At the edge of a cliff, Archdruid Ilarode still wore his rainbow-plumed feathered robe, standing all alone with eyes closed, chanting incantations in an attempt to use nature magic to soothe the massive entity below.
Beneath the cliff, terrifying roars echoed again and again, causing the entire mountain to shudder.
Yet these were not simply the brute force of the behemoth below, but rather the work of the earth elemental it controlled. If the earth dragon beneath truly went out of control and unleashed all the might of its master in wild frenzy, it could very well overturn the entire mountain!
The Archdruid continued his incantations, the weight upon him immense. One bead of sweat traced down his brow, lips pale.
At last, thanks to his tireless efforts, those fearsome roars gradually faded, the trembling of the cliff vanishing.
Slowly, Ilarode opened his eyes, and his dim gaze revealed exhaustion impossible to conceal.
The earth dragon’s condition had only grown worse...
The demon lord must be eliminated soon, to sever the source of the pollution. Otherwise, once the earth dragon lost all control, it could mean utter annihilation for the tribe!
Sigh, Nidalee that brat—never there to share her father’s burdens...
He let out a faint sigh before turning away, almost gliding across the grass, swiftly returning to the tribe.
There was much left for him to do. For instance, tonight he still had to preside over a conference among all the different tribes. Normally, any public appearances he would delegate to his designated son-in-law Torun, but since the minotaur had gone to rub shoulders with the dwarves and not yet returned, he had no choice but to take on the task personally.
This made his already-dwindling time and energy even more precious—soothing the restless earth dragon had drained nearly all his strength.
Yet today, just as he finally re-entered the tribe, he saw a group of tall minotaurs with dark manes entering the fenced village from another direction.
He brightened immediately and looked in their direction. Sure enough, in the midst of the group was a particularly large and well-built figure with a greataxe slung over his back, moving slowly—
In an instant, Ilarode’s spirits soared—happier even than seeing his own daughter. He hurried forward and called out, "Torun!"
Perfect. Now he could finally assign all those public-facing tasks to him.
Such were the Archdruid’s thoughts, while Torun, in the middle of the group, lifted his head to glance at him, responding with a simple, "Hmm."
Then he dropped his gaze again, saying nothing more.
Torun was extremely withdrawn now, unwilling to speak to anyone—not only toward Ilarode, but even toward the other minotaurs of his tribe.
The other minotaur warriors had noticed this change in him upon finding him, but only assumed it was heartbreak after a failed romance. They tried to convince him it wasn’t worth brooding, pointing out that at least he’d met Ines—a purebred, beautiful, and remarkably figure minotaur woman...
The minotaurs cared greatly for the purity of their lineage. Many had long viewed Torun’s previous match with Nidalee with distaste—and so felt her departure was for the best.
In their matchmaking and ribbing, it was now an unspoken agreement among all the Highmountain minotaurs who’d gone to the Tide Caverns that Ines would become Torun’s bride and next Matriarch of the Highmountain tribe.
Everyone, that is, except Torun.
He felt no desire for Ines, and was lost in his gloom.
Sensing his mood, Ilarode became uneasy.
"Torun?" he called softly, drawing him aside and using magic to whip up a breeze so they were soon outside the fence, in a quiet, deserted spot. "You seem troubled—did something go wrong?"
Torun looked at him, and a sudden, nameless rage flared in his heart.
That old bastard—still pretending!
Through druidic magic, Ilarode had already contacted Nidalee and must know she’s carrying the Sein’s child, yet he continued to deceive Torun with stories of her being on a solo mission, insisting she’d return to marry him.
Fool me like a child, will you?
Fury raged within him, but Torun knew he could not best the legendary Archdruid.
So he lowered his lashes, shrouding his rage, and feigned simple disappointment: "I failed at the Tide Caverns mission."
"The enemy was far stronger than we imagined. She triggered the earthquake—I even injured my leg and had to stay home to recover for days. And the alliance with the dwarves fell through..."
Hearing this, Ilarode sighed, "This isn’t your fault. None of us ever guessed there’d be such a powerful mage—one who could cast 8th-level spells—behind those undead."
He paused, then continued, "Never mind. We’ll find other chances with the dwarves. For now, you just need to heal and recover, so you’ll be ready when Nidalee returns—she won’t want to see you listless and dispirited, will she?"
He had no idea Nidalee was the very reason Torun was spiraling—still hoping to cheer him up.
