King Araknis the 8th, Milphomor Araknis, turned his gaze to the three Guardian Generals seated beside him, his expression firm as he sought their counsel.
“What do you think, Leon?” the King inquired, his voice steady yet etched with the weight of his thoughts. “Is it the same person I suspect it to be?”
General Leon, whose face was etched with a serious and contemplative expression, met the King’s gaze and nodded solemnly.
“Indeed, Your Majesty,” General Leon replied, his ocean-blue eyes narrowing with a cold, steely resolve. “Your guess is correct. This devastation is undoubtedly the work of the Demon Lord of Gluttony, Beelzebub—one of the seven deadly Demon Lords.”
As he spoke, a fierce anger flashed across General Leon’s face. His grip on the armrests of his chair tightened until his knuckles turned white, the tension in his body reflecting the deep hatred he harbored for the creature responsible for the horrific destruction of Arcadia City.
The room grew even more silent as those present absorbed the gravity of the revelation, understanding the peril that now loomed over the kingdom.
“Bang!”
A resounding crack echoed through the Council Hall as General Leon’s grip shattered the armrests of his chair. The air around him grew icy, a chill that seeped into the bones of those nearby. The armrests, crafted from the strongest materials known in the kingdom, crumbled under his immense strength, now reduced to splintered fragments on the floor.
The King and the others present immediately noticed the intensity of his reaction, their eyes narrowing in concern. It was unlike General Leon to lose his composure, especially in such a grave tone.
The visible fury in his usually controlled demeanor hinted at something far deeper—an anger fueled by some type of personal grudge.
King Araknis leaned forward, his gaze locking onto Leon with a mix of curiosity and concern.
“Leon, what happened—why do you look so mad?” he asked, his voice calm but tinged with a note of inquiry.
King Araknis knew General Leon well. He was not someone with with such strong emotions—usually the calm and composed one.
Leon remained silent for a moment, his eyes still burning with cold fury as he stared at the shattered remains of the chair. His chest heaved slightly, the only sign of the inner turmoil that raged within him.
Finally, he looked up, meeting the King’s gaze, and the depth of his hatred became evident.
“Your Majesty,” Leon began, his voice low and laced with a venomous edge, “this isn’t just about Arcadia or the destruction it has suffered. The reason of my hatred is personal.”
He paused, his eyes narrowing further as memories seemed to flood back, darkening his expression even more.
“Years ago, before I took on the mantle of Guardian General, Beelzebub ravaged my homeland. My family… my entire village was consumed by that monster. I watched as everything I loved was devoured by his insatiable hunger. I was powerless to stop it.”
“And now, years later, it has happened once again,” General Leon murmured, his voice thick with regret.
He lifted his gaze to meet the King’s eyes, the pain in them unmistakable. “Your Majesty, a few days ago, I was there, in Arcadia, on a routine check. There had been reports of disturbances with demons, but I thought it was nothing serious—just another skirmish, something the local forces could handle.”
“But…” Leon’s expression darkened, the weight of his words bearing down on everyone in the room. “Because of my ignorance, because I underestimated the threat, the city has been completely destroyed. If only I had stayed… if only I had investigate it further… I might have been able to save them. I could have saved them all.”
His voice faltered as the memory of the city’s devastation washed over him. “There were some talented children who caught my eye during my visit—young prodigies with the potential to become the future powerhouses of our kingdom. Among them was one who stood out, a boy of exceptional promise. But now… he too is gone, taken by the same darkness that consumed Arcadia.”
Leon’s fists clenched at his sides, the pain of his failure evident in every line of his face. “It is a grave loss for our kingdom, Your Majesty. Not just the city, but the future that those children represented. The blood of the innocent is on my hands, and it is a burden I will carry for the rest of my days.”
The room fell into a heavy silence, the enormity of the tragedy sinking in. The King’s expression softened, a mixture of understanding and sorrow in his eyes. He knew that Leon’s regret ran deep, but there was no time to dwell on the past—only the future, and the battle that lay ahead.
“Leon,” the King said softly, “you cannot blame yourself for what has happened. It happens sometime. You don’t have ability to predict future, do you? It’s all those abominable demonic forces fault.”
Leon nodded in understanding, however the guilt still remained in his heart.
