The dinner scene inside the small cabin was filled with an almost ethereal sense of peace, calm, and joy. Outside, the night was cold and the forest was silent. But inside, the hearth crackled with a steady, rhythmic warmth that painted the wooden walls in soft oranges and deep shadows. At the center of this sanctuary, the found family sat gathered around the table. Death sat beside Natsu.
With a grace that was both quiet and profound, she was intimately feeding Natsu. Her movements were slow and deliberate, carrying an air of deep affection. Natsu, unfazed and comfortable, mirrored the gesture. His eyes softened as he fed her in return.
Tanya sat across from them, her mouth slightly agape as she watched the exchange. Even after all this time, the sight of Natsu acting so casually with the Goddess of Death was a spectacle she couldn't quite wrap her head around. To her, this was a man who lived as a farmer, yet held the hand of a goddess.
Anyael, however, sat beside her sister with a bright, genuine smile.
She didn't share Tanya's shock. Instead, she leaned forward and playfully joined in, offering a spoonful of food to Natsu as well. Her laughter was a light, musical sound that filled the room.
Standing by the wall like two silent, unmoving statues were Tara and her shadow maid sister. They stood at perfect attention, their eyes fixed forward, but their stoic appearances were merely a mask. Tara watched the scene with a quiet intensity.
As she looked at the way Natsu looked at the girls and the way Lady Death leaned into his presence, a flicker of raw envy pierced through her cold exterior. She wasn't looking at "traitors" or "runaways." She was looking at a circle of light and warmth—a sense of belonging that she had never known. One she found herself craving with every beat of her heart.
Unknown to this found family, in the far-reaching lands of the Kingdom of Azmuth, the atmosphere was a stark contrast to the quiet joy of the cabin.
Inside the grand council chambers of the palace, the air was heavy with an impatient, suffocating tension. It had been a month since the last expedition had been dispatched into No Man's Land. Over a week had passed since the group of forty—comprising the kingdom's elite soldiers and experienced adventurers—had last made contact.
The last message received had been cast by the group's mages through long-distance communication magic. The message had been brief: "We've arrived to the location the divine message ordained in No Man's Land." Since those words had been transmitted, the connection had gone dead. No other communication had reached the capital since.
Inside the council chambers, chaos was slowly erupting. The heavy oak doors were closed, but the shouting from within could be heard in the hallways. "WHY IS CAPTAIN CETRIK NOT RESPONDING?!" an old man with a long, wire-grey beard exclaimed. He was dressed in the ornate attire of a high-ranking nobleman, his face flushed with a mixture of anger and fear. "He is one of our most reliable officers! He would not let a week pass without a report!"
"Could something have happened to them?" asked another councilman, his voice trembling as he looked around the room. "No Man's Land is a vast territory filled with the most ferocious monsters known to man. We knew the risk of sending such a small group so far into the wilderness."
"Let us be patient, gentlemen," a third man said, trying to maintain a semblance of calm. "Perhaps they are merely facing difficulties with the mages. Communication magic is taxing and difficult to maintain over such distances, especially in territory as wild as that. They may just be having some slight issues with the spells right now."
"How about any of the gold-ranked adventurers?" another voice barked, cutting through the excuses. "Have we tried reaching out through Lady Elluriel? She was supposed to be quite the powerful mage!"
"YES, WE DID!!" an advisor shouted back, his voice cracking with frustration. "IT'S THE SAME RESULT! The mages cannot establish a link! It is as if they have vanished from the face of the earth!"
The bickering grew in volume, the council members turning on one another as the hours bled away. The King and Queen sat atop their raised dais, watching the descent into madness with grim, unreadable expressions.
The King's jaw was set tight, his eyes fixed on the map spread across the center of the table. It was a map where the vast stretch of No Man's Land remained a terrifying blank. The tension reached its breaking point until the heavy doors burst open.
A man burst into the chamber, his clothes soaked in sweat and his face pale with frantic energy. He was a messenger from the grand temple, and his eyes were wide with terror. "MILORDS!!" he cried out, stumbling toward the center of the room. "Another divine message! It has just been received from the almighty god Ares!"
The room went deathly silent.
Every councilman froze, their eyes locked on the messenger. One of the old men stepped forward, his voice a commanding growl. "Spill! What is the message?"
