NOVPUB"Gander!" he bellows. "I didn't know His Majesty already revived you! You bastard, I missed you?"
Gander allows himself the faintest smile. "And you're still loud as ever."
The two clasp forearms, the impact of it echoing like a hammer strike.
"It's good to see you, old friend," Gorath says with genuine warmth.
Varkas crosses his arms, and said. "We heard His Majesty was away for a few days."
Gorath scratches his beard, frowning slightly. "Where did the two of you even go? It's not like you to vanish without warning."
Gander steps aside and gestures toward the inner palace.
"His majesty will explain everything," he says simply.
The group moves with measured steps through the ornate corridor, columns of dark stone lined with soft-glowing crystal sconces. At the end, tall doors part silently as they approach, revealing a circular chamber of glass and obsidian. A wide, round table sits at the center, polished to a mirror sheen. Only one person stands within.
Alix.
He's alone, hands clasped behind his back, standing beneath the pale-blue glow of the room's central skylight. His expression is unreadable, but his presence commands silence the moment they step in.
The four immediately straighten.
"Your Majesty," Gorath says first, bowing with his hand over his chest.
"Your Majesty," Varkas and Vaelith echo in unison.
Alix nods once. "Sit."
They move to take their seats, Gorath lowering himself with surprising grace for a man his size, Vaelith and Varkas remaining alert despite the relaxed posture.
Alix doesn't sit.
"I'm going to explain everything," he begins, voice calm and steady. "From the beginning. No omissions."
The four exchange brief glances, silent.
Alix steps closer to the table. "During our time away, Gander and I found a portal. Specifically… in their royal treasury."
"A vault beneath the capital of Ordeya," Alix confirms. "We found it sealed off. Hidden behind magic."
The room stays silent—no one dares interrupt.
He paces slowly along the edge of the table, his tone calm, yet each word feels weighted. "The moment we stepped through that portal… we were no longer in Ordeya."
Varkas frowns slightly but doesn't speak. Vaelith leans forward just a little, her eyes narrowed in focus.
Alix continues. "It led us to another continent entirely."
Gorath speaks up, his voice quiet for once. "Another continent?"
Alix nods. "This world… it's much larger than we thought. The maps we know only cover one portion—this continent. There are more. Maybe many more."
Alix pauses, letting the weight of that truth settle.
"We did a lot of things while we were there," he continues, voice steady. "Gathered information. Met people. But our concerns right now are more immediate."
He steps closer to the table, eyes locked on Gorath. "Two forces from that continent are coming here. Both with Tier 6s."
That gets everyone's full attention. Gorath straightens slightly, his expression sharpening. "Tier 6s?" he echoes.
Alix nods once. "The king of the Valgros Kingdom is preparing to open portals on our continent."
Gorath leans forward, hands clenched. "My lord, how many Tier 6s do you think will arrive?"
"Right now," Alix says, "each side has at least two confirmed Tier 6s, not including their rulers—who's a lot stronger."
Vaelith exhales slowly, her brows furrowed. "So we're looking at four Tier 6s?"
"Possibly," Alix replies. "But in the beginning, I believe each faction will send one."
Varkas narrows his eyes. "You're majesty, you said they're enemies. They won't work together, right?"
"No," Alix says firmly. "They've been at war for generations. From what I saw, they despise each other more than they fear anything else. Whatever they're doing here, it's separate. Their goals don't align."
"That's good," Gorath mutters. "We won't be dealing with an alliance then."
After some time discussing strategies and contingencies, Alix straightens and casts a glance around the room.
"That will be all for now," he says. "Gorath, Varkas, Vaelith—you're dismissed."
The three rise at once.
"As you command, Your Majesty," Gorath says with a hand over his chest, the others following suit.
Without another word, the three stride from the chamber, leaving only Gander behind.
The doors close silently.
Alix turns to him. "We will now revive one of my Tier 6 subordinates," he says calmly. "As promised… the one you suggested."
Gander bows his head. "Thank you, Your Majesty. You honor me."
"You've never steered me wrong," Alix replies. "Come."
He turns, and the two walk side by side through a quiet corridor lit with dim, flickering runes carved into the obsidian walls. Their steps echo lightly against the polished blackstone floor. As they descend deeper into the palace, the air grows cooler—older. They pass through heavy arcane doors, each marked with ancient glyphs that shimmer faintly at Alix's presence.
Finally, they arrive.
The revival chamber.
A vast, circular space carved directly into the earth beneath the palace. In its center stands a raised platform etched with radiant sigils, each one pulsing slowly with life. Crystals float in the air around it, humming softly in resonance.
