19.The Abyss Summoner

Karanos, the capital of the Litrian Empire.

Dawn had already passed, and the sky was gradually tinged with the morning sunlight.

However, the day in the imperial palace began even before dawn.

The marble corridors glowed softly, bathed in bright sunlight, and the footsteps of officials bustling back and forth echoed softly upon them.

The city visible beyond the windows still seemed peaceful, but the air inside the imperial palace was thick with tension.

The Royal Guards, clad in armor adorned with golden decorations, stood in soldierly posture, firmly gripping their spears.

Their gazes never wavered, but today, their state of alert was even more heightened.

Emperor Arthur William's office.

Beyond the enormous window, the panoramic view of Karanos spread out.

Roofs covered with red tiles sparkled under the morning sun, and merchants and citizens moved busily in the square.

However, the Emperor had no leisure to appreciate the scenery. For him, who carried the fate of the empire on his shoulders at only 19 years of age, the sight of the peaceful city only added to the weight of the responsibility he had to protect.

Rubbing his knuckles, he recalled the nightmare he’d had the previous night: a burning city, the screams of his people, and himself unable to save them. Since ascending the throne, such dreams had visited him more and more frequently.

Beyond the castle walls, a single black falcon slowly circling the high sky caught his attention. Its appearance, as if watching the Emperor, sharpened his gaze.

'Ominous.'

Since the black falcon began appearing, strange incidents had occurred one after another throughout the kingdom. A single coincidence could be fate, but repeated coincidences were inevitable.

Just then, heavy footsteps echoed on the floor.

"Your Majesty, Regent Minister Padris is waiting."

Lord Sharlos, Captain of the Royal Guard, reported, kneeling. Behind him, a man draped in a red robe stood silently.

Neo Padris.

Regent Minister of the Litrian Empire, and the Emperor's closest confidant.

The Emperor slowly gestured.

"Let him enter."

Padris moved forward with gentle yet firm steps.

His hand fumbled inside his robe, soon retrieving a scroll engraved with intricate patterns, which he presented before the Emperor.

"Your Majesty. Preparations for the talks with the Kingdom of Syladelphia are complete."

His voice was quiet but resolute.

"The gifts and jewels personally selected by Your Majesty, as well as the official diplomatic documents, have been loaded onto the carriages."

The Emperor picked up the scroll with his fingertips.

A faint smell of leather emanated from the high-quality parchment.

The scroll, marked with a red seal, detailed the negotiation terms between the empire and the elven kingdom, trade goods, and a list of gifts to be exchanged.

The Emperor read through it slowly. The air in the room gradually grew heavy.

The section at the end of the scroll titled 'The Empire's Request' brought his gaze to a halt. An alliance that couldn't be forced, yet cooperation desperately needed for the empire's survival. He bit his lip.

"Very well. However, this journey is not merely for a diplomatic delegation."

His voice was low but resonated throughout the palace hall.

"We must secure Syladelphia's military cooperation."

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For a moment, Padris's eyes wavered.

He knew the Emperor's intention, but he also knew well that the elves would not easily join this war.

He carefully opened his mouth.

"Regarding that matter, I have also contacted the magic school."

The Emperor's gaze narrowed.

"The magic school?"

"Yes, Your Majesty. The delegation heading to Syladelphia requires not only diplomats but also magical exchange."

Just then.

Thump. Thump.

Rough footsteps echoed on the stone floor.

Though the steps were measured, they carried an undeniable sense of urgency. Soldiers naturally made way.

And, the moment the door opened, a boy rushed in, panting heavily.

Ermin.

His clothes were covered in dust, and his sweat-soaked bangs clung to his forehead.

But more striking was the look in his eyes.

Gone was the fear and anxiety of before, replaced now by determination. Just weeks ago, this boy had arrived at the palace trembling, his face stained with blood and tears, his voice heavy with survivor’s guilt. The Emperor remembered that sight vividly. But now, Ermin looked entirely different.

The boy knelt on the floor.

"Your Majesty! I have a request!"

The Royal Guards moved to shield the Emperor, but Arthur raised his hand to stop them.

"What is it, boy?"

Ermin's fingertips trembled, but he bit his lip and spoke firmly.

"Please, take me to Syladelphia!"

A hush fell over the hall.

Padris's brow furrowed.

"What are you saying? You are still just a boy. Do you wish to go to a place where war may break out?"

Ermin clenched his fists and raised his voice.

"I want to be helpful."

His eyes met the Emperor’s directly.

"I couldn’t protect my parents. But I won’t run away anymore."

There was no more wavering in his words.

The Emperor quietly looked down at him.

Instantly, shining magical power spread from the Emperor's fingertips, enveloping the space. The marble floor vibrated lightly, and the suits of armor in the hall hummed faintly.

In the breathtaking moment, his low voice filled the space.

"A heart without falsehood."

Padris drew a breath.

It was the Emperor's decision; no one could oppose it.

"Very well."

He nodded reluctantly.

"If your resolve is that strong, you may join the procession to Syladelphia."

Ermin’s eyes widened. He swallowed, as if unable to believe it was real.