“Your Majesty, should we lead the troops to war against the demons? Although, it’s unlikely that we would win on our own,” Marshal Tyron suddenly spoke, his voice tinged with a mix of apprehension and determination. His eyes darted around the room, seeking some form of reassurance or approval from the other council members.
The grand hall fell silent as all eyes turned to King Araknis, who sat upon his throne with an air of calm authority. The King’s dark, contemplative eyes met the Marshal’s, and after a moment of silence, he shook his head slowly. The gesture was mirrored by the other formidable figures seated around the grand table, their expressions grave.
“No, Marshal Tyron,” King Araknis finally spoke, his deep voice resonating through the hall.
“It would be reckless, like the impulsive actions of a child. A war at this moment, without proper preparation and alliance, would lead to our downfall. We must not act out of desperation.”
The Marshal lowered his head, understanding the weight of the King’s words.
King Araknis continued, “We need to wait for the Emperor’s command. Only when Emperor Kairos himself calls for battle will we move against the demons. To do otherwise would be to court disaster.”
As the King’s words settled over the room, he shifted his gaze to the far end of the table. There, sitting with a posture that bordered on insolence, was Envoy Feodor. The man appeared almost bored, his fingers casually tapping on the armrest of his chair, as if this royal council was of little consequence to him.
“Envoy Feodor,” King Araknis addressed him, his voice cold, “What is your opinion on this matter? When will Emperor Kairos make his move against the other imperial alliances?”
Feodor barely lifted his eyes to meet the King’s gaze, his expression one of indifference. The envoy’s attire, adorned with the intricate symbols of the Kairos Empire, added to his air of arrogance. He had the backing of the most powerful empire, and he knew it.
He took these kings and generals were mere pawns in a game dictated by his Emperor.
“Your Majesty,” Feodor began, his tone languid, almost dismissive, “The Emperor is indeed preparing for war. But as to when that will happen…”
He shrugged nonchalantly. “It’s not for me to say. The timing is uncertain, and it will depend on factors known only to the Emperor himself.”
The casualness of his response sent ripples of anger through the room. General Leon, a towering figure known for his icy demeanor and unwavering loyalty to King Araknis, clenched his fists. The temperature in the room seemed to drop as his eyes locked onto Feodor, as if he were considering freezing the envoy in place for his blatant disrespect.
Noticing the growing hostility, Feodor quickly straightened in his chair, the lazy arrogance slipping from his face. A flicker of fear crossed his eyes as he realized that he might have pushed too far.
“Of course, Your Majesty,” Feodor added hastily, trying to regain control of the situation.
“I assure you, the Emperor is fully aware of the situation and will act when the time is right. We must remain patient and vigilant. The Empire does not move hastily, but when it does, it will strike with overwhelming force.”
King Araknis narrowed his eyes, studying the envoy for a long moment. The other council members waited in tense silence, their eyes darting between the King and the now-uneasy envoy.
“Very well, Envoy Feodor,” the King said, his tone measured but carrying an edge of warning.
“We shall await the Emperor’s command. But remember this,” his voice dropped lower, more threatening, “We will not be pawns in your Emperor’s game. If Emperor Kairos intends to use us as such, he may find that we are not as compliant as he expects.”
There are a total of 13 affiliated kingdoms under Emperor Kairos’ rule, and the Kingdom of Araknis is one of them. These kingdoms have gathered together for survival against the demons and infiltrating empires like the Dragon Empire, which eyes their lands like a juicy piece of meat..
Feodor swallowed hard, realizing that beneath the King’s calm exterior lay a will as unyielding as steel. He nodded, offering a more respectful bow than before.
“Understood, Your Majesty,” he replied, his voice subdued. “I will convey your words to Emperor Kairos.”
“Just you wait, you old fart..I will tell his majesty Emperor how you didn’t showed respect to him. Then, we will see.” Envoy Feodor sneered inwardly.
On the other hand, General Leon found the whole charade disappointing. He clenched fist as icy cold power emanated from his palm.
He stood up and left the room in a huff.
The others just looked at each other, while the King understood Leon’s feeling. He didn’t mind the offence. Instead, he grew increasingly concerned that he might act recklessly.
