By the time the first month ended, twenty-five kingdoms had fallen... an avalanche of crowns that shattered every record in Elaris's long and bloody history. Kale and his women had swept the thirteen Ash had already secretly claimed; Aster's twelve shadows had swallowed their targets like smoke drinking candleflame.
All of them unranked, yes, none larger than a million kilometers, but the speed of the conquest still left the world breathless.
In the highest chamber of Voss's royal palace, Queen Sonna sat alone at a small ebony table, morning light the color of bruised violets spilling through the arched window. A porcelain cup steamed between her fingers, untouched.
For thirty days she had done nothing but breathe without the lotus burning inside her veins, thirty days of clean sheets and silence. Seventeen years of forced, filthy hunger were finally gone, yet peace refused to settle. Every night the nightmares came anyway ... memories of her own hands clawing at strangers, of tears mixing with sweat and everything else....
She would wake gasping, convinced the heat was back, convinced she was still broken.
Yet some nights were different.
Some nights she dreamed of a quiet meadow under a sky of liquid starlight, where silver grass grew taller than her waist and glowed soft as moonlight on snow. Ash was there (not the terrifying king, just a man with black-white hair and gentle golden-pink eyes).
He sat cross-legged among the grass, weaving crowns from starlight daisies that chimed like tiny glass bells when they touched skin.
She would laugh (actually laugh) as he placed one on her head, petals cool against her brow, and together they made necklaces from glowing moon-violets and chains of captured comet dust.
Fireflies the size of lanterns drifted around them, painting their skin with slow, warm gold. When she leaned against his shoulder, the scent of night-blooming jasmine and clean rain filled her lungs, and for once the world felt safe enough to simply exist.
No hunger. No shame. Just the soft sound of two people breathing in perfect rhythm while the stars sang lullabies only, they could hear.
'Tsk… would he even touch a woman so… used?' The thought came like cold water, shattering the memory. Sonna set the cup down with trembling fingers. Still, the dream lingered on her skin like gentle light, and for the first time in weeks she felt alive inside her own body. Alive was enough.
And alive had to be enough.
"Ah… I must first uphold my end of the bargain…" She rose, smoothed the wrinkles from her gown, and stepped out of the room for the first time in a month.
-----
In a Kingdom far from Voss, black marble veined with crimson, and chandeliers of living flame, Kale lounged on a throne carved from a single piece of blood ruby. Around him his women arranged themselves like jealous constellations.
Sylvara sat on the left armrest, legs draped over his thigh, violet eyes narrowed at anyone who dared look too long. Rhea stood behind the throne like a crimson sentinel, one hand resting possessively on his shoulder, knuckles white
Lyrin had claimed his lap entirely, plush curves pressed tight, teal-green hair spilling across his chest while she toyed with the collar of his shirt and pouted at the others. Seyra stood at his right, tall and regal, bronze fingers tracing slow circles on the back of his neck with the calm certainty of a woman who knew exactly how long she could make him wait.
Only Yonna stood apart, ten paces away, arms folded, blue eyes fixed on a map table glowing with holographic borders.
The distance was deliberate.
Kale waved a hand and the air shimmered. A hologram of the ten-thousandth ranked kingdom bloomed above the map, Stormrend Kingdom. It had 14 million kilometers of thunder-wracked sky-islands chained together by lightning, ruled by two S-rank Storm user and another S ranked General who wielded the Tempest.
They had thousands of A-ranks through C rank warriors as well.
"It's time we begin," Kale said, voice lazy but edged with hunger. "Twenty-six kingdoms, ten million kilometers… pretty, but still unranked trash. The World Stele starts with Stormrend... We're not wagering. We're taking it by war. I'm tired of peace."
"Sylvara, take the eastern approach. Burn their supply lines, poison their mana wells, make the civilians scream... and revolt before a single legion lands.
Rhea, lead the western spearhead. I want their border fortresses cracked open and their A-rank commanders bleeding in the dirt.
Lyrin, slip inside their capital with the shadow corps. Assassinate every noble who refuses to kneel; leave their heads on pikes with Voss colors.
Seyra, command the siege from the central front. Coordinate the legions, keep the pressure constant, but do not engage the three S ranks directly.
You harass; you bleed them.... you start the fire.... and I will finish it."
Each woman straightened, eyes blazing with possessive pride and the promise of violence. Kale rose, dislodging Lyrin only long enough to stand.
"Aunt Yonna, monitor everything from here. I'll be gone a few weeks." He paused, grin widening. "I need to step into S-rank."
Silence fell like an axe.
Seven months of no training, no killing, no visible growth… they had all assumed he was coasting on charisma and their blades.
Yonna alone clenched her fist until knuckles went white, nails carving bloody crescents into her palm.
Kale walked out without another word, cloak flaring like spilled blood.
-----
In a realm woven entirely from clouds, two figures sat in silence. The air shimmered with pale light, and their thrones—vast, sculpted clouds as well. Normally, the blonde woman would have mocked her companion. But today, her lips were pressed into a thin line, her gaze fixed and unyielding.
Beside her, the woman with hair the color of frozen rivers mirrored that tension, her expression carved from unease.
For months they had watched Ash more closely than their own pawns, their attention drawn to every impossible act. They had seen him wear Alaric's skin to claim Thalor's territory. They had seen him commit the unthinkable... snuffing out half a billion souls, only to breathe them back into existence in the same heartbeat.
Such a feat should not exist. In Elaris, rebirth was a concept this world did not have. Reincarnation, resurrection, the return of any soul to flesh—these were impossibilities. Yet Ash had shattered that truth, and now, with his presence looming on the horizon, the two women could no longer remain silent.
"I would say," the blonde murmured, her voice sharp as a blade, "you must handle it... Since he's on your side of the wall."
Her companion's pale lashes lowered, a sigh escaping as the blonde continued...
"However, I would not be surprised if that little mortal found a way to do what we've been trying to do all these years."
The blue-haired woman shook her head, strands of icy silk catching the light.
"Reviving those mortals changes nothing in the grand design. Still… it is remarkable. To see one so weak bend the impossible."
Her words hung heavy in the air, until she finally asked, "So, what shall we do? He has already taken my second pawn."
The blonde's smile curved, cruel and amused. "Simple. He must die. Why not send your original pawns after him?"
Silence stretched.
The blue-haired woman tapped her fingers against the arm of her throne, then let out a sharp click of her tongue. "Not a bad idea. Tsk. I would have won this cursed game long ago if they weren't so terrified of the wall."
The blonde chuckled softly. "Touché. But you know as well as I—if unlocking this place were easy, the game would not exist at all."
A low groan escaped the blue-haired woman.
She closed her eyes, reaching across the veil, her mind brushing against the fragile threads that bound her first pawns. The cloud realm trembled faintly, as if bracing for what was to come.