Return of the mission

The sun had risen for a while now, spreading its golden threads through large stained-glass windows adorned with vibrant colors, illuminating a vast meeting chamber.

Two rows of soldiers stood in disciplined formation, clad in gleaming white armor with golden engravings on their chests and shoulders. Some wielded grand white spears with straight, razor-sharp edges that glistened under the sunlight, while others gripped massive battle axes with long handles, requiring both hands to wield.

The knights stood tall like towering spears around a long, rectangular crimson table.

Seated across from each other were two individuals.

The first was an elderly man with a long white beard matching his hair, dressed in an elegant blue robe and a pointed hat. A staff rested in his grasp, and though his face was marked with wrinkles, life still burned within his eyes.

Opposite him sat a woman with her eyes closed, donned in a pristine white gown, meticulously embroidered to highlight her graceful figure. Her wide, amber eyes radiated intensity, framed by long, flowing black hair that cascaded over her shoulders like silk. Her fair skin contrasted starkly with her piercing gaze.

Raising her eyes slightly, she glanced towards the majestic throne positioned to the right.

"Alex, are you sure about the time...?" she asked sharply, her eyes locking onto the man called Alex.

Alex slowly opened his half-lidded amber eyes, exuding an air of composed nonchalance. He was clad in elegant black attire with intricate embroidery, reflecting his status and imposing presence. His short red hair was accompanied by a faint scar beneath his right eye.

With a calm, expressionless demeanor, he replied, "His Majesty sent word that he is returning now, accompanied by the other five. Be patient."

"Pfft! The youth these days truly lack patience," the old man scoffed with a teasing smirk, shrugging his shoulders.

The woman—**Linda**—slammed her palm onto the table, her irritation evident.

"What did you just say, you damned old man? Are you looking to start a fight with me?" she growled challengingly.

Lifting his hat slightly with one finger, the old man smirked.

"Oh my, does the esteemed Lady of the **Cartban** family wish to quarrel with me? I'm just an old man counting his final days... What a cold-hearted family you are."

**Gazil's** taunting tone only fueled her anger.

"Oh? It seems like you're eager for a quick death, old man. No problem—I'll grant you your wish!"

As she spoke, a powerful aura flared around her, and in an instant, a sword of pure blue energy materialized in her right hand, glowing intensely with a razor-sharp edge.

Gazil smirked in defiance, and in response, four medium-sized magic circles materialized in front of him.

"Show me what you've got!"

Both of them shouted at the same time, their eyes ablaze with unwavering resolve, ready to strike.

**A masterful sorcerer against a seasoned warrior.**

But just before their attacks could be unleashed, **Alex** took a step forward.

"Ahem," he cleared his throat, his voice calm yet authoritative. "It seems that the two of you have forgotten where and when you are. Lady **Linda**, Lord **Gazil**, both of you are Nine-Star ranked and on the verge of reaching the Tenth Star…"

The two halted immediately, expressions of shock and realization flashing across their faces.

Alex continued in a composed tone,

"If you fight here, even as a mere jest, this place will be destroyed. I recommend taking it to the knights' arena, where you can battle freely."

Both of them instinctively took a step back, suppressing their auras in an instant before forcing a strained smile.

Linda chuckled, "Haha, we'll continue this fight later, old man."

Gazil scoffed in return, "I'll be waiting, little one."

**The only reason they stopped was because Alex was right.**

This world followed a power hierarchy measured in **Stars**, with ten total Star levels. Each Star was divided into three stages:

- **Initial Stage**

- **Intermediate Stage**

- **Peak Stage**

Both **Linda** and **Gazil** had reached the **Peak of the Ninth Star**, meaning that even the slightest movement from either of them could have devastating consequences—especially in an unreinforced chamber like this one.

A deep silence fell over the hall, the tension palpable.

Then, in front of the grand silver-engraved doors, **a massive blue magic circle** flared to life, and from within it, **five figures emerged**.

Immediately, the guards lined up on either side of the hall, dropping to one knee in unison. Along with them, **Gazil**, **Linda**, and **Alex** also kneeled.

In a single, powerful voice, they all chanted with utmost reverence:

**"Long live the great king, the King of Humanity—Igris!"

Igris stepped forward, clad in his pristine silver-white armor, forged to fit him flawlessly. His short silver hair draped slightly over his shoulders, while his deep green eyes were sharp and cold as ice. His fair skin was unblemished, save for **streaks of red blood staining his arm and a faint smear on his face**, his sword resting at his waist.

He walked with a commanding presence, each step altering the very air in the chamber. Without a word, he ascended to his throne and leaned his head against his hand.

Then, in a quiet yet profoundly authoritative voice, he spoke:

"Rise, my soldiers. Eight Great Family Lords—be seated."

Gazil and Linda took their seats, while Alex resumed his position at the king's right side

On the **left side of the throne**, a figure stood—**a masked man with a single visible eye**, dressed in loose combat garments. His long black hair was tied back in a warrior's knot.

This man was the king's left hand, while Alex was his right...

The old man surveyed the king and his companions—the bloodstained garments, the fractured armor clinging to their bodies. A deep unease settled in his chest. Furrowing his brows, he bowed slightly in respect before speaking in a measured tone:

"Your Majesty, may I ask… what exactly happened in the Devil's Sea?"

