingly human. Riley froze as it stopped mere inches away, looking directly into his eyes.

"Okay, this is officially weird," he said, cracking his voice slightly as he moved his eyes around.

Her naked body was captivating.

As most danced around so many parts, it glistened in the room that Riley occupied.

He found himself gawking at the lewd form of the woman in front of him, unable to stop himself from being flustered by what he was looking at.

As if that wasn't enough…

DUM!

DUM!

Knocking sounds echoed from the entrance of his room.

“Damnit! How come I couldn't sense that on time?” Riley hissed under his breath. He hadn’t sensed anyone approaching. His skill’s efficiency was faltering, likely due to the ‘very distracting presence’ in front of him.

'Fuck! What have I done!'

More of the mist cleared, finally revealing some explicit aspects of Amelia that he badly wanted to see, even though guilt swallowed him whole instantly.

"Stop! Stop!" He yelled as he focused all his willpower, and the construct’s form began to shimmer, breaking apart into a cascade of golden particles that dissipated into the air. The room fell silent once more, save for the soft rustling of the curtains in the night breeze.

"Haaa… haaa…" He found himself breathing heavily as he stared blankly into the distance before collapsing onto a nearby chaise lounge, burying his face in his hands.

"What the hell was I thinking? If that agent ever finds out I tried this..." He shuddered at the thought, imagining her reaction.

After a long moment, Riley let out a nervous laugh, his cheeks still burning. “Note to self: practice boundaries with magic. And definitely don’t imagine an agent of the IDAC next time.”

DUM!

DUM!

The second knock on Riley's door woke him from his flustered thoughts, so he was awkwardly jerked back into reality.

"Y-yeah?!" He yelled out.

Of course, his Ghost tone had returned, though that single stutter made him cringe.

The voice that emerged was that of a lady, an ExRump Corporation employee.

"Lord Ghost, everyone is prepared and waiting for you."

"Right. I'll be down shortly." He responded, collapsing on his bed instantly while trying to mask his lingering embarrassment.

"Understood, sir."

He waited until the sound of retreating footsteps faded before exhaling a long sigh of relief. Leaning against the wall, he muttered to himself.

“Thank God she didn’t come in here. That would’ve been… mortifying.”

Riley could only imagine if she had fought him when the naked body of a young lady was still in front of him.

He wanted to scream out, but he controlled himself.

It was time for business, so he couldn't afford to be in such a zone.

"It's Ghost time."

Once again… he cringed.

————————————————————————

The entire group for the journey had gathered.

Mara Terte Greene stood at the forefront, composed as ever. Beside her was an ExRump agent, a stern-looking man tasked with serving as the coachman, so his presence was necessary.

Then, there were Riley’s teammates, though they couldn't be recognized thanks to their dark masks that matched their cloaks. The uniformity of their attire made them appear as though they belonged to a shadowy cult, a fitting impression for the enigmatic individuals under Ghost’s command.

Finally, the last person to converge with the group was the leader of this cult-like group was Ghost, the Dark Adventurer.

Draped in his signature dark cloak and mask, his presence demanded silent respect. As he stepped forward, everyone greeted him with bows and subtle nods.

Even Ronald Rumpan and Barron made an appearance, their expressions a mix of pride and apprehension as they bid the group farewell. Words of encouragement were exchanged, though they could only hope for the best.

With final preparations complete, the group boarded the carriage. Determination flickered in their eyes, and faint smiles hinted at their confidence. They were ready, prepared to face any danger that might await them. After all, they had Ghost leading the way.

But unbeknownst to all of them, the darkness they bled to encounter wouldn't be spotted along their route. It wouldn’t emerge for the next few days.

Instead, it was gathering elsewhere in another place.

The ExRump Western Warehouse.

————————————————————————

When one thought of a cave, they would expect to see grimy rocks and a jagged path that didn't look the slightest bit appealing.

However, this haven was different.

The cavernous dwelling had smooth surfaces all over the walls and ceilings. Tiny balls of light danced in the air, like fireflies, and the place appeared far more pristine than most human dwellings.

Flowers grew in multiple corners of the cave, generating an irresistibly pleasant aroma all around. The fragrance offered fresh air, so despite being surrounded by rocks, no single presence could feel it in the slightest.

