The Council of Shadows

At the summit of Mount Vardek, hidden deep in the glacial heart of the Bjorn Empire, stood the Sanctum of Transcendence—a divine hall carved from ancient obsidian and gold-veined silverstone. The air here bent reality itself, warping light and sound. Only the most supreme beings could walk its grounds without being unmade.

Here, six thrones remained—each etched with the mark of a Supreme.

Six… because the seventh was gone. The throne of Laurifer Azaroth, once the Pinnacle of Darkness, remained shattered and untouched. A cruel reminder of betrayal. Of blood. Of fear.

Today, the remaining Six Supremes had gathered.

First came Jerum Goldstone, the Pinnacle of Metal, seated upon a throne of living iron. His golden skin glinted in the dim starlight, muscles sculpted like a divine statue. Cold eyes. Calculating.

Second was Romeros Valentine, the Pinnacle of Blood, draped in robes dyed crimson with true essence. He lounged lazily, but his aura seethed with violent unrest. His presence bled through the air.

Third, Eugeo Grimsveil, the Pinnacle of Shadow. No one truly saw him—he was a blur of shifting void, a silhouette surrounded by a thousand whispering souls. His throne was darkness itself.

Fourth, Eve Cardaux, the Raging Ocean Goddess, sat upon a throne formed from crystallized water in motion—waves endlessly folding upon themselves. Her eyes mirrored the deep sea: serene… yet utterly merciless.

Fifth, Draken Siegfried, the White Flame Reaper and brother of Azreal Siegfried, was newly elevated to Supreme status. His throne burned with ivory flame, and his silver eyes gleamed like twin stars.

And finally, Vespera Vildred, the Matriarch of Spirits, a new addition from the hidden sanctuaries of the Spirit Isles. Her voice rarely echoed in meetings, but her presence weaved through every breath of wind.

A hush fell across the sanctum. Then Jerum spoke first, his voice like clashing hammers on steel.

> "The boy lives. Despite three ambushes, five contract assassins, and a full battalion of warrior-class essence hunters, Cain Azaroth remains."

Eve's voice rippled like tidal thunder. "Not only lives—thrives. The blood of Laurifer, Levi, and Azula runs pure in his veins. His triple affinity is not a myth. Our watchers confirm it."

Romeros leaned forward, licking crimson from his lips. "He's already reversed a Class-A binding contract... and enslaved the caster instead. That level of resistance shouldn't be possible until Legendary Realm."

"It isn't," Vespera said quietly. "Not unless... something ancient is awakening within him."

Jerum's fists clenched. "He must be eliminated. If left alone, he'll rise like his ancestors—and we'll be forced to endure another war we may not survive."

Draken spoke now, his voice steady but edged. "You all speak as though he is merely a threat. But what if… he's the result of our miscalculation?"

Romeros sneered. "Don't grow sentimental, Siegfried. You were not present during the Age of Supremacy. You didn't see what Laurifer truly became."

Eugeo's shadows coiled in agreement. "Laurifer Azaroth wasn't a man. He was a calamity. His mind bent death, and his heart held nothing but vengeance. His heir will be worse."

"Yet Cain has not acted like him," Eve noted. "He fled. He hid. Even when we sent the Blood Hounds, he did not seek retribution."

Jerum slammed his hand into his throne's arm. The entire sanctum trembled.

> "Because he's waiting. Gathering strength. Perhaps even aligning with Azreal. The Siegfried Emperor has not reported to this council in months."

Eyes shifted toward Draken.

But Draken merely folded his arms. "My brother follows his own path. If he's harboring the boy, then he'll answer to this council."

Eugeo's voice came like poison. "He won't. Azreal loved Laurifer like a second father. He trained under the Flame Tyrant and the Darkness Sovereign. His silence is guilt."

Silence stretched. Then Vespera finally rose. "So… we are at an impasse. We must act, but we cannot afford to ignite another war among ourselves."

Jerum's voice lowered. "Then we reshape the board. No more hired blades. No more pawns."

Romeros smirked. "You propose we use our true forces?"

"No," Jerum replied coldly. "We use his own blood."

Eyes narrowed.

Eugeo chuckled darkly. "Ah… the distant cousins. The fallen remnants of House Azaroth scattered across Drimos. Bastards. Exiles. Forgotten."

Jerum's smile was sharp. "Turn them. Offer them a place under our banner. And should they refuse—let the boy feel the sting of losing what little family remains."

Draken frowned. "You would turn kin against kin?"

Jerum's tone didn't waver. "I would end a potential Supreme before he becomes untouchable."

Eve stood. "Then it's settled. We cease subtlety. The Age of Masks is over. The Tyrant walks again."

Romeros rose as well, arms outstretched. "Let's welcome him with open arms… and poisoned daggers."

Eugeo melted into the shadows.

Vespera vanished on the breeze.

And Jerum's voice echoed through the sanctum, cold as eternal metal.

> "The Tyrant rises.

Let the world bleed before he wears a crown."