Islyph frowned and scanned the room. No noble present dared to speak hastily.

A heavy silence lingered. Since the establishment of the Privy Council, had there ever been such an air of solemnity among them?

Losing their magic, with the milestone halted, winter had arrived abruptly. That terrible calamity, though it lasted only a few days, had substantial repercussions.

They all gathered, leaving behind the numerous social unrests that could arise on their respective islands.

“What is there to fear when you nobles are so devoted to this country?” Islyph spoke jokingly.

Had the reason for their gathering been to save Ydranhill, realizing the abnormal situation at the Eternal Palace? No, it surely was not.

If that was the reason for their gathering, they should have bombarded the Eternal Palace with the warships they had brought. At the moment the Seven Warlords arrived, hadn’t all present withdrawn their ships beyond the sphere of that presence?

“Everyone is here except the Swordsmanship Faction,” a councilor muttered expressionlessly.

Looking at the empty seat, Islyph smiled bitterly. Only those madmen willingly rushed toward death.

All the nobles present had retreated their military forces. It was not out of fear of facing the Seven Warlords. If they suffered losses in a battle with such an entity, it would be evident that they would lose influence within the elven nobility thereafter.

Those who could not fathom such thoughts would not have been able to reach this place in the first place.

At the peak of elven society, the Privy Council. And here, in Ydranhill.

“Let us not waste time with idle chatter. The Queen has passed away; we must reorganize the royal family and reestablish the Privy Council,” one suggested.

“Right, we are all busy after all.”

“It is not right to leave Ydranhill as it is. How about a relocation? How could we know what that accursed being left behind in this land?”

“The Eternal Palace is the essence of our people. Are we going to abandon the ancestral forest?”

“Of course. Is there anything left?”

At one councilor’s remark, the Privy Council erupted into chaos once again. Now that they had regained their magic, they feared nothing, and their military forces were almost perfectly intact; the commotion within the society would be suppressed.

Now, they began to turn their attention to how much damage the other nobles had suffered and whether they could seize that as an opportunity.

It was the moment when the authority of the Queen and the Astronomy Faction that supported it had entirely vanished. The Privy Council was no different from a den of hyenas. Who would mediate among them? With what authority?

“Is it true that all who entered Ydranhill are dead?”

“Except for some humans and a few inferior noble houses, what was there in that city aside from the Astronomy Faction? Just the Eternal Palace. Even if they are alive, what state would they be in now?”

With the arrival of the Seven Warlords, the elven warships were blocking Ydranhill from beyond the sea area. And not even the keenest elven sailor could see a glimmer of light.

The city had lost its function, and that place was likely an abyss of magic beasts, no different from a magical wasteland.

It had been confirmed that the Swordsmanship Faction had engaged in combat, but the overwhelming spells and violence wielded by the giant had swept through the city, leaving no survivors.

Moreover, this was a moment when even magic was nonexistent. Without magic, preemptive detection of spells, line-of-fire detection, and basic body movement of superhumans became impossible.

Those remarkable superhumans of the Swordsmanship Faction had, at that moment, charged in like mere soldiers. Like moths to a flame. And as expected of moths, they too would have been incinerated in the flames.

“The Destruction Faction proposes the flattening of Ydranhill.”

“That’s rather radical, isn’t it?”

“Are you opposed to it?”

The Privy Council was not stirred. Everyone was hoping for it.

If there were any survivors among the Swordsmanship and Astronomy Factions, they could be completely wiped out, and if the Queen survived, she could be dealt with as well.

They must not allow the old powers to return and assert their past authority. The next throne must come from the puppets of the Privy Council, and the next capital must be ruled by their own faction.

Remembering the prosperous island owned by the Swordsmanship faction, several councilors were slowly licking their lips.

“I agree with that, but I recommend looking at it from a broader perspective.”

“…Sir Heodrik. Speak.”

“Is there any reason we must devote ourselves to this narrow land?”

The lord of the Psychiatry faction stood up with a sinister smile.

“Kalion is a land that was once ‘blessed.’ Overflowing with resources, abundant mana, and a mild climate… But is it still like that? Even if winter has just passed, Kalion will wither and fade just like the lands of other ethnic groups according to the seasons.”

“What are you trying to say?”

“Don’t humans have a good culture?”

With a wave of Heodrik’s hand, a giant map unfurled in the air. The map, made of mana, depicted the Kalion sea area, the Magical Beast’s Territory, and the continent of the United Kingdom.

He poked the Magical Beast’s Territory as he spoke.

“Some human nations are colonizing this place, establishing military governance and exploiting the magical beasts…”

“And so?”

“As the world pushes us outside of Kalion, is there any reason for us not to do the same?”

Heodrik lightly brushed across the entire map. A few ships that had flown out of Kalion began to turn parts of the map green.

