When the sun rose, whispers echoing within the stone walls of Sorbaj had already spread to every corner of the city. The first light of dawn bore witness to the rumors woven meticulously by the Tiamats, growing in the shadows. These whispers spoke of a great change within the Tiamat tribe: from now on, they would support only Corvus. Moreover, it was now an undeniable fact that Corvus was one of the three most influential figures within the Tiamat tribe. However, what captivated the people the most—what even left some in astonishment—was the rumor that Corvus had fought both Kaelyra and Kurz simultaneously and emerged victorious. Such a triumph was worthy only of warriors spoken of in legends.

  While these rumors stirred envy and anger in many, they also alleviated the atmosphere of fear that had dominated the city following the monk’s terrifying prophecies. After all, never before in Rhazgord’s history had such a young warrior risen to power and authority as swiftly as Corvus. His ascension was unfolding at a pace that stunned both his allies and his enemies. Many within Rhazgord now believed that Corvus had been sent by the gods to lead the Rhazgord through these turbulent times. The victories he had accumulated in recent months and the ever-spreading rumors further solidified his name, making him a figure of legend.

  However, just as admiration for Corvus grew, so did the number of those who despised him. The Nabuks, as always, maintained their cold composure and did not openly express their anger, but the tribes close to them no longer even felt the need to conceal their discontent toward Corvus. Some deliberately provoked him, seeking the slightest excuse to challenge him. Yet, these challenges only served to further elevate Corvus’ reputation and make his might evident to all. For Corvus crushed every opponent who stood before him without mercy, ensuring they would never dare to challenge him again. With the unshakable support of the Tiamats behind him, he had incapacitated three Sharazirs beyond recovery, yet no authority dared to intervene. The dominion Corvus had established was now nearly equivalent to that of Sakhaar himself.

  Alongside Corvus, the Tiamat Guards had also grown in numbers. Now resembling a small army, they patrolled every corner of the city in their black and red armor. No longer confined to Tiamat territory alone, they now roamed the streets of Sorbaj as well. The echo of their boots on the city’s stone-paved roads had become a symbol of both security and authority. Though this was seen as a deviation from tradition, the unwavering will of the Tiamats and the public support behind Corvus silenced any rising objections before they could even fully form.

  Control over the city’s entrances and exits, its marketplaces, and merchant activities now lay entirely in the hands of the Tiamat Guards. At first, merchants resented this strict oversight, with some even considering leaving Sorbaj. However, after Corvus dispatched three hundred elite guards to the farthest reaches of Rhazgord to eliminate bandit threats, trade became secure, and merchants soon began flocking to Sorbaj. Crime rates in the city dropped significantly, and the Tiamat Guards, who had become a nightmare for those seeking illicit gains, were starting to be revered as legends. Yet, despite Rhazgord’s slowly strengthening economy, it still remained dependent on external resources, and Corvus was acutely aware of this vulnerability.

  Meanwhile, Volmir had returned from Bahoz, where he had undergone extensive training. He had grown both mentally and physically, acquiring new skills. Although he had yet to fully master the Adler language, he had built a solid foundation and could improve with practice. Thanks to Corvus’ influence, Volmir had received special permission to return to Bahoz for scholarly training whenever he wished—an opportunity he was determined to seize. For now, he preferred to remain in the military, but he intended to make use of this privilege as soon as possible.

  At the same time, the monk’s terrifying prophecies had already spread across the continent, causing a massive stir. Rhazgord knew it could not face the coming storm alone, so it was sending envoys to rally the support of the most powerful kingdoms and empires. As a result of these efforts, a grand meeting was set to take place in the Adler Kingdom, a realm that, despite its decline, remained the heart of the continent. However, the meeting was not just planned by Adler; it was organized by the continent’s greatest empire—Sizat.

  When the invitation arrived in Sorbaj, Sakhaar was lounging on his throne, sprawling comfortably. With a sharp flick of his wrist, he tossed the parchment toward Corvus. Corvus swiftly caught it and began reading the lines as Sakhaar’s deep, authoritative voice resonated through the room.

  “The Sizat are hosting a great assembly and have invited us as well. What do you suggest we do?”

  Sakhaar had never before asked for Corvus’ opinion. Was this a sign of trust, or was he merely shifting the burden of this difficult task onto Corvus’ shoulders? A mix of surprise and excitement stirred within Corvus, but he quickly suppressed his emotions and focused his thoughts.

