[Global Broadcast Network – Emergency Feed]
"We interrupt all programming with live footage of what is now being classified as an EX-Level Tower Break Resolution—accomplished by… one man."
Pause.
"We… don't know who he is."
Replay begins again.
A silver blur. A flash of white energy. The tower exploding like it owed him money.
And then—
'I JUST WANTED FRIED CHICKEN!'
The feed cuts to the newscaster with a pale expression. "Ladies and gentlemen… the mysterious figure is now being referred to globally as… The Silver King."
[Somewhere in the 3rd Realm – Alfheim]
Elven scholars gathered in a crystalline observatory. Their scrying mirrors pulsed violently.
One old elf leaned forward, his voice dry as parchment. "Did you feel that…?"
Another nodded slowly. "It wasn't just divine power. It was judgment."
"But no one in the divine ranks is that reckless," one younger elf added. "That wasn't holy. That was…"
The head scholar stood. "Call the council. Whoever he is… he has no god, no temple, and no leash."
[Murim Realm – Hidden Sword Valley]
The Grandmaster of Iron Flow Fist cracked his eyes open mid-meditation.
His student entered with trembling hands. "Master… about that man you spoke of…"
The old man nodded slowly.
"It's him. The White King… has returned."
[Back on Earth – Neo-Seoul]
Brehn's Bar was finally settling again.
The tables were mostly upright.
Mira was holding Nico in a tight hug. The poor kid had cried through most of the tower break and then gotten yelled at for almost dying.
Brehn's wife handed Alaric a plate stacked with golden, crispy chicken.
He bit into it like it was a religious act.
Mira crossed her arms. "You caused another international crisis."
Alaric, mouth full: "Worth it."
Brehn sighed as he looked out the window. "You're all over the news. They're calling you the Silver King now."
"I'd prefer something more humble." He took another bite. "Like Supreme Grandmaster Lord of Fried Chicken."
[White Tiger Guild – Private Meeting Room]
Guild Master Ra was pacing with a half-crazed smile. Tara and Arin sat across from him.
"This is insane," Tara muttered. "You're smiling like a lunatic."
"I am a lunatic! A lunatic with the strongest walking nuclear deterrent in my city!"
Arin shook her head. "Do we know anything about him?"
"Nothing," Tara said. "No fingerprints. No registry. No guild. And yet…"
Arin exhaled. "He saved me once… then saved hundreds. Again. There's something off about him."
Tara nodded. "He's kind. But terrifying."
The Guild Master leaned over the table. "Then we need to find him again. Secure him."
"And if he doesn't want to join?"
He grinned. "Then we bribe him with chicken."
[Helheim – The 10th Realm]
A great throne carved from obsidian shifted.
A hooded figure stood in the shadows, gripping a twisted staff pulsing with demonic energy.
"Begin the preparations."
Another knelt before him. "Do we move forward with the invasion?"
"No. Not yet."
The orb pulsed in his hands.
"That silver light. That energy. It doesn't belong in Midgard. Not anymore."
He crushed the orb.
"But it's his."
[Final Scene – Alaric, Alone Outside the Bar]
He stood in the quiet, looking up at the stars. The plate was empty. The wind was calm.
A small system prompt appeared in gold.
[Passive Quest – Path to Forgiveness]
Progress: 3%
Status: "Chicken: Acquired. Rage: Released. Peace: …Pending."
He smiled slightly. For once, it was real.
"Still not enough," he whispered. "But it's something."