The capital city of Aethelgard, once a symbol of unshakeable solar might, was hushed. News of the First Legion's march had been treated as a victory parade in advance. Now, as a single, mud-stained horse plummeted through the southern gates, the festive atmosphere curdled into a cold, biting dread.
Elias the Pyromancer did not stop at the Mages' Guild. He rode straight to the palace, his blue robes scorched and his eyes wide with the thousand-yard stare of a man who had seen the natural order upended.
Inside the Sun Throne chamber, King Valerius was pacing. High Mage Vane stood by, clutching his staff so tightly his knuckles were white. When Elias collapsed onto the marble floor, he didn't even wait for the guards to announce him.
"They are gone," Elias wheezed, his voice cracking. "The First Legion... the Vanguard... all of them. Sucked into the earth or turned to stone by the demon's sting."
Valerius froze. The silver goblet in his hand—a replacement for the one he'd shattered days prior—trembled. "Kastor? What of my General? He is a Level 42 Paladin! He carries the Sun-Blessing!"
"The General was broken like a toy," Elias whispered, shuddering. "The... the Naga. He held Kastor by the throat and spoke to him. He didn't use a spell, Your Majesty. He used gravity. He used the General's own weight to shatter his helm."
Valerius lunged forward, grabbing Elias by the collar and hoisting him up. The King's breath smelled of expensive wine and sharp, acidic panic. "And the message? What did the beast say?"
Elias swallowed, the image of Kaelen's glowing gold eyes burned into his retinas. "He said... if you wish to see your army again, you are not to send another legion. He said you must come to the Labyrinth yourself. And you must kneel."
The silence that followed was absolute. The courtiers held their breath. High Mage Vane looked at the floor.
Valerius didn't roar this time. He went deathly quiet. He dropped Elias and stepped back, looking up at the Sun Throne—the seat he had murdered for.
"He wants me to kneel," Valerius murmured, a hysterical edge creeping into his voice. "He thinks because he found a hole in the ground and some scaly pets, he can reclaim what I've built."
"Your Majesty," High Mage Vane stepped forward cautiously. "If the reports are true, this is no longer a simple dungeon. He has captured hundreds of our men. If he executes them, the blow to our military's morale—"
"I don't care about the men!" Valerius snapped, turning on the Mage. "I care about the Core! He is using my soldiers to feed a Cataclysm Core. Every hour they sit in his cells, he grows stronger. We cannot send a Second Legion; the city would be defenseless. We need a different approach."
Valerius turned his gaze to the tall, stained-glass windows depicting the legendary heroes of Aethelgard.
"Vane, contact the Shadow-Step Assassins. And send word to the Holy See. Tell them a Great Evil has occupied the Labyrinth and is holding the souls of the faithful hostage. If I cannot burn him out with an army, I will starve him out with a crusade."
Back in the Sunken Vaults: The Siphon Block
While the King plotted in his ivory tower, Kaelen was slithering through the cold, echoing halls of his newly forged Third Floor.
The Siphon Block was a marvel of dark architecture. Rows of iron-barred cells lined the walls, each etched with glowing violet runes that pulsed in time with the breathing of the prisoners inside.
Kaelen stopped in front of the central cell. Inside, stripped of his golden armor and wrapped in a simple linen tunic, sat General Kastor. The man was awake, staring at the floor, his hands resting on his knees. He didn't look like a legendary commander anymore; he looked like a broken man waiting for the executioner.
"The air is thin here, isn't it, Kastor?" Kaelen's dual-toned voice vibrated through the bars.
Kastor didn't look up. "The runes... they drink my light. I can feel the Sun-Blessing fading. You aren't just killing us. You're unmaking us."
"I am recycling you," Kaelen corrected, his tail twitching with rhythmic grace. "Your mana feeds the moss that lights these halls. Your strength powers the forge that melts your own armor. It is a closed loop. Very efficient."
Kastor finally raised his head. His eyes were bloodshot. "Why am I still alive, Kaelen? If you want your throne, why play these games? Kill me and be done with it."
Kaelen leaned in close, his taloned fingers gripping the bars. The violet light of the siphoning runes reflected in his golden slit-pupils.
"Because I remember the stories you told me when I was six, Kastor. About the 'Honor of the Shield.' I want you to sit here, in the dark, and watch. I want you to see the 'monsters' build a civilization more just than the one you served. And when I finally march on the capital, I want you to be the one to tell the gates to open."
Kaelen turned away, his massive tail sweeping the dust from the floor.
"Sleep well, General. Tomorrow, the first shipment of 'Aurelian-Steel' leaves the forge. Your broadsword was particularly high-quality; it's being reforged into a spear-tip for Prime."
As Kaelen slithered away, he checked his notifications.
[Notice: Mana Siphon active. +500 Mana/Hour absorbed from prisoners.] [Dungeon Core Growth: 12% to Tier 2.]
He smiled. Valerius thought he was winning time by pausing the war. But for a Dungeon Master, time was the ultimate weapon.