The low thrum of magic fills the chamber, growing louder as Alix steps forward. The floating crystals orbit the platform faster now, their glow intensifying in response to his presence. Gander remains silent, his eyes fixed on the stone coffin at the center of the platform.
Alix raises a hand. Gold coins surges from his palm, weaving through the air like golden fire. The sigils along the crystal, light crawling across the carvings in a spiral pattern. The entire room pulses once—then goes still.
A silence deeper than death fills the chamber.
Then—movement.
First, there is mist—thick, violet-black, bleeding upward like ink in water. It coils, stretches, and begins to take form. A woman's figure, tall and willowy, emerges within it.
Her legs are long and clawed, bare to the knee with tendrils of translucent flesh spiraling upward like armored lace. Her skin is dark lavender, smooth and slick like polished obsidian, covered in glowing curse-inscribed tattoos that shift like living script.
Her arms are wrapped in strips of shadow that flicker with every breath she takes. Her fingers end in long talons, but they move with dancer's grace.
Her face is hauntingly beautiful—inhumanly so. Smooth, angular, with high cheekbones, dark violet lips, and no pupils—only glowing slits of eerie green that stare out from pools of liquid black.
The woman slowly lifts her head. Her gaze drifts across the chamber before settling on Alix.
Then she kneels.
Both knees to the ground. One clawed hand pressed to her chest. Head bowed.
"…My king," she whispers, voice like silk over broken glass. "You called me back from the dark. I offer myself to your will once more."
Alix steps forward, eyes calm and steady. "Welcome back, Lysaria."
She raises her head slowly, reverence in every movement. "I am yours. My body. My curse. My soul. All of it exists only by your command."
Gander steps forward, stopping a few feet beside her. His tone is quieter now, softer than before. "Still as dramatic as ever."
Lysaria turns her head toward him, a slow smile curling her lips. "You missed me, curse-blood."
"You took the good plagues with you," he replies, chuckling faintly.
She laughs—low, haunting, beautiful.
Alix speaks, and the room stills again. "Lysaria was one of my personal weapons during my first fight with another player's kingdom, along with Gander."
{Status Window Appears
[Name]: Lysaria
[Race]: Abyss-Weaver
[Class]: Plague Mage
[Levels]: 635 (Tier 6)
Alix gazes at her for a moment longer, his tone calm yet carrying absolute finality. "Gander will fill you in on everything."
Lysaria bows her head once more. "Thank you, my king… I will not fail you again."
Alix meets her gaze briefly, then lifts his hand.
In a ripple of mana, his form vanishes—no flare, no sound, just absence.
The silence stretches for a breath, then another.
Lysaria rises slowly, movements sinuous and controlled. Her glowing eyes flicker toward Gander, half-lidded with familiarity and curiosity.
"…So," she murmurs, her voice laced with smoke and secrets. "Tell me everything, curse-blood. What did I miss while I was away?"
----
In a quiet pulse of light, Alix reappears just outside Ruva's new chambers.
The palace hallway is dim and still, the early morning sunlight barely reaching this far. Warm sconces flicker with gentle blue fire along the walls, casting soft shadows against the polished obsidian floor. A pair of Royal guards stationed nearby bow quickly upon noticing him, then return to silence.
Alix steps forward, boots soundless on the smooth stone.
He pauses at the door. For a moment, he simply listens.
Faint shuffling. A surprised yelp. Draya's voice—low and patient.
"…That sleeve goes on your left, Lady Ruva."
Ruva's muffled reply comes a second later. "I—I know! I just… I'm not used to this many buttons…"
Alix knocks once, knuckles light on the door.
A brief silence.
Then—
"Big Brother?" Ruva's voice perks up.
The door opens a moment later, and Draya steps aside gracefully, inclining her head. "She insisted on dressing herself," she says mildly. "It is… a work in progress."
Alix arches a brow as he looks inside.
Ruva stands near a tall mirror, halfway into a royal tunic of deep violet silk. The sleeves are uneven, the collar's crooked, and one of the belts meant for her waist is tangled around her leg somehow.
She grins awkwardly. "I'm trying."
Alix steps in, arms crossed. "You look like you wrestled the outfit and lost."
"It attacked me," she says seriously.
He snorts. "Come here." 𝑛𝑜𝑣𝑝𝑢𝘣.𝘤𝑜𝘮
Ruva steps closer, and he crouches down slightly, adjusting the belt first, then fixing the collar and tugging the sleeves into place with surprising gentleness. Draya watches from the side, expression unreadable.