Torun gritted his teeth, barely containing his anger. In the end, he lifted his head and forced a dazzling smile: "Of course. I’m still waiting for our wedding, to secure our alliance once and for all."
This was a towering mage tower reaching more than 700 meters, said to contain over a hundred levels. Even in a modern metropolis, it would be a world-famous skyscraper.
The mage tower was both majestic outside and massive within. The tower’s powerful spellcasters had created countless demi-planes inside—folded spaces to store their private instruments, equipment, familiars, and secret weapons.
It was rumored that with these extra spaces combined, the internal area of Blackstaff Tower was even greater than that of Liberl Port.
This was, clearly, the city’s headquarters for its defenders—home base of the organization code-named "Blackstaff Tower." They guarded and monitored the city, yet would allow sins to run unchecked—so long as the city’s core safety was never truly threatened, they would not intervene.
Outwardly, they claimed only 500 mages could cast spells above third circle, but none knew the true number of mages, or just how many could cast even higher-circle spells, or how many rare and powerful magical items were truly stockpiled here. Only the tower’s master, "Blackstaff Madam," and the Open Lord of Liberl Port, Laeral Silverhand, could know.
After all, in this tower, there were already over a hundred mages with private floors serving as their office, living quarters, and laboratory.
Still, despite the number of floors, most members could only access the bottom few.
At this moment—Blackstaff Tower’s first floor, in a secluded side conference room.
The place usually hosted only minor meetings—for small squads or units to debrief, or plan investigations and actions. It was often spartan, even half-empty.
Today, however, it had been lavishly decorated and packed to capacity, making the room feel cramped.
At the podium in front stood a tall, straight-backed, silver-haired old man—hair meticulously combed, wrinkles deep but his spirit undimmed. One look and it was clear he had been a powerful warrior in his youth. Read full story at novelꜰire.net
On his chest gleamed a silver badge—proof he belonged to the supreme leadership of Force Grey, a true "Defender of Order."
"Senior Greyhand, Anno Amcastra—please come to the stage."
His voice, though aged, rang like a bell. Anno, sitting in the first row, stood up and mounted the stage. Dressed today in a black suit and tie, she cut a figure of heroic poise—if Charles had seen her, he might have imagined returning to modern city life once more.
"For her outstanding performance in the recent Rubble District investigation, and for her acquisition of vital intelligence regarding the demon lord, Senior Greyhand Anno Amcastra is hereby recognized for her exceptional contribution to city security," the Defender of Order proclaimed. "On behalf of Blackstaff Madam, I award her the title of ’Grey Squad New Blood.’"
Anno took the badge with both hands, solemn-faced, and declared in a clear voice: "I will not disappoint Blackstaff Madam’s trust. I will defend this city’s safety with my very life!"
A rousing round of applause echoed through the hall, and with that, the simple ceremony ended. The attendees filed out of the room, and today’s protagonist Anno departed as well.
Declining invitations from colleagues to share lunch, she rushed out of Blackstaff Tower, new badge gleaming, hailed a carriage, and headed straight for South Harbor District.
She was eager to share these wonderful tidings with the true hero of this incident—the one who had become her beloved.
From the clinic came the painful cries of a woman—Bonnie was laboring with Sophia and Andny’s help to deliver the fully developed giant egg in her abdomen. Despite their best efforts to hurry her back, the journey had taken four days.
This meant Bonnie had missed the optimal window. The sticky white fluid that the ilthreza injected into her body had already solidified into a tough giant egg. Destroying it now could be life-threatening.
So, at Sophia’s suggestion, they had no choice but to allow Bonnie to lay the egg naturally, and then restore her health.
Bonnie’s moans echoed continuously—it was, evidently, not an easy task for a human, even one who had previously borne children.
At the clinic doorway, Charles stood with arms crossed, brow furrowed, palms slick with sweat as he listened to her cries from within.
He waited for a signal; if Bonnie couldn’t endure any longer inside, he would have to rush in and use the clinic’s resources to mend her body.
Fortunately, with Sophia handling the procedure, it passed without mishap.
Gradually, the cries subsided. Charles waited a moment until the clinic doors were pushed open and Andny came out, holding a slimy, wet white giant egg in her arms.
Her face shone with delight. Upon seeing Charles, she rushed up and grabbed him eagerly, showing off the egg: "Master, look—it’s perfect!"
"I just examined it, and I can guarantee—what hatches from this egg will combine the best traits of giant spider, dark elf, and human!"
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