Back then, golden palaces gleamed under the sun, nobles rode through marble streets in silk robes, and the scent of roasted almonds and spiced wine filled the air. Velmara had been a kingdom of silk and steel. But that was before war. Before betrayal.
Now, its dungeons reeked of death.
Arthur Seo moved like a phantom through the dim corridor. His cloak, fastened at the shoulder with a silver buckle, clung tightly to him, the fabric twisting as he leapt into the air. His hood flared outward, billowing like a storm cloud.
For a moment, he was weightless.
Then—he landed, his boots barely making a sound.
Without hesitation, he turned and sprinted in the opposite direction.
A slimy black substance slithered from his sleeve.
It pulsed—alive, shifting, stretching. It snaked down his wrist, coiling into the shape of a hilt. Then, as expected—
The substance solidified into a long, jagged black sword.
Arthur appeared in front of the Red Oak Army, their crimson armor glinting under flickering torchlight. He tilted his head, smirking.
"This is it?" he called, voice dripping with mockery. "The mighty Red Oaks? Forgive me—I thought you'd send warriors, not gardeners."
The brute roared and swung his axe. It whistled through the air, heading straight for Arthur's chest.
Arthur didn't move.
The moment the blade was about to reach him—he vanished.
Gasps rang out. Confusion.
Then—he descended from above.
His cloak billowed like a shadow, the sword in his grip flashing under the torchlight.
The axe crashed into the ground where he had stood, sending dust and debris surging through the air.
Arthur landed lightly behind the brute and whispered, "Missed."
A second later, his black sword flickered—fast, silent.
The first soldier dropped.
Arthur stepped forward, his voice calm. "Now, where were we?"
The chamber was dim, the air thick with the scent of burning incense. Gold-threaded curtains swayed gently against the stone walls. A single candle flickered on the mahogany table.
A woman entered.
She moved without hesitation, her steps deliberate. A long, ivory head veil covered her face, revealing only her sharp, unreadable eyes. Her name was Jina, and she had come for a decision.
A man sat before her, his posture relaxed, his fingers interlocked as if he had all the time in the world.
"Lady Jina," he greeted smoothly. "You are a woman of reason."
She lowered herself into the seat across from him. "Reason is benefit for benefit."
The man smiled. "Then let me show you the benefits."
He leaned forward slightly. "If you cast your vote, the North will thrive. The markets will flourish. The West will remain strong, untouched. But if you hesitate…" He let the words linger. "The South will crumble. And the East? Well, you know what happens when desperation turns to ambition."
Jina's fingers drummed lightly against the wooden table.
She was silent for a long moment, studying him. Finally, she said, "You make it sound as if I have no choice."
The man's smile didn't falter. "A wise person recognizes when the path is already set."
Jina tilted her head. "And if I refuse?"
The man sighed as if the question bored him. "Then the East burns first. Followed by the South. And I will make sure that when history is written, it will be your name that echoes in ruin."
Jina leaned back in her chair. "You're very sure of yourself."
The man simply smiled. "I am sure of history. It only favors those who understand the game."
She studied him a moment longer, then finally gave a small nod.
A silent deal had been made.
At the Southern Cliffs, where the sea roared against the jagged rocks, two figures stood.
One was massive, his broad shoulders and scarred arms a testament to years of war. The other, lean and sharp-eyed, watched the horizon with quiet calculation.
For a long time, neither spoke.
"You know what this means," the larger man said finally.
The lean man exhaled. "It means that Seo-Hwan and Mi-Ran will be competing for the Black Seat."
A pause.
"And who will win?"
The lean man didn't answer right away. Instead, he watched the waves crash against the cliffs below. Then, finally—
"Seo-Hwan is tactical. Mi-Ran is ruthless. One fights with precision. The other with fire. One is loved. The other feared." His gaze darkened. "Tell me—how do you predict a battle between fire and ice?"
The larger man let out a low chuckle. "I don't. I just watch."
The wind howled around them.
The storm was coming.
Silence.
The Red Oaks were dead, their bodies scattered like broken toys. Blood pooled beneath crushed armor, swords lay forgotten.
At the center, Arthur Seo sat atop the largest corpse, unfazed.
He exhaled, smirking. "A hundred floors. A hundred battles. And still—this dungeon bores me."
With a swift motion, he stood and leapt forward.
Arthur dropped down the spiraling stairs, his cloak flaring behind him. The ground rushed up—
BOOM.
A massive explosion. Dust swallowed everything.
He landed smoothly, cloak billowing. Then—a figure emerged.
It was red, smooth like molten glass, pulsing with eerie life. It grinned.
Then, without hesitation—
It folded its fist and punched.
The air shook. Arthur smirked.
This was going to be interesting.