Dawn broke over the battlefield.
Golden light pierced through the dense canopy of the island.
Mist drifted across the earth like wandering spirits.
The air smelled of blood.
Burned flesh.
Mana.
Death.
And before that sea of monsters.
One man stood calmly.
Nameless.
The silver-haired swordsman.
The leader chosen by countless guilds.
The man who had walked through monster tides as though taking a stroll.
Behind him.
Thousands of explorers waited.
Guild masters stood silently.
Veteran adventurers tightened their grips around weapons.
The horizon itself appeared alive.
An endless black tide stretched from one end of the battlefield to the other.
Millions of crimson eyes stared back.
The monsters waited.
The humans waited.
Then.
Kel slowly raised his sword.
The silver blade reflected sunlight.
The wind moved through his silver hair.
His expression remained calm.
Not arrogant.
Not fearful.
Simply calm.
The calmness of a man who had already seen the outcome.
The First Swing
The monster horde charged.
The earth trembled.
Trees shattered.
Mountains echoed.
Thousands.
No.
Tens of thousands.
Monsters surged forward.
Flying creatures darkened the sky.
Ground beasts covered the earth.
The scene resembled an apocalypse.
Several younger explorers turned pale.
Some instinctively stepped backward.
Even veteran guild masters felt pressure.
Then.
Kel swung his sword.
Nothing flashy happened.
No giant beam.
No explosion.
No dramatic display.
The sword simply moved.
A clean horizontal slash.
Simple.
Elegant.
Natural.
Then.
The world split.
SSSSSHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!
The air screamed.
The horizon itself seemed divided.
A silver line expanded forward.
The ground separated.
Trees separated.
Mountains separated.
And every monster in its path separated.
For several seconds.
Nothing happened.
Then.
Bodies collapsed.
Thousands.
No.
Tens of thousands.
The front section of the monster army simply ceased existing.
Blood erupted into the sky.
The battlefield froze.
Humans stared.
Monsters stared.
Even the island seemed to stare.
Nobody moved.
Nobody breathed.
One explorer dropped his spoon.
The spoon landed loudly.
CLANG.
The sound somehow broke reality.
Because immediately afterward.
The monster army panicked.
The Advance
"FORWARD!"
One guild master roared.
The humans charged.
The battle began.
Not because Kel ordered it.
Not because someone blew a horn.
Because everyone suddenly realized the impossible.
The monsters could die.
And if monsters could die.
Then victory could be achieved.
The army surged forward.
Explorers unleashed spells.
Warriors charged.
Archers fired.
The battlefield erupted.
And at the very front.
Kel walked.
Not ran.
Walked.
His sword moved occasionally.
Each movement claimed hundreds of lives.
Sometimes thousands.
The monster horde continuously collapsed.
The battlefield transformed into a slaughter.
Not a battle.
A slaughter.
Day One
The fighting lasted until sunset.
Mountains of corpses appeared.
Monster blood flowed through valleys.
The island itself changed.
Entire forests disappeared.
Ancient ruins emerged beneath destroyed terrain.
Night arrived.
The fighting slowed.
Then resumed.
Because the monsters never stopped.
Not once.
Day Two
The second day proved worse.
Stronger monsters appeared.
Ancient beasts.
Calamity-class creatures.
Monsters capable of destroying cities.
Guild masters engaged them.
Explorers suffered losses.
Several famous adventurers died.
Yet.
The advance continued.
Because Nameless continued advancing.
And wherever he walked.
The battlefield opened.
One guild master watched him from afar.
Then whispered.
"Is he even human?"
Nobody answered.
Because nobody knew.
Day Three
On the third day.
Everything changed.
The monsters suddenly retreated.
Every single one.
The battlefield became silent.
Unnaturally silent.
No roars.
No movement.
No attacks.
Only wind.
Only blood.
Only corpses.
The humans became nervous.
Very nervous.
Because intelligent retreats were dangerous.
And monster armies weren't supposed to retreat intelligently.
Then.
The sky darkened.
The King Appears
BOOOOOOOOOOOOM!
The island shook.
The ocean surrounding the island exploded upward.
Mountains cracked.
The earth trembled.
A pressure descended.
An ancient pressure.
Older than kingdoms.
