Chapter 56: The Hidden Era
—Audience Chamber—
The afternoon sun slanted through the tall stained-glass windows, casting colored shafts of light across the polished marble floor. The room was vast and high-ceilinged, its silence heavy with tension. A large round table, carved of dark-polished oak and edged with silver inlay, sat at the center. Upon it, parchments lay neatly arranged—maps, scrolls, reports—all prepared for meeting.
At the head of the table, sitting in a high-backed chair adorned with obsidian lion carvings, was Eldarion—the Warden General. Behind him towered a wide map of the entire Kingdom, marked with the precise hands of cartographers and commanders.
To Eldarion's right, a slight distance away, sat Seraphina—silent, her back straight, her gaze fixed on the table rather than the people around it.
Behind Eldarion, stood the lone guard—Sebastian. No others were present. The room was sealed—none were allowed entrance without the Warden General's consent.
To Eldarion's left, Veroy sat with composed dignity, his fingers folded together, his posture relaxed yet alert. Beside him, Thorne calm-eyed and deliberate in every motion, watched quietly. They sat in a circle, as equals in seat—but not in power.
A long silence lingered. The weight of what was to be said seemed to hover in the very air.
Then at last, Eldarion moved. Slowly, his gloved hands came together, fingers steepling above the table. His voice broke the stillness, deep and composed.
"You all know why this meeting was called in haste."
He looked toward each of them, gaze steady, commanding.
"An unknown creature was encountered by Captain Seraphina in the dungeon."
Seraphina nodded, her voice sharp and precise. "Yes, sir."
Veroy leaned forward slightly, his brows furrowed, voice laced with genuine curiosity. "But my lord, what kind of creature are we speaking of? I've fought many monster and worse—yet this does not match anything in our records."
"Indeed." Thorne added, his voice calm but sharp. "No monster I've ever studied could remain unnoticed in the dungeon's wards. There are classifications for every known monster. But from the report... this was different."
Eldarion raised a hand gently, silencing further speculation. "We will come to that in time," he said steadily. "But first, Captain—tell us exactly what you saw and what you learned. Speak plainly. Hold nothing back."
A moment passed. Then Seraphina spoke again, her tone cold, noble—deliberate. "As I mentioned in the letter, it had a roughly humanoid form—tall and massive. Its body was encased in skin so dense that my sword techniques… did nothing. Not a scratch, despite several attempts." She paused. "But that wasn't the alarming part."
"It spoke."
The words hung in the room.
Veroy leaned back, clearly surprised. "Spoke?" he echoed, incredulous. "You mean... it used words? As we do?"
"Yes," Seraphina said without hesitation. "Clear and fluent. And not only that—it strategized. It spoke—with reason, and intention. It baited, feinted, read my movement. Like a person."
The Guildmaster's hand twitched near his chin in thought. There should have been fear in him—but there wasn't. His voice remained calm. "That… is not something I've ever heard. Monsters do not speak, let alone think."
"Nor do they strategize," Veroy added, more gravely. "Captain, are you certain about this? There's a chance you may have mistaken a groan—or perhaps a growl—for speech."
Seraphina turned her gaze slowly toward him. "I know what I saw. And I know what I fought. It responded to attacks. Predicted movement. It dodged with purpose. It knew what it was doing."
A subtle current of magic sparked across her fingers under the table. Her other hand rested on Arwyn's lap. The electricity danced faintly along her gloved fingertips—a quiet warning.
"Since everyone is gathered," she said quietly, "you must already suspect this isn't ordinary. So let's not pretend it is. If you shout, you'll die by my hand today. Understand?"
Arwyn's shoulders stiffened. She didn't move or speak, but her fingers clenched tightly in her lap. "It's a ghost," she thought, panic rising in her chest. "Definitely a ghost. Only ghosts can speak—monsters can't. But if I scream now, she'll kill me for sure…"
Veroy turned to Eldarion, his gaze filled with uncertainty—perhaps confusion. "My lord, is it even possible for a monster to speak with reason?"
Eldarion exhaled slowly, his expression unreadable. "No. It is not."
Seraphina's tone cut through the room, icy and precise. "Then explain how it spoke. On the battlefield, it demonstrated thought, strategy, and deliberation. That was no mindless beast."
She looked at him, eyes full of unspoken questions—because she knew he knew something. Anything.
At first, Eldarion merely looked back in silence. Then, slowly, he spoke: "Of course. I meant every word. Monsters cannot speak—that is the unchanging rule of this world. And I know more than I've revealed. You seek answers, and I will provide them." he let a slow breath escape. "The creature you encountered… is not merely a monster."
He paused deliberately, letting the silence deepen.
"It was… a demon."
