It didn't take long for the Kingdom of Solara to react.
They had been on edge for the past seven years due to the unrelenting war with the Fire Dragons. Casualties had been mounting. Morale stretched thin. But something strange happened over the past few weeks: the Fire Dragons had stopped.
No raids. No aerial strikes. No ambushes.
The kingdom didn't understand why, but they welcomed the reprieve. They used the pause to regroup, recover, and quietly fortify.
Now, that temporary peace had just shattered.
From the gates of the capital surged hundreds of cultivators, each one between Level 450 and 500—battle-hardened elites, warriors of the Sunbelt Dynasty. Their armor gleamed, spells circled their forms, and their eyes were filled with grim determination.
At the front of the formation stood three men—brothers, royalty, sons of the King.
Dorian Sunbelt — Level 400. The eldest, stern and seasoned.
Leander Sunbelt — Level 320. Cold, calculating.
Erik Sunbelt — Level 269. Youngest, proud and emotional.
As they ascended into the air and laid eyes on the masked figure hovering above the ruins of their kingdom's outer walls, their breath caught.
"S-Solace?" Dorian said, his voice low but stunned.
"The one and only," Solace replied, spreading his arms open as if embracing the moment. Though his face remained hidden, his mad grin could be felt—radiating from him like heat.
His Abyssal Eyes gleamed—irises dark as void, pupils now glowing like white-hot coals. Unnatural. Hungry.
"Surprised to see me, aren't ya?"
"Impossible!" Erik snapped, hands clenching at his sides. "The Dragons said you were dealt with over four years ago!"
Solace tilted his head slightly, arms falling back to his sides.
"Sooo... where is my lovely wife?"
Silence.
Not a single answer. The air turned heavier.
They looked at him as if he were mad—or worse, pitiful.
Finally, Dorian spoke, his tone sharp and commanding.
"Enough! I don't know why that beautiful lady behind you,"—he gestured briefly at Gaia—"would assist in attacking our kingdom. But your strength isn't enough, Solace. Leave now, before you wish you had."
Solace's head snapped toward him like a beast catching scent.
"...Fuck it. Talking never helps anything."
In a blink—he vanished.
When he reappeared, he was already in the center of the gathered army.
SHK!
SHK!
SHK!
SHK!
His blade moved like a phantom thought. He didn't aim. He willed.
Bodies dropped in clusters, some cut clean through, others simply collapsing as if their very souls had been severed.
Blood sprayed across the air, but Solace's ring glowed faintly—absorbing it all, drawing it inward.
The Blood Ring activated, funneling every drop of human blood into a contained reservoir within his spatial storage.
Around him, cultivators screamed, retaliated—but their spells missed or collapsed before impact. Solace's mana presence warped space itself; even casting became a luxury in his shadow.
He moved like a whisper in a hurricane, untouched, unrelenting.
And above it all, Gaia remained floating in silence, observing—not with approval, not with dismay—but with deep curiosity.
Blood mist hung in the air as the last of the elite cultivators dropped lifeless to the ground. Only the three Princes remained—still hovering, their faces pale with disbelief and horror.
Solace hovered a few feet away, sword lazily dragging behind him. Its edge scraped faintly against the air, vibrating with suppressed laws.
He looked at them. Not with pity. Not with rage.
But with something colder.
"You know," Solace began, voice steady, "I spent five years being tortured, beaten, humiliated... all because of your kingdom's stupid little political bullshit."
The flames in his eyes flickered brighter, shifting from molten gold to blinding white.
"Even though it wasn't necessarily you..."
His voice sharpened.
"You must pay the price."
With a subtle twitch of his wrist, he invoked it:
The Law of Time.
To the world, nothing happened.
But to the Princes—
Time froze.
Their bodies locked in place. Mana ceased to flow. Even thought slowed to a crawl. In the span of a blink, they were removed from time itself—trapped in a still moment they could neither act within nor escape.
Solace raised a single hand.
Flick.
A small, flickering orb of white phoenix fire flew lazily through the air toward the suspended Princes. The flame hissed as it moved—alive, conscious, and hungry.
Then, as the orb touched the suspended world—
Time resumed.
WHHHHRRRRRMMMMMMM!!!
A white-hot explosion surged, but not outward—inward, devouring mana, light, and even sound. The Princes didn't scream. There wasn't time to.
And amidst the chaos, Solace began to sing.
"La la la la…"
He walked calmly, stepping over rubble and broken sigils.
"Laaa la laaaa~"
His sword scraped along the concrete of the gate, making an ear-piercing screech that echoed down the stone corridors of the kingdom's walls.
Behind him, embers danced through the air like falling snow, each one carrying a name unspoken, a memory undone.
Above it all, Gaia floated.
Still.
Watching.
Her ley-sun eyes followed his every movement, noting every subtle command of law and element, every moment of control and unpredictability.
And then she whispered, to no one but herself:
"He's... special, indeed."