Anton took deep, controlled breaths, forcing his racing heart to slow.
His hands trembled slightly, a lingering cold sweat forming at his brow.
The sensation he had felt monts ago—
It wasn't normal.
It wasn't sothing that could be easily dismissed.
For a brief, fleeting instant—
It had felt as though death itself had brushed past his throat.
Not with a blade.
Not with an attack.
But with sothing far worse.
A force so absolute, so overwhelming, that his entire being had scread at him to run.
To escape.
But he couldn't.
Because it was already gone.
The air was still.
The fight had ended.
But Anton…
He was still shaken.
His mind spun, struggling to piece things together.
'What was that? Who was that?'
The masked figure who had dominated the battlefield with ease.
The man who had stood unshaken against the Crown Prince, Alia, Revenna, and even the top geniuses of the South.
The sa man who had mocked them all, held their strongest in place with a single skill—and vanished as if reality itself bent to his will.
Anton swallowed hard, his suspicion growing with each passing second.
Slowly, his eyes drifted toward Alice.
She stood still, but he could see the faintest traces of emotion flickering across her face.
Recognition?
Shock?
Relief?
It was subtle.
Too subtle for most to notice.
But Anton wasn't most people.
He knew Alice better than anyone.
And the way she reacted to the masked man's presence—it wasn't normal.
'Does she… know him?'
The thought took root, growing stronger and stronger the more he dwelled on it.
No—
It wasn't just that.
It was sothing more.
Sothing deeper.
A connection.
Anton's jaw tightened, his mind flashing back to another person.
Soone he once knew.
Soone who shouldn't be here.
A figure took shape in his mind.
'Could he be…?'
The thought was dangerous.
Unbelievable.
And yet—
He had never felt such an overwhelming presence before.
Never seen soone dominate an entire battlefield the way that masked man had.
The way he moved.
The way he spoke.
The way he froze the strongest of the South with a single skill.
The sheer untouchable aura that surrounded him.
It was unnatural.
Terrifying.
And yet…
It reminded him of soone.
Anton shook his head, forcing the idea out of his mind.
'No. It couldn't be Max.'
The differences were too great.
Max was only an Adept Rank the last ti he was seen. The masked man's strength… it was far beyond that. It felt closer to Peak Adept Rank—possibly beyond.
Max used a sword, lightning, and flas in battle. The masked man? He used only his fists and space elent. No sword. No fire. Nothing that resembled Max's style at all.
Max was strong—but not like this.
Not like a walking calamity.
Not like soone who could toy with the Crown Prince, Alia, Revenna, and the strongest of the South all at once.
Anton let out a slow breath.
No—it didn't make sense.
And yet…
Even as he convinced himself otherwise, the unease remained.
His hands were still clammy.
His chest was still tight.
The mory of death brushing against him wouldn't disappear.
He could still hear that voice, whispering in his mind—
"Be very careful with how you treat Alice. Otherwise, the next ti I see you make her cry… I won't just warn you."
It was too much of a coincidence.
Too personal.
His jaw tightened, his hands clenching into fists.
He wasn't the gambling type.
He didn't like risking his life over a mistake.
And if—just if—there was even the slightest chance that the masked man was sohow Max…
Then he needed to change his approach.
Because if that monster truly was Max…
Then Anton had severely underestimated him.
And he wouldn't make that mistake again.
Anton's thoughts were interrupted as a group of figures descended from the sky.
The air around them shifted, carrying a heavy martial pressure that made even the strongest guests tense up.
They were the Royal Guard.
Not ordinary soldiers.
Not simple warriors.
But elites—the very backbone of the Western Kingdom's military might.
Each one wore silver armor, their movents precise and disciplined.
But at the front of the group, leading them—
A single man stood out.
Unlike the others, this man's armor glead gold, carrying an air of absolute authority.
A massive sword rested on his back, its presence alone enough to demand respect.
His eyes—sharp, piercing, and impossibly keen—swept across the battle-scarred garden, taking in the pits, the craters, and the lingering remnants of the clash.
Then, they locked onto Crown Prince Aelric.
His voice was calm, yet firm, carrying the weight of a man who had seen countless battles.
"What happened here, Your Highness?"
Though respectful, there was an underlying urgency in his tone.
Sothing like this couldn't be ignored.
Crown Prince Aelric let out a deep sigh, his face still carrying the frustration from earlier.
"It was so guy in a mask."
The golden-armored general's brows furrowed slightly.
"Soone from the Black Lotus Guild?"
It was the most logical assumption—after all, the Black Lotus Guild was infamous for their secrecy and shadowy thods.
But—
Crown Prince Aelric shook his head imdiately.
"No, it wasn't them."
His voice was certain.
And then, after a brief pause, he added—
"This guy… didn't look like he was from the Black Lotus Guild."
The general's frown deepened.
"Then who?"
The Crown Prince stood silent for a mont, contemplating his next words.
Then—
He spoke with deliberate precision.
"He is probably a guest here."
His gaze drifted to the garden full of spectators—people from all over Valora Continent, watching the scene with a mix of amusent, curiosity, and disbelief.
"A guest… but soone who doesn't want to show his face."
His fingers tightened slightly around his golden blade, but his tone remained controlled.
"There's no need to look for him."
The golden-armored general's expression flickered with surprise.
"Your Highness?"
But Aelric continued.
"Just make sure that if you do find him, you must inform first. Before my father."
A weighted silence fell between them.
The general understood imdiately.
This wasn't sothing to report to the king yet.
This masked man was dangerous—but if the king got involved too soon, it could escalate into sothing even bigger.
Aelric wanted to handle this personally.
The golden-armored man gave a firm nod.
"Understood."
Then, without another word, he turned on his heel and disappeared into the night, the silver-armored guards following closely behind him.
As the guards dispersed, Anton let out a slow breath, still unable to shake the feeling in his chest.
His gaze shifted once more—toward Alice.
She still hadn't spoken.
Still hadn't moved.
She simply stared at the spot where the masked man once stood, her hands clenching tightly at the fabric of her dress.
Her expression—hidden from most—
But not from him.
Anton swallowed hard.
'What do you know, Alice?'
The question burned inside him.
Because whatever it was—
It was sothing she wasn't willing to say.
***
Crown Prince Aelric's voice rang through the garden, carrying a tone of assurance and authority.
"Everyone."
His gaze swept over the crowd, taking in the uneasy faces of the guests who had just witnessed a battle that shook the Sun Palace itself.
"Forgive for the chaos that happened just now. Please, enjoy the rest of the evening."
User Comments
0 comments from readers