Darin exhaled slowly, leaning against the balcony railing as the city buzzed beneath him. The storm of public opinion had been carefully cultivated, manipulated, and set loose. For now, he was safe.

But not forever.

The Church wouldn't just give up.

This victory had bought him time, months, perhaps—but as long as he remained within the capital, he would always be within their grasp.

No. If he truly wanted to be free of their influence, he had to leave.

Darin took a deep breath. "I want to speak with the King."

Vincent raised an eyebrow. "Oh? Making moves already?"

Darin didn't rise to the bait. He was done playing reactive. It was time to decide his own path.

Without waiting for more commentary, he turned on his heel and walked straight toward the throne room. The guards at the doors hesitated for only a moment before stepping aside.

As soon as Darin stepped inside, the sight that greeted him was, in a word, ridiculous.

Steve was curled up beside the King's throne, gnawing on what looked like an expensive silk pillow. The tiny dragon wagged his tail happily at Darin's entrance, chirping before going right back to ruining royal property.

Grumble, meanwhile, was sprawled across the King's lap like he owned the place. The tiny shadow cat flicked his tail lazily, utterly unbothered by the world.

Darin exhaled sharply. "Of course."

The King, lounging on his throne like this was all perfectly normal, smirked. "Ah, Darin. To what do I owe the pleasure?"

Darin walked forward, stopping a few feet from the throne. His gaze was steady, his expression serious. "I want to leave the capital."

The King tilted his head slightly. "Oh?"

"The Church won't leave me alone," Darin continued. "This situation might have bought me months of peace, but they won't stop while I'm still within their reach."

The King studied him for a moment, then hummed thoughtfully. His fingers drummed lightly against the armrest as his gaze flickered with something unreadable.

After a long pause, the King chuckled. "It's funny."

Darin frowned. "What is?"

The King leaned forward slightly, resting his chin on one hand. "When we first met, I told you many people would try to use you. That if you didn't pick a side, you'd be swallowed whole." His smirk widened. "And yet, here you are. Still breathing. Still standing."

Darin didn't reply.

The King exhaled slowly. "You've weakened the political power of my enemies."

Darin raised an eyebrow.

"The Church's influence over the throne has plummeted," the King continued. "Duke Varian has been very quiet lately, humiliation will do that to a man. His faction has lost strength. Meanwhile, my enemies in the noble court are too busy scrambling to capitalize on the chaos to make moves against me."

He smirked. "And, of course, you've provided some of the finest entertainment I've had in years."

Darin sighed. "Glad to be of service."

The King chuckled before his gaze sharpened slightly. "You wish to leave, then? Fine. I may have the perfect destination for you."

He leaned back in his throne, gaze turning northward in thought. "The northern part of my kingdom has been unusually peaceful as of late."

Darin frowned. "Unusual how?"

"The elves, demi-humans, and dwarves have stopped raiding our borders," the King explained. "For years, that region has been kept in check by one person, Duchess Mary of House Jade, the Defender of the North, and the only Level 5 Aura Knight in the entire kingdom."

Darin's fingers twitched slightly. He knew of her. Everyone did.

She was a legend.

"She's been sending me retirement letters for some time now," the King continued, waving a hand lazily.

"I've rejected every single one, of course. But perhaps…" He smiled. "Perhaps you would be a fine replacement."

Darin blinked. "You want me to replace her?"

"Not immediately, of course," the King mused. "Consider it both a reward and a vacation. Take your followers. Establish yourself. And if the situation remains stable, perhaps I'll finally allow the good Duchess to rest."

Darin stared at him. "That's not a vacation."

The King's smirk widened. "It is compared to here."

Darin exhaled slowly.

He had wanted to leave. Now, he had a destination.

And, if nothing else…

The North sounded like the perfect place to rest.

A slow, determined smirk of his own began to form.

"Fine," Darin said. "I'll go."

The King chuckled. "Good. Then let the next game begin."

Meanwhile, Elsewhere…

Far beyond the human kingdom's borders, in the tallest mountain of the Northern Reaches, a secret gathering was taking place.

The Council of the Free Races had convened.

Representatives from every major Elven clan, Dwarven hold, and Demihuman tribe sat in a grand stone chamber, carved into the heart of the mountain itself. The air was thick with tension, the atmosphere heavy with unspoken concern.

A dwarven elder, his beard woven with silver rings, slammed a fist onto the stone table. "The raids have increased. Our warriors hold the line, but for how long? These damned orcs and pigmen multiply like vermin!"

A lithe elven woman, her emerald eyes sharp as blades, leaned forward. "It is not just the orcs. The trolls have been seen moving in numbers not witnessed in centuries. Something is stirring them."

A beastkin chieftain, fur streaked with age, growled low in his throat. "The humans, perhaps? A new warlord seeking to claim more land?"

A snort came from the side. "Impossible," rumbled a deep voice, one of the minotaur elders, arms thick as tree trunks. "Humans are weak. Their kind has done nothing but defend their borders for years. Even their 'Defender of the North', this Duchess Mary, has only held position. Not expanded."

A heavy silence followed.

Because they all knew the truth.

For hundreds of years, since the fall of the Evil Overlord, the balance of power on this continent had been fragile. The Overlord's reign had been a time of blood and conquest, when every race, human and non-human alike, had fought for survival. When he was defeated, the invading orcs, pigmen, and trolls had fled, escaping the continent entirely.

Now, after centuries of absence, they had returned.

Why?

A deep, guttural voice finally spoke, slow and heavy with thought.

A lizardfolk elder, his scales dulled with age, narrowed his yellow eyes.

"There have been… rumors," he rasped.

A hush fell over the council.

The elves shifted. The dwarves frowned. The beastkin stilled.

Because they knew what rumors he spoke of.

The whispers that had begun to spread in the human lands.

The Overlord is back.

The dwarven elder scowled. "That is human nonsense. Some fool probably got lucky in a duel, and their people started screaming about prophecies."

"Perhaps," the elven woman allowed. "But can we afford to ignore it?"

The lizardfolk elder slowly turned his head, scanning the chamber. His tail flicked once. This сhаptеr is pаrt оf thе соllесtiоn оn МV2LЕМР2YR.

"The invaders would not return without reason," he murmured. "They are many things, but they are not reckless. If they march back to this land… it is because something called them back."

The beastkin chieftain clenched his jaw.

A minotaur warrior rumbled, "Then what do we do?"

The council fell into deep silence.

And then, finally—

"We watch."

The elven woman's voice was quiet, but firm.

"We wait."

She turned her gaze southward. Toward human lands.

"If the rumors are true… if he has truly returned…"

Her eyes gleamed.

"Then history is about to repeat itself."

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END OF ARC 1