Several days earlier…

Within a chamber far removed from the chaos of villages and hidden cults, a grand conference room stood suspended in an atmosphere of authority and quiet power. The hall itself was vast, constructed from pale marble veined with faint streaks of gold that seemed to glow softly under the ambient light radiating from enchanted chandeliers above.

Tall pillars lined the circular room, each engraved with ancient runes that pulsed faintly with protective enchantments, their purpose not only decorative but symbolic of the countless generations of leaders who had gathered here to decide the fate of nations.

At the center of the chamber stood a circular table crafted from dark crystal, its polished surface reflecting the faint shimmering projections that now occupied the seats around it.

Holographic figures.

Projections representing some of the most influential individuals across the continent.

If any ordinary person were to witness this gathering, they would immediately understand one thing.

Something significant was unfolding.

Seated around the table were figures whose authority shaped the balance of power across kingdoms and empires alike.

Two elderly men sat opposite one another, their expressions calm yet sharpened by years of experience navigating political tensions far more dangerous than open warfare.

Beside them sat a broad-shouldered dwarf, his thick beard braided with small metal rings that reflected faint light, his sturdy presence emanating the quiet strength of someone accustomed to shaping entire mountain fortresses through sheer will and skill.

And among them sat two women whose presence commanded attention even in silence.

One possessed long golden hair that cascaded elegantly past her shoulders, each strand catching the ambient light as though woven from sunlight itself. Her posture was poised yet relaxed, the confidence in her gaze revealing the authority of one who ruled not merely a nation, but an empire.

Empress Celestia.

Opposite her sat another woman draped in refined elegance, her nose and lips concealed beneath a delicate veil that obscured part of her expression, yet did nothing to diminish the quiet intensity radiating from her presence.

The Tower Master.

The room remained silent for a brief moment before Celestia spoke, her voice smooth yet carrying unmistakable authority.

“I have received reports,” she began calmly, her golden eyes moving slowly across the gathered projections, “that the First Demon General was involved in the recent events within the Holy Kingdom.”

The words settled heavily into the chamber.

Across the table, the elderly man dressed in ceremonial white robes responded without delay, his gaze steady yet carrying faint irritation.

“You need not concern yourself with matters of the Holy Kingdom, Empress Celestia,” the Pope replied, his voice calm yet firm. “Our affairs remain our responsibility.”

Celestia’s lips curved into a faint smile.

Graceful.

Controlled.

“Oh, of course,” she said lightly, her tone carrying subtle amusement. “I would not trouble myself unnecessarily.”

Her gaze sharpened slightly.

“But the First Demon General’s involvement does not affect only your Holy Kingdom…”

She leaned back slightly in her seat, her expression composed yet serious.

“…it affects the entire continent.”

Silence followed.

A quiet tension settled between the two leaders, unspoken yet unmistakable.

The Pope’s expression did not change, yet the faint tightening of his fingers revealed his dissatisfaction with her implication.

Before the atmosphere could grow heavier, the Tower Master spoke gently, her voice calm yet carrying quiet authority that commanded attention without force.

“Now, now,” she said softly. “We are gathered here to discuss matters of importance, are we not?”

Her gaze shifted toward another figure seated at the table.

The elderly Dean of Arcadia Academy sat calmly, his long unkempt beard resting against his robes as his sharp eyes observed the room with quiet patience.

“Should we not wait for the representative of the Valdros Kingdom?” the Dean asked thoughtfully. “Their involvement in this matter remains relevant.”

Before anyone else could respond, the dwarf let out a faint grunt, leaning slightly forward as his deep voice resonated through the chamber.

“Hmph… what is there to wait for?” Thrain muttered, his thick brows lowering in clear displeasure.

“He has not maintained contact with us since this entire situation began.”

His fingers tapped lightly against the crystal surface of the table as irritation became evident in his expression.

“I would not even be surprised,” he continued bluntly, “if he has already sold his soul to the devil.”

His eyes shifted across the gathered figures.

“So say what you wish to say.”

The faint hum of the magical chamber seemed to grow quieter.

As though even the ancient walls listened closely.

Because whatever was about to be discussed…

Would shape the future of the continent itself.

The atmosphere within the grand chamber shifted subtly as the discussion moved beyond political tension and into matters far more dangerous. The air itself seemed to grow heavier, the faint hum of the enchanted runes embedded within the marble pillars echoing softly as though responding to the gravity of what was about to be revealed.

The Dean of Arcadia Academy adjusted his posture slightly, his aged fingers resting calmly upon the surface of the dark crystal table as his sharp eyes moved across the gathered figures.

“I have received reports,” he began slowly, his voice steady yet carrying unmistakable weight, “from the intelligence operatives we deployed across multiple regions.”

The subtle glow of the holographic projections flickered faintly as every individual present shifted their attention fully toward him.

“There are indications,” the Dean continued, “that the location of the Second Demon General’s dwelling has been discovered.”

Silence fell immediately.

The chamber, vast as it was, seemed to narrow under the pressure of the information.

Even the ambient magical hum seemed to quiet itself in response.

