A grand spectacle unfolded.
From the golden ceiling above, hundreds of lavish tables descended gracefully, as if guided by invisible hands.
Each table was overflowing with food—
Glazed at sizzling in rich sauces, exotic fruits glowing under golden light, finely aged wine in crystal glasses, steaming fresh bread, and rare delicacies from all over the Valora Continent.
The aroma instantly filled the chamber, intoxicating even the most disciplined warriors.
Max's eyes widened at the sight.
'This is insane…'
The sheer grandeur of it all—
A feast so grand, it made even the royal banquets of Heaven City seem modest.
King Magnar grinned, his arms open in an inviting gesture.
"Everyone, I thank you for coming to my birthday!"
"Enjoy this small banquet from my end!"
His words were t with cheers as nobles, warriors, and cultivators alike began helping themselves to the feast, laughter and conversations filling the air.
Amidst the celebration, Jack suddenly raised his glasses of wine—
Three glasses at once.
His eyes sparkled with mischief as he turned to Max and Aelric.
"Let's drink! Max, Aelric—let's see who can drink the most!"
Max paused, looking at Jack's overflowing excitent.
Then, scratching his cheek, he said sheepishly—
"Actually… I'm still a little underage."
Silence.
The group around him froze.
Then—
Realization dawned.
They had been treating Max like one of their own, a peer, an equal in battle and presence.
But hearing those words—
They were suddenly reminded of the truth.
Max…
Was just a kid.
He had awakened his class barely eight months ago—
While the rest of them were already in their early twenties.
"Shit, you're right," Aelric muttered, blinking.
"Damn, how did I forget?" Alia chuckled.
Jack, however, was unfazed.
"Bah! So what?! You've already killed more people than most veterans!"
He shoved a glass towards Max.
"What's a little wine going to do?!"
Max sighed. 'I should've seen this coming…'
Crown Prince Aelric smirked, his golden eyes gleaming mischievously.
"I believe you can still drink," he teased. "Your strength is enough to handle a little wine."
Max paused, considering his words.
Then—he shook his head.
"I prefer to enjoy tasty food rather than numbing my taste buds with alcohol."
His eyes darted across the banquet table, searching—until he spotted a familiar figure.
Alice.
She stood among the Phoenix Order guild mbers, her presence radiant in her crimson dress.
For a mont, their eyes t.
Max winked at her lightly—just enough for her to notice.
Alice's lips twitched into a subtle smile, but almost imdiately, she recovered, her expression returning to its usual frosty deanor.
Max chuckled to himself and focused back on his food.
"Wait!"
Jack slamd his wine glass onto the table, gulping down the last drops before turning to Max with a glint in his eyes.
"If you won't drink, then let's compete with food instead!"
Before Max could respond—
Jack had already grabbed a chunk of roasted beast at, stuffing it into his mouth with an alarming intensity.
Max, mid-bite, blinked.
'Does this guy not know anything other than competitiveness?'
Revenna, watching from the side, sighed dramatically.
"You two eat like wild animals."
Her gaze lingered on Jack, who was shoveling food into his mouth like a starving warrior fresh from battle.
Max shrugged, unbothered.
"Damn, the food here is indeed amazing," he mumbled between bites.
And so—
A different kind of battle unfolded.
One where spoons clashed instead of swords.
Just as Max savored the last bite of his al, a chilling sensation crawled over his skin.
A heavy stare pressed onto him.
Max didn't need to guess—his Three Dinsional Body instantly pinpointed the source.
Aurelia.
She sat across the Grand Chamber, her piercing gaze locked onto him like daggers poised to strike.
Even through the sea of laughter and clinking glasses, the tension between them sizzled like lightning in a storm.
But Max?
He pretended not to notice.
Instead, he calmly wiped his mouth, ignoring her seething presence, and continued eating.
The feast continued for quite so ti—
Guests laughed, talked, and indulged in the best delicacies of the West.
At the high table, the various leaders of the continent gathered, discussing serious matters even as they enjoyed their al.
It was an atmosphere of celebration—one where alliances were strengthened, tensions were subtly tested, and unspoken rivalries brewed beneath the surface.
"Burp! I am full."
Max leaned back in his chair, stretching as he turned toward Revenna.
"Only you ca from the North?"
Revenna's calm, ice-blue eyes regarded him with quiet intensity.
"Do you prefer ," she asked smoothly, "or the Witch of the North to attend this banquet?"
Max chuckled, imdiately understanding what she ant.
"Of course, I prefer you."
His response was instant, without hesitation.
He had heard of the Witch of the North—
A woman shrouded in mystery and fear, known to be possibly the strongest individual in Valora Continent, even above King Magnar—excluding, of course, the Young Monarch.
But more than her power—
It was her cruelty that made her na legendary.
A force so feared that even the most reckless warriors dared not speak her na lightly.
Revenna smirked.
For a brief mont, sothing almost amused flickered in her usually cold gaze.
"Good answer."
Max simply grinned.
As the banquet wound down, laughter and chatter softened into quiet conversations. Connections had been made, alliances strengthened, and rivalries subtly reignited.
The guests began preparing to leave—so satisfied, so scheming for what was to co.
However—
Just before anyone could step out, King Magnar's voice thundered across the Grand Chamber.
"Everyone!"
The room froze.
All eyes turned toward him.
The King of the West stood tall, his golden mane-like hair giving him a lion-like presence beneath the grand chandeliers.
"As you all know, the Mourning Depths will erupt once again this year."
A hushed murmur spread through the crowd.
Max noted the shift in atmosphere.
Many of the guests—who had been laughing and drinking just monts ago—suddenly had serious and calculating expressions.
"Like every three years," King Magnar continued, "I, alongside Envoy Lucas, will personally lead an exploration team into the Mourning Depths."
His golden eyes scanned the room, lingering on the top figures from various regions.
"Those who wish to join may do so. As always, we recognize the significance of the Mourning Depths—not just for individuals, but for entire organizations."
Max frowned.
'Significance?'
That word stuck with him.
He understood that the Mourning Depths was dangerous—a forbidden zone that erupted only once every three years. But up until now, he had assud that the main reason for exploring it was—
Treasure.
And yet…
The way King Magnar spoke.
The way everyone reacted.
The tension. The weight in the air.
Max's instincts scread at him.
'There's more to this than just treasure.'
He scanned the crowd, watching their faces.
The leaders of major factions, the leaders of the different regions, even the Monarch's representatives—
All of them were invested.
Not just interested.
Invested.
And that was very different.
"For those willing to join the exploration," King Magnar concluded, "assemble at the entrance of the Mourning Depths in two days."
With that—
The banquet officially ended.
Max sat still for a mont, letting his thoughts turn over.
'Why is the Mourning Depths so important?'
Max had known powerful artifacts could be found there. That was expected.
But this?
This was sothing else entirely.
His instincts told him—
The Mourning Depths wasn't just a battleground for fortune seekers.
It was a stage.
One where the true giants of the world moved pieces in a ga much bigger than anyone realized.
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