On September 3, Erig led eight thousand Segireneto elites, the column spearing north like a river of steel, to join the Hexclaw Legion.
Every move would follow Commander Clive of the Hexclaw Legion.
The operation beat its drums across the land, drawing eyes from all sides.
The clever sealed their lips like winter ponds.
Others unafraid of the crown whispered in tight circles, like moths around a lamp.
Anyone could see Paris was a caged hawk, too restless to sit.
The most terrified were Eunomia’s own people, hearts shivering like leaves.
Since Ostos and Elyu, the fate‑anointed kings, fell, they held Paris in awed silence.
They no longer joked and laughed as before; streets lay hushed like winter fields.
The Dike Guard saw most clearly, standing at the vortex’s eye like anchored stones.
Haidra and Talant, the two heads, were trapped in the Royal Capital, unable to move.
Paris was eroding the Dike faction, whether by design or drift, like tide gnawing cliffs.
In Godspear City under Mure, the crowd’s hearts fluttered like reeds in a storm.
Most Dike soldiers sensed the new king’s intent, faint as scent on rain.
By rights, they should obey without question, like blades returning to their scabbards.
Yet Captain Haidra and Grand Marshal Talant showed a stance that chilled the marrow.
Open shots and hidden blades, dark currents surging, spread through the city like floodwater.
Tianensai defected; the former Royal Guard betrayed the king, seeking the throne like wolves.
Then the Meteor fell from heaven and smashed everything flat, like a god’s hammer.
It all felt too strange, too coincidental, like mist that won’t lift.
Yet no one could refute it.
Tianensai’s defection was unthinkable; their loyalty to the king burned steady like a lamp.
So they hesitated, wavering between loyalty and justice like a scale swinging.
Even their sword drills slowed, blades pausing mid‑arc like birds mid‑flight.
Melancholy tugged at Mure; his silver hair swayed like moonlit water.
“Haidra, my lord, Grand Marshal Talant—were the things you saw in the Royal Capital even more shocking, more terrible?”
“I suddenly have a feeling...
When Erig and Mansto pledged to their king that day, did they truly do wrong...?”
...
“Your Majesty, you’re marching north and taking key ministers out of the palace—what for?
As Grand Marshal over both legions, I have the right to question you.”
Talant strode into the great hall in armor, heroic like dawn steel.
Her golden eyes were so sharp, they could nail a soul to a cross.
“My dear sister, dressed like this, where are you going?”
Paris turned the blade of his tone, a deep smile like a knife in silk.
“Show the bearing you should at court—wasn’t this always your dream and labor?”
Talant shot back without courtesy, her words cracking like ice.
The nobles and officials held their breath, frost thin on glass.
If it were anyone else, they’d topple her with a few lines.
But the one above was a war goddess draped in many titles, like armor over dawn.
“These matters aren’t yours to worry, Grand Marshal Talant.
Stay by my side in the palace, and you’ll see your brother’s brightest moment.”
Paris wouldn’t say more; he rose and left, his robe flowing like a tide.
Velledo flashed a victorious smile, tossing her neck like a proud swan.
Hippo said nothing, shadow‑silent, and followed Paris behind the hall.
Talant’s right‑hand sword gave a clack; silver teeth clenched like frost‑bitten steel.
Reluctance and rancor smoldered under her calm like banked coals.
...
“Your Majesty, is it really fine not to ‘handle’ Prince Talant?
I feel she holds deep resentment and prejudice toward you, like thorns under silk...”
Paris shook his head, shedding doubt like rain.
“You wouldn’t understand.
I know her better than anyone.
If she didn’t come at me like this, I’d start suspecting her.
That’s her nature.
For now, she isn’t a threat.”
“If later...” Ginsley couldn’t finish; his voice snapped like a twig.
“By then she won’t be a threat—no, there will be no threats on this continent.
We have much more important work.
Ginsley, those rats are yours to deal with; smoke them from the walls.
Fast, go reinforce Dawnlight, just in case.
If the worst happens, execute Plan Two.
When it’s time to drop what must be dropped, drop it completely.”
Paris’s gaze was winter‑cold on Fast; he straightened like a spear and answered.
Rams stood nearby, face overcast, cackling; the sound scraped nerves like knives on glass.
Velledo couldn’t hide her disgust; her willow brows knotted tight.
“Rams, have you learned the details about Medith?”
Paris’s glance cut like a blade.
Rams gave a few hee‑hee laughs.
“As you expected, Your Majesty, they went to Dawnlight and settled in.
I hear they even ran an internal friendly match.
Judging by the previous war.
And by the Southern Kingdom’s [Flame Demon Adjudicator] Robert, her swordwork and footwork rank top three on this continent.
The key is her Lawbreaking Ability.
On that, we’ve sketched a lead.”
“Oh?” Hippo spoke for once, a pebble dropped into still water.
It was startling; in Paris’s memory, Hippo had never interjected before the king.
“Your Majesty, please look...”
He held out papers like cold leaves.
....
“So that’s it—Lawbreaking Energy akin to my [Divine Force]...
She calls it Annihilation; the name fits like black fire.
A circular blast with a one‑kilometer radius—no formation holds.
She can enchant weapons anytime, anywhere, like sparks on a blade.
All Magic Breaker Circles fail to harm it...?
As for countermeasures, we have no perfect answer right now.
Even if we block it, the loss will be heavy as fallen trees.
We can only rely on traps or sheer numbers to grind her stamina dry.
So… is this the god‑chosen child named by that man? Or…”
“Medith, you and I are born rivals.
You are absolute Annihilation; I am absolute defense.
It seems we were never meant to build grand designs together.”
Paris studied the reports; in his mind, a counter to Medith’s Lawbreaking Ability took shape like frost on glass.
...
On September 6, after days of rest, Medith’s group fell in love with life here.
It was carefree, laughter bright as lanterns, bold hearts open like blue sky.
No scheming, no open shots or hidden arrows—only respect among the strong.
Medith almost wanted to settle here, a hearth warm as sunrise.
“Let’s get some air...”
She greeted everyone along the way, smiling like soft rain.
“Hmm?”
Medith wandered into the woods outside the walls and heard two men arguing.
Their voices crackled like sparks in dry grass.
“Gerald! You’re inviting fire onto yourself!”
“I know my limits.
A guest is a guest, and she did Gulo a favor—don’t meddle!”
“You’ll get us killed! You don’t know that one from the Eastern Nation has already—”
“Damn—Medith, why are you here?”
