Inside a dimly lit chamber, golden fireflies danced beneath the leaves of a palm tree growing from the center of the room. The soft flicker of their glow painted shifting shadows on the stone walls, lending the place an air of ancient serenity.
Seated in the middle, a man sat cross-legged with eyes closed. His presence was unnatural, vast, timeless. The fireflies swirled around him like pilgrims before a god, as if drawn to something within him they couldn’t resist.
His eyes snapped open, piercing and cold. The fireflies scattered instantly.
"Someone uninvited just slipped out," he muttered, voice low yet chilling.
From the side, a hunched old man with grey hair stepped forward, a crafty grin etched onto his wrinkled face.
"May I track them down for you, Your Excellency?"
The seated man gave a slight nod.
"Go. Find out who it is."
"As you wish," the old man replied, bowing deeply before vanishing into the shadows.
The man remained still for a moment before speaking again. "Cailin."
Seconds later, a woman phased silently through the wall like a phantom.
She was stunningly beautiful. With golden, silky hair cascading over strong shoulders, her frame exuded power and grace. Yet even she bowed her head as soon as she appeared.
"You summoned me, Your Excellency?" she asked, her tone smooth but submissive. Her dress clung tight to her form, revealing a tantalizing glimpse of cleavage, though the gesture felt more like tradition than temptation.
The man’s eyes shamelessly roamed her body with a hungry, bestial glint before he asked coldly,
"Did you retrieve the statue from the Ruined Citadel?"
Cailin stiffened under his gaze, revulsion flickering in her eyes for the briefest moment but she remained composed.
"No, Your Majesty. The statue was already gone by the time we arrived." She hesitated before asking, "May I inquire... what is the significance of that lifeless relic?"
The man clicked his tongue in irritation.
"You ignorant mortals have ignored that statue for years. And now it’s vanished." His voice lowered, sharp and laced with disdain.
"That statue was once Calypso—the Fallen One. The Architect’s own creation, a destructive weapon to be exact. You all should know her as the Undead Queen in historical pages.
She turned herself to stone in the final war to escape destruction. But she wasn’t entirely dead... and she holds too many secrets."
His eyes darkened. "Secrets that could jeopardize everything. She must not be allowed to awaken."
Cailin nodded, absorbing the weight of his words. "I understand. But with the Architect gone, shouldn’t it be easier for you excellencies to crush the Perfect Society?"
The man shook his head slowly. "You’re still too naive, Cailin."
The woman frowned as he continued:
"You underestimate The Architect too much. He’s gone, yes; but he was always one step from our thinking. He always had a backup plan. Traps, contingencies... perhaps even successors."
He rose slightly, his silhouette tall and imposing against the firelit walls.
"And more importantly, the Seal is not yet fully broken. Those Ancient Machines still resisting us, guarding the boundary between our realm and the mortal plane."
He narrowed his eyes. "Until the Seal falls completely, our descent remains incomplete. So to say, this war... is far from simple."
Cailin lowered her head again. "I understand now, Your Excellency. I will not fail."
The man gave no reply—just a slow, almost imperceptible nod.
Outside, the fireflies flickered dimmer as if sensing that something long buried was beginning to stir again.
For the next four days, an air of urgency gripped the Freedom Force headquarters.
Everyone knew what was coming: a Grand War. A full-scale invasion against the Perfect Society. And not all of them would return.
Those with families spent their final moments cherishing what they feared might be their last.
In the underground city beneath Ashvale, the streets filled with bittersweet laughter and tearful goodbyes. Mothers held onto their children a little longer. Fathers told bedtime stories they never finished. Lovers embraced in silence, too afraid to speak what lingered in their hearts.
But for those who had no family, no one to weep for them or wait for their return—they chose another path.
They trained. Tirelessly. Relentlessly.
They pushed past their limits, fueled not by hope, but by a stubborn will to live one more day.
But even the most dedicated among them couldn’t compare to Igaris.
He spared no time for distractions. Meals and basic needs were the only moments he allowed himself to pause—and even then, they were short and silent.
Sleep? A luxury he postponed.
Sometimes he sat in absolute stillness, absorbing Spirit Stones until his veins burned with energy. Other times he pushed his limits alone in the training chambers, his strikes echoing through the facility like drumbeats of war.
Relentless. Obsessive. Focused.
His discipline didn’t go unnoticed.
Nina watched him from afar, lips curled in quiet admiration.
Leonard, too, nodded with rare approval. In his eyes, he was a rising warrior, training to grow stronger for the sake of the Summoners’ Freedom.
Even some of the higher-ranking officials took note.
But, they didn’t speak to him. They didn’t praise him. But they watched, made mental notes, whispered in passing.
Another obedient dog in the making, they assumed.
A loyal soldier, hardened by loss. Easy to control. Useful.
They didn’t know the truth behind those silent eyes.
They didn’t know that this so-called dog...
Would one day sink his teeth into their throats.
[ Power Rank: Master - 1 ]
Igaris exhaled lightly, feeling the power of his newly evolved body within every cell. Each one brimmed with energy, vibrant with increased vigor.
His fair skin glowed with an unnatural sheen, a clear sign of the evolution his physique had undergone.
He clenched his fist, and the very air buzzed in response.
He had ascended eight stages in just four days of relentless training.
Now, he stood as a Master-level World Diver, a rank often compared to Mentors, Generals, or organizational leaders in Orca.
And it wasn’t just his personal strength that had grown, his Subjects had each advanced by four to five stages as well.
It was all made possible by the consumed thousands of Spirit Stones.
He now commanded a battalion of approximately 3,600 loyal soldiers under his banner.
And it wouldn’t be long before he became a Commander, a King, or even an Emperor.