# Kalion's Capital, Idranhill
Idranhill, the capital of Kalion, is a land respected more for its emotional significance than political reasons.
Kalion's political system consists of a loose federation that guarantees complete autonomy for each island region. Thus, unified administration is impossible. The affiliated islands function more like feudal warlords.
Therefore, calling it a capital is laughable. It's merely a nominal island without any administrative institutions that hold domestic influence—
Except for the Eternal Palace.
Its history doesn't actually span ten thousand years. Counting from the mythical age, it's about four thousand years. According to the oldest surviving historical records, it's about twenty-five hundred years.
The reason the Eternal Palace is called "eternal" lies elsewhere. It's because of the inner garden, the most strictly managed area within the palace.
A site too vast to be called an inner garden. A majestic basin filling the center of the island. Above it rises a forest, Silmerianwell. In human language, "Forest of Stars."
Each tree in the forest is an ancient ancestor. It's where elves who have lived over a thousand years take root as shrubs. All these trees have become intertwined and bound together underground over time, so it wouldn't be wrong to consider the forest itself as a single living entity.
Therefore, Silmerianwell's common name was as follows:
The World Tree.
If one were to count the years since these trees, these great ancestors, were breathing, it would easily exceed ten thousand years. Hence, it is the Eternal Palace, and all time accumulated in this forest is equivalent to this world, making it the World Tree.
Therefore, Idranhill is called the capital not for political reasons, but for emotional ones.
Because it was the sacred ground where all elven ancestors slept.
And so, when the first winter that Kalion had faced since the beginning of history arrived...
"Um... senior? Doesn't this scene look familiar...?"
At the sight of the sacred landscape, the Annihilation Squad felt an intense sense of déjà vu.
Rewinding time a bit to when they were infiltrating the Eternal Palace.
Scaling the outer walls of the Eternal Palace wasn't difficult. Following Ivan's gesture, the agents simultaneously threw their grappling hooks.
Clack, thwack, the hooks lodged precisely into the embrasures of the Eternal Palace's outer gallery. Not a single person missed their mark.
As Ivan clenched his fist in midair, the agents silently climbed up the ropes. The soft footfalls against the wall were buried in the storm. Dressed in dark clothing, the agents' movements were like shadows.
"Wow...."
Elfihera Grikenkos, riding on Ivan's back, quietly marveled.
The coat fluttered in the wind. The roughly flapping coat was like a flag. Thirty military banners were targeting the Eternal Palace.
After the last person climbed onto the wall, they extended their hand and waved twice.
Position secured.
Confirmed.
Brief signals were exchanged, and Ivan kicked off the ground. He hadn't used a grappling hook. He drove his stiffened fingertips into the minute crevices of the Eternal Palace's outer wall, climbing up.
Whew, as he exhaled deeply, white breath followed. His breathing traced a trajectory. With one long, hot breath drawing a line, Ivan stepped onto the corner of the gallery.
"Team 3."
At Ivan's gesture, six men looked up.
"Secure the retreat route. Team 2, secure and search the outer fortress. Team 4, take the 3 o'clock direction, Team 5, the 9 o'clock direction. And Dmitri."
"Yes, senior."
"Follow me with Team 1. We're heading to the rear garden. Kalion Standard Time 2100. Operation limit is 360. Evacuation rendezvous point is Kalion Port 1."
There was no response. Because everyone present was a transcendent.
Well-trained agents can hear a butterfly's wings even in a storm. And all the agents here were, even by Ivan's standards, sufficiently well-trained.
As soon as Ivan finished speaking, the agents silently dispersed.
Elfihera, who had been blinking at the scene, whispered softly.
"Aren't you going to do that?"
"Hmm?"
"Wishing good luck. You know, saluting the agents before a special operation."
"Trained agents don't believe in luck."
An operation that depends on luck shouldn't be established in the first place. The purpose must be clear, the objective simple, and the process resolute.
At Ivan's answer, Elfihera exclaimed, "Oh," in admiration and tightly hugged his nape.
"Is your meditation finished?"
"I've got a rough idea now."
Elfihera whispered in his ear and closed her eyes.
As they approached the Eternal Palace, it felt suffocating, like a stone was placed on her chest. Even breathing wasn't easy. Let alone using magic.
The magical concentration in the atmosphere was already unprecedentedly dense. It felt almost like swimming underwater.
However, the magic she could influence wasn't even a handful. The atmospheric magic was rejecting her, or rather, elves.
She opened her eyes slightly and surveyed the surroundings from Ivan's back.
The sanctuary built for elven history was rejecting elves most violently in this world. So fiercely that it felt like hatred, almost paranoid in its intensity.
So, swaying like a boat with torn sails...
She could only cling to the only warmth in this cold winter.
