Six months had passed since Isla's visit to Dracia.
Far in the north of Cintrel — the empire's eastern frontier, near the accursed Forest of Death and the shadowed borders of Valte — there stood a mountain cloaked in eternal dusk.
Sunlight doesn't reach this land. The skies here were heavy, the air thick with ancient silence. Monsters roamed freely, and no sane man approached.
To Isla, this place wasn't a hell. It was home.
A solitary peak rose above the rest, crowned in mist. Forests twisted at its feet like a serpent's nest, and within its core lay a cave — unseen, untouched, and fiercely guarded by Hollows.
A sanctuary of darkness. A throne of secrecy.
Elrick, the Blue Tower Master, climbed the mountain alone.
He was a mage, not a knight. Each step up the treacherous path strained his body. He could have flown — but chose not to. Power must move in silence, and today, he needed secrecy more than pride.
At the summit, mist thickened. Threads of enchantment drifted through the air, elementary spells to someone of his caliber — but still, Isla's signature was unmistakable.
Elrick raised his hand in peace, and the barrier parted.
The path descended into a hollowed tunnel of obsidian stone. And at its end, seated upon a jagged black throne carved from the mountain's bones, Isla waited — still as death, higher than any platform in the chamber.
Elrick smirked.
A throne. Of course.
A gesture of dominance. Power made manifest.
Isla's message was clear: Here, I rule.
But Elrick, ever the ambitious one, thought otherwise.
Two men stood in a world of shadows — one seated in silence, the other daring to speak.
No formalities. No wasted breath. The conversation began like a dagger unsheathed.
"We will kill the Wizard King," Elrick said, eyes burning with resolve.
Three phases. Simple in word. Fatal in deed.
Phase One: Unsealing
"The seal's weakening," Elrick began.
"But we won't wait. Dracia intends to shatter it before the demon regains full power. The plan is simple — three Tower Masters, and the Wizard King himself, will pool their strength to break it open."
"A controlled release," Isla muttered. "Not out of mercy — but to strike first."
Elrick nodded.
Phase Two: Assault
"Once it's unsealed," he continued, "every mage in there will focus on killing the demon. All eyes will be there."
"And the Wizard King?" Isla asked.
"He'll be close — always is. He likes plays the hero."
Elrick's eyes gleamed. "That's when I strike. With Origin Magic.I will attack both of them,covering it as an attempt to kill the demon"
Isla raised an eyebrow.
"You'd burn your own life force?"
"If it kills or atleast wounds him and the demon — it's worth it."
Phase Three: The Finishing
"I'll get my mages to hold off the other Tower Masters-we get at most 5 minutes" Elrick said.
"You must kill him within that time."
Isla paused. "And the rest?"
"Leave them alive, if possible," Elrick replied casually. "I'll need them to govern when I take the throne."
A long silence followed. Isla leaned forward slightly, shadows tightening around his throne like coiled serpents.
He didn't trust Elrick — not one bit.
But the opportunity was a tempting mistress.
Even if the plan failed, Isla would gain.
Still... something tugged at him.
"Where does the Wizard King keep his Elder Dragon Heart?" Isla asked, voice low.
"In the royal treasury," Elrick answered.
"We can take it before the assault. If you want it — it's yours."
That drew a smile from Isla — cold and sharp.
The two sealed their pact with no wine, no blood, no brotherhood.
Only silence and a shared hunger.
A pact made in darkness.
A fragile alliance.
A match destined to burn the world.