  “We must attend,” he said decisively. “If we can be persuasive enough, we might gain more allies in the war against the Demons. We have the continent’s strongest military force. Moreover, as far as I know, the gods speak only to us. That means they need us. If we secure their support, our position will become even stronger.” He paused briefly, his eyes gleaming with determination as he clenched his fists.

  “We might even eliminate the Brihmond bastards once and for all.”

  Sakhaar furrowed his brows and remained silent for a few minutes, deep in thought. A heavy silence filled the room. Finally, he lifted his head, his decision made.

  “Set out as soon as possible. Take as many warriors as you deem necessary.”

  Corvus stepped forward.

  “It wouldn’t be appropriate for me to go. I still haven’t found those smuggling Lightstone, and I have matters to settle here. Kaelyra or my grandfather would be more suitable.”

  Sakhaar narrowed his eyes and tilted his head slightly.

  “Kaelyra is clever, but she knows nothing of these affairs. Your grandfather, on the other hand, would kill a few kings and plunge us into war. That’s why you’re going. Besides, aren’t you on good terms with the Adler prince? You mentioned making a deal with him. Take care of that while you’re there.”

  Sakhaar was right. Corvus’ cunning and diplomatic skills were needed for this mission. Yet, an unease gnawed at him. Unfinished tasks and unresolved matters tied him to Sorbaj, making him reluctant to embark on this journey.

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  Sakhaar spoke again.

  “I will oversee the issues here. As I said, you will leave as soon as possible. No objections.”

  The decision was final. Corvus gave a slight nod, acknowledging the command, and turned to leave the room. As he reached for the heavy door, his father’s voice rang out once more.

  “There may be others who, like Brihmond, have forgotten who we are. Make sure they remember.”

  Corvus hesitated but did not turn back. He silently accepted Sakhaar’s order and quickened his steps, exiting the room. A long and arduous journey lay ahead, but the only thought in his mind was how to turn this meeting to his advantage.

  By the time the first light of dawn illuminated the horizon, Corvus had already left Sorbaj. Behind him, fifty elite warriors, hardened by the battlefield, followed. At his side, Zarqa and Baldrek rode their horses in silence. The wind carried the metallic echoes of armor, while dust clouds rose from the hooves of their steeds, dissipating into the cold morning air.

  Even though all these warriors wore the armor of the Tiamat Guards, some among them belonged to a dark organization that walked only in the shadows—an entity so elusive that its very existence was a matter of debate. From an outsider’s perspective, this unit appeared to be a disciplined army moving in perfect unison. However, there were two main reasons why Corvus had set out with such a large force.

  First, had he traveled to the Adler Kingdom with only a handful of warriors, he would have appeared weak and laughable as Rhazgord’s envoy. The Adler Kingdom was known for its powerful leaders and elaborate diplomatic games; Corvus could not afford to be seen as someone to be taken lightly. The second reason was the Brihmond territories along the route. Despite receiving a warning letter from Rhazgord, Brihmond had yet to sever ties. However, since it was uncertain how long this situation would last, being prepared was the wisest choice.

  Their first stop was Bahoz. After a long journey, they arrived in the city, where they were greeted by Rasur and Baral. Bahoz was now entirely different from its former self. Reconstruction was progressing rapidly, and many buildings had been completed. The streets bustled with shoppers, merchants displayed their goods, and silver and gold exchanged hands. Within Rhazgord’s territories, Bahoz had now become the wealthiest city.

  The Scholars’ Academy had also opened, but despite the completion of the building, there was a significant shortage of students. The people were knowledgeable in matters of war and trade, but they remained cautious about intellectual education. Corvus spent a night there, but before dawn, he made all necessary preparations and, before departing, ensured he collected a hefty sum of gold and silver from Baral. With Bahoz’s prosperity, Corvus’s own revenues had reached astonishing levels.

  After several days of travel, they arrived at a small village near the Brihmond border. The sun had reached its highest point in the sky, and the air had grown hot. However, their stop was not for rest but to prevent a potential conflict. Some of Corvus’s warriors had already separated from the main group and sent word to Brihmond’s authorities requesting passage.

  The wait was not long. Soon, a group of Brihmond soldiers arrived in the village. Their commander halted his horse before Corvus and respectfully bowed, informing them that they were permitted to pass freely through Brihmond’s lands. However, this did not mean their passage was entirely safe. As Corvus and his men advanced, they remained on high alert. Along the road, they saw figures moving within the shadows, felt eyes constantly watching them. There was no open threat, but an unsettling sense of being followed lingered with every step.

