Asil paced back and forth in his grand throne room, deep in thought. The elven king had been around longer than most could remember. His long green hair fell in elegant waves across his sharp face, eyes darting nervously to every shadow and corner of the massive hall.
Veronica watched him from her chair — upside down, legs dangling over the back. "From this point of view it seems you're walking on the roof," she smiled, her long silver hair spilling all over the seat like shiny wool. She was the current queen of the beastkins, a canine breed. A little over 5ft tall, with a large bushy tail that never stopped moving in a slow, lazy wave. Her silver ears stood perked up on her head, always alert.
"Do you do anything aside from play?" Asil asked in a serious tone.
Veronica leaped off the chair, landing barefoot on the large oak table in the middle of the room with a soft thud. Myra, the queen of the water dragons, snorted in disapproval from her seat.
"Yes, as a matter of fact," Veronica beamed. "When I'm not playing, I play some more."
"And here I was thinking you were about to make sense," Asil muttered, looking away.
"For the record, this is the last time I'm coming to one of your pointless meetings," Veronica said, leaping back onto her chair. It wobbled and tipped backward, sending her crashing to the floor. She just laughed, staying down there.
"Same here," Myra nodded slightly, her long blue hair shifting like flowing water. "It's a waste of time. And seeing as the dwarf king isn't here again, it's safe to say he agrees with us."
"Do you lot not care about the balance of the world?!" Asil yelled. The entire room shook from his voice.
"The sphere hasn't been activated for a while now," Veronica called from the floor, still relaxed. "I'm sure the boy is doing his best to keep his power in check. Leave him be, old man."
"He's an anomaly. A repeat of the human kingdom shouldn't be risked," Asil growled.
Veronica was on her feet in a flash, her bushy silver tail waving slowly. "You've been bothering us with this way too much. The sphere hasn't even attacked you yet and you're already peeing your pants. What a pathetic king you are."
"How dare you!" Asil said in a dangerously low tone.
"A certain village of mine was destroyed by the sphere. My daughter is dead," Veronica growled. Her silver eyes flickered with a dangerous glow for a second. "If anything, I should be the one pissed."
"We all know you beastkins give birth like rabbits. You have kids all over the place," Asil smirked.
"That's enough," Myra said calmly, ending the discussion. She stood up gracefully. "We should call this meeting to a close. I myself am not helping an elf." With that, she left the room without another word.
"That was sudden," Veronica smiled, brushing herself off. "Well, I guess that's my cue too. See you later, Grandpa." She skipped toward the large marble door.
"Wait, Veronica. I have something for you," Asil yelled before she crossed the threshold.
Veronica stared at the golden spear in her hands, tilting it side to side. Strange glowing writings covered the blade, shimmering faintly. "What's this?" she asked, furrowing her brow in thought, silver ears twitching.
"A gift," Asil smiled gently. "I'm sorry for speaking out of line and insulting you earlier."
"A gift? Really?" Veronica's face lit up like a kid on festival day. "I don't even consider your insults harmful, but I'm not giving this back to you!" She hugged the spear tight against her chest, bushy silver tail wagging wildly.
"I have no intention of taking it back," Asil said softly, watching her.
"It's been a while since I've received a real gift from someone," Veronica smiled, waving the spear around playfully. "It's always just boring political stuff. Thanks, old man! I'll be sure to cherish this."
"Be sure to keep it safe in your sleeping quarters," he added with a knowing smile.
"Sure!" She beamed, then dashed out the room in a fit of childish laughter, silver hair and tail bouncing behind her.
"Well, ain't she stupid," Asil thought as he went deeper into the throne room, a small smirk on his face. "That went easier than I expected."
Veronica skipped down the long hallway in huge bouncy strides, silver tail wagging like crazy. She spotted a girl waiting at the exit — wild black hair, both eyes covered with white linen, one ear chopped short while the other stood erect and alert. A cat-like tail waved slowly behind her, and one hand rested on a massive blade attached to her hip. She turned around as Veronica came bouncing toward her.
"Sorry for keeping you waiting, Haki!" Veronica beamed, then tripped over her own feet and almost face-planted. Haki caught her in a flash, holding her up with one hand. Veronica's legs dangled in the air, still clutching the golden spear tightly.
"Thanks for that," Veronica smiled, not even embarrassed.
"What's with the metal?" Haki asked, looking through her blindfold at the spear in Veronica's arms.
"Oh this?" Veronica waved it around while still dangling. "It's a gift from the Elf king. He told me to keep it safe."
