"The Price of a Single Death"
The battlefield stretched far beyond what the eye could see.
Smoke curled into the sky in thick, suffocating waves, carrying with it the scent of burning wood, scorched earth, and blood. The once-fertile plains of the kingdom had been reduced to chaos—trenches carved by magic, craters formed by impact spells, and shattered remnants of defensive formations scattered across the land.
War banners fluttered violently in the wind.
On one side stood the forces of the Empire—disciplined, organized, and relentless. Rows upon rows of soldiers moved in perfect coordination, their armor gleaming faintly beneath layers of dust. Mages stood behind them, chanting in low, controlled voices, weaving spells that reinforced the front line or rained destruction upon distant enemies.
On the other side…
The kingdom's army was faltering.
Their formations were breaking.
Their lines were thinning.
The difference in strength was obvious.
"This flank is collapsing!"
A commander of the kingdom shouted, his voice strained as he deflected a blade aimed at his throat. His armor was dented, his breathing uneven.
"We can't hold this position much longer!"
Another officer, standing atop a shattered stone structure, clenched his fists.
"Reinforcements?" he demanded.
A messenger shook his head, fear visible in his eyes.
"None. The central forces have already pulled back. We've been ordered to delay them as long as possible."
The commander froze for a brief moment.
Delay.
That meant they had already been abandoned.
Across the battlefield, the Empire's army advanced like a tide that could not be stopped.
At the center of this overwhelming force stood a figure on horseback.
Clad in refined armor, bearing the insignia of imperial family, his presence alone commanded obedience.
The Third Prince.
He watched the battlefield with calm, calculating eyes.
"Push forward," he said simply.
His voice wasn't loud, yet it carried across the ranks.
The officers immediately relayed the command.
The soldiers surged.
Fire spells tore through defensive lines. Earth magic shattered fortifications. Blades clashed, screams echoed, and the ground drank deeply of blood.
The Prince's expression did not change.
To him, this was not chaos.
It was control.
This kingdom… would fall.
"Your Highness," one of the higher-ranking officers approached, bowing slightly while still keeping his eyes on the battlefield. "We have confirmation. This region holds the highest concentration of the resource."
The Prince nodded.
"Then securing it takes priority."
"There is resistance from elite units," the officer added. "But nothing we cannot handle."
A faint smile appeared on the Prince's lips.
"They should resist," he said. "Otherwise, it would be disappointing."
The officer hesitated for a moment.
"There are also reports," he continued carefully, "that a Powerhouse may be present in this region."
For the first time, the Prince's gaze sharpened slightly.
"A Powerhouse?"
"Yes."
A brief silence followed.
Then the Prince looked back toward the battlefield.
"Good."
The officer blinked.
"…Your Highness?"
"If they have sent a Powerhouse here," the Prince said calmly, "then it means this location truly matters."
His voice carried no fear.
Only certainty.
"We proceed as planned."
The Prince knew exactly what would happen if a Powerhouse appeared. Even so, a part of him hoped—perhaps even prayed—that a Powerhouse from the Empire would arrive before things turned unfavorable.
The officer lowered his head.
"As you command."
Time passed.
The battlefield grew more violent.
The kingdom's forces were being pushed back steadily. Their defenses crumbled one after another, unable to withstand the relentless assault.
And then—
Something changed.
At first, it was subtle.
A disturbance.
A shift in the air.
The soldiers at the front line were the first to notice.
"…Did you feel that?"
One of the Empire's soldiers paused mid-step, his grip tightening on his weapon.
"Feel what?"
"I don't know… something's—"
He didn't get to finish.
A blur passed through the battlefield.
And in the next instant—
The soldier's body fell apart.
Cleanly.
As if something had cut through him faster than his mind could comprehend.
Silence spread like a ripple.
Then chaos followed.
"What was that?!"
"Enemy attack!"
"Form ranks!"
But before any formation could be completed—
It happened again.
And again.
And again.
Figures fell one after another.
No explosion.
No spell.
No visible attack.
Just… death.
At the rear, the higher-ranking officers stiffened.
Their instincts screamed.
"That presence…"
One of them swallowed hard.
"…No doubt."
Another nodded grimly.
"A Powerhouse."
He appeared without announcement.
Without sound.
Standing amidst the battlefield as if he had always been there.
Zareth.
In his human form, he looked… ordinary.
Tall.
Well-built.
His expression calm.
But those who understood power—
Knew better.
The moment he took a step forward—
The battlefield changed.
A soldier charged toward him, screaming, blade raised.
Zareth didn't even look at him.
His hand moved.
A simple motion.
The soldier's body split apart before he could even realize what had happened.
Another came.
Then another.
And another.
None lasted more than a moment.
Zareth walked.
And everything in his path… died.
Magic was cast toward him.
Fire.
Lightning.
Ice.
None of it mattered.
Before the spells could even reach him, the mages casting them collapsed—throats slit, hearts pierced, bodies broken.
No one could see how.
Only the result.
"Fall back!"
One of the officers shouted.
"Maintain distance!"
But even as the command was given—
He was already there.
A flicker.
A shift.
The officer's head rolled across the ground.
Panic spread.
Even among trained soldiers.
This wasn't a battle.
This wasn't even a fight.
This was—
Annihilation.
From the rear, the Third Prince watched.
His expression remained calm.
