The gates of Lunargent, the crown jewel of the Silverwood Kingdom, were a testament to the vanity of the light.
Forged from high-grade mana-conductive silver and polished to a mirror sheen, they stood beneath the early morning sun like twin walls of captured lightning.
Soldiers in iridescent plate armor patrolled the marble ramparts, their spears tipped with glowing azure crystals.
High above, the banners of Queen Bellatrix—a silver crescent on a field of royal blue—fluttered with a rhythmic, snapping sound in the sharp northern wind.
A man draped in a rough, mud-stained traveler's cloak passed through the checkpoint.
He moved with a heavy, purposeful gait, his hood pulled low to obscure a shock of vibrant, crimson-red hair.
To the guards, he was merely another A-Rank adventurer seeking work in the prosperous capital.
He didn't speak. He didn't offer a smile. He simply paid the entry toll with a single, unminted silver coin and vanished into the city's bustling arteries.
This was Blade. Or rather, this was the vessel known as Blade Lunaria, currently inhabited by the calculating consciousness of Shujin.
Inside the city, the atmosphere was thick with a frantic, whispered energy.
Lunargent was a city of gossip, and today, the air was saturated with a single, polarizing name: The Federation.
"They say Aethelred Vi Regis has finally done it," a merchant muttered to a group of silk-clad nobles near the central fountain.
"He has united the fragmented demon tribes and the border-human settlements under a single banner. A 'United Federation'."
"Ridiculous!" a noble spat, his face flushing with indignation.
"Demons do not 'unite'. They consume. It is clearly a trick by the Demon Empire to lower our defenses."
"Then explain why the Ironwood merchant caravans are bypassing our northern ports to trade at Darkensport?" the merchant countered.
"Queen Bellatrix herself is said to be... interested."
Blade moved silently through the crowd, his eyes—sharp and crimson—scanning the architecture for surveillance runes.
The world has begun to tremble, Shujin's voice echoed within the confines of Blade's mind.
Aethelred has taken his first step, and the human kingdoms now waver on the precarious edge between their greed and their fear.
"Then this is the perfect time to pass through Lunargent unseen," Blade murmured softly, his voice a low, gravelly rasp.
"The eyes of this capital are sharper than blades, but they are focused on the horizon, not the shadows beneath their own feet."
As he spoke, his presence seemed to dim, his form blending into the shifting crowd until he was nothing more than a flicker of red in a sea of silver.
---
Deep within the Silver Palace, the Hall of Deliberation was a cathedral of glass and silence.
Queen Bellatrix Silverwood sat upon her throne of sculpted ice-glass, listening to the reports of her ministers.
Her long platinum hair shimmered faintly beneath the stained-glass ceiling, reflecting the bruised violets and pale golds of the morning sky.
"Your Majesty," Minister Alden bowed, his forehead nearly touching the cold marble floor.
"The reports from the East are no longer mere rumors. Ironwood merchants have begun active, high-volume trade with the Federation. Darkensport has transformed overnight from a derelict ruins into the central hub of demon–human commerce."
Bellatrix closed her eyes, resting her chin upon a pale, ring-decorated hand. Her expression was one of clinical curiosity.
"So… Aethelred Vi Regis is building more than just an army. He is building an economy. He is weaponizing the one thing humans value more than their lives."
"There is more, Your Majesty," Alden continued, his voice trembling slightly.
"Gareth Valmor, the wealthiest merchant prince of the Ironwood Kingdom, has personally visited the Federation's stronghold."
Bellatrix's eyes snapped open, gleaming with a predatory interest.
"Valmor? That snake never moves without a calculated profit. What did he gain from a demon king?"
"It appears King Aethelred has appointed him as the Federation's Economic Advisor. His influence over the trans-continental trade routes is expanding with every shipment."
Bellatrix smiled coldly, a look that didn't reach her eyes.
"Interesting. A demon king who understands the mechanics of human greed is far more dangerous than one who only understands fire and steel. He is playing the long game."
---
Meanwhile, in the Federation Citadel of Darkensport, the air was vastly different.
The grand hall was carved directly from the bedrock—black stone veined with glowing blue mana-crystals that hummed with a subterranean power.
Upon a throne of jagged obsidian sat King Aethelred Vi Regis. He was dressed in regal splendor, his crimson eyes fixed on a kneeling man whose fine silks were covered in the dust of the road.
"You may rise, Gareth Valmor," Aethelred said smoothly, his voice carrying the resonance of a natural-born sovereign.
"You have come a long way from the comforts of Valerion. What is it you seek in the land of shadows?"
Gareth stood, offering a polite, practiced smile.
"I seek trade, Your Majesty. Gold is a universal language; it does not discriminate between the horns of a demon or the crown of a human. I wish to shape the Federation's economy into an empire. My caravans carry the spices of Flarewood and the rare gems of the Mistwood mines. In return, I request exclusive administrative privileges at your ports."
Aethelred leaned forward, his eyes boring into the merchant's soul.
"A merchant who speaks of greed so openly is far better than a king who hides his greed behind 'virtue'. Very well."