“Isn’t the three seas and one sky all our territory? Rather than gnashing our teeth at each other in this cramped land, why don’t we divide this world amicably?”

The world.

At Heodrik’s words, there was a brief silence among the crowd.

If not for the overwhelming conditions set by the Milestone, Kalion is, in fact, no different from the other islands in the world. It is rather merely limited by its cramped territory.

However, if one could effectively dominate the entire world, just directing a few airborne battleships to bombard the royal castle would leave very few nations unable to respond.

Drovian, Kalion, Tylesse. The remaining small nations, excluding these three kingdoms, have no way to contend with even a single airborne battleship.

So, this isn’t a bad idea. There’s no reason to spill blood among the same ethnic group while fighting for power in this crowded land.

“That’s…”

“If the council members accept this proposal, my faction will take charge of the Krasilov area.”

“Krasilov? Those powder-crazed barbarians will be the most troublesome.”

“Since I made the proposal, I shall face the most troublesome opponent. Will you join me?”

At that moment, the door burst open. Despite the rudeness, the elves did not turn their gazes or show surprise. They merely furrowed their brows in displeasure with dignity.

Since the temporary conference room was the flagship of Islyph, he turned his head towards the unexpected intruder and scolded in a low voice.

“We are in a meeting. Leave.”

“Pardon me, Your Excellency, but please—”

The one who rushed in was the deck officer he trusted the most. Nodding slightly, the deck officer hastily leaned towards his ear and whispered carefully.

“The flagship of the Swordsmanship faction is in contact…!!”

“Is he alive?”

Islyph lightly nodded. He soon asked softly,

“What about the military standard?”

“Just the one from the Swordsmanship Faction.”

“Then that’s settled.”

If the royal seal is not present, the Queen is surely dead.

Islyph waved his hand to dismiss the deckhand and raised his gaze to the assembled crowd.

“I hear that Sir Cohenulf of the Swordsmanship Faction has arrived. We will take a short break.”

*

The flagship of Edelplat, the “Pinnacle of Elves,” docked while flying a black military flag. Unlike other elf houses, she made her way directly across the bridge to board without launching an airship.

The gaze of the gunners and crew on deck was fixed on her. The crew of that warship were those who had survived hell—Idrinhill, the Seven Warlords, or those who returned from regions where such beings had made their presence felt.

The nobles paid this fact little mind, but the lower-ranking elves swallowed hard as they beheld the tattered appearance of the warship.

-The flag fluttered.

The coat billowed gently in the wind. Dark hair danced about. One elf, with a sword strapped loosely around her waist and no sign of the aftermath of battle, strode confidently across the bridge.

“Sir Cohenulf of Edelplat. Congratulations on your victory.”

A crew member spoke in a trembling voice.

This legendary elf had faced the Seven Warlords alone in the past and now returned as a hero, having directly slain one of them.

Under her coat, there should have been a left arm, but that space was empty.

She had left one eye and one arm with the Warlord. The wounds, still fresh, were stained with red where the bandages had been applied.

Soon, one by one, sailors started to alight behind her. Disciples of the Swordsmanship Faction. They bore the heavy scent of blood, limping as they moved, some missing limbs.

Yet none of them bent their waists. They advanced with their chests held high, proudly returning.

Thus, the elves present paid them their respects willingly. They had saved their people from threat, protected the capital, and ultimately slain the Warlord.

In all of history, only the Hero Party had managed to directly slay a Warlord with such a meager force.

Their achievement was thus regarded as equivalent.

“Thank you. Where are our councilors?”

“I will guide you to the council hall, Sir Cohenulf.”

“Please do.”

Edel smiled softly and followed him. The elves of the Swordsmanship Faction and a handful of humans followed her lead.

*

“Our kind and passionate lords have all gathered here.”

Edel crossed the wide conference room, heading towards an empty seat.

“Did you enjoy your tea in this distant sea while preparing to launch your ship immediately upon discovering the emergency?”

As she removed her coat and hung it on a chair, she sat down, leaning back in a slouch, and placed her sword carelessly beside her.

Not one person dared to speak to her until she propped her legs up on the table.

“Why? Did everyone suddenly turn mute?”

“Cohenulf, show some decorum.”

“I have lost men to death in that hell. Islyph.”

As the chairperson fell silent at her words, someone abruptly stood up. Lord Simmon of the Destruction Faction was frowning.

“Are you saying this is our fault, Cohenulf? Wasn’t it you who left when we suggested having a meeting before starting the battle?”

“Simmon.”

“You killed the Seven Warlords? Yes, quite the accomplishment. But was it for the right intentions? You, Edelplat Cohenulf. Don’t pretend to be virtuous. You think you’re different just because it’s you? Didn’t you have the slightest desire to save the Queen and build your reputation through that achievement?”

“Simmon.”

Edelplat silently looked at him.

“Speak, Edel. Don’t just call my name.”

