"Useless! Absolutely useless, all of you!"
"This damn Emerald Castle! That bastard lord of Emerald Castle! How dare they go after the Legendary Units of the Kingdom of the Night Elves—and steal the Dragonblood Crystal on top of that?! They’re begging for death! They’re seriously asking to die!!!"
Inside the royal palace of Moonshade Castle, King Vaelion of the Night Elves was seething with rage, his face twisted into a terrifying snarl.
His entire expression was warped with fury.
His whole body trembled as he slammed his palm down on the round table in front of him—
In an instant, the entire table shattered into splinters.
That alone showed just how terrifying his strength was.
And it also made one thing crystal clear: the firestorm of rage burning inside Vaelion was absolutely out of control—wild, violent, and all-consuming.
He was practically shaking with fury, his anger so intense it distorted his very presence.
We’re talking about ten Legendary Green Dragons and fifteen Legendary Emerald Dragons here!
Gone. Just like that.
He’d spent thousands of years building up his forces in Sylvanwood, painstakingly gathering nearly eighty Legendary Units. And now?
In a single night, a quarter of them were wiped out.
It was like someone had carved chunks of flesh straight off his body.
Like they’d shattered his bones one by one...
Right now, his heart felt like it was bleeding.
The loss was so massive, so devastating, that Vaelion was on the verge of losing his mind.
Suddenly, he stood up and stomped the ground with all his might.
The floor split open beneath him with a deafening roar.
And over the sound of crumbling stone, his voice rang out—cold, furious, and laced with venom:
"Emerald Castle? That damn lord of Emerald Castle? Crimson Ultimate Hero? Fine. FINE. You dared to touch my Legendary Units? Then I, Vaelion, swear I’ll make you pay for every last one!"
"Galen! Mobilize the army!"
"I’m going to lead the charge myself. I’ll burn that cursed Emerald Castle to the ground. I’ll wipe them out—every last one of them!"
But just as his voice echoed through the hall, an old elven mage standing beside him quickly stepped forward, shaking his head and trying to calm him down.
"My lord, please—try to stay calm!"
"What, Galen? Are you trying to stop me now?" Vaelion snapped, his voice trembling with fury. "We just lost ten Green Dragons, fifteen Emerald Dragons, and five hundred units of Dragonblood Crystal!"
"And that’s not even counting the fifty Unicorns and War Unicorns we’ve got left. If we want to resurrect them, we’ll have to pay a fortune in revival costs..."
Vaelion’s whole body was shaking, his teeth clenched so hard it looked like he might shatter them.
"My lord, it’s not that I want to stop you," the old elven mage said, shaking his head with a bitter smile. "It’s that we can’t move against Emerald Castle. Not right now."
"Can’t move against them? And why the hell not?!"
"Galen, you’d better give me a damn good reason today—or don’t blame me for losing it!"
Vaelion’s voice was like a blade, sharp and trembling with fury. Galen’s words had nearly pushed him over the edge. He was this close to snapping.
But somehow, he forced himself to hold back, barely reining in the storm of rage boiling inside him.
His eyes locked onto the old mage, face twisted with fury, his gaze cold and murderous.
He wasn’t just angry—he was demanding an explanation. A real one. ʀᴇᴀᴅ ʟᴀᴛᴇsᴛ ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀs ᴀᴛ novel(ꜰ)ire.net
Because if anyone else had said this to him, he would’ve already torn them apart.
But Galen was different.
Galen wasn’t just some advisor—he was Vaelion’s most trusted confidant. His first follower. The one who’d stood by him from the very beginning, back when he was nothing, all the way to the throne.
They’d been through everything together—for over ten thousand years.
Their bond had long since passed the test of time.
Their relationship was like Ethan’s with Cicero and Seraphina—built on absolute trust.
And Vaelion had never once doubted Galen’s loyalty. Not for a second.
Which is exactly why—even now, with his blood boiling and his mind clouded by rage—he didn’t ignore Galen’s warning.
He wanted to know: Why?
Why the hell couldn’t they touch Emerald Castle?
Galen let out a long breath, then said quietly, "My lord... do you know what Barak did?"
"Barak?" Vaelion blinked, confused. "What about him?"
"He went behind your back and raided dozens of Emerald Castle’s gold mines and resource points. Took twenty, maybe thirty Creature Dwellings. Including three Tier-11 Royal Unit dwellings."
"...What did you just say?"
The moment Galen finished speaking, Vaelion’s face turned pale, then flushed purple with rage. He staggered, nearly blacking out from sheer fury.
"That idiot! That brainless, reckless imbecile!"
"He actually went and stole Emerald Castle’s gold mines, resource points, and Creature Dwellings—without telling me?!"
As a lord himself, Vaelion knew exactly what that meant.
You don’t just raid someone’s territory—especially not their mines and dwellings—without expecting war.
If someone had done that to him, he would’ve declared war on the spot.
Which meant... Emerald Castle’s retaliation—attacking their Legendary Units, stealing the Dragonblood Crystal—wasn’t just justified.
It was expected. A direct response. An eye for an eye.
"My lord," Galen continued, his voice heavy, "if it were just Emerald Castle, maybe we could handle it. But the real problem is—they were supposed to reinforce Thalor on the eastern front. They were part of the alliance against the Dungeon army. And now... they’ve pulled out."
Vaelion’s expression darkened, shifting through a storm of emotions before settling into grim silence.
"They’re using us as an excuse?" he asked quietly.
Galen nodded, his eyes filled with frustration. "We already refused Archmage Eldrin’s request to join the alliance. We refused to send troops. That alone put us in a delicate position. And now, thanks to Barak, we’ve pissed off one of their key allies. We’ve basically handed them a reason to turn on us. And let’s be honest—just the two of them probably can’t hold off the Dungeon army on their own."
Vaelion’s eye twitched. He stood there, silent, jaw clenched so tight it looked like it might snap.
He spun and slammed his palm into one of the palace’s marble columns.
The entire pillar exploded into rubble.
Vaelion stood there, breathing hard, his face twisted in rage, teeth grinding as he spat out:
"Idiot! Fucking idiot! Gods damn it, he’s a brain-dead moron..."