Silence fell over the room. Everyone was slightly stunned—they had never heard that name before, except for Seraphina. Arwyn's expression shifted, but though questions burned in her mind, she couldn't voice any. The ones present sat far above her in rank.
"A demon?" Veroy's brows furrowed deeply. "What kind of monster is that? I've never even heard the name."
"Neither have I," Thorne added, his voice low. "Is this… some word from the ancient world? Some lost beast? But I've studied every monster related books we have. That word doesn't exist in our archives."
Only Seraphina remained still. Her expression did not change. Not even a little.
Eldarion's eyes narrowed, carefully observing her. "You don't look surprised, Captain," he said slowly.
His voice had a new weight—measured suspicion. In his thoughts, he added, "Could it be…? But it's too soon. Far too soon..."
Seraphina finally looked up—cold, calm, unshaken. "The creature called himself Zandagar. He claimed to be a demon."
Eldarion inhaled deeply through his nose. "Why was this not mentioned in your letter?"
"Because such names… are not meant to be read on paper." A brief silence. "And because I wanted to say it where I could see your faces."
For a moment, no one spoke. Then, Veroy leaned forward, voice softer than before. "You made the right call. In matters like this... shadows are not our enemy. Recklessness is."
Thorne nodded once. "Words of this kind… are best whispered, not spread."
Eldarion said nothing. His fingers tightened slightly together, resting on the table.
Outside the tall windows, the golden light of the sun crept ever so slightly across the floor.
Then Eldarion leaned forward slightly, placing both gloved hands together on the table again. His voice—deep, slow, and deliberate—carried the weight of an old truth.
"As I was saying... he was a demon. But demons..." He paused, eyes moving across each face present. "Demons are not monsters. They are a race—an ancient one, older than our empires."
The silence that followed was deafening—no breath, no whisper disturbed the stillness. Then, at last, Eldarion began to speak, recounting the tale of the demons and the hero who once sealed them away. As his words sank in, Veroy's expression darkened, and the Guildmaster's face mirrored his grim realization.
Even Seraphina, usually unmoved, narrowed her eyes slightly—her chin tilted, as if trying to read a deeper meaning between his words.
Then, softly, she spoke. Cold and steady. "You're saying... from the very beginning, demons were not just creatures of destruction... but a race. A civilization. Then why..." Her eyes sharpened. "...why are there no records? No chronicles? No relics of their existence? No memory of the war itself. Is such an erasure even possible?"
Veroy, sitting tall in his elegant posture, slowly exhaled. His voice was filled with a quiet nobility, tinged with disbelief. "To think we've lived centuries blind to such a truth..." He turned toward Eldarion. "My Lord, could this be... a hidden era?"
Beside him, Thorne folded his arms. Calm and composed, his tone remained steady. "History favors the victor. But if what you're implying is true, then humanity was never the victor. The truth was buried… for survival."
Eldarion nodded, his gaze settling on the map behind him. "As I said... humanity did not win. We survive only by the will of one man—the Hero—and the intervention of the Goddess of War 'Astreya'. Had she not interfered, had she not granted him power, none of us would be here. Our races would have been wiped from existence. After the war, the few who remained rebuilt civilization from ashes. This is the world we've inherited—a world built on silence, without the truth."
No one spoke. The shadows grew longer.
Veroy leaned forward, his voice barely above a whisper. "My Lord... How strong were they? The demons... in that war?"
Eldarion didn't answer. Instead, he turned his gaze toward Seraphina. "Captain Seraphina, you engaged the creature firsthand. In your assessment, what rank would you assign it?"
Seraphina blinked, processing the question. "Rank?" she echoed.
Eldarion gave a slight nod. "Yes. Compare it to what you've faced. Be objective."
She folded her gloved hands together on the table, her posture still and composed. "S-Rank," she said simply.
Thorne raised an eyebrow. Veroy leaned back, thoughtful.
Eldarion's voice was calm. "On what basis?"
Seraphina did not hesitate. "The wyvern I defeated two years ago—confirmed A-Rank. Its fire breath turned trees to ash, its scales tougher than steel." Her eyes narrowed
"But Zandagar... his flames melted the earth beneath our feet. My blade—imbued with technique and ki—barely scratched his skin." She paused, curling her gloved fingers slightly. "But most importantly... he thinks. He strategizes. That alone elevates him."
Then she tilted her head slightly—one elegant hand resting on Arwyn's lap once again. Electricity shimmered faintly beneath the glove. Her gaze, distant and cold, met no one in particular as she added quietly: "Though... despite his intelligence... his form lacked refinement. He attacked recklessly. Like a beast without discipline. No proper stance. No footwork."
A pause.
Stareeeee...