The messenger took a ragged breath. "The divine message says that the demon army's presence is growing in No Man's Land! It warns that our brave warriors might have been ambushed by their vanguard!"
A collective gasp rippled through the room. Even the King stood up, his face hardening into a mask of iron.
"The Demon Army is in No Man's Land?" "Impossible!" "That continent is too close to our borders!" a councilman shouted. "If they build a stronghold there, they can strike at any mortal land with ease!"
"How did they reach it so fast?" another asked, his voice filled with a mounting panic. "Our border watches reported nothing! How could a demon host move so deep into the No Man's Land without being seen?" Assumptions and theories started surfacing in the wake of the news.
The council was blinded by their own fear, unable to see the manipulation behind the words. The divine message was a calculated lie, designed to uproot Natsu's peace. It intentionally labeled his sanctuary as a gathering place for the demon army—the mortal realm's greatest and most ancient enemy.
"MY KING!!" a councilman shouted, slamming his fist onto the table. "We cannot allow the demon army to build a stronghold so close to our lands! We need to do something about this right now! If we wait, we are inviting our own destruction!"
"The traitor sisters can wait!" another added, his previous obsession with Tanya and Anyael forgotten in the face of a demonic threat. "At best, the demons have already killed them! There is no need for a public execution if they are already dead in the wild."
"I agree, my King," said a more moderate member of the council, though his hands were shaking. "The demons setting foot on our continent and building a foothold is a much bigger threat to the kingdom than two runaways."
However, the more radical members were not so easily swayed. "NO!! If they are alive, we should send the kingdom's finest assassins! We must have their heads collected immediately! If they have joined the demon army's faction, they will be an even greater threat to us! They are summoned heroes! Their powers alone can level cities if they are used against us!"
The King remained silent, his gaze fixed on the map of No Man's Land. He was deep in thought, weighing the political necessity of the sisters' deaths against the potential for an all-out war with the demonkind. The room descended into a flurry of arguments until a new voice, haughty and arrogant, cut through the noise.
The Crowned Prince stepped forward, his silk cape rustling as he stood before the council. He looked at the frantic men with a look of supreme confidence. "Then why not take care of both?" the Prince proposed, his voice dripping with pride. "It is a simple matter. We send our most elite assassins to hunt the traitors and bring back their heads. Simultaneously, we prepare a full army to march into No Man's Land and clear the demon presence before they can fortify."
He looked toward his father, his eyes gleaming with ambition. "Let us also alert our allied countries. We will call for aid and tell them the demon army has returned. We will lead the charge, and our kingdom will be the shield of the mortal realm."
The councilmen, and even the King and Queen, erupted in cheers and praises at the proposal. It was the aggressive, decisive action they had been looking for. "Let us do as the Crowned Prince says," the King commanded, his voice echoing with finality. "Good job, my son. You make me proud."
"Let me make you even prouder, father," the Prince replied, his chest swelling with vanity. "Let me lead the army. I shall be the one to vanquish the foul demon host and bring safety back to our borders. While I command the soldiers, the assassins will bring the heads of the traitors back to you, to be presented to our people."
"Then I leave this to you, son," the King said, his voice thick with a father's pride. "The army is yours to command. Go, and bring glory to the name of Azmuth."
As the kingdom of Azmuth began its frantic preparations for war... With soldiers being called from the barracks and weapons being sharpened... The scene shifted far above the mortal world.
In the shimmering, golden halls of Elysium, the god Ares sat upon his throne. He watched the events unfold with a look of supreme entertainment. He could see the mortals scurrying about like ants, blinded by the fear he had planted in their hearts. He could see the Prince's arrogance and the King's foolishness.
"Mortals are utterly stupid and naive," Ares whispered, his voice a low, vibrating growl of amusement. "That's right, my little puppets. Stir the hornet's nest for me. Walk right into the mouth of the beast."
Ares leaned back, his eyes glowing with a dark, divine malice. He looked toward the distant patch of land where the small farmhouse sat in its bubble of quiet peace.
"I bet he already knows I'm the one who messed with his sanctuary," the god exclaimed. His laughter rang out through the empty halls of his palace. "I'm more than ready this time for you, you filthy abomination. Let's see how you handle a world that thinks you're the vanguard of its destruction."