But soon, his gaze brightened-not with tears of gratitude, but with a new resolve, a look that said he would never retreat again.

"Thank you!"

His voice rang out boldly through the hall.

But at that moment, a shadow swept past the window.

Giant wings sliced through the sky, and a black falcon, casting an ominous shadow, landed atop the palace tower.

Screeeech-!!

It was not the cry of an ordinary bird. The piercing shriek from outside seemed to cut through the very air.

The soldiers flinched, and someone instinctively gripped their sword. The temperature in the room seemed to drop, the sunlight streaming through the window suddenly dimmed, and the candles flickered all at once. It was as if all the light in the room responded to the falcon’s cry.

Arthur slowly turned his gaze to the window.

His expression was calm.

But within his eyes, a weight of anguish and vigilance spoke of the gravity of this moment.

####################

Hell Fortress, top floor.

A space steeped in darkness. Even the cold air seemed frozen in silence.

In the center of the vast hall, whose ceiling was lost in shadow, a crimson glow flickered uneasily.

Doom~

Doom~

... A massive orb floated in the air, radiating a dark red light. The swirling darkness within it resembled a living, breathing abyss. For a moment, the darkness reached out like a giant hand, then receded again.

The air around the orb was icy, and everything in the room seemed to be drawn toward its center.

Before it stood a solitary figure.

The Dominator.

His cloak fluttered, though there was no wind.

Beneath his deep hood, red eyes glimmered.

Those eyes were not merely eyes; they were bottomless pits of darkness.

He slowly raised a gloved hand.

Shadows moved at his fingertips.

"O ancient shadow, become my eyes."

His low voice echoed through the space.

As his words ended, the orb in the air shone with light.

Swoosh~

A crimson energy spread outward.

As the darkness parted, his vision began to shift.

Celesta.

The imperial capital.

Like the wings of a bird, the Dominator’s sight soared above the city.

The city was splendid. Tall spires gleamed with silver, and the bustling streets echoed with lively voices.

But the Dominator’s red eyes swept over the splendor with disdain.

Once, he too had walked these streets, intoxicated by the joy of magical research-a happiness that now felt like a distant memory.

"All just hollow illusions."

His gaze passed over the bustling market: the glint of gold coins, the patrols of guards, nobles riding in ornate carriages.

But he was not searching for such trivial things.

His red eyes turned toward the palace.

Across the towering walls, he looked to the great doors leading to the throne room.

He tried to enter, passing through the corridors guarded by vigilant Royal Guards-

Crackle!

... Suddenly, his vision blurred, and a crimson force repelled him. The air warped, and the Dominator gritted his teeth.

For years, he had tried to breach the magical barrier of the royal family, but always with the same result. The seal left by the old Emperor was stronger than he had expected.

"As I thought… the Emperor's barrier."

The Litrian palace was protected by a powerful ward passed down since ancient times.

A barrier that perfectly blocked all observation and intrusion from outside.

It was not mere magic, but 'mystery' itself.

Yet the Dominator sneered.

"Hmph, even that won’t last forever."

In any case, the Emperor was not his target today.

He turned his gaze away.

Following the back corridors of the palace, he found the barracks of the Royal Guard, faintly illuminated in the shadows.

The capital city's Royal Guard barracks.

Clack!

Raul slammed his mug down on the table.

"Damn it, after all these years of service! Not only did I get passed over for promotion, I wasn’t even chosen for the Syladelphia delegation?"

His voice was full of anger and resentment.

"I paid my way into the Royal Guard, and for what?!"

His companions across the table quietly sipped their drinks, avoiding his gaze. Everyone knew how Raul had joined the guard-through money, not merit. Because of his arrogance, he was thoroughly shunned by his peers.

But Raul didn’t care.

"If I don’t make a splash soon, I’ll just fade into obscurity."

Though his face was flushed with drink, his eyes were strangely clear. There was more than anger in them-a burning obsession that everyone around him could sense. He was already teetering on the edge.

At that moment, a strange whisper echoed in his mind.

From the darkness of Hell Fortress, the Dominator sensed Raul’s despair.

"Those who despair, those who rage, make the best vessels."

The black falcon circling above turned its gaze toward Raul. The Dominator reached out, drawing a dark energy from the crimson orb. Like a web, black mist seeped toward Raul.

As Raul raised his mug, a strange sensation overtook him.

"...?"

His mind sharpened, as if something was probing his soul. Time seemed to freeze around him. His companions noticed nothing, but within Raul, a storm was raging.

"Raul."

A strange voice brushed his ear.

"You were never recognized."

"If things stay as they are, you’ll be trapped in this place forever."

Raul’s eyes wavered.

"...Who are you?"

"The answer lies within you."

At that moment, black mist surged.

"Do you desire power?"

Raul’s gaze changed.

"Yes."

"Then take this power."

Boom!

The black mist exploded into Raul’s body. His eyes turned black, and dark lines spread like webs beneath his skin.

Even as pain wracked his body, a twisted smile crept onto his lips. Along with the mist, his soul was slowly stained black.

The Dominator smiled faintly.

"Now, it begins."