Aeron and Allesio stepped out of the palace, only to find themselves surrounded by a circle of guards, weapons drawn and eyes full of judgment.
"How dare you meet with her!" King Tharil's thunderous voice boomed as he pushed through the soldiers, his eyes burning with rage. He stood face-to-face with Allesio, nostrils flaring.
Allesio's jaw clenched, his eyes narrowed with hatred. Just seeing the king ignited every buried feeling inside him — betrayal, anger, heartbreak.
"Kill him!" the king snarled, turning to Aamon with an outstretched hand.
Aamon hesitated for only a moment, then sighed and slowly unsheathed his sword. "You've left me with no choice," he said coldly, stepping forward.
Just as he raised his blade, a sudden piercing scream echoed from inside the ballroom.
"What's going on?!" the king barked, turning to Advisor Tharok.
"Guards, check inside immediately!" Tharok commanded. "Aamon, finish them. I'll escort His Majesty to safety."
All of the guards rushed back into the palace, leaving Aamon standby.
Aeron's heart raced. Something's wrong… That scream… he thought. What the hell is happening inside?
Without wasting another second, Aamon lunged at Allesio with a swift, deadly strike — but Aeron reacted instantly. He stepped forward and swung his leg in a powerful arc.
Aamon noticed the attack just in time, raising his arm to block the kick. The impact was brutal — Aeron's strike sent him staggering backward several steps, the sheer force catching him off guard.
Aamon looked up with a crooked smile, shaking his arm slightly from the pain. "Huh… You're not as weak as I thought," he muttered, eyes gleaming with renewed interest.
A few moments earlier inside the ballroom…
The celebration was in full swing — laughter, music, and the clinking of glasses filled the grand ballroom. People danced under the dazzling chandeliers.
"Where is Lilian?" Prince Tyrvaros asked one of the maids who was cleaning the floor.
"She went inside to change, Your Highness," the maid replied politely.
Suddenly, the air was shattered by a bone-chilling scream.
Guests turned toward the source — then more screams followed. Tyrvaros rushed toward the commotion, only to be met with a horrifying sight: ten bodies lying motionless on the floor. Some were beheaded, others stabbed clean through the heart. Blood soaked the polished marble.
"Who did this?!" Tyrvaros roared, drawing his sword in fury.
A voice, calm yet menacing, cut through the panic.
"Well, well… Here comes the so-called prince," a girl sneered.
She stepped forward from the shadows. Her hair was short, just brushing her neck. She wore a once-charming white dress, now stained in blood. Twin daggers gleamed in her hands.
"I told you not to kill in public," said a voice behind her — Nyvra, clearly annoyed.
"Now we'll just have to kill more of them," he sighed, before lunging at Tyrvaros.
Tyrvaros barely had time to react. He deflected Nyvra's blow with a sharp sword strike — but the girl was faster than he expected. She dashed in from the side. He noticed her too late.
With a swift slice, his right arm was severely cut.
He screamed in agony as blood spilled. Chaos erupted.
Guests rushed toward the exits, but the doors wouldn't budge.
In front of them stood a towering figure — seven feet tall, with a body like a mountain, arms crossed and unmoving. He guarded the entrance like an unbreakable wall. Outside, guards pounded on the doors, trying desperately to break through, but they were sealed shut.
From a corner of the room, two soft, childish voices echoed:
"Can we play now?" they said in eerie unison.
Two small children stepped forward — twins, no older than eight. They looked nearly identical, with shoulder-length hair and innocent faces. The only difference was in their eyes: one had bright purple, the other a soft pink.
Darius and Cassius. Members of the Demon King–worshipping cult since infancy. Despite their age, they were incredibly fast… and lethally strong.
"Be gentle, boys," said a woman nearby. She looked young but had the aura of an ancient witch — twisted, cruel, and cold. Their mother.
And then it began — the massacre.
Darius and Cassius darted forward like phantoms, slashing and stabbing. Their victims didn't even have time to scream. People collapsed, lifeless, in pools of blood.
Tyrvaros clutched his bleeding arm, eyes wide with horror. "What… what do you want?!"
"To party with you, of course," the girl giggled — then dashed toward him again.
But before her blades could reach his chest, Tyrvaros vanished in a blink.
"What—?!" she looked around, confused.
From across the room, Julian had grabbed Tyrvaros and pulled him to safety with his speed.
"You're all dead," Julian growled, stepping forward and drawing his blade.
Before the girl could react, she was suddenly teleported — the magic circle beneath her feet glowing a brilliant blue.
She now stood outside in the royal gardens, under the moonlight.
In front of her stood Zoryael, the Royal Mage-Knight of Zalaris. A master of magic, same age as King Zarkhul, his black hair fell just above his shoulders. He wore his knight uniform, glowing faintly with arcane energy.
The girl tilted her head, intrigued. "Well, this just got interesting."
She rushed at him, striking with one of her knives — but her attack was absorbed by a shimmering blue shield.
"Magic?" she scoffed. "That's no fun."
Back in the ballroom…
Julian stood facing Nyvra. Tension crackled in the air.
"You've gained some height, little brother," Nyvra smirked, his voice mocking.
Julian's eyes flared with hatred. "I'll kill you!"
He charged without hesitation — but Nyvra disappeared in a blur and reappeared several feet away, still smirking.
"You're still slow," Nyvra said with a twisted grin.
On the far side of the ballroom, King Zarkhul faced off against the towering giant blocking the exit.
"I really wanted to fight that beautiful girl instead," Zarkhul yawned with a grin.
"You'll not get past me!" the giant growled, attempting to seize him with his massive hand.
Zarkhul leapt onto the hand mid-swing. "You're too slow," he mocked, eyes gleaming with excitement.
Elsewhere in the hall, chaos continued. Knight Nih of Nytheris and Knight Luthein of Kaldarheim joined the fray, blades clashing against the feral power of Darius and Cassius.
Meanwhile, guards engaged their mother, struggling to hold their own against her overwhelming dark magic.