Halfling Kingdom. Dawn.
The sky beyond the shattered windows of the royal palace was tinged with grey-blue, the first light of morning creeping across the blood-smeared stone.
Smoke curled in the air. Cracked marble. Crushed pillars. The lingering stench of scorched flesh and broken mana seals.
King Gurdan, barefoot and calm, stood at the center of the ruined throne hall. His body pulsed with glowing divine marks, his expression relaxed—almost bored.
"Oho~" he chuckled, turning his head toward the crumpled shadows still breathing in the rubble.
"Don't tell me this… is the extent of King Edmund's so-called special unit?" he said lightly, almost disappointed.
"A mystery squad, was it? The Human Kingdom's little ghost story?"
A low, ragged breath answered him.
Seventh, blood dripping from his forehead, coughed and wiped his mouth with a trembling hand. His wild grin had faded. His body twitched with pain.