Ivan's back was broad, warm, and firm. She hugged him with all her might and buried her face.
The path to the inner garden was empty. Even straining their ears, they couldn't detect any presence. This was strange. There should be at least some servants in this vast palace.
The agents, including Ivan, moved forward, each watching a different direction.
In the dark night, the palace without light sources limited visibility.
The storm raging in the sky, the sound of hail beating against windows and walls limited hearing.
The high-density flow of magic limited magical detection.
Ivan frowned, feeling that this situation was somewhat familiar. It felt like entering the depths of a demon realm.
Meanwhile, an agent scouting ahead raised a clenched fist and drew his pistol.
He spread two fingers and drew them horizontally. [Movement detected].
Ivan nodded and quickly gestured. The agents deployed according to his signals.
"Commander. I think you should see this."
The agent who had been scouting ahead returned with a hardened face. Ivan nodded briefly and followed him into the darkness-shrouded corridor.
Soon, a writhing silhouette came into his view as well. His hand gripping the pistol tightened.
The agent beside him shone a light. Click, and a military magic lamp illuminated the area ahead. And then,
"Ugh—"
Elfihera, riding on Ivan's back, hurriedly turned her head and covered her mouth. Fortunately, she didn't vomit.
Ivan fixed his gaze on what was writhing on the floor.
There was a corpse. Judging by the attire, it was a servant, an elf. Female. Height approximately 168cm.
Ivan silently took out a dagger from his pocket. He pushed away the writhing things by stabbing them and briefly examined the body.
Judging by the rigor mortis, the estimated time of death was about 3 hours ago. The cause of death—
"Drowned."
The lungs were filled with water.
"Aren't these deep-sea leeches, sir?"
"Correct."
"Why are they..."
The black things devouring the corpse were deep-sea leeches. Leeches almost as thick as forearms were all writhing and voraciously eating the corpse.
One of them turned its mouth toward Ivan's instep. Ivan quickly stabbed the leech's head with his dagger and stood up.
Simultaneously, all the leeches turned their heads toward Ivan in unison.
"Is someone controlling them...?"
"I can't be certain, but this isn't exactly a favorable environment for using magic."
The magical concentration in the atmosphere had exceeded the optimal level. Due to the saturated magic, magic use was actually being restricted.
Ivan isn't proficient in magic. However, he was familiar with understanding magic in tactical domains.
A magician could be viewed as a kind of internal combustion engine. A delicate mechanism that needs to be fueled and operated properly. The kind that collects atmospheric magic, manipulates it internally, and obtains output.
So this environment wasn't just a problem for elves. Human magicians would also be unable to control magic in such conditions. The density was so high that even a small spark could trigger a fireball.
In the midst of this, casting a complex spell to control magical beasts, and doing so stealthily outside the detection range of Ivan and his agents... well.
It would be no different from surfing on a tidal wave.
If balance is lost even once, one would be plunged straight into the deep sea.
Ivan quickly disposed of the leeches staring at him and turned around. The agents followed his gesture.
"Are you alright?"
"Yes... ugh..."
"You don't need to force yourself to use magic."
Ivan comforted Elfihera, who was panting on his back. Her usefulness lay in interpretation rather than magic.
In a situation where a magical disaster had occurred, someone knowledgeable about magic was needed. It was the same reason he had brought Elfihera when exploring the underground ruins of Krasilov.
But Elfihera shook her head slightly.
"Don't say that. I am a Grikenkos."
"Excellent."
Ivan moved forward with satisfaction.
As they got closer to the inner garden, more and more corpses became visible. The size and number of leeches covering the corpses increased.
Elfihera was now hugging his neck so tightly she was almost choking him, sniffling.
In the storm that raged with magic alone, without wind, Ivan looked at Dmitri.
"Senior."
Dmitri was also looking at Ivan with tense eyes, clutching his fluttering coat.
"Doesn't this scene look familiar...?"
The door leading to the rear garden was trapped in ice. The entire corridor felt like it had entered a freezer. The corpses were frozen in postures reaching toward the rear garden.
Above them, the leeches made crunching sounds as they bit through the frozen corpses. From all directions.
Among the frozen corpses, the agents looked at Ivan with anxious eyes. Ivan met their gaze and nodded.
"Yes."
The oversaturated magic blocks the magic of others except those it permits.
Regardless of season and climate, the distorted weather phenomenon causes disasters with magic alone.
"It's like the Dragon King's lair."
"Is it some kind of leech god?"
"We'll have to find out."
Ivan tightened his grip on the axe. Tendons writhed like snakes, and soon the axe flashed past the frozen door.
Boom—. A shockwave echoed down the corridor like an earthquake. The corpses standing like statues shattered, and the leeches rolled on the floor.
