Chapter 259

- Kyle Ragnar has vanished.

The news spread like wildfire across all factions.

Following the storm Theo had unleashed, each faction quickly dispatched scouts to assess the situation.

The sight of Kyle’s ascension—unbelievable and extraordinary—left those who witnessed it awestruck. When the scouts returned with the news, their words sent ripples of shock through every camp.

Even as they heard the reports, none of the factions could imagine Kyle falling at the hands of another. Instead, they accepted the news at face value:

Kyle was gone.

Whether dead or sublimated, one thing was certain—Kyle Ragnar was no longer part of Ragnar’s forces.

“A Ragnar without Kyle?”

This was the first thought that crossed everyone’s minds.

Kyle’s presence had been so overwhelming that the idea of the Ragnar clan without him sparked fleeting dreams of rebellion among some factions.

But those thoughts were quickly quelled:

“Does Ragnar not still have the Guardian Dragon? And isn’t Kyle’s direct heir its companion?”

This single statement silenced any notion of dissent.

The weight of Kyle’s legacy, combined with the mythical presence of Lodbrok, was too much to oppose.

Even so, the news left everyone unsettled.

Rumors spread like wildfire—some even speculated that Kyle’s ascension was nothing more than a staged performance by Ragnar to strengthen their influence.

“Ragnar’s messenger has arrived! They’ve summoned us to the Ragnar camp!”

The summons from Ragnar threw every faction into momentary deliberation.

Although the message was ostensibly about post-war arrangements, it carried added weight—it was issued under the authority of Theo, the new head of the Ragnar clan.

How each faction responded at the meeting would undoubtedly shape the future.

“We need to see it for ourselves.”

The representatives of each faction agreed.

The only way to truly gauge the situation was to witness it firsthand.

And so, one by one, the leaders made their way to Ragnar’s camp.

***

The Ragnar camp was heavy with tension.

Although the factions had yet to arrive, the oppressive atmosphere was undeniable—Theo’s grief over losing his first true friend, Wellington, manifested outwardly, creating an aura sharp enough to cut.

‘Wellington’s death weighs heavily on him, but this aura is perfect for establishing authority as the new head of the clan.’

Black Dragon smirked as he observed Theo.

With a common enemy vanquished and Kyle’s ascension, many factions might perceive a significant power vacuum within the Ragnar clan.

Even after witnessing the devastating force of Theo’s newly established army and the undeniable presence of the Guardian Dragon, Lodbrok, it was natural to assume that nothing could replace the overwhelming presence of Kyle.

Yet here was Theo, emanating an aura reminiscent of his predecessor, one that left others gasping for breath.

One by one, the factions entered the camp.

The first to arrive was Hans Mulligan, younger brother to Tan Mulligan and the current leader of the Mulligan faction.

From the moment he approached the camp, Hans had sensed something unusual.

Upon entering, the oppressive atmosphere hit him like a physical blow.

‘They say he’s Kyle’s successor… but that boy isn’t human—he’s a monster.’

Behind Theo stood the Nine Dragons, awaiting orders. Together, they exuded an aura of invincibility, as if guarding an unshakable throne.

“I greet the current head of Ragnar,” Hans said, bowing respectfully.

Theo gave a brief nod.

“Take your seat.”

“Yes… thank you.”

Hans took his seat, feeling as though he were sitting on pins and needles.

Next to arrive was Boar Felton, the representative of the Gentlemen’s Union, who entered with graceful courtesy.

His gaze lingered on Theo, who sat in the most prominent seat in the room, exuding authority.

‘He’s not yet at Kyle’s level, but his ability is nearing that threshold…’

Boar judged Theo’s potential through the depth of his gaze.

Although Theo didn’t yet possess Kyle’s full presence, he carried a comparable weight of power within his eyes—one that spoke of boundless potential.

“I greet the ruler of Winterer. I am Boar Felton, representative of the Gentlemen’s Union.”

“Take your seat.”

Theo’s response was curt, but Boar didn’t take offense. He gave a respectful nod and sat.

Suddenly, shouting erupted from outside.

-What did you say!?

-Your tower is to blame for this mess!

The raised voices grew louder, and Theo’s brow furrowed in irritation.

The air in the camp grew heavier, prickling at the skin of those inside.

Unable to endure the disturbance any longer, Hans stepped outside to assess the situation.

He found Vector, the representative of the Beastkin Alliance, and Grid, a mage of the Tower, locked in a heated argument.

“What is this nonsense!? Everyone is waiting!”

Hans barked at them and forcibly dragged the two into the tent.

Though their anger still simmered, they quickly recognized the frigid tension in the room and composed themselves.

‘So, he’s the one who unleashed that storm…’

Vector’s keen senses immediately identified Theo as the source of the overwhelming gale that had shaken the entire forest.

“I am Vector of the Beastkin Alliance.”

“…Grid of the Tower greets the head of Ragnar.”

Both offered respectful greetings.

Though the Beastkin Alliance had opposed Ragnar in the past, acknowledging the supreme authority of Ragnar’s current head was an unavoidable necessity.

“Is everyone present? I’ve summoned you all to discuss the post-war settlement and hear your insights,” Theo began.

Before anyone could respond, Vector pointed an accusatory finger at Grid.

“This is all the Tower’s fault! If the mages had utilized their full power, we could have avoided such heavy losses!”

That was the root of their earlier argument.

While Ragnar had also suffered significant casualties, many of their forces had survived by retreating upon identifying Bluebeard and the Bone Dragon.

The Beastkin Alliance, however, had not been so fortunate. Their avian troops, unaware of the Bone Dragon’s Dragon Fear, had been driven into madness and annihilated.

“Foolish beast! Who in war dares reveal their full power? We didn’t anticipate Bluebeard and the Bone Dragon turning into undead either!”

Grid retorted furiously.

Losing Bluebeard and the Bone Dragon had cost the Tower nearly 30% of its total power—a devastating blow.

“How dare you insult the honor of the Beastkin!”

“Honor? From a bunch of beasts?”

The tension in the room thickened.

It seemed a conflict between the two factions might erupt right there.

“Enough.”

Theo’s low, commanding voice cut through the noise.

Vector, startled, turned to look at Theo.

Theo’s tone sent a chill down his spine—it was the voice of someone delivering a death sentence.

Theo’s piercing gaze shifted to Grid, whose face had gone pale.

“Do you think I was mediating this argument?”

Theo rose from his seat, and the weight of his presence bore down on the room like a mountain.

Vector smirked faintly, sensing what was coming next.

“I wasn’t mediating. I was merely asking Vector for his understanding.”

Theo’s hand came down heavily on Grid’s shoulder.

“What… what understanding?” Grid stammered.

Vector realized why Black Dragon had smiled earlier, while Grid’s expression turned ashen.

“It’s simple,” Theo said coldly. “Ragnar will take responsibility for dealing with the Tower. You played a significant role in this incident, and because of that, my friend is dead.”

The room froze.

Theo’s words carried a weight that suffocated the air.

“Did you think I wouldn’t hold you accountable?”

Grid stepped back instinctively, terror spreading across his face.

“Tell your Tower Lord this: you have one week to send an official apology and deliver those responsible to Winterer. The Tower Lord must come in person.”

The factions exchanged uneasy glances.

Grid, trembling, forced himself to speak.

“And… if the Tower refuses?”

Theo smirked, his expression cold as steel.

“Then Ragnar will conquer the Tower by force.”