Many large cities dotted the western plains, all developing as city-states in a region isolated from the rest of the world by the mighty Eternal Forest, one of the seven forbidden zones.

It was the richest forest on the entire continent, second only to the Elven Forest, which lay right next to it at the southernmost tip.

Some of these cities had tens of thousands of inhabitants. Others, hundreds of thousands. A few even reached populations in the millions.

They were true metropolises, ruled by fifth-stage warriors, with ancestors who could easily have been sixth-stage.

They were in no way inferior to the cities across the rest of the continent. Their only weakness was their disunity and constant internal conflicts.

Among these many cities was the City of Howling Fire.

It was rather small, with no more than twenty-five thousand people and a standing army of about two thousand men, capable of mustering up to seven thousand in times of utter desperation.

Naturally, it was still much larger than Goldenveil. Great walls, still made of wood but thick and sturdy, rose from a stone foundation.

Since the city sat on the border between the Eternal Forest and the western plains, the entire population lived within the walls, constantly guarded by hundreds of soldiers.

Down the wide main street, a figure walked unsteadily toward the luxurious mansion of the city lord, a Fourth-Stage warrior.

Two knights in golden armor flanked him, both at the third stage.

If Ethan were there, he would have recognized the man immediately.

He was the sole survivor of that group of five adventurers killed by a second-stage wolf near Goldenveil.

He walked with his eyes cast down.

The knights were the Lord’s men, but they were not heading toward the mansion. Instead, they turned toward the residence next door, much simpler yet still impressive.

That was the home of the captain of the guard of the City of Howling Fire.

A talented third-stage swordsman who had reached that level before the age of twenty-five and now approached fifty.

He was also the father of the survivor’s best friend, who had been killed by the wolf that day.

The knights guided him through the residence until they finally reached the meditation room.

"Sir Theron awaits you. Enter."

They took positions on either side of the door, standing still as statues.

The survivor nodded silently and pushed the door open.

The moment he stepped inside, his heart sank.

A powerful pressure descended upon him. The air grew thick and heavy, pressing against his chest like an invisible weight, and the door slammed shut behind.

In the center of that empty room, bathed in a shaft of light streaming through an opening in the ceiling, a man sat suspended in the air.

Short hair. A neatly trimmed beard. The noble face of a middle-aged man.

He was tall, a few inches taller than the Lord of Goldenveil, with a powerful build and firm muscles.

That was Theron, the second most powerful man in the City of Howling Fire.

His legs were crossed, and his body hovered several inches above the ground, which shocked the survivor even more. 𝘧𝓇ℯ𝑒𝓌𝑒𝑏𝓃𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘭.𝒸ℴ𝓂

That meant Theron was already very close to the fourth stage. Probably no more than one or two steps away from a breakthrough.

The thought alone made awe spread across the man’s face.

Fourth-stage warriors could easily live for four or five hundred years and possessed the ability to fly through the skies using only their aura.

It wasn’t sustained flight, and it consumed a great deal of energy, so they rarely did it, unlike fifth-stage Awakened Ones who flew freely. But the ability still existed.

To an ordinary man, and even to a second-stage Awakened, these beings were no different from gods.

"My son... You ran away with him, didn’t you? Where is he?"

A pair of blue eyes opened, fixing on the trembling man.

"D-dead, my lord... it wasn’t my idea to run away with him, he was the one who called us to do it! We just went along with him! Forgive me for not warning you!"

The man said, his voice cracking under the weight of Theron’s gaze.

He already regretted leaving Goldenveil and coming here.

"I know it was my son’s idea; I know him well..."

A long sigh escaped Theron’s lips as he sank to the floor, breaking his meditative posture.

His feet touched the stone without a sound, and for a brief moment, the crushing pressure in the room eased.

Those words greatly relaxed the survivor, who had truly been fearing for his life.

"Tell me everything that happened."

The man left out not a single detail, explaining everything from his rescue, through the plan to kill the wolf, to the short time he spent in Goldenveil afterward.

"And my son’s sword? Was it looted from his body?" Theron asked.

That sword had been a special gift to his son. Even in the City of Howling Fire, it was an incomparable treasure.

To the lord of a small settlement deep within the Eternal Forest, it was likely no different from a divine artifact.

"It was buried with him, my lord. The Lord of Goldenveil is a pure man and showed not even a shred of greed regarding your son’s belongings!"

"Is that so?"

Theron raised an eyebrow, genuinely surprised.

He knew the people of the Eternal Forest well. Nobility and honor were rare among them.

What kind of fool would show something as useless for survival as respect for the dead?

He motioned for the man to leave.

"It seems I’ll have to pay a visit to Goldenveil," he murmured, watching the survivor walk away.

He was interested in this Ethan Goldenveil, but the true reason for his visit was simply to see his son’s grave and pray for him one last time.

***

A few hours later, at the city lord’s mansion.

"My lord, Theron left the city this afternoon and appears to be heading toward the Eternal Forest. Should I send someone after him?"

A knight stood at attention before the city lord, an old, fat man with a white beard and deep-set eyes who sat in an ornate chair.

"That bastard thinks he’s so powerful he doesn’t even need to tell you before he leaves? Father, you need to get rid of him as soon as possible! If he keeps growing, he’ll be a threat to my inheritance!"

The arrogant voice came from a young master standing beside the chair. He was handsome and delicate, with the soft hands of someone who had never touched a sword in his entire life.

A mage.

Next to him stood a beautiful, voluptuous woman with black hair and pale skin, the young man’s mother, a first-rate milf.

The father didn’t answer, closing his eyes in contemplation.

He was old, but he should still have about a hundred years left. More than enough for his son to grow.

The problem was that if Theron reached the fourth stage, a power struggle in the City of Howling Fire would become inevitable.

Theron was far too talented. Given the man’s youth, the current Lord knew he wouldn’t stand a chance in a direct fight.

Theron had to die, for the sake of his son’s inheritance!