The room was nearly empty now. Most of the warriors had gone outside, leaving only three figures seated on the floor beside an unconscious Ziraiah.

  Silvie exhaled, glancing between the two brothers.

  Eryndor, sitting with effortless poise, offered a faint smile.

  Valerius turned his face away, embarrassed.

  Silvie chuckled before hesitating, as if weighing her next words.

  Valerius, now lying flat on the floor, stretched lazily.

  Silvie glanced at them both.

  Valerius shrugged.

  His gaze drifted toward Eryndor.

  Eryndor crossed his arms, his expression contemplative.

  Valerius snorted.

  Silvie frowned.

  Valerius propped himself up on his elbows.

  Eryndor glanced at his brother, then added smoothly,

  Silvie nodded, thoughtful.

  Her brows furrowed suddenly, a memory surfacing. The white panel—the glowing text she had seen upon arriving in Yilheim.

  She edged closer to Valerius, her voice lowering.

  Eryndor raised an eyebrow.

  Valerius tilted his head.

  A voice interrupted them out of nowhere.

  Valerius jolted upright, startled.

  Silvie blinked, watching Valerius talk to thin air.

  Eryndor, ever composed, explained with his usual refinement.

  Silvie’s eyes widened.

  Eryndor inclined his head slightly.

  A flicker of curiosity crossed his face.

  Silvie leaned closer to Valerius, whispering,

  Valerius smirked, whispering back,

  Eryndor didn’t even glance at them as he coolly remarked,

  Valerius snorted.

  Eryndor gave him an unimpressed look.

  Valerius stretched his arms behind his head.

  Eryndor exhaled, pinching the bridge of his nose.

  Turning back to Silvie, he straightened his posture.

  Silvie shook his hand.

  Eryndor nodded politely.

  Silvie hesitated before continuing.

  Valerius’ expression darkened.

  Valerius frowned.

  His frown deepened.

  Valerius groaned.

  Eryndor, his mind sharp as ever, mused,

  Silvie turned to Valerius.

  Valerius nodded.

  The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

  Silvie exhaled, looking up.

  Eryndor regarded her curiously.

  Silvie pushed herself up and dusted off her clothes.

  Valerius stood, but instead of following her, he walked over to Ziraiah, kneeling beside her. A mischievous glint flickered in his eyes.

  With an eerily soft, affectionate tone, he whispered,

  Then, his expression twisted into something monstrous—eyes rolling back, mouth stretched wide in a grotesque grin.

  And he screamed in her face.

  Ziraiah’s eyes snapped open—only to be met with an abomination inches from her face.

  Instinct took over. Her hand lashed out, striking Valerius with a slap so devastating, the snap of impact echoed through the room.

  CRACK.

  Valerius was launched across the floor, crashing into the far wall. His body slumped forward, unmoving.

  Everyone froze.

  Silvie’s jaw dropped. The few warriors who remained in the room blinked in shock. Even Eryndor, always composed, raised an eyebrow.

  Valerius, still lying on the floor, eyes wide open, processed the damage.

  He couldn’t move his neck.

  He couldn’t move his jaw.

  He couldn't move his body

  His mind raced. What the hell? I can’t move my head. I can’t move my mouth either. What did she just do to me?

  A voice murmured from the crowd.

  Another woman scoffed.

  The woman grinned.

  The man beside her smirked.

  The woman’s smile widened.

  The man stiffened.

  At that moment, Eliana and the elf queen heard the noise.

  The queen frowned.

  Meanwhile, Ziraiah sat up—unaware that all her clothes had burned away.

  Eryndor’s voice was calm yet firm.

  She froze, looked down—then screeched, yanking Eryndor’s oversized jacket over herself.

  Finally, she turned and saw Valerius, still sprawled out, immobile.

  Her heart sank.

  She scrambled to him, her oversized sleeves flailing as she crouched.

  Valerius could only stare at her, his face swollen, his mind still reeling.

  She broke my neck.

  How dare she?

  Was this because of that stupid hairbrush?

  Then, realization hit.

  Wait. How did she get that strong?!

  Eryndor knelt beside him, examining the damage.

  Silvie tilted her head.

  Valerius’ eyes twitched.

  No. No, I am not okay.

  ---

  Hours had passed since the battle. Within the grand halls of Ignir’s Royal Castle, a tense gathering had formed. The towering, resplendent throne of King Gozay loomed over the assembled nobles and the remaining Spellbounds—their numbers inscribed upon their chests.

  The First and Eighth Spellbounds were absent.

  At the center of attention stood Maloi, her head wrapped in fresh bandages, her stance composed yet strained. Before her, seated upon his throne, King Gozay exhaled slowly, his fingers pressed against his temple. His golden hair, though slightly disheveled, still radiated regality, and his piercing blue eyes shimmered with contemplation.

  A heavy silence filled the hall before the king spoke. His voice, rich with authority, resonated through the chamber.

  His words were deliberate, each syllable laced with weight. His gaze did not waver as he lowered his hand, now resting upon the armrest of his throne.

  The assembled nobles exchanged uneasy glances, the atmosphere thick with tension.