The entire room stared at her.
Veroy blinked. Thorne chuckled softly, leaning forward with a grin tugging at his lips. Eldarion... allowed himself a faint, restrained smile.
"Of course," Eldarion said smoothly. "Everything you see is a flaw."
Thorne smirked. "Captain... not everyone was forged by the blade like you. If he attacked like a beast... perhaps you were the only one there who could call it 'flawed.'"
Veroy laughed under his breath. "That's how our Knight Captain is. Precision first. Everything else... defective."
Seraphina didn't flinch. "I don't call it defective," she said plainly. "I call it... inefficient."
Eldarion let the humor pass before he became serious again. "But she's right. That creature… it was just an ordinary demon. Consider him the equivalent of a common soldier—or perhaps even less. Like a farmer or a scribe. Yet he fought like a warlord."
"Now imagine their superiors—their generals, their kings... or whatever titles they use. Lords, emperors, perhaps something beyond. Can you begin to fathom how powerful they must be?"
A weight pressed down on the room. No one dared to speak.
Seraphina finally spoke, her gaze unwavering and voice like ice. "You speak of their strength with such certainty… Tell me, are you implying they rival the dragons? Among the eight races, none can contest their supremacy. Are you suggesting these demons stand on equal ground?"
"Yes. In the Great War, dragons stood with the demons—that alliance made the demons nearly unstoppable. And yet, for all their power, the dragons did surprisingly little. It was as if they chose not to intervene fully."
Her eyes widened slightly, thoughts racing behind them. "That explains it... the Draconia Empire. They've long forbidden outsiders from entering. All trade is done strictly at the border towns or villages—never beyond. I see now why."
Veroy added, voice thoughtful, "We assumed it was their pride. A cultural choice. That's why they've been called a mysterious race among all. But now... it's clear. They haven't forgotten. They remember the war."
The Guildmaster's brows furrowed. "But... from what I've heard, the Dragon Empire has declined. Since their last emperor died, they've weakened. And the new one... is a completely different kind of ruler."
Eldarion nodded solemnly. "Yes. Their power rises and falls with their emperor. That is their curse... and our only advantage."
The Guildmaster's eyes narrowed. "If they choose to side with the demons again... then there's no hope for us."
Eldarion didn't deny it. "That's why we must prepare. The Hero left behind a prophecy. It wasn't just farewell. It was a warning... and a gift."
Veroy folded his hands together with dignity. "Time."
Eldarion nodded. "Time to prepare. That's all he could give us."
The sun had begun to dip outside, the golden hue of the chamber fading to soft amber. Each of them sat silently for a moment—absorbing the scale of what was revealed.
No one said it aloud.
But they all knew—
A storm was coming.
Then, after a brief silence, Seraphina spoke—her voice soft, yet commanding. "But… regarding the seal," she said, her tone precise and glacial, sharpened by thought rather than emotion. "You claimed the hero may have sealed them away. Then tell me—how will that seal break? What circumstances would allow the demons to return? And more importantly…" Her gaze, a piercing frost-blue, settled on him with aristocratic poise. "Where is it located?"
There was no fear in her eyes—only calculation, as if already weighing contingencies and consequences.
"...That," Eldarion began, voice deep and composed, "is something we will have to uncover ourselves. So far… only a single demon has appeared. That leads me to believe… it's possible the rest will come in phases. One at a time… or perhaps… in clusters."
He paused, letting the room breathe. Then looked toward the map resting on the war table. "As for the location of the seal… The hero himself admitted that even he doesn't know where it is. The placement was done intentionally. Hidden… even from those who fought to create it. It was to prevent anyone from opening it… not even by force."
There was a stillness in the air.
Seraphina didn't speak immediately. She simply blinked once, processing. Then she tilted her chin slightly. "A hidden seal… unknown to even its creators. That's dangerous. And inconvenient."
Veroy leaned forward, fingers steepled. His voice was deep—measured and firm. "I agree with you, Captain." He paused, then turned his gaze toward Eldarion. "But, my lord, I must ask—is it even possible to seal away an entire race?"
Eldarion remained silent for a moment, thoughtful. Then, with composed certainty, he answered, "Not for an ordinary human. But the hero bore the blessing of the Goddess herself. With that divine power, such a seal was within his reach. That is the clearest explanation I can offer—for now."
"I understand, my lord." Veroy said with a respectful nod.
The Guildmaster, who had been lost in thought, now turned to Eldarion and spoke. "And considering the confirmed power of just a single demon… Shouldn't we reconsider our current monster classification system? I fear our current S-Rank is inadequate for the scale of what's coming."