“You are within my reach.”

-Kiing.

As Edel lifted the sword hilt with her thumb, the atmosphere grew cold. Edel was the strongest in the range of her blade. No one present was unaware of that fact, and she was on her way back after proving it in Ydranhill.

The council members quietly began preparing their spells. That madman could explode at any moment.

“Calm down. Sir Cohenulf.”

“Heodrik.”

“Yes, we willingly pay our respects to your efforts. We also wish to express our condolences for the many human resources from the Swordsmanship Faction that were sacrificed.”

Heodrik slowly rose, leaning on the table.

“However, this is a grave council that will determine the future of our ethnicity. How long has it been since our Privy Council faced such an encounter directly? Should such a meeting end in tragedy?”

“Say what you have to say first.”

“We were discussing whether there’s any reason for Kalion to remain a kingdom.”

“To abolish the monarchy?”

“No. Each faction now wishes to become independent. They want to move away from a Kalion without a milestone and venture into that distant world.”

What a remarkable way to wrap up colonization.

As soon as she grasped the meaning of his words, Edel smirked bitterly. How is it that these damned people have not changed at all?

What should I do? If I wanted to kill everyone here, would it be possible? It might be if I were alone, but ‘he’ is with her now.

Calculating the possibilities, she started tapping the blade lightly with her thumb and turned to the side.

“What do you think, Yon?”

She had to hear Ivan’s opinion, who was present as a protestor. If he still had the strength to continue fighting, well, it might be worth a try.

“Yon?”

Ivan was standing with his eyes tightly closed at her words.

So still that even his breathing was inaudible. Quietly.

Is he very tired? Then again, just his movement is a miraculous state of his body. It’s hard to believe, but that man just faced the Seven Warlords alone.

“Yon. Are you alright? If you’re too tired, you can go out and rest.”

“Quiet.”

“…Huh?”

Ivan’s voice sounded unfamiliar. It seemed trembling, like he was barely holding his breath.

Edel tilted her head, looking at Ivan.

*

“Familiar.”

A trained agent would never neglect a sense of déjà vu. The feeling of familiarity could mean that someone disguised, whom one had encountered somewhere, had approached.

Thus, as soon as Ivan entered the conference room, he cast a focused glance at Edel and stood behind her with his eyes closed.

When encountering a person, Ivan often utilizes a variety of senses beyond just visual information.

The special patterns that arise when hormones secreted from body odor, tension, and fear mix and evaporate with sweat.

Auditory cues—the rhythmic pulsing of the heartbeat. Recognizing how the contraction cycle of the heart changes according to several emotional fluctuations of humans such as fear, affection, and excitement.

Voice—regularity flowing through breath and vocal cords. The depth of breath and the vibrations of the vocal cords are different for everyone.

Yes, a person fundamentally cannot change those three. While they may vary slightly based on lifestyle habits, the essence does not change.

It’s like a fingerprint. As clear as a fingerprint. A trained agent can distinguish a disguised person when approached in a closed space.

It’s a level of difficulty akin to reading and distinguishing fingerprints with the naked eye.

It requires high concentration, memory, and judgment. But that means the difficulty is merely at the level of distinguishing fingerprints with the naked eye.

A superhuman can possess sensory organs as precise as modern machinery, especially depending on the training methods.

Ivan was the kind of agent who embodied such training to its limit. Therefore,

“I remember.”

Holding his breath, suppressing even his heartbeat as much as possible, concentrating all his nerves on hearing and smelling.

It was good timing. The extremely fatigued body was, thus, simply pulsing weakly. Now that his survival instincts were highly stimulated, the life activities of others were even more vividly audible.

Ivan briefly scanned everyone present.

He closely examined the heartbeats, body odors, and breaths of the eleven councilors and all the attendants behind them.

“Jhon, are you alright?”

-Click.

As Edel’s words brushed his ears, he mechanically extended his hand.

Overheated nerves, torn muscle fibers. Despite the trembling fingertips from lack of energy, his actions were exceedingly mechanical.

Without a hint of hesitation or mischief, Ivan’s hand grasped the pistol from within his garments. He loaded the chamber and finished the cocking.

In that fleeting moment when even Edel found it hard to react, the pistol was firmly in his outstretched hand.

As he lifted it, he aligned the sights.

The moment he halted, his index finger dug into the trigger.

As his eyes opened, he exhaled shortly, lowering his breath.

Simultaneously, his blue eyes glimmered ominously beneath the scope.

-Bang—!!

“I remember you, Alexander.”

He growled lowly as the gunfire echoed.

“You’ve been discovered.”

The attendant standing behind Lord Heodrik removed his hood and laughed.

Along with that, Heodrik, who was about to get up from his seat, stumbled and fell in an instant.

As he removed his hand from the back of Heodrik’s neck, Alexander smiled gently.

“I never thought you would come back alive.”