The council chamber of the Sovereignty was vast, its walls lined with polished obsidian and glimmering runes. High above, the crystal chandeliers cast prismatic reflections across the room, though the light did little to ease the tension that clung to the air.
Valtheron, head of the Demon faction, leaned back in his throne, his crimson eyes scanning the reports hovering before him. The footage of the arena replayed silently, looping the aftermath of the battle. Smoke hung over the shattered ground, the echoes of the clash between the Crimson girls and the Sovereignty still reverberating in the minds of those who had watched.
"This… this is impossible," murmured one of the Ruler-class elders, a hand brushing over her hair in disbelief. "How could a single student—barely visible, unregistered—eliminate almost an entire squad without leaving a trace? Our instruments detected nothing, our wards, our sensors… nothing."
Valtheron's lips curved into a slow, measured smile. "Ah… now you understand why I have been cautious." He pushed his chair back, rising to his full height. Every movement was deliberate, controlled. "What she used—the technique—is not common. It is… almost extinct. A relic of a time when shadows walked without witnesses, when assassins left no mark but death itself."
A younger ruler, her fingers trembling as she pointed at the footage, whispered, "But… she is not supposed to know it. The Phantom… that organization was disbanded centuries ago."
Valtheron's gaze darkened, eyes narrowing like smoldering coals. "Yes. The Phantom. You recall the legends, of course? A covert faction whose existence was whispered in fear. They were unparalleled—agents capable of bypassing any barrier, any defense, and eliminating targets without leaving a single trace. Entire cities could fall before their presence was ever known. That… is the technique she wielded. Phantom Pulse. And she—" he paused, gesturing to the ghostly figure of Sage in the footage—"she used it flawlessly."
Another elder, older, with eyes like molten gold, muttered, "But how? How could she… acquire such a skill? Even the remnants of the Phantom were believed lost to history."
Valtheron's smile widened, a subtle, almost predatory expression. "That… is precisely the question, isn't it? And it does not end there. Observe the weapon she wielded." He tapped the image of the sword suspended mid-air, the faint aura of its power still radiating from the footage. "That sword is… not normal. It is attuned to the Shadow King's legacy, though not bound by conventional laws of mana or spirits. That she wielded it with such precision—and without registering as a threat to our detection systems—is… alarming."
A hush fell over the room. The rulers exchanged glances, each face painted with a mixture of awe, suspicion, and unease.
Valtheron's tone dropped, sharp and deliberate. "This is why she remained unseen. Even the machines—our most precise surveillance, the very lifeblood of the Sovereignty—failed to detect her. She moved, struck, and erased evidence as though she had never been there."
The elder with molten gold eyes finally spoke, voice low and tight. "And the sword… could it be that her mastery over it is also… inherited? Tied to the Crimson Class somehow?"
Valtheron leaned forward, letting the light catch the faint edge of his fangs. "Perhaps. Or perhaps she has discovered it herself. The implications are the same. If the Phantom's techniques have returned… if someone in this generation has grasped their methods… then the world, our world, is no longer stable."
A younger ruler, wide-eyed, added, "And yet… she fought with control. Precision. Strategy. Not chaos."
Valtheron's voice lowered, almost a whisper meant only for the walls of the chamber. "That is the most dangerous part. She is not a Phantom relic. She is a Phantom reborn—and we have no idea how far she can go."
The room fell silent. Even the hum of magical energy within the chamber seemed to hesitate, as if afraid to break the weight of Valtheron's words.
"And the Crimson girl who wielded the sword…" one elder ventured. "Is she… allied with the Shadow King?"
Valtheron's eyes glimmered dangerously. "Perhaps. Perhaps not. But mark my words—whoever allowed her to train, whoever let her inherit such power, has shifted the balance. And now, we wait. We watch. And we prepare. Because when the next move comes… it will be nothing short of catastrophic."
The holographic arena footage continued to play, Sage's figure moving like a phantom across the battlefield, unseen and unstoppable. And for the first time in centuries, the rulers of the Sovereignty felt a genuine chill crawl across their spines—not from a storm, not from a weapon, not from power… but from a ghost who had never existed, and yet could destroy everything.