Eldarion turned slightly to face him, nodding."You're right, Guildmaster. It must be revised. But such a change is far from simple. You know better than I—reclassification affects every guild, every kingdom, every border-defense treaty. It will demand coordination across realms, both kingdoms and empires alike."
He sighed softly through his nose. "...Still, for our own understanding and preparation… the Hero has already left behind an alternative classification system. A more precise one. One that… truly reflects the kind of horrors we're facing."
Seraphina's voice came next, quieter, but crisp. "And I assume… this system will not be made public yet?"
Eldarion nodded slowly. "Correct. For now, this remains among us. All of you must keep this information strictly confidential—until the King decides otherwise. We cannot afford public panic. Not yet."
Then, Seraphina nodded, placing a gloved hand to her chest in a gesture of acknowledgement. "Understood, Sir. Not a single word from here will go out from this room."
Thorne followed suit with a quiet nod of respect. "As you command."
Eldarion looked at them both—his gaze sharp but calm."...This war hasn't started yet. But its shadow is already over us." He turned back toward the map. "And we must move… before that shadow swallows the world."
"Yes, my lord." Veroy nodded.
Seraphina didn't turn her head. She merely shifted her gaze to Arwyn, seated beside her. In a voice scarcely above a whisper, she commanded, "Summon the kitchen. I want the food brought here. Now."
Arwyn rose swiftly, offered a quick bow, and exited the room, her boots clicking softly against the polished stone floor. The silence she left behind was sharp—almost brittle.
No one spoke.
Seraphina sat perfectly still, her posture regal, back straight, expression unreadable. But beneath the surface, her thoughts churned. "A forgotten race…?" she echoed silently. "I didn't think that was even possible—at least, not anymore. And this threat… not just to Velhart. No… to the world itself. To our very existence."
As the silence lingered and the moment passed between them, the sound of approaching footsteps drew everyone's attention. Arwyn returned, this time accompanied by four chefs in pristine white aprons. They entered silently, each holding a tray of delicacies with practiced grace. They moved in a fluid rhythm—placing dish after dish on the long table: succulent roasted meat from Velhart's southern wetlands, steamed root vegetables from the mountain provinces, and silver jugs of spiced wine.
Once they had arranged the food flawlessly on the round table, they bowed in perfect unison and departed as silently as they had arrived.
Seraphina finally moved, raising her chin and gesturing toward the center platter.
"From Velhart. Marsh beefs—roasted in citrus and flame-berry glaze. A rare delicacy. Please, Sir, taste them first."
Eldarion, seated across from her, gave a faint nod. "You've been meticulous, as expected. My thanks, Captain Seraphina."
Her eyes didn't meet his. "Efficiency is my obligation, not courtesy."
They ate. Quietly, formally. No laughter. No light chatter. Just careful tasting and stolen glances.
After the last bite was taken, Veroy placed his napkin down and rose to his feet. His posture was perfect, his voice calm but full of dignity. "My lord, will you be resting here tonight?"
Eldarion glanced at him, his blue eyes steady. "No. My presence is required in the capital. I can't afford to linger." He paused. "But if there's pressing business, you're free to excuse yourself. I intend to remain a little longer before departing."
Veroy bowed slightly, every movement refined. "Then I shall take my leave. If you pass through again, I hope you will grace my mansion with your presence. It would be an honor."
"Noted," Eldarion replied, his voice carrying a gentle weight that felt like an unspoken command.
Veroy turned just as he stepped out of the room.
Next was the Guildmaster. He stood with a quiet sigh, placing a hand over his heart in a respectful gesture. "My lord. I must also return. The Guild has business even at this hour, and my absence grows too long."
"Do as you must," Eldarion said simply.
Thorne bowed deeply before disappearing into the shadows of the corridor.
Now, only three remained: Seraphina, Eldarion, and Sebastian.
The silence that followed was different from before. Not tense—but distant. Detached.
Seraphina's fingers shifted slightly on her lap. For a moment, her proud shoulders seemed to lower just a fraction. But her face remained cold, unreadable.
Then Eldarion's voice cut through the quiet.
"Do I have your permission to see the demon, Captain?"
She blinked once, as if pulled from thought.
"Yes. Of course."
"Of course, sir…" The words stung, though she said them without hesitation. "What else is new? A conversation? A memory? He's not here for me. He never is."
Aloud, she continued, her voice clear and devoid of warmth: "The body is secured in the MIMR facility. It won't take long to reach."
Eldarion rose with the grace of one long accustomed to command. "Then we shouldn't waste time."
Seraphina stood as well. Her chin slightly raised, her expression unreadable. "As you say, sir."
Sebastian followed without a word.
And so, the father and daughter walked side by side—like strangers who shared no past.
Only duty.
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(Chapter Ended)
To be continued...