"I don't think you should be accepting anything from that guy," Haki said calmly. "He's always scheming something."
"Nah, you're all overreacting," Veronica beamed, her tail thrashing happily. "A bad person wouldn't give me a gift now, would they? He's a good guy. My years of experience tell me that."
"Your logic is flawed," Haki smiled softly, "but I'm in no position to argue. You're the queen after all. Now hold on."
The meeting grounds were located inside an extremely large ancient tree that breached the skies. Haki held the still-beaming Veronica tight and leaped down from the high branch, silver hair and bushy tail fluttering wildly in the wind.
"So, you spent the months I left you alone kidnapping people and weaving a trap just for me?" Dan scoffed, his body drifting lazily through the suffocating ink of the darkness. He looked less like a man trapped in a void and more like a bored teenager lounging in a pool. "Talk about petty."
"Is that all you have to say?"
The voice rippled through the nothingness like a physical wave, heavy with a malice that made the very air vibrate. "I will seal the world you inhabit and hurl it across the furthest reaches of the galaxy. You will never see the light of day again."
"All I did was 'borrow' a little gold. Come on, help a dude out," Dan replied, letting out a long, exaggerated yawn that echoed into the abyss.
"Still feigning indifference? I wonder what look will be etched onto your face when the dragon tears the life from your friends," the voice boomed, the sound sharp enough to prick the skin.
Dan let out a tired sigh, performing a slow, mocking flip in the air. "If you're talking about Croc and Lilly, you're in for a bad time. Honestly? I'd be more concerned about whatever dragon you sent to fight Croc. As for Lilly... sure, I don't know her current capabilities since she's been out of it, but I'd bet my life she's still a nightmare to handle."
"Your cocky tone knows no bounds—I—" the voice began, surging with sudden rage.
"Do you think if I command you to appear before me, it'll work?" Dan interrupted, his voice dropping an octave, suddenly sharp. "You see, I'm constantly poking at my powers, testing where the limits lie. Of course, I can't use voice commands on beings significantly stronger than me..." Dan shrugged, a small, dangerous smirk playing on his lips. "But I don't think that's going to be a problem where you're concerned."
A low growl vibrated through the floorless space. "Voice command? What are you talking about, mortal?"
"I'm here to take that ring from your bony fingers," Dan said, his eyes narrowing as he straightened out in the dark. "And your head while I'm at it. Can you please just make this easier for me?"
Dan felt the faintest prickle of a chill crawl up his spine—a sensation that shouldn't exist in this empty space. Suddenly, a violent force hooked into his gut, dragging him toward the edges of the nothingness. "Uh?"
"What is it this time?" the voice growled, sounding more frustrated than formidable now.
"Aren't you supposed to be sealing me or something? Honestly, you're awfully chatty for a villain," Dan laughed, though his eyes scanned the shifting shadows for the source of that strange pull.
"I am working on it!" the voice yelled, the void trembling with its agitation. "But something... something is wrong. The fabric is resisting."
"You stupid mutt," Dan sighed, his voice dripping with lazy disappointment. "You're basically trying to pack an entire river into a tiny pickle jar. What did you think would happen? Since you're a mage, I figured you'd have the brain cells to figure that out by now, but I guess I overestimated you."
"What—?" the voice began, momentarily stunned by the insult.
"Anyway," Dan interrupted, his expression tightening as the dragging sensation intensified. "I think my time here is coming to an end. Something has breached this little void of yours, and I don't think I can break out suddenly. So hear me, undead..."
Dan's voice suddenly carried an unnatural weight, a frequency that demanded total submission. "You are to wait outside, motionless, until Croc comes to kill you."
"With... pleasure..." the voice whispered. The malice was gone, replaced by the hollow, droning tone of a mind completely overwritten by Dan's command.
Before the villain could say another word, a hairline fracture appeared in the darkness, and a violent, golden light erupted through the crack. It flooded the void, swallowing the shadows and enveloping Dan in a searing warmth that felt like both a rescue and a threat.
This is going to be trouble, Dan thought, shielding his eyes as the light began to pull his consciousness apart. I need to move, fast. I should contact Lilly.
"Lilly!" Dan's voice rippled through her mind like a sudden thunderclap.
"Arghhhh!" Lilly screamed, clutching her temples as she almost stumbled down the mountain edge. The mental intrusion felt like a physical weight pressing against her brain. "Don't go screaming into my head like it's a normal thing to do!" she groaned, teeth bared in pain.
"Sorry, no time," Dan spoke in a frantic rush, his mental image flickering as the golden light grew even brighter. "I have a few things I need you to do for me. Right now."