King **Igris** closed his eyes for a moment, as if recalling a violent memory. Then...

"Hah… old man, it was far worse than we imagined. Every step through that hell made me feel as if death was breathing down my neck."

Beside him, Bernal* let out a dry chuckle, his black eyes gleaming with an eerie light.

"Did you hear that, old man? The Devil's Sea was like a death trap—no, even worse."

The elder's expression hardened as he shot Bernal a sharp look.

"Bernal, mind your tongue before the king."

But Bernal merely shrugged, a careless smile playing at his lips.

**"You asked, old man. I answered. I see no problem with that."**

Seated upon the throne, **Igris** observed the exchange with sharp eyes before finally breaking his silence. His words, though spoken softly, carried a weight that commanded instant attention.

**"The Devil's Sea has changed… It has become far worse and more dangerous than before."**

A hush fell over the room as he continued, his voice steady yet foreboding:

"A decade ago, the strongest beast there was at the ten-star rank. But now… there are creatures that have reached Enlightenment, some even at the Legendary tier. The weakest beasts now are no less than seven stars."

A thunderous silence followed.

Demonic beasts grow stronger over time.

Even a single **Legendary-tier** monster was enough to spread terror across the land. How many warriors would it take to stop such a force? Perhaps… there was no one else capable of doing so but **Igris** himself.

Igris, who had shattered every expectation.

The man who had become the **strongest human alive**.

He had surpassed the **ten-star level**, transcended even **Enlightenment**, and reached the realm of *Half-Ruler—a stage so rare that only a handful of beings, human or otherwise, had ever attained it throughout history.

Amid the rising tension, a sorceress seated among the eight raised her wide-brimmed hat, revealing long silver-white hair and piercing golden eyes. Her expression was calm, yet concern laced her tone as she asked:

"Your Majesty… what is the best course of action? If we delay any further, we may face total annihilation."

Igris closed his eyes briefly, lost in thought. Then, opening them once more, he spoke decisively:

"Alex, go to the Dragon Realm. Inform them of what we have discovered. Tell their Queen that we must resolve this matter swiftly."

"By your command, Your Majesty."

Alex bowed deeply before turning on his heel and striding out of the chamber with unwavering purpose.

Igris then shifted his gaze to two others.

"Linda, Gazil. Take your forces and fortify the northern borders at the White Kaizel Mountains."

"As you command, Your Majesty."

Both warriors stood, pressing fists to their chests in a sign of respect before swiftly departing.

Without missing a beat, the king continued:

"Sylvia, Medogar. Secure the eastern border—watch the Misty Lake within the Forgotten Forest."

"Yes, Your Majesty."

Finally, he turned to **Bernal**, who had been standing idly, as if expecting to be overlooked. But Igris fixed him with a sharp gaze and spoke firmly:

**"Bernal, I need you to clear out all the beasts in the Forest of Death."**

Bernal raised a brow, his expression laced with curiosity and mild surprise.

**"My king, is there a reason for this? That forest is just a minor threat. Its strongest creatures barely reach six or seven stars…"**

Igris paused for a moment before exhaling a slow breath, a mist-like vapor escaping his lips.

**"Caution is paramount. Even a small forest can be dangerous. Go and purge it, but leave any beast ranked four stars and below alive."**

Bernal did not fully grasp the king's intent, but he was not one to question too deeply. Instead, he placed a hand over his chest and offered a slight bow, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

**"As you command, Your Majesty. This humble servant shall obey."**

Among the eight seated in the chamber, only two figures remained unaddressed—the **Left Hand of the King** and a man seated near the royal table.

But Igris gave them no orders. Instead, he lifted his gaze slightly toward the ceiling, lost in contemplation.

Then, in a voice as cold as the wind before a storm, he spoke:

**"The King has returned."**

The words swept through the chamber like an icy gale, leaving everyone frozen in place.

Sylvia rose suddenly, her gaze locked onto the king with a mix of suspicion and fear.

**"Your Majesty… do you mean that?"**

A solemn nod was his only response. His crimson eyes gleamed with an undeniable certainty.

**"Yes. I am sure of it. The King returned… just last night."**

The second wave of shock struck the room.

There was no doubt left.

**"Your Majesty, this is grave news… How should we proceed?"** Gazil, the old warrior, inquired, his face unreadable.

Igris remained silent for a moment before answering in a low, deliberate tone:

**"It is too soon to make a decision. We will wait—observe what unfolds. Only then will we determine our course of action."**

The chamber fell into heavy silence as each person processed the weight of the king's words.

"War is coming. Perhaps sooner than I had anticipated. I must act with the utmost caution from now on…"

The thought settled deep in **Igris's** mind.

As **the king** and **the strongest human alive**, every move he made carried immense consequences. He was bound not just by the weight of his throne, but by the colossal chains of responsibility that shackled him.

And now, with the return of the King, everything had changed.

Lost in his thoughts, the grand silver doors of the hall swung open.

A figure stepped inside—a maid clad in obsidian-black armor, her jet-black hair flowing behind her with each measured step. Her dark eyes burned with an intense, unwavering light.

She knelt on one knee, lowering her head in deep respect before speaking in a calm, yet firm voice:

"This humble servant greets the great King Igris and the heads of the Eight Families."

Then, in a more solemn tone, she added:

"Your Majesty, there is a visitor requesting an audience… He is an envoy from the Church."