The Gathering of Powers.

The sky blazed bright above the pavilion of the royal court. Footsteps echoed through the marble halls slow, measured, heavy. Power radiated from their every step, a silent declaration of authority.

The guards stationed along the entrance lowered their heads just slightly, not out of respect, but fear. The air grew thick with the scent of myrrh and blood a fragrance steeped in corruption and deception.

An ordinary man would have fallen to his knees under the sheer weight of their presence.

One by one, they entered the royal court. The massive doors groaned shut behind them with a finality that felt like the closing of a tomb. Outside, the guards stood motionless silent and still. More than a royal court, it felt like an abandoned graveyard.

The scene shifted.

Atop the last mountain before the end of the Eternal Forest of Darkness, Veythor stood. The wind howled around him, the scent of blood still fresh in the air. His once-white robe clung to his body in tattered, crimson streaked ruins stained with his blood and the blood of those who had dared to stand against him.

He swayed slightly but did not fall. His breathing was ragged, his vision blurred, but his grip on that black sword never wavered.

The forest behind him seemed alive watching. Waiting.

Veythor's lips curled into a smirk, but there was no joy in it. Only weariness and a madness that danced just beneath the surface. He coughed, a harsh, guttural sound, and more blood spilled from his lips. Yet still, his crimson eyes burned.

He spoke, his voice rough and broken and yet triumphant.

"Hahaha… Finally… Finally… I've escaped this wretched, death-bringing forest."

The scene shifted again.

The royal court's vast chamber was a temple of opulence and dread. Gilded pillars stretched toward the heavens, and intricate murals depicted the bloodstained history of Narzan's conquests. The light filtering through the stained glass cast hues of crimson and gold across the polished marble floor, as if the court itself was soaked in spilled blood.

They gathered like predators the leaders of Narzan's eight great noble families. Each of them radiated a distinct presence, a power cultivated through generations of ruthlessness. Their words slithered through the air, sharpened with venom and barely concealed malice.

Sugen Family

Leader: Sugen Riku

Age: 29

Appearance: Lean and sharp-featured, with pale skin and long black hair always tied back. His cold gray eyes seemed to pierce through anyone he looked at. Wears elegant, high-collared black robes embroidered with silver.

Kaelis Family

Leader: Orun Kaelis

Age: 54

Appearance: Broad and imposing, with graying brown hair and a scar running from his temple to his chin. His amber eyes glow with perpetual disdain. Dresses in crimson armor even within the court, always ready for conflict.

Velmoor Family

Leader: Elara Velmoor

Age: 38

Appearance: Tall and statuesque, with long, flowing platinum hair and ice-blue eyes. Always dressed in flowing, dark violet gowns lined with fur and jewels. Her beauty is only rivaled by her ruthlessness.

Dareth Family

Leader: Kael Dareth

Age: 47

Appearance: Gaunt and severe, with hollow cheeks and dark circles under his red-rimmed eyes. His long black-and-gray hair is always slicked back. Wears simple, stark robes a contrast to his family's wealth.

Zaurak Family

Leader: Vion Zaurak

Age: 61

Appearance: Short and stocky, with a well-groomed silver beard and piercing green eyes. Despite his age, his frame is still muscular, and his presence feels like a storm waiting to break.

Myralis Family

Leader: Seres Myralis

Age: 33

Appearance: Slender and pale, with dark red hair that cascades down her back and violet eyes that never seem to blink. Her voice is soft, almost gentle but her words always sting like poison.

Grevarn Family

Leader: Aldren Grevarn

Age: 50

Appearance: Towering and broad-shouldered, his body scarred from countless battles. Bald, with a thick salt-and-pepper beard and one eye covered by a black eyepatch. His remaining eye is dark brown and filled with rage.

Othrael Family

Leader: Edrik Othrael

Age: 42

Appearance: Tall and wiry, with long, silver-streaked black hair and golden eyes that shimmer with cunning. His sharp features make him look like a predator, and his constant smirk only adds to the menace.

The leaders stood in silence, the weight of their rivalry palpable in the air. The tension was thick enough to strangle anyone foolish enough to speak out of turn.

Sugen Riku stood alone and detached from everyone in this room. His eyes were closed, his stillness a stark contrast to the restless undercurrent of hostility around him.

The silence shattered.

Old Vion Zaurak's voice slithered through the room slow, deliberate, and pointed.

"So… I think we all know why the Emperor gathered us here. And we all know the rumors swirling throughout the Empire."

All eyes shifted toward Zaurak, and then toward Sugen Riku. Slowly, Riku opened his eyes, his cold gaze cutting through the air like a knife.

"Mr. Zaurak," Riku spoke slowly, his tone dripping with venom. "What exactly are you trying to say?"

Zaurak chuckled a low, sinister sound that vibrated through the chamber.

"Hahaha… Mr. Sugen, there's no need to hide anything. Although our rivalries will never cease… I think we can all agree on one thing." His eyes gleamed with malice. "We despise the commoner Supreme Commander. And it seems he's been missing for seven days."

A ripple of dark amusement passed through the room.

"Let's get to the point," Zaurak continued. "There's a rumor that you sent assassins after him. And it seems they succeeded. Although… the body hasn't been found yet."

Before he could say more, Edrik Othrael cut in his voice sharp and mocking.

"Oh-ho… So, can we all assume that Veythor is dead?"

The room fell into a hungry silence. All eyes turned to Sugen Riku.

He waited. Letting the silence stretch. Letting their anticipation grow.

Then, finally, he spoke. His voice was cold and arrogant.

"Why the hell should I explain myself to any of you?"

A soft gasp rippled through the chamber but no one dared speak.

"But," Riku continued, his voice a quiet blade, "as we are united in our hatred for that wretched commoner… I'll share some information."

He paused just long enough for the weight of his words to settle.

"Yes. My men reported that Veythor was attacked. He was gravely injured. In the process, he killed every last one of my assassins."

Another ripple of shock. But Riku wasn't finished.

"However… he was struck near the heart. Even if he's alive and I doubt he is his days are numbered. And if by some miracle he returns…" Riku's voice hardened.

"I, Sugen Riku, swear on the name of my family I will crush him personally."

The court murmured a sound both eager and uncertain.

Zaurak watched Sugen Riku in silence. The younger man's arrogance was grating and dangerous. A wounded beast was often the most vicious. If Veythor was still alive… No. That thought was too dangerous to entertain. Still, Zaurak's instincts, honed by decades of survival in the court's blood-soaked waters, whispered caution.

And then the massive doors groaned open. The sound cracked through the chamber like breaking bones.

The guards straightened, their voices rising in perfect unison.

"Attention! Presenting the 28th Emperor of Narzan… Avantis Astaline!"

The air thickened. The nobles stood motionless.

Through the darkness, a figure stepped forward tall, regal, and dripping with the weight of power.

As the Emperor entered, his eyes locked onto Sugen Riku. In that single glance, the cold grew unbearable.

The Emperor smiled. A slow, dangerous, enigmatic curl of his lips.

And the court of predators fell silent.