In the eastern reaches of Thallerion, the sun rose like a mighty king slowly reclaiming the cold shadows of night. A luminous white ethereal sphere blazed overhead, draping the entire realm in its glow—the people called it the **Crown-Shield**. From afar, it looked like a colossal crown cast down from the heavens by the gods themselves.
As sunlight spilled across the land, every structure of Thallerion gleamed, as if a forest of raised swords stood in silent, lofty salute.
In the vast plaza of Betelgeuse City, crowds gathered beneath the grand hall, waiting for their ruler. Moments later, a golden shape cut through the sky—the King's Auriga, drawn by four stallions of pure gold.
A roar of cheers erupted as King Zerceux Herzthroven arrived. At ninety-six years old, he rode the flying chariot with unbowed dignity. Time had not yet carved deep lines into his face, but his iron resolve as a ruler shone clearly in his sleek, silver-streaked hair.
Fanfare blared as he descended to the center of the dais. He felt the weight of his people's love and unwavering loyalty.
He arched a brow, smiled, and waved. Then he touched his forearm, twisting the golden band encircling his wrist. In an instant, the Auriga dissolved like stardust swept away by the wind.
He straightened the collar of his black tuxedo, and adjusted his tie—striped in soft gray and deep black.
"To rise above this world, one must cling to the Celestial Gene. Without it, Thallerion is nothing but prey before monsters. But the tides have turned. Fear has taken root—many now dread that tomorrow… even our Celestial Guardian may be gone."
He sighed heavily as his gaze fell upon a desperate man straining to summon his gift. He clenched his fists, poured every ounce of will into calling forth his power—only for wisps of blue stardust to shimmer and fade in his trembling hands.
"Thallerion was abandoned long ago. The one meant to stand at our side through every war… turned away. Now, under foreign hands, we are locked behind walls that promise safety, but deliver only chains."
Live projections woven from azure energy flickered across the spires of Thallerion. King Zerceux stepped forward, scanning the sea of faces. He drew a long, ragged breath, his chest swelling with purpose, and raised a hand—his weary fingers pointing upward like a blade drawn against the sky.
"Look up!" His voice was deep, measured, and unshakable; even the still air seemed to lean in to listen. "Behold the barrier they have draped over us...white and shining, like a linen shroud laid over a coffin." Veins stood out along his temples, his aura burning hot as forged steel. "This is the National Threat Security Shield, sent by the Cepheus Sovereign under the Crown-System!" The people's vision dimmed as their eyes fell upon the emblem etched into its surface: the Sovereign's sigil—a king's piece on a game board.
"A hundred years have passed since they raised this dome. Magnificent, is it not? But I call it what it truly is... The Hunters' Prison! The world calls it protection. Some call it freedom. But with every breath we take, they steal what is ours."
A surge of shared bitterness swept through the crowd, mirroring the King's own.
"They have shackled our nation! This is no safeguard—it is oppression!"
The clang of weapons forged from celestial energy rang out across the plaza; the crackle of low-tier firearms sent ripples of vibration through the air.
"You speak the truth! They speak only of 'peace'. Of 'ordinances'. Of 'mandates'. And cruelest of all—they give us this Sovereign Shield… we pay the price, yet they hold the remote. This is our coffin!"
He slammed a fist onto the podium, smoke curling from his wrist. His blue eyes blazed as he looked down upon his people.
"When our Celestial Guardian vanished, Thallerion was placed under lockdown. Because they saw us as weak—too feeble to stand without their watch?" He struck the stone again, spiderwebbing cracks across its surface. "Ha! We are not sheep to be herded by a foreign shepherd! Have they forgotten? We were born to wield steel!"
"We are Hunters! We bow to no one!" The cry rose in unison. A wave of awakening swept through the crowd—power flaring, fists raised in solidarity.
