SUPREME ARCH-MAGUS

Princess Soya paced back and forth in her private chamber with a tense face. Her black silk robe trailed behind her as she walked, barely making a sound against the polished stone floor. Her eyes gleamed with impatience, and her perfectly painted nails drummed rhythmically against her crossed arms. A knock at the door made her pause.

“Enter,” she commanded.

Two servants hurried in, bowing deeply before her. One of them, a young woman with downcast eyes, dared to step forward first.

“Princess Soya, we gathered news regarding the Frost Family’s army… about their 20,000 Supreme Mages.” She said timidly.

“Speak quickly. I have little patience for drawn-out tales today.”

The young woman gulped, her hands shaking nervously. “Our spies reported… that… Lord Kent, he… he sent the entire army on vacation. All 20,000 Supreme Mages have returned to their homes.”

Soya’s eyes widened, her hand dropping to her side as she stared at the servant in utter disbelief. “What did you just say? Sent home? Kent sent everyone home? Is Kent mad?” She stared at the servant, almost as if expecting her to retract the statement.

The second servant, an older woman who had seen many strange orders over the years, shifted uncomfortably. “It’s true, Your Highness. The entire Frost army, fully trained and ready for the Trident Summit, has been dismissed on Kent’s orders. They are scattered across the nation as we speak.”

Soya pressed her fingers against her temples, exhaling slowly. “What… could he possibly be planning?” She muttered under her breath, though loud enough for the servants to hear. Her gaze was far away, her mind racing.

“Kent isn’t foolish. He wouldn’t simply send them home without reason. If he’s sent them away, he’s preparing something on a much larger scale.” She clenched her jaw, fingers drumming more rapidly against her arm.

“Find out exactly what Kent is doing. I don’t care how much it costs or what it takes; I want to know his whereabouts, every single detail of what he’s preparing for the Trident Summit. No slip-ups, understand?”

The two servants nodded vigorously, fear clear in their eyes. “Yes, Princess Soya. We’ll make sure of it.”

Soya dismissed them with a flick of her hand, her eyes burning with suspicion and something close to worry. The Trident Summit was approaching, and Kent’s every move was clouded in mystery.

If he was planning something that required him to remove the Frost army from view, then whatever was coming would undoubtedly be monumental. She pressed her hand to her chest, feeling the quickening beat of her own heart.

“I’ll not let you blindside me, Kent. You should beg me while holding my feet.” she whispered to herself, her lips curling in a smirk.

—

Close to Royal Prison…

Cloaked in dark clothes and a simple mask that disguised his face, Kent oversaw the task deep below ground. The beastmen he had recruited worked tirelessly under his watchful gaze.

The stunted beastmen moved quickly and quietly, their powerful hands digging into the dirt and stone with surprising ease. The flickering light from enchanted orbs illuminated their hunched forms as they toiled, sweat streaking down their foreheads and arms.

“Careful,” Kent murmured, pointing to the soil around the whitewood tree’s roots. “This area is critical. If the tunnel entrance collapses, we’ll lose more time and alert the guards. Keep the base steady and reinforce it with wooden supports.”

Three beastmen nodded, wiping sweat from their brows as they dug into the main tunnel with fierce determination. The whitewood tree’s massive roots formed a natural arch over them, concealing their progress from any passing eyes above.

Meanwhile, two other beastmen labored on two separate tunnels off to the sides, laying false trails as planned by Kent.

As he watched, Kent’s thoughts wandered to the prisoners he planned to free. People who had been forgotten by the world, abandoned to rot in the darkness of the royal prison. People who might be his allies—or tools—in the chaos that would follow the 9 realms war.

—

In the dark, damp depths of the royal prison…

Deep within the underground chambers, a single flickering fire pillar cast an ominous red glow, its light barely reaching the edges of the vast cell.

In the center of the chamber stood a towering figure—half-human, half-beast.

A wild boar’s head stood from a broad, muscular body covered in needle-like black hair. Two massive horns curled alongside his boar-like snout, and his sharp, furious eyes were shut, his head drooped forward as if in a deep, tormented sleep.

This was Jamba Zi, once head of the mighty Zi family and a fierce warrior whose name had inspired both terror and respect, now shackled with enchanted chains and bound with layers of powerful suppressing talismans.

The sound of clinking chains echoed as the prison master wizard opened the underground doors and slowly approached a fearsome prisoner with caution.

The prison master wizard, robed in dark blue and gray, took careful steps, his eyes nervously darting from the talismans to the chained prisoner. In his trembling hands, he held a gleaming crystal, glowing with a faint blue light. He moved toward the fire pillar and dropped the crystal into it, feeding the flames, which flared higher and brighter.

As the flames rose, the magical bindings around Jamba Zi tightened, causing his muscles to contract in agony. The fire pillar’s magic increased the strength of the chains, pressing down on him like an unrelenting weight. The prison master wizard cleared his throat, his voice shaking as he spoke.

“Oh, Mighty Jamba Zi, more than twenty years have passed since you lost your family… and your freedom.” He paused, as if weighing his words, then continued. “Now, your age is over ten thousand years. I really wonder how you’ve managed to stay alive in this torment.”

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For a moment, there was only silence. Then, slowly, a deep, rumbling voice responded, harsh and edged with rage.

“What keeps a man alive in a place like this, you wonder?” Jamba Zi’s voice was hoarse, a low growl that reverberated through the chamber. His eyes remained closed, but his head lifted just slightly. “Not air, nor food, nor even the will to live.” His tone sharpened, each word dripping with venom. “Revenge… Revenge is what keeps a man alive for thousands of years.”

The prison master wizard took an involuntary step back, his hands trembling. “Do you really think you can take revenge in his condition. You might die inside this room.”

Jamba Zi’s eyes snapped open, and a glint of hatred blazed within them. “I will not die in this prison cell. Not before taking my revenge on the Quinn family. I’ll die as a warrior, but only after I’ve ripped every last Quinn limb from limb and watched their blood soak the earth.”

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