Luther, a seasoned warrior, had personally handled the majority of the enemy forces. Among the ranks of humanity's elite stood three SSS-ranked mages—Aldermond himself, Luther, and a third mage from the church. These three alone should have ensured a balanced battle.
But this wasn't a battle.
It had been a massacre.
'The demons are naturally superior in combat,' Aldermond thought, rubbing his chin. 'They heal faster, they're stronger, their senses are sharper, and they have the ho advantage.'
And yet…
'Why was this so easy?'
His mind raced, trying to piece together the missing fragnts. There were a few notable demons, so proving difficult, but none that stood out. None strong enough to pose a genuine threat.
'Where are the true elites of their kind?'
A foreboding sensation gnawed at him. Sothing about this entire campaign felt off, as if they had walked into a ga where the rules had been altered without their knowledge. He had steeled himself for a grueling conquest, for losses, for an enemy that would challenge their every step.
Instead, they had walked through open gates, through a battlefield that barely put up a fight.
His thoughts were interrupted by the hurried approach of a mage. The man skidded to a stop before him, breathless.
"Lord Aldermond! Lord Drack has sent an urgent ssage."
Aldermond's eyes sharpened as the mage placed a small, circular device on the ground. Recognition flickered in his gaze.
An Invext.
A secure communication artifact, capable of carrying pre-recorded ssages. To prevent intercepted transmissions, these devices required a facial imprint to activate. If the recipient did not match the imprint, the ssage would be erased instantly.
Aldermond bent down, picking up the device with a grim expression. If Drack was reaching out in the middle of a campaign, it ant sothing was terribly wrong.
Holding the Invext before his face, he allowed the artifact to scan him. A brief flash of light swept across his features, followed by a clicking sound as the device unlocked. It levitated into the air, rotating several tis before projecting an image.
A life-sized illusion of Drack erged from the glowing ring at the center.
The man's expression was unreadable, but the tension in his voice was unmistakable as he spoke:
"Aldermond. We've noticed sothing strange… None of the demon generals, nor the Queen herself, are present in any of the cities we've attacked."
Aldermond's breath hitched.
'This is why it was easy.'
Drack's voice carried an edge of unease. "When I sent my puppets to gather information based on mana concentration, six figures stood out the most… The five generals, and the Queen herself. All of them were stationed in five out of the seven cities. We have taken down four… but they were nowhere to be seen."
Even Luther's brows furrowed as he listened. Drack was no fool—his alchemical creations gave him insights others could only dream of. If he was concerned, then sothing was gravely wrong.
Drack took a long breath before continuing. "After further investigation, I discovered that all six attended the annual tournant of the demons… This is both bad and good."
Aldermond narrowed his eyes.
"Because of this, we've altered our plans. Since they're all in one place, we'll converge all our forces there."
Silence settled over the group as they processed the new developnt. Aldermond rubbed his chin, seeing the strategic rit in the decision. With their superior numbers, they could overwhelm the enemy in a single decisive strike.
But Drack wasn't finished.
"Your city happens to be close to the one where the tournant is being held… I've sent mages from the church to assist you in creating a holy barrier. We'll need your magic power to craft one strong enough to weaken the Demon Queen and the generals. With that, our advantage grows exponentially."
Aldermond tensed.
Creating such a barrier would demand an imnse amount of mana. And if the Demon Queen caught wind of it…
He would be standing against one of the Seven Pillars of the Planes.
Even the angels feared her.
His fingers curled into a fist. This was humanity's chance to eradicate the demons once and for all. He could not allow it to fail because of his hesitation.
And yet, he knew the danger. If he accepted, he would be making himself the primary target of the most powerful demon alive.
Aldermond exhaled deeply, coming to a decision.
'I'll take the risk alone.'
"I'll be heading to the demon city next to us," he declared. "When the other forces arrive, join them and follow."
Luther's expression darkened instantly.
"Aldermond, this is too dangerous."
The mages nearby, including Maria, didn't react to the informal address. Aldermond and Luther were more than comrades—they shared a bond of master and student. Luther had trained Aldermond in his youth, their relationship akin to father and son.
Aldermond could sense the weight in Luther's voice. The old man understood better than anyone what this ant.
He too knew how suicidal it was to stand alone against the Demon Queen and her five strongest warriors.
One-on-one, he wasn't even sure he could fight the Queen to a standstill.
Add five generals of equal or greater power?
It was a death sentence.
The true might of an SSS-ranked mage didn't lie in raw power alone. Experience, knowledge, and mastery of magic shaped their strength. Even if he had surpassed the human limit, demons possessed sothing more—the weight of centuries. Their lifespans gifted them a level of understanding no human could match.
That was the true disparity.
And yet…
Aldermond's decision remained unchanged.
"I must go," he said firmly. "This war won't be won by hesitation."
Luther clenched his jaw. He wanted to argue, but deep down, he knew Aldermond had already made up his mind.
Maria took a step forward. "If you're going, at least allow us to send a squad with you—"
"No." Aldermond cut her off. "This is my risk to take."
He turned, gaze fixed on the horizon, where the darkened silhouette of the demon city lay in wait.
A storm was coming.
And Aldermond would stand alone in its path.
Aldermond was a man forged by battle, an indomitable warrior whose reputation had been built upon countless victories. He had fought demons of all kinds, from mindless beasts to cunning overlords, adapting to each battle with an unparalleled mastery. Even when faced with opponents stronger than himself, he never sought direct confrontation—he sought opportunity.
If escape was necessary, he would carve a path through the battlefield with precision. If victory was possible, he would deliver a crippling strike, ensuring that even if the enemy lived, they would never be the sa again. It was a cold, calculated strategy, one that had kept him alive through the bloodiest of wars.
Against the overlord of the Twelfth Plane, he was certain he could hold his own. But escaping unscathed? That was another matter entirely.
Still, this mission was not about his survival—it was about humanity's future.
"Sir Luther, this is a revolutionary conquest," Aldermond declared, his voice firm with conviction. "I do not think only of our people, but of our world as a whole. This risk is worth taking. And the best I can do for my nation is not to drag them down with . Do not worry—I will be as discreet as possible and ensure that I remain unhard until the alliance has gathered."
His gaze was unyielding, his resolve set in stone. Drack was relying on him, the kingdom was relying on him, and he would not falter.
Luther sighed heavily, rubbing his temples. He knew Aldermond too well. Once he had set his mind on sothing, persuading him otherwise was nearly impossible. The king was as stubborn as he was noble, a leader who would sacrifice everything for his people without hesitation. That was why he had earned Luther's unwavering respect over the years.
A small chuckle escaped Luther's lips, the tension in the air montarily easing. "Even after all these years, your bravery has yet to waver. Very well, I'll let you go," he conceded. Then, with a knowing smirk, he added, "But you had best keep your word and remain unhard."
Aldermond offered a rare, appreciative smile. He had known Luther since his youth. The old man had been his ntor, his guide through the treacherous world of magic and war. Their relationship was not rely one of king and subject—it was one of mutual respect, almost like a father and son.
"Thank you." Aldermond's voice carried both gratitude and finality as he lifted his gaze to the horizon.
"I understand," Luther said with a nod. "Do what you must."
Aldermond was monts away from taking off when his sharp eyes caught sight of a lone figure standing at the edge of the field. His son.
He turned back to Luther. "I have one request before I go."
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