  Maloi took a measured step forward, her head slightly bowed.

  A flicker of something unreadable crossed the king’s gaze. He leaned forward slightly.

  Maloi hesitated before shaking her head.

  A long silence stretched across the hall.

  Then, King Gozay's voice sharpened.

  Maloi did not immediately respond, but the weight of his words pressed upon her shoulders. Her head bowed further, lips tightening.

  Her voice wavered as she finally spoke.

  A low murmur spread among the gathered nobility. Their whispers slithered through the chamber, filling it with disbelief and intrigue.

  King Gozay's gaze narrowed.

  Maloi inhaled deeply before answering.

  The hall erupted into murmurs once more, but this time, it was tinged with outrage.

  A nobleman, his expression twisted with incredulity, scoffed.

  Another elf, his features sharp with scorn, sneered.

  The nobles' chatter grew louder, suspicion mounting.

  But then—

  The king’s voice cracked through the chaos like a thunderclap, its sheer force shattering the rising commotion. The nobility froze, their lips clamping shut as an eerie stillness fell over the hall.

  His gaze, glacial and unwavering, returned to Maloi.

  Maloi swallowed, her voice barely above a whisper.

  A long pause stretched between them.

  Then, with a slow, deliberate motion, King Gozay rose from his throne.

  The sheer magnitude of his 13-foot frame cast an imposing shadow over the chamber. His height was abnormal for an elf. His regal robes billowed slightly as he descended the steps of his dais, his measured steps echoing across the stone floor.

  he murmured, each step drawing him closer to Maloi,

  The room was silent, save for the sound of his boots against marble.

  Maloi, now mere inches from the king’s piercing gaze, felt her breath hitch. His eyes, cold and unreadable, bore into her, searching for any trace of falsehood.

  Her lips trembled as she forced herself to nod.

  A heartbeat of silence.

  Then—

  Without another word, he turned away, his towering figure retreating back toward his throne. Each step, though slow, carried the weight of absolute authority.

  The moment he sat, he intertwined his fingers, exhaling deeply before addressing the room once more.

  His voice was calm, but it carried the finality of a divine decree.

  The nobility listened intently, their previous doubts now overshadowed by curiosity.

  He let his gaze drift across the gathered Spellbounds.

  His voice lowered slightly, the weight of his next words thick with reverence.

  His blue eyes gleamed.

  A hushed silence swept through the chamber, tension crackling like a storm about to break.

  Then, from the ranks of the Spellbounds, a lone figure stepped forward.

  The woman bore the number five inscribed upon her chest. Her hair was cut short in a sharp, practical style—her presence exuding an air of unwavering discipline.

  She knelt before the king, her gaze steady.

  King Gozay did not immediately respond. Instead, he leaned back against his throne, his gaze distant.

  A ripple of shock passed through the hall.

  he continued, his voice heavier now,

  The nobles exchanged uneasy glances. The Spellbounds stood rigid, listening intently.

  His fingers tapped against the throne’s armrest as he recalled a voice from mere days ago.

  Renia.

  The king’s eyes narrowed slightly. And to think… those children had been witness to such an anomaly.

  He exhaled, his mind sharpening.

  The rules of power had shifted.

  And the world of magic had just encountered its greatest unknown.

  A heavy silence lingered in the grand hall, the weight of King Gozay’s words pressing upon the nobles and Spellbounds alike. The revelation of Bravo, a force beyond magic, had shaken the very foundation of their understanding.

  Yet, amidst the suffocating tension, Maloi hesitated, her posture stiffening. She clenched her fists, inhaling sharply before speaking once more.

  King Gozay, who had been lost in thought, shifted his gaze toward her. His expression was unreadable, but his voice carried a calm, unwavering authority.

  Maloi swallowed, her heartbeat thundering in her chest. She took a single step forward, her voice steady but strained.

  "The man I spoke of… the one who overpowered us…"

  A pause.

  Then—

  The entire hall erupted.

  A cacophony of gasps, murmurs, and disbelieving whispers flooded the chamber, nobles recoiling as if they had just been struck by a physical blow.

  one noble barked.

  another scoffed.

  Even the Spellbounds, seasoned warriors and mages of the highest caliber, exchanged bewildered glances.

  For thousands of years, Elves had been known for their unparalleled affinity with Mana. Their lineage was steeped in magic, their connection to Vitalis refined through generations. But Bravo… Bravo was something beyond their domain, a power untamed, raw, and foreign to their very existence.

  For an Elf to wield such a force—it defied logic.

  From his throne, King Gozay remained silent, his piercing blue eyes locked onto Maloi.

  he thought, his mind racing.

  This was no trivial matter. This was a revelation that could change everything.

  The murmurs continued to rise, the nobles spiraling into disbelief, their voices growing louder, more frantic.

  Yet, even as the hall drowned in chaos—the king did not speak.

  He simply sat there. Thinking. Calculating.

  An Elf that uses Bravo…

  For the first time in over five hundred years, something unforeseen had shaken his kingdom.

  And he did not like it.

  ---

  To Be Continued…