The reaction was immediate.

Thrain, the dwarven lord, leaned forward sharply, his heavy brows lowering as intensity replaced his earlier impatience.

“So what are we waiting for?” he said gruffly, his voice carrying the raw straightforwardness of someone far more accustomed to decisive action than prolonged deliberation.

“If the location has been identified,” he continued, his fingers curling slightly against the table, “then we strike.”

“Gather our forces and raid the place before the devils have time to relocate.”

His words carried the certainty of battle-hardened conviction.

Direct.

Immediate.

Decisive.

However, the elderly Pope raised a hand slowly, his expression composed yet firm.

“We cannot act so recklessly,” he said calmly.

His gaze moved briefly toward Thrain before continuing.

“This could very well be a trap.”

His voice carried quiet authority, the weight of experience evident within every word.

“We have already lost the elven queen at the hands of the demon general’s scheme..,” he continued, referencing the devastating event that had shaken the balance of power across the continent.

“If something similar were to happen to any one of us…”

He paused briefly.

“The balance would collapse in a manner that may never be restored.”

The room grew silent once more.

Everyone present understood the truth behind those words.

The Demon Generals were not mere adversaries.

They were strategic entities.

Patient.

Calculating.

If even one major leader of the continent were to fall due to a carefully laid trap, the consequences could destabilize alliances that had held fragile peace for generations.

Celestia’s crimson eyes narrowed slightly as she considered the implications, while Thrain exhaled quietly, clearly dissatisfied but not dismissive of the reasoning.

Slowly, several of the figures nodded in agreement.

The risk was too great.

At that moment, the Tower Master spoke once more, her calm voice cutting gently through the silence.

“Then what we require,” she said thoughtfully, “is confirmation.”

Her veiled expression revealed little, yet the certainty within her tone carried quiet authority.

“We need someone capable of verifying the information without alerting the enemy.”

Her gaze moved across the gathered figures.

“Someone we can trust.”

She paused slightly.

“Someone who possesses both the mental resilience to resist corruption…”

“…and the ability to ensure safe completion of the task.”

The implications were clear.

This would not be a mission suited for armies.

Nor for reckless heroes.

It required subtlety.

Strength.

Judgment.

Trustworthiness beyond question.

The chamber fell into thoughtful silence as each individual began considering possible candidates capable of fulfilling such a dangerous responsibility.

Names likely surfaced within their minds.

Warriors.

Mages.

Generals.

Agents.

Yet each possibility carried risk.

Because the wrong choice…

Could lead directly into the hands of the Demon Generals.

And such a mistake…

Could not be undone.

A thoughtful silence settled over the grand chamber as each of the assembled leaders weighed the gravity of the situation in their own minds. The faint glow of the magical projections cast soft reflections across the polished crystal table, illuminating expressions shaped by responsibility, caution, and the quiet understanding that the wrong decision could lead to consequences far beyond individual loss.

Each of them understood that this mission required more than strength.

It required someone capable of walking into danger without drawing attention.

Someone whose presence would not immediately alert the Demon Generals.

Someone who could observe without provoking confrontation.

Someone whose judgment could be trusted even in isolation.

The silence lingered until the Pope finally spoke, his aged voice carrying quiet deliberation.

“I have a candidate in mind,” he said slowly.

Several gazes shifted toward him at once.

The Pope’s calm expression remained unchanged as his eyes moved deliberately toward the Dean of Arcadia Academy.

The implication did not need to be spoken aloud.

The Dean immediately understood.

His brows furrowed faintly, a subtle tension appearing upon his face as he considered the direction of the conversation.

“Why not send that boy?” the Pope continued, his tone measured yet confident. “He has demonstrated capability beyond his years… and more importantly…”

He paused slightly.

“…he has proven himself trustworthy.”

The room grew still once more.

The suggestion was not made lightly.

Nor was it made without prior consideration.

The Dean remained silent for a moment, his thoughts moving carefully as he weighed the implications of placing such responsibility upon someone so young.

Yet before he could respond—

Another voice spoke.

“Ohh… that boy…”

A faint rumble accompanied the words as Thrain leaned back slightly in his seat, stroking his braided beard thoughtfully.

“…hmm… I suppose he may indeed be the most suitable choice.”

The dwarf’s agreement carried weight.

Thrain was not one to praise lightly.

His acknowledgment suggested genuine recognition of capability.

The Dean gave a small nod, his expression still thoughtful, the decision not yet fully formed but clearly leaning toward agreement.

Then—

“No.”

The word cut cleanly through the chamber.

Firm.

Unwavering.

Every gaze turned immediately toward the source.

The Tower Master.

Her posture remained composed, yet there was unmistakable resolve within her voice as she spoke again.

“It is too dangerous.”

Her tone carried neither doubt nor hesitation.

Her gaze moved briefly toward the Dean before shifting toward Celestia.

“You agree with me, do you not, Celestia?” she asked calmly, though the quiet tension beneath the words was impossible to miss.

The chamber grew silent once more.

Because the answer that followed…

Would determine whether the boy in question would walk willingly into the shadow of a Demon General.

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