Cold winds carried restless flakes of snow as winter’s heavy grasp settled over a kingdom far west of the great forest, blanketing stone towers and narrow streets alike in a relentless hush.

  Welcome to the Nation of Leonhart.

  A vast human kingdom known for its relative peace and its deliberate attempts at coexistence. Though its technological advancement lagged behind other powerful nations across the continent, its people lived stable, content lives. Trade routes remained active even in the frost, markets bustled beneath layered cloaks, and for most civilians, danger felt like nothing more than a distant rumor whispered in taverns.

  But unbeknownst to them, a terrifying storm was already gathering not far from their borders.

  Near the heart of the capital stood a grand building, one that carried both authority and history within its carved stone walls.

  Inside one of its private chambers, two men sat across from each other at a polished oak table.

  One was young, his posture rigid, anxiety written plainly across his face.

  The other appeared older, calm and composed, with sharp features and a pair of pointed ears that marked him unmistakably as an elf.

  The elf wore an influential uniform, tailored and immaculate, marking him as someone of significant standing.

  The younger man wore a formal coat, neat but modest, the fabric slightly wrinkled from restless hands.

  The silence was broken first by the elf.

  “So,” he said, folding his arms. “What does he want this time? Sending more people into the forest?”

  His tone carried restrained irritation.

  “I’ve already said it’s useless. Dealing with the winter cold and terrain is one thing, but rogue monsters are beyond our current capabilities. We cannot afford to lose more adventurers over a vague hunch.”

  The young man flinched.

  Swallowing hard, he produced an envelope and slid it forward with trembling hands.

  “P-please… before you decide anything… at least read this.”

  The elf sighed, clearly annoyed, but took it anyway. His eyes narrowed slightly when he saw the seal.

  “The royal crest, hm… He’s really using this for everything these days.”

  He opened the envelope, leaned back in his chair, and began reading.

  Minutes passed.

  With each passing moment, his expression grew stiffer. His brows furrowed, lips pressing into a thin line. Whatever was written there, he did not approve.

  Across from him, the young man struggled just to keep his head lifted.

  Finally, the elf exhaled slowly and placed the letter on the table.

  “‘Seek the brightest star of the Tempest Dragon. The storm shall guide you to the greatest fortune…’”

  He muttered the words aloud before lifting his gaze.

  “What do you think this means?”

  The young man startled, then steadied himself.

  “This… this was the last prophecy she gave us. Before she… before—”

  “Before she fell ill again?” the elf finished quietly.

  The young man nodded.

  The response came immediately.

  “Then I’m sorry,” the elf said flatly. “The guild will not be taking part in this.”

  Shock spread across the young man’s face.

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  “B-but why?! The reward alone is absurd! And an imperial medal on top of that. You know what that means. Even the highest ranks of knighthood would consider it a once-in-a-generation honor!”

  The elf’s expression remained calm, but the warmth had vanished from it entirely.

  “Do you even know what happened to the last party we sent there? And that was a B-rank team. Do you truly not understand how bad this situation is?”

  The room fell silent.

  Their gazes locked. One firm. The other trembling.

  The young man finally lowered his eyes, his voice barely above a whisper.

  “…You wouldn’t… do it for Nethra?”

  That gave the elf pause, if only for a fraction of a second.

  “I told her hundreds of times not to use that parasitic skill,” he snapped. “She never listens.”

  The young man’s fists clenched.

  “Please,” he begged. “My sister’s life is in danger. You’re our only hope.”

  The elf leaned back and closed his eyes.

  “Enough.”

  “UNCLE, PLEASE! WE DESPERATELY NEED YOUR HELP—”

  “I SAID THAT’S ENOUGH.”

  The outburst swallowed the room whole.

  The elf remained silent for a long moment before slowly opening his eyes.

  “…Dora.”

  The door opened, and a woman stepped inside, bowing respectfully.

  “Yes, guildmaster?”

  “What did you gather about the team we sent to the Labyrinth?” he asked. “Did the rescue unit find them?”

  She hesitated, but answered honestly.

  “When our team arrived, they found traces of a large monster horde. The scene appeared chaotic… heavily disturbed.”

  She paused before continuing.