A tall demon advisor with crimson horns stepped forward, his hand on the hilt of a massive blade.
"Your Majesty! This human is a parasite. He seeks only to drain our resources. Granting him authority over our docks is a risk we cannot afford."
Aethelred didn't even look at the advisor.
"He desires wealth—and that makes him predictable. Those who crave power are dangerous because their goals are abstract. Those who crave gold can be controlled with a ledger."
Silence fell across the hall. Gareth bowed deeply, his eyes gleaming with a triumph he didn't bother to hide.
"You honor me beyond measure, Your Majesty. I swear—this Federation shall become the wealthiest power across the five seas."
Aethelred smiled faintly.
"Do not disappoint me, Gareth. The battlefield has shifted. Commerce is your war now. Win it, or you will find that our dungeons are far less comfortable than your manor."
---
Later that evening, Aethelred stood on a high balcony overlooking the harbor of Darkensport.
The sea wind whipped his heavy cloak, and the rhythmic clack-clack of demonic labor echoed from the docks below.
His aide, a young demon named Lirian, spoke hesitantly from the shadows.
"Your Majesty… are you not trusting that human too easily? He is a traitor to his own kind."
Aethelred chuckled, a dry, hollow sound.
"Trust? I have no trust for Gareth Valmor. I am using him. He will build the infrastructure I require—and when his greed inevitably surpasses his loyalty, he will be discarded. He is a tool, Lirian. Nothing more."
"But what if he attempts to betray us to the 'First Hero'?"
Aethelred's red eyes glowed with a sudden, terrifying intensity.
"Then he will learn what happens to those who attempt to steal from the Shadow King."
---
In the frozen Southern Frontier, within a fortress built of absolute intellect and ancient, forgotten power, the First Summoned Hero Nyxarion stood before a kneeling figure.
He was draped in robes of blinding white, his head crowned by a circlet of dark iron that seemed to absorb the meager light.
Before him was a demi-human girl. Her brown hair was messy, and her eyes were voids of emotionless obedience.
A long, furred wolf-tail gave a single, rhythmic flick against the frosted floor.
"My Lord," she whispered. "You summoned me?"
"Yes," Nyxarion replied, his voice a venomous silk.
"My little shadow. The Federation is rising faster than the Goddess anticipated. Mistwood and Flarewood are already wavering, considering an alliance of 'necessity'. You are to go to their borders... and begin the cleansing."
"Assassinations?" she asked, her head tilting with a chilling, animalistic innocence.
"Yes. Start with the merchants and the lesser nobles who are sympathetic to Aethelred's trade. I want chaos. I want confusion. I want them to fear the 'Peace' they are so eager to buy."
Nyxarion's eyes narrowed. "And if you encounter the one they call Blade... test him. I wish to know if the rumors of his 'immortality' are the work of a god or merely a clever illusion."
The wolf-girl bowed her head, her presence disappearing into the frost before she even stood up. "As you command, my lord."
---
Back in the city of Valerion, the capital of Ironwood, the air was stagnant with unease.
Rumors of the massacre of Blade's family had resurfaced, spreading through the taverns like a slow-acting poison.
In the royal hall, Princess Alisa frowned at a series of reports.
"Father… every eyewitness account says the same. The slaughter of Blade's family was no ordinary bandit raid. The wounds were too precise, and the magical residue was... non-human. It was an anomaly."
King Arvedis nodded grimly.
"Yes. Ryuto is already investigating. But the deeper he digs into the archives of the 'First Hero', the darker the history becomes."
Royal Family has connection with the Church so they have already known Ryuto is Second Summoned Hero and didn't Announce that to public.
Ryuto entered the hall at that moment, carrying a stack of ancient, leather-bound documents. His expression was cold, his jaw set in a line of resolute anger.
"Your Majesty, Your Highness. This crime was not committed by humans or demons alone. It is an unnatural corruption—interference from a 'Dark Sovereign' that predates the current Demon Lords."
Alisa gasped.
"Dark magic? But Shujin has not been seen since the Academy fell."
Ryuto clenched his fist.
"I must uncover the truth. Because the truth will only bring pain to someone like Blade... a man who just wants to see the world smile."
Arvedis placed a hand on the Hero's shoulder.
"Be careful, Ryuto. You are stepping into a storm that began a century before you were even summoned."
---
As night fell over Lunargent, Blade departed through the northern postern gate.
The moonlight glinted off his rough cloak, and the crimson glow of his eyes seemed to lead the way into the darkening forest.
Aethelred's moves are flawless, Shujin's voice resonated within.
The Federation now stands on the twin pillars of territory and economic power. The world is changing—and soon even the gods will be forced to choose which side of the shadow they wish to stand on.
"Then we move forward," Blade said, his voice a promise to the night.
"Mistwood awaits... and the shadows are growing thicker with every step."
He glanced back one last time at the radiant, silvery capital.
"Bellatrix. Nyxarion. Ryuto… they are all playing their parts with such conviction. But in the end—only one player will remain at the table."
The wind rose, howling through the pines, and carried his words into the void.
---
✦ To be continued...