Melissa stepped into the office slowly, anxiety tightening her chest with every step. In front of her, she pushed Oliver's wheelchair with careful hands, his frail frame hunched forward slightly as he took in his surroundings. Despite having only undergone treatment the day before, there was a noticeable improvement in his complexion and posture. The persistent shadows of malnutrition and long-term poisoning still clung to his face and limbs, but for someone who had been on death's doorstep, just breathing was a small miracle.
Her pace slowed when she caught sight of the scene unfolding in front of her.
Across the room, Ali stood casually with Fiona beside him, and nestled gently in her arms was a small, baby—her daughter. The child was giggling softly as she reached out, grasping at Ali's finger with her tiny hands. His other hand was on Fiona's cheek, but his attention was clearly on the infant, his expression unreadable as ever, yet his body language calm and oddly gentle.
Melissa froze in place.
Her heart dropped, a hollow weight pressing against her ribs. She stared at Fiona for a moment—breathtakingly elegant and composed even in a quiet domestic moment—then looked at the baby. A sudden thought struck her like cold water.
'He has a child… and a wife.'
The realisation hit hard, like a wall that had always been there, suddenly seen. She quickly lowered her gaze, embarrassed by her own assumptions and unwilling to let Ali catch even a glimpse of the turmoil washing over her. Wordlessly, she pushed Oliver forward until his chair was centred in front of the desk, keeping her head bowed as she stood behind him.
Oliver, thin and bony, raised his chin and faced Ali with a quiet dignity.
"Lord Ali," he began, his voice steady but soft, "my name is Oliver Maler, and I would stand to bow in your presence… but I'm afraid my legs are not yet strong enough to support me."
He paused, taking a breath before continuing.
"Still, I would like to express my deepest thanks—for your mercy, your generosity, and for saving my life… I don't know how we could ever repay the kindness you've shown our family."
He lowered his head again, but this time out of reverence, not weakness. When he looked up, Ali was already watching him.
"You're the heir of House Maler, aren't you?" Ali asked, voice steady and matter-of-fact.
"Yes, but… my family has lost everything," Oliver replied with a faint trace of sorrow in his tone. "And in my condition, that title carries no weight anymore…"
Ali leaned forward slightly, his eyes narrowing as he spoke again.
"As heir to a merchant house, you were trained to manage your family's assets, yes?"
"I was," Oliver replied with a bit more energy, his shoulders rising slightly, hopeful.
"Then you'll put that training to use. Starting now, you'll work directly under my advisor, Fiona. Assist her in restructuring Obidos's trade systems, rebuilding its economic foundation, and doing whatever else she requires of you."
Oliver's lips parted, stunned by the responsibility being placed on him. Then he nodded, and though his body was weak, there was a spark of life behind his eyes—of purpose finally returning to a man who thought his future was already buried.
"That would be my honour, my lord," he said. "But… if I may make a humble request, with your permission?"
Ali gave a single nod, allowing him to continue.
"Would it be possible for my little sister and my cousin to remain in the castle—at least until I've restored our family estate in Obidos? I still possess the deed to our home, though it was burned."
Behind him, Melissa's eyes widened and she quickly stepped forward.
"Oliver, you can't ask that of Lord Ali!" she exclaimed, her voice tense with panic. "Forgive us, my lord— you've already given us more than we deserve. It's selfish to ask for more—"
Ali raised his hand and cut her off with a single, calm statement.
"You and your family will live here from now on. You can forget about rebuilding your old estate—for now."
Both Melissa and Oliver froze, the words sinking in like warm sunlight after a long winter. Melissa's breath caught in her throat. She hadn't expected such grace. In her mind, they were barely more than beggars—a burden in the eyes of any nobleman. And yet here he was, giving them not only safety, but a home.
'I'm going to leave them in charge when I take IronPeak anyway…' Ali thought to himself, even as their reactions remained stunned and silent.
"Thank you, Lord Ali," Oliver said at last, his voice cracking just a little. "We will not forget your kindness."
Melissa bowed deeply, unable to form any words. Her thoughts were spinning too fast, her emotions tangled in confusion and guilt.
Then she saw it.
