Chapter 9: Confrontation

3 hours before Adrian and August entered the caverns…

On the western dock of Prosperum, King and Gil arrived to retrieve a batch of Purple Ore. As they stepped off the ship, they were met by the leader of Prosperum, Sir Gallant, flanked by two of his guards.

Sir Gallant was a man adored by women for his striking looks, a fact that inflated his ego to unbearable heights. He saw most people as beneath him—but today, he was forced to show deference. The men before him were not ordinary. They were members of the World Federation.

"Welcome to Prosperum, gentlemen," he said, flashing a hollow smile.

King, unimpressed, cut straight to the point. "Sir Gallant, there's no need to pretend. Just give us what we came for, and we'll be on our way."

Gallant forced an awkward laugh, his lips curling into a strained smirk.

'Damn these World Federation punks… always thinking they're better than me,' he seethed internally, masking his irritation behind his polished demeanor.

"Now, now, King," Gil interjected smoothly. "Let's not disrespect Sir Gallant."

King scoffed, turning his head slightly to the right, clearly irritated.

Gil turned back to Gallant. "Where is the Purple Ore?"

"There are ten crates, each containing fifty pieces of Purple Ore," Gallant replied, motioning to the stacked crates.

Gil nodded. "Have your servants load them onto our ship."

Gallant reluctantly complied, giving the order for his men to begin loading the shipment.

As the servants worked, King's attention was drawn away—not by the ore, but by something far more delicate. Pink blossoms, carried by the wind, drifted gracefully through the air. Almost as if fate itself were guiding them, the petals flowed in the direction of the mountain.

Gil noticed King's fixation. "Hey, what's up?"

King's gaze remained fixed on the mountain's peak. "Nothing… I just feel drawn to that place for some reason."

"Mount Prosperum?" Gil asked.

"There's a cavern inside, right?" King's voice was unusually contemplative.

Gallant nodded. "Yes, but I haven't allowed anyone inside recently. The number of monsters has increased."

King remained silent for a moment, then made up his mind.

"I'm going."

Gil frowned. "Wait, but—"

"But it's not safe!" Gallant interrupted, his voice shrill with concern.

Gil, however, only chuckled. "He'll be fine." He turned back to the ship, keeping an eye on the shipment.

King strode toward the cavern entrance, where two guards stood watch, placed there by Sir Gallant to keep people out. He attempted to pass without a word, but the guard on the right stepped in front of him, blocking his path.

Their armor, silver and dulled with dust, bore a resemblance to the knights of Arthurian legend. The guard placed a firm hand on King's chest.

A mistake.

In one swift motion, King flipped the guard onto his back. The movement was so quick, so precise, that the guard hadn't even seen it happen.

The second guard, enraged by the sudden attack, activated his Trinket—a spear. The polished tip gleamed as he thrust it forward, stopping just inches from King's face.

"You've committed an act of treason!" the guard barked. "Who do you think you are?!"

King's expression remained unreadable as he slowly reached into his cloak, pulling out his insignia.

"If you don't want to end up like him," he said coolly, "you'd better stop pointing that stick at me."

The insignia bore the crest of the World Federation—an eagle, a symbol of dominance and freedom. Within the Federation, there were three ranks: Intermediate Rank, denoted by bronze insignias; Knights, who bore silver; and the highest rank, Magnus Magister, marked by gold.

The moment the guard saw the silver insignia, his face paled.

"I—I'm sorry, sir! I should have never put my hands on you," he stammered.

King sighed. "I'm sorry too."

The two guards stepped aside without another word. But as King passed, they couldn't suppress the unease creeping up their spines.

"He's so young… yet he already has a silver insignia."

"And those movements… that's not something an ordinary soldier can do."

King entered the cavern, his footsteps echoing against the rocky walls. The deeper he went, the stronger the feeling became—something was calling him here.

Then, voices.

"That's how it's done!"

"We really didn't need to fight. We could have avoided it."

King had no intention of getting involved—until he heard a name.

August.

His blood ran cold.

August Magnus!

His grip tightened on his sword, rage flaring in his chest. Without hesitation, he rushed forward.

August turned sharply at the sound of his name.

He barely had time to react before a blade came hurtling toward his throat.

His instincts kicked in. In a split second, he activated his Trinket, deflecting the attack just before the edge could slice into his neck. The force of the clash sent sparks flying, the ringing of steel echoing through the cavern.

Adrian, caught off guard by the sudden attack, stumbled backward and fell to the ground.

August, his axe still locked against his attacker's blade, narrowed his eyes. "Straight for the neck… you're aiming to kill. Have we met before?"

With pure hatred in his eyes and venom in his voice, the young swordsman shouted:

"You're the man who killed my people!"