The pain in Lilly's head subsided into a dull throb, replaced by the sharp sting of adrenaline. Her eyes cleared, her posture snapping into a combat-ready stance. "I'm listening," she said, her voice dropping into a deadly, serious calm.
Areia moved through the hollowed-out streets like a ghost reclaiming its home. Her heavy black boots pressed into carpets of shattered glass, yet the shards refused to crunch, yielding to her unnervingly silent stride. To her left, the ribcage of a horse bleached white by time; to her right, the small, twisted remains of a dwarf slumped against a fountain. The city didn't just feel empty—it felt exhaled, as if the world had taken one final breath and forgotten to inhale.
At the edge of the city limits, the sunlight hit an invisible wall, refusing to touch the cursed cobblestones. Areia paused, her slender frame momentarily silhouetted against the dying light. A gust of wind tugged at her oversized black cloak, threatening to reveal the heavy blade sheathed at her hip, but she caught the fabric with a graceful flick of her wrist. She brushed a stray lock of snow-white hair behind her ear, her fingers lingering for a second to ensure her White Camellia hairpin remained undisturbed.
Her purple eyes, sharp and iridescent like polished amethyst, scanned the gray horizon before she turned back to the gloom. The deeper she walked, the more the air began to taste of copper and damp earth.
Occasionally, her rhythmic pace faltered. She leaned against a rotting doorframe, a hand flying to her mouth as her stomach lurched. Her resolve had returned, but the months spent drowning in cheap ale still clung to her organs, a bitter reminder of her recent past. She spat on the ground, wiped her mouth, and vanished into the thick, rolling fog that swallowed the inner district.
An hour passed in near-total silence until her boots finally halted.
She knelt beside a small shape in the mist. It was a girl, no older than nine, her skin the color of wet ash. The child's eyes remained frozen in a wide, glassy stare, her small fingers still locked in a white-knuckled grip around a rusted kitchen knife. Areia looked at the blade, then slowly reached out to close the girl's eyelids. She stood, staring up into the soup of the fog, but the sky offered no comfort.
As she stepped over the body to continue her march, a crumpled leaflet slipped from her cloak. It fluttered through the air, landing face-up on the grime. Areia didn't look back.
"Liberate the city of monsters. Claim the Kingdom's Treasury as your prize."
The ink was faded, the edges frayed—less of a contract and more of a desperate, final prayer sent into the void. It was a warning meant to keep the living away, but Areia simply tightened her cloak. She wasn't just here for the gold; she was looking for the heart of whatever had turned a kingdom into a graveyard.
The castle loomed ahead, a jagged silhouette carving through the mist like a rotted tooth. It radiated a heavy, pulsing magical aura that rippled against Areia's skin. She didn't flinch; she barely noticed.
She came to a halt, her purple eyes tracking the distance to the fortress with a clinical, bored gaze. A monster powerful enough to swallow a city, she mused, her expression as flat as the dead streets around her. So where is the greeting party?
Her mind effortlessly mapped the path behind her. Eighteen corpses. She'd noted them all—mostly children, a few dwarves. But it was the spacing that made her lips curl in a tiny, unimpressed sneer. Exactly eight hundred steps apart. It was a clumsy trail of breadcrumbs. Someone, or something, was trying very hard to lead her by the nose.
The silence of the street was finally broken by a sharp crunch of glass. It wasn't her own boot. Areia didn't even turn her head toward the sound. She just stood there, the oversized cloak draped over her slender frame, her posture relaxed. The monsters had been drifting through the fog like shadows since she entered, but they were little more than flies buzzing in the distance.
"Werewolves? Basilisks? Wyverns?" she muttered, her voice echoing clearly in the silent void. "Or an extremely high-class vampire?"
She blew out a long, lazy breath, her thoughts drifting toward the logistics of the kill. "I'd wager it's a vampire. They always did have a flair for the dramatic." She glanced down at the hidden bulge of her sword. "Can I kill one with this, though? I'm pretty sure it's not silver."
A flicker of genuine annoyance crossed her face—the first real emotion she'd shown. "I really shouldn't have lost the blade Flynn gave me," she groaned softly.
A low, guttural rumble shook the air, vibrating through the cobblestones. Areia didn't snap into a stance; she simply shifted her gaze, her eyes scanning the cracks and doorways with a look of mild irritation. Glowing eyes began to peel back the darkness from every corner, surrounding her in a sea of predatory hunger.
"Creepy," she breathed, her voice steady. She didn't reach for her sword yet. She didn't need to. "And honestly? A bit cliché."