The cave walls glimmered with blue hue, and there was something sanctified about the large dwelling within that betrayed the smaller entrance.

What began as a small, unassuming entrance opened into a vast and sanctified dwelling, one that could only belong to one kind of being: Fairies.

Two such creatures entered the cave through its entrance, their gossamer wings beating rapidly as they flew inside. Their pointed ears and delicate features marked them unmistakably as Fae. Their hair, one a soft pink and the other a radiant purple, flowed like petals in the breeze, giving them an almost floral appearance.

Their eyes, like polished gemstones, glimmered in the dim light, and their faces radiated an unearthly beauty that human beings could never dream match.

But despite their elegance, they bore the size and demeanor of children, resembling girls no older than ten.

The two Fairies walked through the passageway and navigated through the labyrinthine corridors within the cave, passing by the entrances to the temporary chambers of their kin.

Most of them were probably asleep now, considering it was already evening, but the two knew that their leader would still be awake.

The moment they entered the central room at the end of the cave, their thoughts were confirmed.

The entrance to the wide room was merely a curtain made of tender leaves.

Once past them, a field of glowing dandelions would enter one's sight, and the aroma would be more than enough to overwhelm one's senses with pleasure.

For the Fairies that walked in, though, they only felt awe and respect for their dear leader.

She was at the very center of the dancing flowers, meditating very solemnly.

Her eyes were closed, and both hands were spread apart to her legs which were folded in her meditative posture as if she were communing with the very essence of the cave itself.

It is the Fairy Queen herself.

Her hair shimmered with green, blue and silver light, like the fairest kind of flower one could pluck from the ripest tree.

And last of all, she has the biggest bosom that any human could see.

Unlike her diminutive followers, their leader stood as tall as a human with a mature body and strikingly details compared to the youthful, childlike appearance of the other Fairies.

She was, in every sense, a figure of awe, embodying the beauty and strength of the Fairy kind.

"Lady Aurora, we have returned," one of the fairies said softly as both of them clasped their hands and bowing deeply in respect.

At the sound of her name, Aurora, as she was called, opened her eyes the moment she was called. Her greenish-blue emerald eyes were on full display as she did so that shimmered with an otherworldly light. Her delicate butterfly wings perked up, the gossamer strands catching the glow of the enchanted cave.

The moment her eyes fell on the two fairies standing before her, a smile bloomed across her pale flawless face. It was a smile that held warmth and familiarity, a beacon of comfort for the two young fairies who had just returned.

"Lali… Lila… you're finally back," she said with a melody of relief and joy in her voice. Rising gracefully to her feet, Aurora’s movements were fluid, almost ethereal, as if the ground itself barely dared to hold her weight.

"You may raise your heads."

The two younger fairies obeyed, lifting their gazes to meet Aurora’s. Her gentle smile greeted them, radiating an affection that made their tiny wings flutter in delight.

"Come closer," Aurora said softly, extending her arms.

The shimmering field of glowing flowers seemed to part instinctively, forming a clear path for Lali and Lila as they approached. When they reached her, Aurora wrapped them in a tender embrace, pulling them close and breathing in their presence.

The two fairies nestled into her hold, their tiny arms encircling her waist. They mirrored the gesture, inhaling her scent, an act as intimate as it was customary among their kind.

"Well done, you two," Aurora whispered, gently patting their backs before she reluctantly pulled away.

The disappointment was plain on their faces, their longing to linger in her embrace etched in every delicate feature. Aurora chuckled softly, her gaze filled with understanding.

"Little ones will always be this way," she thought, her smile deepening as she observed them.

"You’ve been outside all day. I need to hear every detail." Aurora seated herself once more, folding her legs gracefully beneath her. She gestured for them to join her, and they obediently took their places.

"So, tell me everything," she prompted gently, leaning forward with interest.

Lali and Lila exchanged uncertain glances, their tiny faces alight with nervousness. It was clear they didn’t know where to begin to start their analysis.

Aurora nearly giggled at the sight of their endearing hesitation tugging at her heart. It seemed she would have to help them once again.

“Why don’t we start…” Her voice trailed off, her tone gradually shifting.

The warmth in her expression vanished and her smile dissolved into a cold calculated look.

"…with the issue of the Dragon."