The Duke sat alone in his study, lost in thought—until the silence unsettled him.
Too quiet. Unnaturally so.
He eyed the untouched wine glass before him, then let it fall from his fingers. It shattered against the marble floor.
No sound.
"Magic," he muttered.
Donning his robe, he stepped onto the balcony, scanning the unnervingly still sky. Then, calmly, he turned—and saw them.
Three figures stood behind him.
A woman cloaked in elegance. A man cloaked in power.
And a third… shrouded in a robe that drank in the light around it.
Thunder growled above.
"To what do I owe the pleasure of a visit from the Vampire Queen… and the Wizard King?" the Duke asked coolly.
His gaze locked onto the robed figure.
"And you… who hides behind shadows. Who are you?"
He narrowed his eyes. "Six-star aura… no. Higher."
The Wizard King smiled.
"We offer you a crown. Help from us—help to claim the empire. We know you and the Emperor… are not the friends the world believes."
The Duke laughed, cold and sharp.
"You think I would sell my honor for a throne?"
He took a step forward, his aura rising like a wave.
"I would rather fall in flames than kneel in shadow."
The air ignited around him, heat distorting the night. The Duke's aura surged.
"I may die here, but I'll drag one of you to hell with me."
The robed figure blurred—too fast for the eye—and caught the Duke's wrist mid-chant.
"Don't."
His voice was quiet, but it struck like iron.
"We meant to leave without blood."
The Duke's eyes flared with fire.
"Then burn with me."
His voice thundered:
"Heavenly Flame Art—Third Form: Blazing Tempest!"
A cyclone of divine fire tore down from the heavens, erupting upon the balcony like a second sun.
The castle shook.
The city awoke.
Alarms screamed.
It was no accident. He wanted them to come.
The robed man falls back before raising his hand, making the flames halt. Not deflected. Not dodged. Stopped. Frozen mid-air.His robe burned away at the hem, revealing frail hands beneath.
He looked at the Duke and smirked.
"Truly worthy of the name… Flame Emperor."
The castle walls cracked. The bells screamed into the night.
The Wizard King grimaced.
"This is not the time for war." With a single flick of his fingers, the trio faded into ash and disappears .
Alaric stormed in moments later, blade drawn— Only to see the Duke alone, robes still burning, the balcony in ruin, and firelight dancing across his scarred hands.
He said nothing of the battle. Only turned to Alaric and said,
"At dawn… we march to the capital."