Thraalvex was annoyed.
He and his squad had been retrieving a relic from the Demon War era—not just any relic, but the very crown once worn by the Demon King himself. The Crown of the Fallen Flame.
A mission issued directly by the Monestary. A rare honor. A perfect chance to display devotion to Monistar and secure a fat reward in shards. Everything was going perfectly.
Until now.
Thraalvex was rudely awakened from his beauty sleep by a panicked subordinate babbling about a break-in. The words "The crown is gone!" had barely left the scout's mouth before Thraalvex snapped to his feet, the luxurious silk canopy of his tent crumpling under his fury as he stood.
"There were guards," he growled, voice calm but dripping with restrained violence. "There were patrols."
"Yes, Lord Thraalvex," the scout stammered, kneeling so low he was practically kissing the mossy earth. "We think it was someone with a high-level stealth skill—or an advanced concealment spell. There's no trail."
Thraalvex narrowed his eyes. No trail was unlikely.
He snapped his clawed fingers, and a glowing, blackened compass was brought forth—an artifact bound to the crown by demonic tracking magic. He activated it, and the needle immediately pointed north.
Tintor.
A pathetic little human settlement.
He clicked his mandibles in disgust. "So. The rats got bold." His glowing body radiated a surge of killing intent that made every Zelk in the tent flinch.
"Ready the squad. We're going to paint that town with their arrogance."
Now...
He stood amidst the scorched ruins of Tintor, acrid smoke rising around him like incense offered to a god.
And in front of him, wearing the stolen Crown like a cheap accessory, was a child. A human. Black-haired, barely out of adolescence, with strange glyphs orbiting his body like moths made of language.
The boy wasn't running.
That annoyed him more.
Amit pov
He was staring me down. I couldn't see his expression—the Zelk glow always masked their features—but I could feel it. That unreadable pressure, that stillness before the world cracked.
I didn't wait.
I pushed aether into the three connected spells:
[Flight][Reinforcement][Reinforcement]
Yeah, twice. Legs and torso. I needed speed, not elegance. The spells surged in my mind, straining my control, but I gritted my teeth through the pain. Aether control was for civilized duels. This was me staying alive.
I bolted, weaving through flame and rubble. The captain's aura was suffocating—it felt like I was swimming through molten iron. My only shot was stalling until the adventurers I hired caught up.
I couldn't win this. Not cleanly. He was a secret boss, and I hate to admit it, but his aura alone told me everything.
I was near the top of Soldier rank.He was well into Squire rank.
Massive gap.
Still, I had to try.
The ground beneath me exploded—an earthen spike shot up at my head. I flung myself aside, rolling awkwardly. No time to breathe. With another flick of his hand, the terrain warped, spikes jutted out in a deadly bloom.
He's shaping the battlefield around me.
I had to retaliate.
Mind screaming, I reached deep—innate skill: Overcharge.
It tore through me like molten glass in my veins.
I launched toward him, throwing an overcharged fireball mid-dash. He raised a wall of earth to block, but I wasn't done.
I reinforced my sword next, pouring Overcharge into its threads. The blade pulsed, thickened, burned with white heat as the aether became denser, tighter. It sliced through the wall like paper.
The fireball exploded point-blank.
"BINGO!" I shouted with a manic grin.
But when the smoke cleared, he stood untouched.
And then he grabbed my throat.
His glowing hand wrapped around my neck like an iron vice.
What the hell is with this mob boss thinking he can touch me?!
I snapped.
I opened my mouth and bit down—hard.
His glow flared in surprise, and the crown hovering over my head began to spin. Slowly at first. Then faster. The strange runes floating around me began to react—spiraling, pulsing, shifting.
The Zelk tried to shake me off.
I held on.
I wasn't done.
Not until this bastard was dead.
****
Five hundred years ago, a great war plunged the world of Xia into a river of bloodshed.
Though many now claim the Zelk War was the catalyst that united the enlightened races, this is nothing more than a comforting lie. The truth is far older—and far bloodier.
It was the Demon King who forced the alliance. A ruthless conqueror born of flame and hatred, he carved his name into the bones of empires and brought the world to its knees. Under his shadow, even bitter enemies found cause to stand side by side.
In the end, it was the great hero Orion who rose to meet him, wielding the light of the world itself. He struck the final blow, banishing the Demon King from Xia… but not entirely.
A piece of that ancient evil was sealed into a strange, halo-like crown—an artifact said to hum with whispers and temptation. It has not been seen for centuries.
Until now.