Brushing away ice fragments, Ivan raised his axe again.
Boom—.
"Look—!! Look at that!!"
At Lundis's shout, Oswald raised his head, coughing. They had barely escaped the waters of Idranhill.
The massive waves that had threatened to destroy the ship suddenly calmed. They were still in a storm with snow flurrying, but the sea's condition was much more pleasant than before.
Following Lundis's gesture, Oswald turned his head.
"What is that—??!"
At his low groan, the entire group turned their heads toward the stern. Soon they could all see the same sight.
Along the sea route they had traveled, far away at Idranhill. Below the faintly blinking lighthouse at the port—
"The waves have solidified...?"
The massive tsunami that had been rising as if to shatter the harbor was frozen like a still life.
Lucia narrowed her eyes, shaking her head. Vampires had good night vision. Even in this darkness, with just a small light, she could perceive objects without difficulty.
She stared at the motionless waves and groaned softly.
"The sea has frozen..."
In an instant.
"The entire Idranhill waters. No, wait—"
She quickly climbed the crow's nest. After slipping a few times on the snow-covered nest, she finally managed to climb up like an acrobat and steady herself.
She looked at Idranhill with an almost prayerful mindset. And below it, she stared at the faintly glowing sea surface.
The direction of the waves showed a bias.
The sea was converging. Centered on Idranhill. Like a whirlpool.
It looked almost like part of a massive magic circle. It was frozen in a radial pattern centered on Idranhill. Bulging waves were stopped, and the blue waves formed strange patterns.
"Let's get out quickly. Hurry!!"
"B-but the elder is there...!"
"Are you out of your mind?! What can we do by ourselves?! Have you forgotten what the senior said last?"
Surround Idranhill with the Privy Council's forces.
Remembering those words, Lundis hardened her face and lowered her head.
"Everyone move quickly!! Evelyn!!"
"Y-yes?!"
"We need to report this to Lord Rustfitz properly! How long will it take?!"
"If we go by sea, about half a day... that's how long it will take!"
Half a day.
Gathering forces and moving again would take at least two more days. Looking at the massive glaciers expanding their range with each passing moment, Lucia bit her lip.
Praying that the Idranhill city center, inside those frozen waves, was still in a habitable state.
"Betrayal already. That was quick."
Beolgreen smiled bitterly.
"Did you actually trust me, Beolgreen Grikenkos?"
Betrayal is a word that should only be used between those who trust each other. Their relationship should have been more economic than that. They joined hands not based on trust, but on utility value.
Beolgreen's fingertips were freezing. Milestone's powerful magic was converging to a single point.
"It's thanks to you. Half of the Privy Council was deceived by your reputation, and that grand plan to use Milestone wouldn't have succeeded without you."
"..."
"Your only mistake was not knowing how much more inferior your race could be. I offer my condolences."
Beolgreen, still with a smile on his face, was covered in frost. In front of him, now rigid without response, Alexandr burst into laughter.
"For the end of the most powerful magician of this era, it's quite pathetic, haha!!"
Beolgreen was too powerful. So powerful that even his own kind had to be wary of him.
Following the queen's orders, he deceived the Privy Council members. He contacted each person secretly and added burden to Milestone.
When all the council members began to utilize Milestone, Alexandr merely lent a hand.
If Beolgreen harbored different intentions, he could demand punishment for the private use of Milestone.
And Beolgreen was someone who could purge them as easily as cutting off a tail.
If permitted, he would personally put a leash on Beolgreen.
Each Milestone was used differently by each society. Utilizing without reservation the techniques they had built up over thousands of years. Testing the limits, the possibilities of their race.
Thus, twelve concepts were gathered.
The method to control other races, including magical beasts.
The method to generate divine power by compressing souls.
The method to manipulate relative time by forcing neural acceleration.
The method to restore magic by destroying elemental winds.
The method to perform race-wide memory manipulation and mental domination.
...And.
"The winter deferred for ten thousand years and."
The raging storm gradually becomes colder. Breath froze completely and rolled on the deck.
"The souls of a race that have become one after enduring ten thousand years."
All of this converges to a single point. The fifth god arrives on earth. Not an incomplete god that has been sealed and scattered, but a true conceptual god created entirely from the bottom up.
This tips the scales. The balance is disrupted. The strongest power of the United Kingdom, its axis, collapses.
"It's thanks to you, Beolgreen. So, watch."
While eternally imprisoned in the frozen deep sea. Watch with your own eyes the end of your race.
Alexandr kicked the ice-trapped Beolgreen. The ice pillar was instantly sucked below the surface.
With a frozen smile, silently.
-Click.
In the darkness, a hand moved the queen.
-Click.
Beolgreen moved the knight without hesitation.