Ali leaned in close to Fiona and whispered something in her ear. Fiona tilted her head slightly, she put on a fake smile to hide what the information was truly about. The baby, still content in her arms, clutched Ali's finger again as if to anchor him in place.
Melissa stared, her stomach tightening as something heavy settled in her chest.
'It hurts…' she thought. 'But who am I kidding? I'm an idiot for ever thinking I could ever be close to him…'
She looked down at the polished stone floor, her cheeks warm. She wasn't angry. She wasn't bitter. But she was painfully aware of where she stood in his world.
And that awareness stung more than any wound.
Fiona, sensing her gaze, glanced toward her for the briefest second. Melissa immediately looked away. It was all just too much.
"I am excited to work with you, Oliver. You'll be of great help, I'm sure," Fiona said with a warm, radiant smile. Her presence, even when casual, carried a grace that seemed to brighten the entire room.
"Likewise, my lady," Oliver replied with a slight blush, visibly overwhelmed by her beauty and poise. Despite his weakened body, the charm in his voice returned for a fleeting moment, a hint of who he used to be before the poison stole so much from him.
Ali leaned back slightly in his chair, relaxed but purposeful, clearly ready to move on. "Well then, how about you all walk around the castle and get comfortable in your new home," he said casually, his tone light but unmistakably final.
It was a polite dismissal.
Melissa quickly turned Oliver's chair and began guiding him out of the office, her eyes flicking back at Fiona… and at the child in her arms who followed them out. The image burned into her chest. Ali sitting calmly, while Fiona held a newborn, both of them looking like the picture of a perfect noble family.
Melissa's heart sank in silence.
'He has a wife… and a child…' she thought, her stomach tightening as her steps grew a touch heavier. She lowered her eyes, hiding the flash of emotion she couldn't suppress in time. She didn't want Ali to see it—whatever she had imagined between them was just that, a fantasy.
Once the door shut behind them, the air in the office shifted.
Ali was alone now, save for Miles who was always there…
"Ali," Miles began, tone flat and direct, "I've readied the targets in the forest. And I've sent an item to you. You should use it only in an emergency—it's powerful."
Ali opened his inventory and gave the glowing icon a glance. A small smile curved his lips. "This helps a lot," he said, understanding exactly what it meant. "I'll deal with them after the demi-humans. Better to settle that situation before I disappear for training."
"I thought they weren't supposed to escort you to their camp until tomorrow," Miles noted.
Ali looked at his reflection in the mirror across the room. His sharp features, clean jawline, and pitch-black eyes stared back at him—confident, unreadable, dangerous.
"Why not make a grand entrance?" Ali said with a smirk. "Something loud enough to shock them into listening… and quiet enough to make them think twice before refusing my terms."
Miles replied. "They're all at the camp now—their warriors, their scouts, even their alphas. You'll be walking into their stronghold. If things go wrong, you'll be at the heart of it."
Ali turned from the mirror, his coat already swaying from the slight motion of his step.
"It'll be fine," he said. And with that, he vanished.
Above Obidos, the clear sky was split by the piercing, thunderous roar of Eldora.
The emerald dragon glided like a green god over the rooftops, casting her massive shadow down across the castle. Every commoner, servant, and soldier who heard her cry paused, heads turning toward the sky.
In the corridor of the castle, Fiona stood calmly by the window, watching Eldora.
"My lady," Oliver asked softly, trying to sound casual as he approached her with Melissa pushing him in the castle. "If I may be so bold… how long have you been married to Lord Ali?"
Melissa, behind the wheelchair, stiffened slightly.
Fiona's smile widened. She wasn't surprised—she'd heard the assumption too many times by now. It always came up. After all, in the minds of most people, a man like Ali could only ever be matched by a woman like her.
But that assumption was wrong.
"Oh, you're mistaken," she said lightly. "I am not his wife… and she's not his child. I'm only his advisor. Nothing more."
Oliver blinked in surprise, and Melissa instinctively looked up, her hands still on the wheelchair. Something warm bloomed quietly in her chest, so quiet that even she didn't register it right away.
Fiona kept walking. And behind her, one of them tried—and failed—to hide the bright smile stretching across their face.