  After days of travel, they reached another border crossing. As they approached the lands of the Drom Kingdom, they were met by a group of Drom soldiers before they even had a chance to send word. Like the Adler Kingdom, the Drom Kingdom was also a vassal of the Sizat Empire. However, as the Sizats and the Adlers were at war, the Drom Kingdom had foreseen the war’s outcome and switched sides, aligning itself with the Sizats.

  The Drom soldiers stood in disciplined formation, their banners bearing the emblem of the Sizat Empire. Their commander fixed his gaze on Corvus and his entourage.

  The old commander dismounted onto the dusty ground and strode toward Corvus with firm steps. His armor bore the wear of years, and the emblem on his chest gleamed faintly under the sunlight. His eyes, filled with the suspicion of a seasoned warrior, scrutinized Corvus.

  “Are you from Rhazgord?” he asked, his voice sharp, almost commanding.

  Corvus loosened his horse’s reins and dismounted. His movements were deliberate yet unwaveringly confident. Despite the height difference between them, the crimson glow in his eyes made him appear larger than he was.

  “I am Corvus Tiamat,” he said, his voice calm but carrying an unquestionable authority.

  “I am Rhazgord’s envoy.”

  The old commander furrowed his brows. He had not expected Rhazgord to send someone so young. In fact, he had not expected Rhazgord to send anyone at all. Yet his orders were clear—he was to wait in the Drom lands and escort Rhazgord’s delegation to Adler. Still, he made no effort to hide his displeasure. The thought of a mere boy representing Rhazgord at a Sizat-hosted gathering was difficult to accept.

  Grumbling, he turned back to his horse and mounted. “Follow me!” he ordered. But the silence that followed tested his patience. When he turned around, neither Corvus nor his warriors had moved. They all remained in composed stillness, watching him. The commander’s irritation flared.

  “Hey! I’m talking to you! Follow me so I can take you to Adler!”

  The only response was a few harsh words in the Rhazgordian tongue. The speaker was Baldrek, who sat tall upon his horse. Though the old commander did not understand the words, he could feel their meaning—they were far from kind. He gritted his teeth, preparing to snap back, but suddenly, the sky darkened. A heavy pressure settled over them, shaking the air itself. Something—an unseen force—descended upon them, seeping into their bones. The commander’s knees buckled, and he suddenly collapsed to the ground. The soldiers behind him fared even worse—some had already fainted, unable to even hold their shields. As he struggled to comprehend what was happening, he lifted his head, and his eyes met Corvus’s.

  Blood-red… Deathly cold…

  These were not the eyes of an enraged warrior but of a silent predator stalking its prey.

  “As far as I know,” Corvus said, his voice as calm as the wind yet reverberating with threat,

  “Before you tell someone to ‘follow me’, you should introduce yourself first.”

  In that moment, the old commander felt the footsteps of death approaching. His breath grew unsteady, his hands trembled. Now, he truly understood what it meant to underestimate Rhazgord.

  With a voice that quivered, he barely managed to say, “Y-Yanthus Ivis…”

  “I am here under the Drom King’s orders… to escort you… my lord…”

  Corvus’s expression did not change. There was neither mercy nor interest in his gaze.

  “I don’t like you,” he said, not a single word more than necessary.

  “We’ll find our own way.”

  His words hung in the air. Then, the power of the Lightstone intensified once more, and the old commander’s consciousness faded into darkness.

  Old Commander Yanthus Ivis slowly opened his eyes to a deep, resounding hum. The muffled echoes in his head reminded him that his body was still weary and heavy. As his vision gradually cleared, he felt the chill of the night dew against his face on the hard ground.

  At first, he could not recall what had happened. But then, the memory struck him like a hammer—the collapse of his knees, the searing red glare, the crushing force upon his chest. He relived the moment—his strength drained, his very will rendered useless. That damned young man, Rhazgord’s envoy…

  He swallowed hard and looked around, his memory piecing itself together. A group of horses passed by, the fading sound of hooves filling the silence. But what unsettled Yanthus the most was the laughter echoing in his head—the laughter of Rhazgord’s warriors. These were not the victorious laughs of a foe celebrating a hard-won battle. Rather, they were the mocking chuckles of those who deemed their opponents unworthy of consideration. As if Yanthus and his men were not even worth taking seriously.

  Grinding his teeth in anger, he pushed his fists against the ground, trying to rise. But his body still betrayed him. As he wavered and collapsed onto his knees once more, he looked up at the starlit night sky. And at that moment, he realized one absolute truth.

  Underestimating Rhazgord and its envoy, Corvus Tiamat, was the greatest mistake one could ever make.