  “The labyrinth’s inner zone remains off-limits, but the density of surrounding Astrons is significantly lower than before. It is entirely possible that the magic beasts found a way out of the labyrinth. Our team was unfortunately caught off guard when the beasts broke through the main gate and trampled them.”

  Her tone was steady. Clinical. Almost cold.

  The young man paled as he tried to process what that implied.

  The elf’s eyes sharpened.

  “So… Charybdis is gone as well?”

  She nodded.

  “Yes. The dragon factor has disappeared without a trace. This suggests either true death followed by resurrection elsewhere… or—”

  “—he has left the labyrinth for the second time,” the elf finished quietly. “Both are plausible.”

  He stood calmly and turned toward the young man, who still looked dazed from the flood of information.

  The elf snapped his fingers once, drawing the boy’s attention.

  “Tell your father to prepare supplies for a party of six,” he said. “One week’s worth.”

  The young man froze.

  Then his eyes lit up.

  “R-really?!”

  He stood at once, bowing deeply before rushing out of the room in barely contained relief.

  The elf exhaled and rose from his chair.

  Walking toward a wall adorned with mounted trophies and relics of past campaigns, his gaze settled on a golden rapier displayed above all the rest.

  “…That niece of mine,” he muttered with a faint smile. “Always too selfless for her own good.”

  Dora approached quietly, standing behind him. Concern flickered in her expression.

  He glanced back slightly.

  “Don’t worry. I’m still far from rusty.”

  She stepped closer and gently rested her head against his back.

  “It’s easy for you to say,” she murmured.

  Silence lingered between them.

  “I’m not that weak, you know…” he said with a faint smile, turning and drawing her into an embrace. “A hero has to fulfill his duties, remember?”

  “You’re no longer bearing that title,” she replied softly, hugging him back. “It’s not your responsibility to go looking for trouble anymore.”

  He looked upward briefly before answering.

  “But it is my responsibility to protect my family, isn’t it?”

  She hesitated, then pressed on.

  “What if the prophecy isn’t even referring to the forest? And isn’t it part of the ancient treaty that we must not interfere with the forest’s leadership under any circumstances? How are we supposed to obtain permission?”

  He sighed.

  “I know you’re worried. But we cannot ignore the possibility when it concerns someone precious to us. Are you not worried about her condition?”

  Tears welled in her eyes.

  “Of course I’m worried,” she shot back. “But I… I don’t want to lose you over a mere hunch.”

  He fell silent for a moment before chuckling softly.

  “Don’t worry. I have a plan.”

  He brushed a hand over her hair gently.

  “I have history with the Ogre Prince. I can ask him to speak with his father on our behalf. If the ogres agree to cooperate, no other race will dare oppose the arrangement. And we are not going there to steal anything. We will find what the prophecy refers to. If we discover it, we will return it. We only need to interact with it, not take it.”

  “But what if Charybdis has returned?” she pressed. “The ogre clan would be insignificant before his word. He was the one who established the rule forbidding humans from entering the inner domain.”

  The frightening part was… she was right.

  Whether demon lord or king, Charybdis’s word carried absolute authority within the forest's domain.

  Yet his confidence did not waver.

  “Lord Charybdis is not some muscle-headed brute, Dora. He is a deity. He is reasonable. I trust my ability to negotiate. With the kingdom backing me, I can fulfill whatever terms he demands if it comes to that.”

  He placed a steadying hand atop her head.

  “I’ll be fine.”

  Then, with a faint grin, he added, “Now, how about packing some of your delicious snacks for me? It would be embarrassing if I died of starvation before anything else.”

  She huffed, flustered, and stepped away toward the door.

  “I don’t care,” she muttered when he teased again. Then she exited.

  He chuckled quietly before sitting back down.

  “She really is adorable when she’s angry…”

  Taking a slow breath, he looked once more at the wall.

  The mounted heads.

  The trophies.

  The massive dragon skull at the center.

  And above them all, the golden rapier.

  A faint smirk touched his lips.

  “Seems we’ll have to revisit our past after all. Hope you aren't rusty, friend...”

  He leaned back in his chair, exhaling slowly.

  “I wonder if they’re still up for the job…”

  …