"I stand with you. The wilds, the peaks, the vast seas beyond our borders—they are part of us. That is where we belong. Not trapped behind shields of false guardians!"* His face flushed, his silver hair trembling with fervor. As he spoke, the eyes of his people lit like stars; energy coalesced in their palms, shaping itself into blades and spears. "Instead, they have caged us like birds—denying us even the chance to fight!"
The Mission
Midway through his address, the ethereal screens glitched violently. A blood-red projection erupted before him, sharp and menacing as a gun barrel pressed to his face.
"What is this?!"
---
SYSTEM INTERFACE NOTICE
[ SYSTEM NOTICE: CEPHEUS SOVEREIGN HIGH-PRIORITY BOUNTY ]**
Event: Biopunk Infestation
Source: Unauthorized Laboratories
INTELLIGENCE REPORT
The Crown-System has detected an exponential surge in illegal biopunk facilities along the frontier. These shadow sectors are mass-producing illicit genetic catalysts.
MISSION PARAMETERS
Objective: Destroy all 10 illegal laboratories consecutively
Time Limit: 2 Months (60 Standard Days)
Target Entities: Unknown / Rapidly Mutating Mutagens
Estimated Strength: ~1,000 Biopunk Entities per sector (Continuous reinforcement)
Threat Rating: UNQUANTIFIABLE (Extreme Hazard)
-Location: Eastern Thallerion Border (Marshlands)
BOUNTY REWARD
Payout: 25,000,000 $CEPX ≈ 25,000,000,000 Astral-Coins (AC)
Funded By: Cepheus Sovereign Official Ledger
[ SYSTEM QUEST: DO YOU ACCEPT THIS TASK, KING ZERCEUX OF THALLERION? ]
[YES] [NO]
---
"Hm… The Cepheus Sovereign?"* His jaw tightened at the sight of the Sovereign's seal—then curiosity took hold. *"Illegal laboratories?"* He read every word slowly. "Twenty-five billion… That is an immense sum."
"Ms. Ruvensent, please verify this 'mission' immediately."
Sharp heels clicked as his secretary stepped forward, clad in a vivid violet dress that fell to her thighs.
"At once, Your Majesty. I will contact the Sovereign's chancellery."
She moved with grace and poise—but behind her, an elderly man stepped toward the dais, thumping his cane with every stride.
"Does the Sovereign truly expect us to trust them still?" His voice was raspy, worn with time. Beside him stood a female attendant, her smile sharp and predatory. "Under this forced lockdown, Thallerion was compelled to sell our celestial weapons just to stay afloat. When hunting grounds across the world were sealed, the value of $ORN collapsed—and our nation fell into ruin."
"Good day, Head Minister," the secretary said, bowing respectfully.
"Gaverdric." King Zerceux met the older man's gaze, his jaw hardening as his eyes fell upon the jagged scar between his brows. The minister's hair was thin and graying at the temples, and his guards stood close at hand. "I will handle this matter personally. Do not interfere."
Gaverdric stared back with cold detachment, as if he had not heard. "I know what you are thinking." His voice dropped, thick with bitterness. "Do not drag Thallerion into this folly. The Hunters' honor is long dead. Order has been restored—our Will-forgers sustain us now. We need no more warriors throwing their lives away at the border."
Zerceux's expression darkened, shadows falling across his face as he clenched his fists. Gaverdric stepped to the edge of the dais, looking down at the masses as if they were mere insects. Each strike of his cane sounded like a taunt. "If you bow to their offers, you admit that the Hunters now fight for coin. An ignoble end to all that Thallerion once stood for."
"This is not bribery!" Zerceux's voice cracked like a lion's roar. "It is a chance for Thallerion to reclaim its name as a nation of Hunters! They are giving us a chance to stand our ground again!"*
The secretary hurried between them. "Your Majesty… their message states that the Crown-Shield will be partially opened if you accept."
Gaverdric rounded on her. "Opened, yes—but never removed. Do you not know why we starve behind that shield? Every day our people toil, yet we cannot raise enough to pay the Sovereign's five hundred million annual tribute." He fixed Zerceux with a sharp look. "I might understand your desire for those twenty-five billion… if only you would choose the one path you keep rejecting."
