An hour ago.
Ashen Expanse.
The Ashen Expanse was no place for the sane.
Volcanic smoke belched from cracked earth like the breath of slumbering giants, rivers of magma whispered lullabies of agony, and the skies above boiled with red haze.
Here, corrupted beasts road unchecked, mutated beyond reason, and even mana itself seed to warp and writhe in discomfort.
Yet, two figures stood still, unmoved.
One was a man carved from silence and command: Argon Von Vaise, a cloak of midnight draped over broad shoulders, black hair pulled tight, his face sharp enough to cut stone and twice as cold.
His gaze surveyed the expanse like a judge waiting for sin to confess itself.
Beside him... was a lunatic in a robe.
"CRIMSON MUSHROOMS!" Scread Crisaius, bent at the waist with his nose inches from a glowing, clearly dangerous fungus. "Don’t eat these. Unless you hate your kidneys. Oh-ho! It jiggles when I poke it—!"
Argon didn’t move. He rely sighed, but the old man understood what the man wanted to say.
"Yes, yes," Crisaius muttered, smacking the mushroom once more for science before straightening with a dusty huff. "I’m researching. But damn, this jiggling mushroom reminds of my younger days when I used to slap—"
"That rock is not a rock..." Argon finally spoke, cutting off Crisaius as he glanced at the rock beneath the old man.
"It’s not? Oh, stars above—" Crisaius flipped backward, landing on a floating disc that hadn’t existed two seconds ago.
The "rock" growled and scuttled away on molten legs.
"Bah! Leave, beast! Your camouflage is impressive, but I have taxes to dodge!"
Argon sighed again, not knowing what he should be feeling.
But then, the wind shifted, and Argon’s eyes narrowed.
From the east, boots scraped across the blackened stone.
A young soldier, armored in Vaise insignia, ca running with ash clinging to every limb, panting so hard his soul nearly left his body.
"Lords—Lord Argon! Lord Crisaius! Urgent report from the capital!"
Crisaius straightened mid-ramble.
"Repeat it," Crisaius said, sticking a finger in his ear. "But make it dramatic this ti."
The soldier blinked. "Um..."
He didn’t know what he should do. ’How do I make it dramatic?’
He thought, but Argon, with a cold gaze, turned to the soldier. "Speak."
"Ah, yes, my lord!" The soldier saluted before he spoke, "A group of royal knights has departed for the Vaise mansion inside the Velmoria Academy."
Both Crisaius and Argon frowned.
The soldier continued. "There’s talk—rumors spreading—that the royal court may attempt to capture certain mbers of the group for questioning. Possibly under the pretense of treason or foreign interference."
Crisaius froze. Slowly stood.
"Wait... Raven’s group?"
"Yes, sir."
The silence that followed was imdiate and dangerous.
Argon’s right gauntlet flexed once.
Even the volcano behind them let out a soft huff of smoke, as if feeling uncomfortable.
"Oh no," Crisaius whispered. "Ohhh no no no. Nope. That won’t do."
He looked up at Argon. "You hear that? They’re going after our boy."
Argon didn’t respond.
Instead, he turned to face the east—toward the capital.
The winds shifted. A crimson flare of mana coiled around his shoulders like a silent threat. His eyes glowed faintly behind his helm.
"Tell the Rapid Strike Unit to march to the capital."
"W-Wait," the soldier stamred. "You’re not suggesting—"
"Shh," Crisaius said, slapping a volcanic rock on the soldier’s mouth. "Let him cook."
Argon raised one arm, and the molten air around them howled. The stone cracked.
The lava below hissed as heat itself bent away from the gathering force in his palm.
"It’s ti to confront the royals."
Then, with one silent step, he vanished—as if the world had blinked and misplaced him.
"...He’s going to the capital," the soldier whispered in awe.
Crisaius sighed, spinning his ladle and casually summoning a fire cloud beneath his feet.
"Oh, we’re all going," he bead. "Because if the royal court thinks it can ss with Raven and get away with it... then I’ve clearly not made enough examples lately."
He paused.
Then grinned, wide and unhinged.
"...Also, I left my soup pot at the mansion. And by the gods, I’m getting it back."
And with that, Crisaius flew off into the ash winds—like a deranged cot chasing a silent teor of destruction.
The Ashen Expanse was quiet again, leaving only the soldier behind, who, within a second, quickly broke out of his awe and rushed to inform the Rapid Strike Unit about the Patriarch’s command.
..................................
Present.
Oblivious of the two human forms of disasters heading toward the capital, the events in the royal palace continued.
The Grand Palace Courtroom was not a place of justice. Not truly.
It was a place of performance—a gold-plated theater carved from ancient marble and pride.
Every step echoed, not just with footsteps, but with history and judgnt.
The heavy double doors opened with a royal groan.
Raven and his group entered.
Each mber radiated a different kind of tension—Clara like a poised blade, Siris like an unpinned grenade, Jake a silent storm, Jessy a ticking wit bomb, Rufus a confused moral compass, and Alex... sohow upside down again, flipping to land neatly on his feet just in ti.
Nibbles floated like an ancient artifact no one understood but everyone feared.
At their lead, Raven—his eyes half-lidded, expression blank—yet every noble flinched when he walked by.