Kilometres away, in the Forest east to Fortress Stork, Ali landed softly in a wide clearing enclosed by dense walls of ancient trees. The silence was total, broken only by the gentle crunch of leaves underfoot and the occasional chirp of forest birds.
He stood still for a moment, his eyes scanning everything.
The clearing was scarred—gutted by violence.
Deep gashes carved into the ground by massive swords. Chunks of earth torn up and scattered, trees cracked in half like twigs. The grass had long since died where blood had once soaked the soil.
All around him were signs of aura clashes—waves of pressure that had bent the environment and left permanent marks behind. But it wasn't just the physical destruction…
It was the aura. The killing intent. Still thick in the air. Lingering. Like a ghost refusing to move on.
Ali stepped past a collapsed wooden beam—part of the remains of the house that used to be at the centre of the clearing. One wall still stood, half-burned and riddled with blade marks. Smoke-stained stone, shattered glass, torn roof tiles. All of it told the same story.
A battle had happened here. A violent, desperate one.
And yet…
No corpse.
No body. No blood trail. No scent of decay. Just the ghost of a warrior who had vanished into the forest or been taken away entirely.
Ali narrowed his eyes.
"He was strong…" he thought silently. George's presence still lingered in the air—not his body, not his voice, but his will. That overwhelming killing intent that had stared Ali down the first time he visited this home… It hadn't faded. Not completely.
Eldora landed behind him a moment later, her wings folding slowly as her claws dug into the earth. She sniffed once and let out a low, uneasy growl.
"You feel it too?" Ali asked, not needing a reply.
Eldora didn't roar or speak—just stared at the collapsed home with narrowed eyes. She felt it too. The blood. The violence. The signs of a powerful battle.
Ali knelt quietly amidst the wreckage and reached down, his fingers gently brushing the soil where a single red flower bloomed defiantly through the destruction. It was the last trace of Fiona's garden—everything else had been scorched, shattered, or buried.
He plucked the flower carefully and, without a word, sent it into his inventory. A subtle shimmer marked its disappearance. Within his storage was a large chest—designated for items like this, miscellaneous items all stored in one inventory slot.
Then, with a slow breath, Ali reached out with the Force.
A heavy gust rolled through the clearing as debris lifted from the collapsed house. Shattered beams floated up, splinters spun through the air, and a cloud of dust peeled back as Ali cleared a path into what remained of the modest home.
He stepped over the fractured threshold, his eyes scanning every ruined corner.
Furniture—burned. Walls—cracked and caved in. Bloodstains, dried and dark, told of a desperate struggle. Ali walked with quiet steps, picking up small, broken items—fragments of a dish, the bent frame of a painting, a partially scorched doll. He collected anything that might bring Fiona peace. Closure. Even the smallest relic mattered.
She needed to move forward. Not for sentiment, but because she was irreplaceable. Miles and Ali were able to do a lot between them, but not what she offered. Not her grace. Not her insight. And not her quiet ability to hold people together in his name or her understanding of this world.
His work here done, Ali turned toward the clearing again.
He shot upward into the sky, the Force rushing beneath him—not pulling, but lifting him with newfound smoothness. The Spirit cost was halved now. He would test—and push the force to its limit soon.
—
Deep in the forest, incredibly tall trees spread as far as the eye could see with small mountains and rivers spread between, and inside the forest beasts lived in their own ecosystem, some hunted using claws and sharp teeth relying only on their own natural strength while other more powerful and older beasts used elemental attacks to attempt at breaking down the defences of prey who used those same elements to protect themselves and their offspring from predators, every beast in the forest was dangerous regardless if prey or predator.
And in between tribes of powerful monsters thrived without human adventurers this far south, they just needed to be careful of other tribes and powerful beast dens.
That was the case in the forest except for one large patch of the forest that looked like no other except there were no monsters close to it and dens of powerful beasts surrounded that land from every side as if blocking anything from getting to it.
From the sky and land it looked like any other part of The forest with large trees but if one walked into this land and walked to it's centre they would pass through a veil that hid within a large area with no trees and numerous tents all over populated by Demi-human families, nearly four hundred Demi-humans lived here in peace protected by the illusion the veil portrayed to the outside world and the warriors they trained to kill anyone and anything who crossed that veil.
Except for today…
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