Older than nations.
Older than recorded history.
Everyone immediately understood.
The true ruler had appeared.
Not the monsters.
Not the hordes.
The king.
The source.
The master of this island.
The creature slowly emerged from beneath a colossal mountain.
The mountain itself was its body.
Or rather.
Everyone initially mistook its body for a mountain.
Ancient scales covered its form.
Golden eyes opened.
The heavens darkened.
Its body stretched beyond vision.
Massive horns pierced clouds.
Each breath created storms.
Each movement reshaped landscapes.
The creature slowly rose.
And every person present felt insignificant.
Tiny.
Meaningless.
Fragile.
The king looked toward humanity.
Then.
Toward Kel.
And smiled.
Telepathic Conversation
Far away.
Beneath Scarder Lake.
Seiren felt it immediately.
The Guardian stood from her chair.
Her expression serious.
"Kel."
"I know."
"That thing is old."
"Very."
Silence followed.
Then.
"Be careful."
Kel smiled faintly.
"I always am."
Seiren immediately snorted.
"That's the biggest lie you've ever told."
The Three-Day Battle
The king moved first.
A claw descended.
An entire mountain disappeared.
The battle began.
And for the first time since arriving on the island.
Kel stopped holding back.
The world shattered.
Aura swords appeared.
One.
Two.
Five.
Ten.
Twenty.
Silver swords orbited around him.
The battlefield froze.
Everyone stared.
Because they had never seen him fight seriously.
Now they understood why.
The battle lasted three days.
Three entire days.
No sleep.
No rest.
The king attacked.
Kel countered.
The king unleashed storms.
Kel cut them apart.
The king shattered mountains.
Kel split oceans.
The island transformed into a battlefield between legends.
No one could approach.
No one could interfere.
They could only watch.
The Final Strike
On the third night.
The king finally slowed.
Its body carried countless wounds.
Its golden eyes dimmed.
Its movements became sluggish.
Then.
Kel raised his sword.
All aura swords gathered behind him.
The sky filled with silver light.
For a brief moment.
The heavens themselves seemed covered in swords.
The king stared.
Kel stared back.
Neither spoke.
Words weren't necessary.
The final slash descended.
Everything became white.
Silence.
Absolute silence.
Then.
The king's body split apart.
The sky cleared.
The pressure vanished.
The battle ended.
The ruler of the island fell.
Victory
For several minutes.
Nobody moved.
Nobody understood.
Then.
Cheers erupted.
Explorers cried.
Guild masters laughed.
Veterans collapsed.
Victory.
After countless deaths.
After endless battles.
After unimaginable sacrifices.
Victory.
The island belonged to humanity.
Return
Several weeks later.
The fleets returned home.
Loaded with treasure.
Loaded with resources.
Loaded with relics.
The wealth recovered from the island surpassed expectations.
Entire kingdoms would envy it.
At Frostbound Coast.
The Exploration Department nearly collapsed.
Not physically.
Mentally.
Because Nameless arrived again.
With mountains of loot.
The officials stared.
Then stared harder.
Then immediately began calculating.
Hours passed.
Numbers continued increasing.
Eventually.
One officer raised trembling hands.
"As per Frostbound Coast regulations."
Another.
"Fifty percent belongs to Frostbound Coast."
Another.
"Fifty percent belongs to the explorers."
Kel nodded.
Reasonable.
After all.
He personally wrote those regulations.
Several storage rings filled with wealth beyond imagination slid across the desk.
Kel accepted them.
The officer looked exhausted.
The young man looked mildly interested.
The difference was painful.
The Legend Grows
As Kel exited the building.
People watched.
Whispered.
Pointed.
Rumors spread immediately.
Nameless had conquered another island.
Nameless had slain another king.
Nameless had led countless guilds.
The legend continued growing.
And as the silver-haired young man disappeared into Frostbound City's bustling streets.
Nobody realized one amusing truth.
The Count of Frostbound Coast had just paid fifty percent commission to the Count of Frostbound Coast.
And somehow.
Neither side complained.
Far away.
Beneath Scarder Lake.
Seiren laughed for nearly ten minutes after hearing that.
Because among all the ridiculous things Kel had done.
Paying taxes to himself remained one of her favorites.