A decade passed.
Time moved quietly around the dungeon, shaping it, deepening its roots, turning it into something far greater than what it once was. Many came and went. Many challenged it. Many feared it. But only a few truly belonged to it.
And then came the seventh.
He arrived without drama.
Without challenge.
Without fear.
He came simply to meet Zortheus.
His name was Zalthar.
From the moment he stepped into the dungeon, it was clear that he was different from everyone else who had ever entered. He was a demon, just like Zortheus. Not only that, he was of the same race, and even the same age. Yet unlike others who shared such traits, there was no rivalry in his eyes.
Only admiration.
To Zalthar, Zortheus was not a ruler.
Not a dungeon lord.
Not a monster spoken of in rumors.
He was an idol.
From the very first meeting, Zalthar's respect was obvious. His words were filled with praise, his tone always bright, his presence strangely warm for a demon. He called Zortheus Big Bro without hesitation, without shame, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
And he stayed close.
Always nearby.
Always watching.
Always listening.
He asked questions endlessly. About battles. About magic. About the dungeon. About the world. He listened to every word Zortheus spoke as if it were a lesson meant only for him. His admiration never faded, never weakened.
When asked about his past, Zalthar only smiled.
"There's nothing special," he said lightly. "It was plain. Boring, even. I came here to make my life interesting."
And that was all he ever shared.
He joined the dungeon without conditions. He trained with its inhabitants. He laughed with them. He told stories, some amusing, some strange, some filled with knowledge no one expected him to have. He spoke of distant lands, forgotten facts, and secrets that made others lean closer without realizing it.
The dungeon changed with him.
Where once there had been only silence and sorrow, Zalthar brought noise. Not chaos, but warmth. Laughter echoed where it once never had. Even the commanders, each burdened by their own past, found themselves drawn to his presence.
He fought Zortheus often.
Not to win.
Not to prove himself.
But because he loved it.
Each defeat only made him smile wider. Each loss filled him with pride. Fighting his idol was joy itself. He never complained. Never showed frustration. Never asked Zortheus to hold back, yet never felt shame when he lost.
Zortheus, too, noticed something.
Zalthar was strong. Not just in power, but in spirit. His presence lifted others. His words inspired. His actions united. Within only a few months, it became clear that his place in the dungeon was not temporary.
Thus, Zortheus named him the Seventh Commander.
Not only because of his strength.
But because of his charm.
His leadership.
His ability to connect with everyone.
The dungeon accepted him completely.
Yet, after only a year, Zalthar made a request no one expected.
He wanted to leave.
Not because he was unhappy.
Not because he felt rejected.
But because he wanted more.
"I want my own adventure," he said. "I want to become someone who can stand beside you, Big Bro. Someone you can be proud of."
Zortheus did not stop him.
He understood.
The dungeon gathered to send him off. There were smiles, laughter, and quiet sadness. Zalthar waved, promised to return, and left with the same bright spirit he had arrived with.
Then… nothing.
Years passed.
And then, twenty years later, news arrived.
Zalthar was dead.
Killed in a battle against multiple adventurers.
The reason was unknown.
The details unclear.
The truth incomplete.
Even though he had been with them for only a year, the loss struck deeply. The dungeon mourned. The commanders felt a quiet ache. And Zortheus…
Zortheus refused to believe it.
Yet, in silence, he accepted reality.
He never spoke much about Zalthar after that. But those who watched closely could see it, the loss of a younger brother, carried quietly, deeply.
Until now.
Hearing Zalthar's name again... after so long, and under such circumstances... felt unreal.
"He was called their leader," Caelus said.
Disbelief filled the air.
That did not match the Zalthar they knew. The warm, laughing demon. The loyal follower. The admirer.
What had happened in those years?
What path had he walked?
What had changed him?
Zora finally spoke.
"I never fought him with my full strength," he said calmly. "But neither did he. I never sensed malice from him. Not once."
He paused.
"But as things stand, it seems my little brother has become a troublemaker."
His voice was steady, but the weight behind it was heavy.
"We have to stop him before it's too late. I know his potential. I always did. Whatever he has been doing all these years… we don't know."
His gaze sharpened.
"And not only us. The entire world must prepare for what he is about to bring."
---
Lila stood still.
She looked at Zora, searching his face for answers. But Zora said nothing.
Slowly, she stepped closer.
"I don't know what to say," she whispered. "I don't know what to feel. I don't know what to do."
Her voice trembled.
"I need some space."
Those words cut deep.
Zora's heart broke quietly, but he did not stop her. He nodded, respecting her choice.
Then he turned to the others.
"Spread the information," Zora said firmly. "Across the kingdom. To neighboring lands as well. We need unity. Whatever is coming… we face it together."
One by one, everyone left.
Each carrying their own fears.
Each knowing they had to grow stronger.
Each aware that something massive was moving beneath the surface of the world.
Arachna comforted Zora as Lila left with the Rising Heroes with a sadness on her face.
---
Somewhere unknown.
Darkness stretched endlessly.
Vorath's voice broke the silence.
"So… you planned all this, didn't you? Terrifying. You could've at least told me."
Zalthar stood silently.
"No answer, huh?" Vorath chuckled. "Figures. So, when's the next move?"
Still silence.
Vorath sighed. "What's your connection with Zortheus anyway?"
Zalthar finally spoke.
"We won't operate for a while. A few years, at least."
Vorath turned sharply. "What? We already have two jewels. Just five more. Why wait?"
Zalthar's voice remained calm.
"Your creation failed. Nearly died."
"So what?" Vorath scoffed. "I will fix him. Xekar will come back stronger."
Zalthar spoke one name.
"Zortheus."
Vorath frowned. "What about him?"
"He is someone we should beware of," Zalthar said quietly. "We confirmed his existence. And even he knows I exist."
A pause.
"We need time. To prepare for what he is preparing."
Vorath exhaled slowly. "Very well. A few years, then. I'll continue my work."
Vorath turned to leave. "Goodbye."
Zalthar remained alone.
Silent.
Waiting.
Patient.