Are you just going to stare at most of the day? Or night? Which ever it is right now. Shouldn't you all attack or something?" Areia asked, her voice dry and heavy from the months of drinking.
When no one moved, she slowly spread her arms wide. Her heavy cloak parted, revealing a slender, athletic build beneath a simple tunic and dark pants. The sheer number of pockets stitched into her gear spoke of a woman who valued utility over fashion, and the sword hanging loosely at her hip looked less like a weapon and more like an afterthought. "What's wrong? Don't I look tasty enough?" she challenged, her purple eyes flashing. "Or do you only have an appetite for little girls?"
"They are not stupid."
The voice tore through the atmosphere, a jagged, unnatural sound that made the fine hairs on Areia's neck prickle. High above, the dark clouds began to churn violently around the castle spires, swirling into a localized hurricane of shadow. Areia didn't move, her eyes narrowing as she tracked the magical surge.
"There would be only two reasons a person would willingly walk into the City of Monsters alone," the voice continued, sounding closer now—dripping with a cocktail of curiosity and malice. "Either they are incredibly strong... or insanely stupid."
A swarm of bats erupted from the fog, thousands of leathery wings beating a rhythm of death and despair. They gathered in the sky, knit together into a pulsing, black sphere that seemed to suck the remaining light out of the street.
The sphere collapsed inward, and in its place stood a man in a perfectly tailored suit. His dark hair was a literal river of silk, cascading down his back until it brushed the soles of his feet. Even in the gloom, his skin was a jarring, porcelain white. He leaned forward, licking his lips with a slow, predatory hunger. "I wonder which of them you are?"
The vampire's grin widened, his lips pulling back to reveal fangs like long, translucent needles. "In which case, we're going to attack you all at once. I can't afford to lose a prize like you because of something as fickle as pride, now can I?"
"Tell me... do you think there are any survivors left in this little city of yours?" Areia asked. Her voice was slow, conversational, as if she were asking about the weather rather than a massacre.
"Why?" The vampire hissed, his body drifting higher into the cold air. His eyes darted across her relaxed frame, a seed of doubt planting itself in his mind. Confidence like that doesn't come from nowhere, he thought, his fangs lengthening. She has a trick. A hidden ability. Something.
"I just want to know if the place is truly deserted," Areia sighed, looking around at the ruins with a tired expression. "Is that too much to ask? Or are you just a guest here who doesn't know the layout?"
"What is she playing at?" the vampire muttered to himself, floating even further out of reach. He felt a sudden, instinctive urge to keep the sky between them. "Of course it is deserted! We claimed this city and purged it of every living soul years ago." He pulled his lips back into a cruel, jagged smile. "The women and children were particularly exquisite. I can still taste the sweetness of their terror every time I close my eyes."
"That's nice," Areia said.
A small, thin smile touched her lips—but it didn't reach her eyes. Those purple depths remained as cold as a mountain grave. She took a single step forward, her boot hitting the cobblestones with a heavy, solid thud that seemed to resonate through the entire district. "So... I can play without worrying about casualties."
"What—" the vampire began, his brow furrowing in confusion.
"Do your best to entertain me," Areia whispered.
Before the vampire could even draw breath to command his hoard, the world blurred.
The eight hundred meters of empty air between them vanished in a heartbeat. One second she was on the ground; the next, she was hovering directly in front of his face, her white hair whipping around her like a halo of frost.
The vampire's pupils shrunk to pinpricks. He hadn't seen her move. He hadn't even felt a displacement of air.
"This is going to be fun," Areia said, her smile widening into something truly terrifying.
What is this?! This shouldn't be happening!" The vampire's roar cracked with a desperate, jagged edge. His pristine suit was now a tattered rag, soaked through with his own black blood. He stared at his hands, watching them shake with a violent, uncontrollable tremors. "Am I... trembling? Just who the hell are you?!"
Magical energy didn't just ripple through the city; it screamed.
Areia's laughter rang out, high and melodic, cutting through the thunder of collapsing stone. She was a blur of pure destruction, dismantling the city block by block. Buildings were ripped from their foundations as if they were made of cardboard, and the very earth groaned as it was pulverized under her weight.
A Basilisk lunged from the shadows, its jaws snapping at her throat. Areia didn't even slow down. She grabbed the beast by its snout, the sound of snapping bone echoing through the street as she tore its head clean off. Without a second thought, she swung the massive, serpentine carcass like a whip, the sheer force of the impact liquefying a pack of approaching werewolves.