But his eyes…
Were focused.
"So that's the Powerhouse of this kingdom," he murmured.
Around him, the officers were tense.
"Your Highness, we must retreat—"
"No."
The answer came instantly.
Firm.
Absolute.
The officer froze.
"…But—"
"If we retreat now," the Prince said, his gaze still fixed on the battlefield, "what do you think that will imply?"
Silence.
"It will imply fear," he continued. "Weakness."
His voice was steady.
"And in a battle for the throne… perception is everything."
The officer clenched his fists.
"But he is a Powerhouse!"
"I know."
The Prince finally turned his gaze slightly.
"And yet… we stand."
Deep within, the Third Prince still hoped that a Powerhouse from the Empire would arrive before this situation spiraled out of control.
On the battlefield—
Zareth stopped.
For the first time since he had arrived.
His gaze shifted.
Toward the center.
Toward the figure who had not retreated.
Their eyes met.
In that instant, the Third Prince understood.
If the one leading the army died, the army would retreat.
And perhaps—
Zareth had realized that too.
Zareth tilted his head slightly.
Then—
He moved.
The distance between them vanished.
The guards around the Prince reacted instantly.
Weapons raised.
Spells formed.
All of them elite.
All of them strong.
None of it mattered.
Zareth passed through them like they didn't exist.
Bodies fell before their attacks could even complete.
And then—
He stood before the Prince.
For a brief moment—
There was silence.
The Prince looked at him.
Studying him.
Then—
He smiled.
"So you're one of the two Powerhouses of this kingdom."
Zareth didn't reply.
The Prince raised his weapon.
Magic gathered.
Power surged.
Even among elites, he was strong.
Exceptionally so.
But—
It wasn't enough.
Zareth moved.
A single strike.
The Prince's body froze.
For a moment—
Nothing happened.
Then—
He collapsed.
Silence.
Complete.
The battlefield… stopped.
For a single second—
No one moved.
No one breathed.
Then—
Someone screamed.
"THE THIRD PRINCE—!"
Panic erupted.
"No—!"
"It can't be—!"
"Your Highness—!"
Zareth looked down at the body.
His expression didn't change.
But his eyes…
Narrowed slightly.
"…Third Prince?"
The reaction around him told him everything.
A brief silence followed.
Then—
Zareth exhaled.
"…Troublesome."
He turned.
Without hesitation.
Without regret.
And began to walk away.
Behind him—
The Empire's army didn't chase.
They didn't attack.
They didn't move.
Because now—
This was no longer a battlefield.
This was a message.
The death of a Prince.
And the beginning of something far worse.
Zareth knew.
The Empire would not let this go.
They would not focus on the kingdom anymore.
They would focus on him.
And the kingdom?
It would not protect him.
Not against the Empire.
Zareth disappeared from the battlefield.
And the war…
Changed direction.
----------
(Adrian Lewin POV)
After that, Zareth fled from his kingdom.
The Empire received the news quickly.
Too quickly.
Within a short time, two Powerhouses were dispatched after him.
That alone spoke volumes.
This was no longer about conquest.
This was revenge.
Yet, despite that, Zareth remained one step ahead.
Always just out of reach.
Always just beyond their grasp.
And eventually—
He arrived in this city.
Dustmere.
Around this time, Zareth had already made a decision.
A destination.
A place where even the Empire's reach would be… limited.
He chose the Coalition of the Twelve Lords.
And in the original story—
Zareth would go there.
He would claim a position.
He would become the Twelfth Lord.
I let out a quiet breath.
"Yeah… I took his place."
A faint smile appeared on my lips.
And no, I'm not helping him out of guilt.
Why would I?
This wasn't charity.
This was opportunity.
A Powerhouse.
A free Powerhouse.
One being hunted, desperate, and in need of protection.
Why would I let that go?
This is purely selfish.
In the first place, I stayed in the academy most of the time.
My territory—
Didn't have a Powerhouse.
Which meant that in my absence, it was vulnerable.
But now—
That would change.
With Zareth there, even if I wasn't present, a Powerhouse would still guard my domain.
That alone was worth everything.
While I was lost in these thoughts—
I noticed movement.
Zareth had arrived at the north gate.
Right on time.
I looked at him.
"Come. Follow me."
He nodded without hesitation and began walking behind me.
We moved toward the outskirts of the city, heading slightly away from the forest.
As we walked—
I felt it.
A subtle shift in the air.
The temperature rose slightly.
The sunlight seemed… harsher.
More intense.
I didn't need to turn around to understand.
Karna is leaving.
A few moments later, everything returned to normal.
The air stabilized.
The warmth faded.
And the world felt… ordinary again.
I glanced up at the sky.
Aero was already circling above.
Perfect timing.
I turned to Zareth.
"Don't resist."
He looked confused for a brief moment but didn't question it.
Good.
Without wasting another second—
I activated my Nature Force.
Space twisted.
And in the next instant—
We disappeared.
And reappeared—
On Aero's back.
Zareth's eyes widened slightly.
Surprise flickered across his face.
But he didn't say anything.
He simply observed.
Analyzed.
Accepted.
I looked ahead, the wind brushing past my face.
Then I spoke—
"Let's go."
Aero let out a low cry.
His wings spread wide.
And with a powerful beat—
He soared into the sky.
I looked forward, my gaze calm.
"My territory awaits."