The young man standing before them was Prince Sirius—the once-crowned heir to the human kingdom, now a ruler without a throne.


    His name had once echoed across the land, spoken with reverence by allies and whispered in fear by his enemies.


    Not just because of his royal blood, but because of the mind that resided behind those sharp silver eyes—calculated, precise, and unshaken even in the direst of situations.


    A prodigy unlike any before him.


    Even as a child, Sirius had surpassed the greatest scholars, warriors, and mages of his generation.


    His intellect cut through problems like a finely honed blade, his strategic mind shifting battlefields before a single sword was drawn.


    His magic—powerful, refined, and terrifying—had caught the attention of the Magic Tower itself.


    Despite being the heir to the throne, the Tower had claimed him.


    They named him their Chief Disciple, a title reserved only for the most exceptional mage of an era.


    The kingdom celebrated it as an honor.


    The royal court saw it as a sign of unmatched potential.


    And in the end—it was what saved his life.


    The day the Demon King attacked, the capital burned in an ocean of fire.


    The once-mighty human kingdom crumbled.


    His father, the king, was slaughtered in his own throne room.


    The ministers, the nobles, even the royal guards—all fell.


    But Sirius was not there.


    Hemel had seen it coming.


    The old mage, his mentor, had sensed the shift in fate before the first flames were even lit.


    He had no time to warn the kingdom, no time to prepare.


    There was only one thing he could do.


    He reached for Sirius.


    A tear in space split the air itself.


    The prince was wrenched from his homeland, his body swallowed by magic.


    In the span of a single breath, the world he had known was gone.


    And when he opened his eyes again, he was standing in the shadows, watching from afar as everything he had been born to protect was reduced to ashes.


    Months passed.


    The kingdom he had once called home had become a land of nightmares.


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    The streets ran red with blood.


    The royal banners had been burned, replaced by the sigil of the Demon King.


    The people—his people—were either dead, enslaved, or worse.


    But then… word of the Hero reached them.


    A rebellion.


    A spark of light flickering in the endless dark.


    It was a fragile hope, but a hope nonetheless.


    And so, when Asael and his companions were captured, Sirius and Hemel did not hesitate.


    A smokescreen engulfed Beastwell, a fog so thick it swallowed the very air, turning day into night.


    Shadows twisted, dancing along the walls as the battlefield was drowned in utter blackness.


    And beneath its veil, Hemel wove his spell.


    A pulse of magic rippled through space.


    One by one, they vanished.


    Every single one of them, pulled from the clutches of the Demon King’s hound.


    Asael exhaled, his lungs burning as he steadied himself.


    They had escaped.


    But at what cost?


    His thoughts spiraled, racing back to the people they had left behind.


    His hands clenched into fists.


    His voice, though weary, carried unwavering resolve.


    "I need to go back."


    Sirius, who had been watching him closely, barely blinked at the words.


    His expression remained unreadable, his crimson cape shifting slightly in the breeze.


    "You’re worried about those who remained?"


    Asael met his gaze, his shoulders tense. "Yes. Korran will kill them. I can’t just—"


    "They were going to die either way."


    The coldness in Sirius’ tone sent a sharp chill through the group.


    There was no softness to his words, no room for comfort.


    Only brutal, unshaken logic.


    "Korran never intended to spare them. Even if you had surrendered, he would have slaughtered them the moment you were gone. You know that."


    The truth struck like a dagger to the gut.


    Because Asael knew.


    Even if he had walked willingly into the Demon King’s grasp, Korran would never have let them go.


    Even so—


    "I have to try," Asael whispered, his voice hoarse. "Even if the odds are against me. I have to try."


    A heavy sigh escaped Sirius'' lips.


    His silver hair gleamed under the dim light, his crimson cape shifting as he crossed his arms.


    His presence was unwavering—calm, composed, and utterly unshaken, as if no force in this world could move him.


    "For now, your priority should be survival."


    His voice was firm, carrying the weight of a ruler who had already witnessed the collapse of everything he once held dear.


    "Right now, they’re already searching for us."


    A thick tension settled over the group.


    And then—


    A sudden ripple in the air.


    A shift, small but undeniable.


    Hemel’s head snapped up, his sharp eyes gleaming with magic.


    His voice rang through the silence, cold and certain.


    "Too late, my lord."


    His fingers twitched, his aged hands tightening around his staff.


    "They’re already here."


    A pulse of dread swept through the air.


    The stillness shattered.


    And in the next instant—


    Sirius turned, his expression unchanged, but his stance shifting in an instant.


    "Quickly move."


    The hunt had begun.


    Asael lost in thought for a moment, Steven''s voice rang out sharply behind him, cutting through the tense air like a blade.


    "No. We need to finish Korran. We won’t get a chance like this."


    The group froze.


    The weight of those words settled over them like a storm on the horizon.


    Sirius narrowed his eyes, his sharp gaze locking onto Steven. "What do you mean?"


    Steven stepped forward, his jaw set with determination. "How many beastmen have come?"


    Sirius glanced toward Hemel.


    The old mage closed his eyes, his lips moving in a silent incantation.


    A faint, eerie glow surrounded him as his magic reached out, weaving through the battlefield like invisible threads, seeking the movements of their enemies.


    Moments later, Hemel’s eyes snapped open, his breath shallow. "Talon, Kevin, and Morales are here—with their troops."


    A ripple of tension spread through the group, like the first crack in a dam before the flood.


    These were not mere soldiers.


    These were some of the Korran’s most powerful subordinates, commanders feared even among their own ranks.


    Steven clenched his fists, his knuckles turning white. "Then this is our moment."


    The realization struck like lightning.


    With Talon and the others leading the army, Korran would be left behind—practically unguarded.


    A golden opportunity.


    A single decisive strike could change everything.


    Steven’s voice was steady, unwavering.


    "If some of us stay behind to hold off the beastmen, the rest can take down Korran before reinforcements arrive. This could be our only chance."


    Asael hesitated, his heart pounding.


    The plan made sense, but the risk was enormous.


    "Who will stay?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.


    Steven stepped forward without a moment’s hesitation. "I will. I can take down Talon and his birds."


    It wasn’t arrogance—it was truth.


    His thunder attacks was devastating against aerial enemies.


    Against Talon, a hawk-winged beastman, he was the perfect counter.


    A soft yet firm voice followed. "I''ll fight with him."


    Lily.


    She stood with her bow clutched tightly in her hands, her fingers grazing the fletching of an arrow.


    Her precise shots could rain down death upon the battlefield, striking where it mattered most.


    Then another voice, deep and unyielding. "We’ll stay as well."


    Magnum and the Dwarf King stepped forward, their presence a force of nature.


    Magnum, unlike his sister, wielded the mystical power of a spirit mage, a rare and formidable magic that could turn the tide of battle.


    The Dwarf King, a titan of raw strength, was an unmovable wall—an unstoppable force of sheer will.


    Asael’s gaze swept over them, taking in their unwavering expressions.


    They had already decided.


    Their resolve was unshakable.


    He swallowed hard before nodding. "Alright. Then the rest of us will go after Korran."


    Silence fell as all eyes turned to Sirius.


    The young prince stood motionless, his mind calculating every possible outcome, every risk.


    For a moment, the only sound was the distant clash of steel, the distant roars of war echoing through the night.


    Then, he lifted his head.


    His silver eyes were sharp, cold, and unwavering.


    "Fine. But if there is even the slightest chance of failure—Hemel, you will teleport us all away. No hesitation."


    Hemel placed a hand over his chest and bowed slightly. "As you command, my lord."


    The decision was made.