She was everywhere at once—a white-haired omen of death flicking between monsters, bats, and undead horrors. To the vampire, she was no longer a person; she was a natural disaster.
Up above, the vampire's eyes darted frantically, his pupils blown wide. I can't track her. I can't see her! The thought struck him like a physical blow. I have to flee. Right now, while she's distracted by the horde. He paused, the realization of his own cowardice stinging. Me? Fleeing? Am I truly this terrified?
"No!" he screamed at the sky, trying to reclaim his shattered pride. "I won't run! There is no way in hell you can defeat me and my entire army!"
He looked down into the massive clearing Areia had carved into the heart of his kingdom. He watched as she tore through a legion of armored skeletons like they were made of dry straw, her movements jagged and feral.
His pride vanished. "No... I can't fight that," he whispered, his face going a shade paler than usual. "I have to get away."
He turned, pushing his wings to their limit to dive into the safety of the clouds.
"What are you on about?"
The voice was right in his ear, sweet and terrifyingly calm. The vampire froze mid-air. Areia was suddenly there, latched onto his back, her legs clamped firmly around his waist. Her cloak was heavy, dripping with the gore of a thousand monsters, but her blade remained sheathed at her side. She hadn't even bothered to draw it.
She leaned over his shoulder, her purple eyes empty of warmth, staring into his soul. "Let's take a spin," she grinned, the sweetness of the expression making the vampire's heart skip a final, panicked beat.
The vampire slumped against a pile of rubble, his chest heaving with a wet, ragged rattle. His massive, bat-like wings had been torn from his back, leaving nothing but jagged stumps. The unnatural grace and allure he'd carried earlier had vanished, replaced by a mask of bloody, foggy-eyed terror. He stared into the thick curtain of dust ahead, his eyes darting like a cornered animal.
"You really are a high-class vampire after all," Areia's voice cut through the haze, calm and steady.
Through the settling smoke, her purple eyes ignited first, glowing with a cold, ethereal light. She walked toward him with a slow, deliberate pace, each footfall sounding like the heavy strike of a funeral bell against the stone. She gave her white hair a sharp shake, her left hand still gripping his severed wings. With a look of pure boredom, she tossed the leathery limbs aside like trash.
The vampire flinched, his gaze locking onto her in a sudden, strange awe. Areia stopped, sensing the shift in his stare.
"What is it?" she asked, scratching her head with a look of genuine confusion. "Are you finally going to beg for your life?"
"Is this a joke?!" the vampire suddenly screamed, the outburst so violent that Areia actually took a half-step back in surprise.
"What is what?" she asked, her voice wavering with a hint of nerves.
"Why?! Why did you have to defeat me in such a... such a boring manner?!" he growled, his voice trembling with a different kind of rage.
Areia blinked. "What are you even talking about?"
"You haven't been using magic, have you?" the vampire wheezed, his eyes filling with a bitter realization.
"Uh? Well, yeah," Areia muttered, letting out a long, disappointed sigh. "And here I was thinking you were actually going to say something useful."
Suddenly, the remains of the city began to vibrate. A terrifying, high-frequency magical energy radiated from the vampire's core, turning the air electric. "I will never accept being beaten by someone who refuses to even use magic!" he roared, his body beginning to glow with a suicidal light. "I'll blow this city to pieces and drag you into hell with me!"
Areia looked up at the sky, where the morning sun was finally piercing through the cursed clouds. "Ryuu," she whispered to herself, a small, nostalgic smile playing on her lips. "I wonder who'd win if we fought now."
As the city began to glow with the vampire's final, desperate spell, Areia's hand finally moved. Her fingers closed around the hilt of her blade. The vampire stared at her in a final surge of anger, but his vision was suddenly, cleanly bifurcated.
Areia was already in a low crouch, her hand resting lazily back on the hilt of her sheathed sword. Behind her, the vampire's form began to crumble, split perfectly down the center.
"What... what did you do?" he whispered, his voice fading into the wind.
"Don't worry," Areia said, tilting her head back with a sweet, lethal smile. "When you're a ghost, you can look down and see for yourself."
The vampire dissolved into a cloud of ash, swept away by the morning breeze. Areia stood up, letting her sword hang loosely at her hip once more. She turned to look at the horizon, but there was no city left to see.
The buildings, the ruins, the monsters, and the very foundations of the kingdom were gone. With that single, invisible stroke, Areia hadn't just killed a vampire—she had razed the entire city from the face of the earth.
"Oh crap, I forgot about the Treasury, Areia muttered to herself.