The quiet ones were always the most dangerous.
The courtroom was vast.
A do of golden arches, sunlight filtered through enchanted glass panels high above, and three thrones waited at the far end.
On the center throne sat the King—tall and draped in regal blue, with sharp silver hair cascading to his shoulders and eyes like frozen oceans: cold, deep, and ancient.
The Queen, beside him, had an elegance so precise it felt like a weapon. She observed like one judging chess pieces, not people.
And then there was the Crown Prince—Selena’s older brother. He was leaner and older but had the sa commanding air Selena wore when serious.
His hair was a deep silver-gold, a fusion of both parents, and his blue eyes were narrowed—viewing the Vaise group with clear hostility.
It was as if they had stolen his candy, and he couldn’t even cry about it.
To Damien, however, it was all smiles.
"My King, my Queen, my Prince," Damien said, bowing deeply, the fake elder badge of Vaise still pinned proudly on his chest. "I have brought forth the mbers of the Vaise faction who are most likely responsible for the recent... incident."
He turned slightly as if he wasn’t standing in front of seven combat-capable war cris and a telekinetic squirrel.
The royal ministers sat flanking the court, scrolls and docunts piled high. Nobles buzzed with whispers like flies over at.
But three presences stood out.
The Three Dukes.
Each sitting in raised thrones behind the royal family—save for one throne, empty.
Argon Von Vaise was not here.
Which was all the confirmation Raven needed: this was planned. Long ago.
Before anyone could speak, a bell chid.
Magical, clear, final.
A minister stood. "This court will begin the inquiry into the events that occurred a day prior near the forest north of the capital, where royal knights were found injured and significant magical and physical destruction was recorded in the forest."
The King didn’t raise his voice.
He didn’t have to.
"Were you," he said slowly, eyes locked on Raven, "responsible for attacking royal knights in that region?"
Raven didn’t speak.
Nor did anyone else.
Even Nibbles tightened his grip on Alex’s shoulder, giving a silent squeak that translated to, ’Don’t look at , I’m just a squirrel.’
"...Silence," muttered the Crown Prince, his expression betraying his malice. "So they’re either guilty or know sothing they shouldn’t."
"Perhaps both," the Queen said, her voice like glass being placed carefully into velvet.
Jessy adjusted her gloves. "You know," she whispered to no one in particular, "for a place called a courtroom, there’s not much interest in hearing the other side."
"Shhh," Alex whispered as if they were watching a play. "This is the part where the villains make their mistake."
"I’m pretty sure we are the villains in their eyes," Rufus whispered back.
"No," Siris added quietly. "We’re the audience. They’re the ones about to be stabbed by the plot."
Clara almost smiled.
Another minister stood, his voice more accusatory. "The area showed signs of combat on a scale unnatural for your group’s known capabilities. Therefore, we ask again: who helped you? Was it the remnants of so cult or rcenaries, or perhaps even an external force? We demand nas."
Silence.
"Surely," the Queen said, "you don’t expect us to believe a group of children fended off an entire demon horde?"
Siris raised her hand slightly.
"No," Raven whispered.
"Not even to say it wasn’t the group but you alone?" She muttered.
"Still no."
Jessy crossed her arms. "I think we’re being insulted."
Jake nodded as if agreeing to her words.
The King’s voice cut through them.
"This silence can only be interpreted one way: you received unauthorized help. That constitutes a threat to the balance of power within the kingdom."
The Crown Prince’s jaw tightened. "And that ans treason."
Clara’s hand slid under her coat again.
Raven gave her a slight shake of the head. Not yet.
"Your Highnesses," Damien said, with the gentle concern of a man pretending to do his job, "this is why I brought them here. So we may determine the truth before any rash decisions are made."
He bowed again, so smoothly you’d almost think he had a spine.
"That bastard," Siris muttered. "He’s even worse at lying than I am at pretending to be normal."
"Which ans very," Jessy said.
The King nodded once. "If they do not speak by the end of today’s questioning, we may be forced to consider confinent until they do. For the sake of national security."
That was the cue.
Raven stood straighter, gaze unblinking as he looked directly at the King.
"I understand," he said.
Everyone turned.
He had spoken.
Then he slowly reached into his coat and pulled sothing out.
It was a nut—an acorn.
He placed it gently on the floor.
Nibbles floated down like a divine herald, took the nut, saluted the court with a squeak... and sat with an imperial gaze.
"What—is that—?" one minister began.
The Queen blinked. "What are they doing?"
The Crown Prince whispered, "I suddenly feel unsafe."
Before others could say anything, Raven sat back down as if that was all he had to do.
The silence resud.
Only to be broken again.
"Ah, shit." Alex slapped his head. "We forgot the crown."
He reached into his pocket and took out a paper crown and placed it above Nibbles’s head.
"Now he looks like an emperor."
Others, while looking at this, didn’t know what to say.
However, it wasn’t their turn to say.
Raven still wasn’t done.
"He is our speaker. We will speak in our defense," Raven declared with utmost seriousness, and Nibbles squeaked with a grave expression as if he had accepted Raven’s order.
Then, Nibbles turned toward the royals, his eyes now half-lidded, staring at the King with more majesty than anyone the King had ever seen.
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