"Are you daring me?"
"Not at all. I am simply saying…" He leaned closer, voice dropping low. "If you truly care for Thallerion and its needs… why not enter the Tournament? Accept their games, and the Shield falls. No more tribute. No more scorn from other realms. Though… the Hunters have long been forgotten. What face is there left to show the world?"
They locked eyes, like two cannons with fuses already lit. *"The Tournament? The Kings' League?"* Zerceux's grip tightened on his coat, yanking Gaverdric forward by the collar. *"Do you truly believe our lives are nothing but wagers? Remember this—I would rather fight beside my people, free and unyielding, than dance for the amusement of every realm on display!"
He shoved Gaverdric back hard. The minister's face twisted with suppressed rage, his knuckles white around his cane—but the secretary stepped between them before violence could erupt.
"Your Majesty! Head Minister! This is not the time for quarrels—the Sovereign awaits your reply!"* She placed a hand gently on Zerceux's shoulder. "Please, Minister… let this go."
Gaverdric snorted, lifting his chin. "I have done nothing unlawful. If anyone is out of line… it is the King."
Zerceux breathed out slowly, his fury cooling into steel resolve. "Gaverdric… if you wish to avoid a repeat of Bellatrix… stay out of this. Do you remember what you did there?" He let the words hang, heavy with the memory of the scar. "Fear not. The choice will not be mine alone. Nor yours."
"Then whose?"
"Tsk. That is no longer your concern."
He picked up the microphone, his voice ringing clear and strong across the city.
"Awakened warriors, Hunters, Healers—hear me! This is the moment we have waited for: the key to our freedom is within reach."
"A hundred thousand years have passed since our Celestial Guardian left us. We have lived in fear—until the Sovereign offered us shelter. But that shelter has become a noose. Now, they have given us a mission. The rise of biopunk prototypes has twisted the very beasts we once hunted into abominations." A murmur rippled through the crowd.
"But Thallerion was born to slay monsters. To cast down fiends. To tear out the biopunk rot that poisons our land! And that duty falls to you!"
The crowd roared back, shaking the very air with their resolve.
"So I ask you now: Will we take this fight… and stand as Hunters once more? Or will we hide behind walls forever?"
A warrior stepped forward, his fist blazing with energy. "Thallerion is the home of Hunters! We go! We fight!"
A group of unarmed citizens called out: *"What of us who have not Awakened? We hold no great power—but we wish to serve too!"
Gaverdric scoffed under his breath. "The weak have no place on the field. Send them to the will-forges—they are nothing but dead weight."
Zerceux heard him, and his expression hardened—but he turned to the people instead.
"Go to the Rigil District," he commanded. "Register as Auxiliary Hunters. Do not rush blindly… but prove them wrong. Show them what Thallerion is truly made of."
A cheer went up. "Thank you, Your Majesty! We will not fail you!"
Zerceux watched young recruits testing their rookie blades, and felt a flicker of pride—then worry. "No Hunter would refuse this quest… not when our people hunger and our coffers are empty. But this will not be easy. I only pray the new and untested do not become a burden."
He turned back to Gaverdric, who stood stiff with anger. "What say you now? This is no longer my choice… it is theirs."
"Hmph. Do not come weeping when it all falls apart,"* Gaverdric spat, turning away. *"Guards. We leave."
Zerceux smiled, calm and certain. He pressed [YES].
A thunderous cheer erupted. High above, the Crown-Shield rumbled—and for the first time in a century, it began to part.
As crowds streamed toward the Rigil District to register, Zerceux caught sight of one figure standing apart: a young woman, a simple cross resting against her chest.
"A Cyprioxian?" he murmured. "Why does she walk among Hunters?"* She vanished behind the throng before he could look closer. "Is she new to Thallerion?"