From it stepped a figure dressed in tight black armor and a cloak that blended with the darkness, moving without a sound or trace of presence.
"...You know the rules, my lord. Neither of us is supposed to drink while on duty."
The voice was dry but not unfriendly, met with a dismissive wave from Vane.
"Come on. You're standing there watching me drink anyway. Don't act like you're above it. One gulp won't kill you."
"..."
The shadow figure stayed silent, but the mood was easy, ike this wasn't the first time they'd had this exchange. And probably wouldn't be the last.
Their previously serious demeanor cracked, revealing an easy familiarity between them. Clearly, this wasn't the first time they'd had this kind of exchange.
Still, the figure didn't take the flask. Vane took two more hearty swigs, then wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and tucked the now-empty container back into the drawer with a sigh. His expression quickly hardened again as he turned to issue his next orders.
"Start pulling all archived files that begin with the number nine. I want to know who's got the guts to stir up trouble on my land right now."
"Understood."
"Also, get that intel into the hands of people who can actually use it. Especially keep an eye on the key players."
"Anyone getting in the way, whether they know what they're doing or not detain them. Like we said earlier, if something shady pops up, have someone take care of it immediately."
"Get a team of twenty ready, standing by at all times."
"Yes."
"And prep a five-liter bottle of Raohe wine for me."
"…"
"Actually, make it two."
"…Yes!"
With that, the figure melted back into the shadows, disappearing into the corners of the room like smoke slipping into cracks.
Once alone, Vane stood still for a while, then walked over to the window and pushed it open. A bitter wind howled in, carrying sharp snowflakes that slapped against his face.
The blizzard had been raging for some time and didn't show signs of stopping. His eyes narrowed slightly.
In their brown depths danced reflections of the vast white plains and creeping shadows below, stirring something deep inside him. A feeling not unlike waking from a long sleep.
In a world shaped by magic, weird happenings were just part of life. Even if things went down in the same place at the same time, it didn't always raise alarms. Magic blurred the lines between normal and strange.
That was the nature of this world chaotic, unpredictable, fascinating. If you didn't like it, maybe it wasn't the place for you.
Still, Vane couldn't shake the feeling that someone out there was pulling strings. He had no proof. Not a single clue. The thought had just crept into his mind out of nowhere, but once it did, it wouldn't leave.
Maybe it was pride. Maybe it was arrogance. But he trusted his instincts more than anything else. His gut had never failed him before.
"…I know you're out there." He muttered to himself, thinking back on things even he barely remembered.
His breath fogged in the cold, colder still than the storm outside. Bracing himself at the window, he looked down.
The cliff curved like a crescent moon beneath the towering fortress that was his home. Spires reached into the sky like needles.
The walls of the inner city twisted and climbed toward the peak, while beyond them stretched the endless sprawl of homes, chimneys puffing white into the air, rooftops black against the snow.
On the massive city walls, dozens of meters high, ballista the size of wagons were mounted and wound with thick steel cables. Soldiers in heavy armor stood like statues in the wind, unmoving. Patrols darted through the streets below, their forms small and quick.
The city gates welcomed an endless stream of people, guards on rounds, merchants hauling goods, farmers entering with carts, and adventurers trudging through slush.
Vane's gaze drifted beyond, to the snowy plains in the distance. A mix of travelers and beasts moved across the land: some walked, some rode, some led strange animals like camel-beasts.
Out in the storm, shapes moved like ghosts, robed figures traveling in scattered groups, some alone. Even the monsters seemed drawn toward something. And high above, half-hidden by swirling snow, something massive moved.
A dragon, unseen but unmistakable, drifting through the skies like a wraith. And in his mind's eye, he was licking a popsicle.
"It must be time to migrate."
That was the conclusion Belial came to after spending some time in this new land, observing the environment and snacking along the way.
He'd flown in a wide loop around the snowy plains and noticed something interesting, whether they were predators or prey, all the creatures seemed to be heading in the same direction.
Curious, he followed them and soon realized the further he flew that way, the warmer it got. It wasn't hard to figure out—they were all moving toward lower, warmer regions.
Even in this magical world, creatures still had that basic instinct to follow the changing seasons. It made perfect sense, really.
Nodding to himself, Belial shot forward with a sudden burst of speed, almost breaking the sound barrier. He passed by all sorts of creatures, some traveling in large herds, others roaming solo but clearly powerful.
Many of them radiated strong magical energy, and quite a few looked tasty. He couldn't help but help himself to a few meals here and there. Of course, Belial wasn't heartless. If a creature was alone, he made sure to finish off the whole group nearby too, just so they wouldn't feel lonely.
His flying style caused quite a stir blasting through the air, crashing down from above. Naturally, some creatures noticed. The noise was one issue, but the bigger problem was his magical presence.
The stronger beasts always picked up on it early and ran, scattering before he could make a proper move. It was frustrating, good meals kept getting away.
Eventually, though, Belial figured out how useful his energy field could be. By pairing it with wind magic during flight, he managed to keep the noise down. And if he shrunk the energy field close to his body, it prevented his power from leaking out and alerting nearby prey.
So, his sneaky hunts began again. The frequent snowstorms helped, too. Wrapped in wind magic and riding high above the clouds, his massive black form was nearly impossible to spot through the blizzards.
His hunting techniques varied. The freezing weather made it easy to turn prey into frozen statues, but Belial didn't like the texture of frozen meat.
Gravity-based tornadoes were another trick in his playbook, but those often went overboard, turning creatures into gooey pancakes. He didn't really need magic anymore.
After activating the atomic furnace inside his core and massively boosting his powers, he hadn't faced an enemy that required any real effort. Most of the time, brute strength alone did the job. Back then, he used to take some hits while fighting.
Now? They could barely even touch him.