The Damned Demon

The royal study hall was a sanctum of quiet concentration, where Rowena was engrossed in scrolls and old texts spread across her desk, the dark ember light casting soft shadows over her focused expression.

Now that the diplomatic relations with the Nightshade Kingdom were a huge success, there was so much to plan regarding resource allocation.

However, the delicate ambiance shifted subtly as Asher entered the hall.

His presence alone seemed to draw the tension out of the air, replacing it with a sense of warmth.

Rowena looked up from her scrolls, her demeanor softening into a gentle smile, "Where were you? I thought I told you to take srest after you spent weeks traveling outside," Rowena felt more guilty since she felt as the queen she should have been the one to do it but since Asher insisted that she had to take care of her duties here and that it was also his duty, she couldn't refute him.

Asher returned her smile with a wry one of his own, "I was trying to seek sanswers and trying to put together whatever I learned from Kayla."

Rowena's smile faded, replaced by a quick flicker of concern, "What do you mean?" she asked, her voice dropping to a more serious tone.

Asher moved closer, his steps measured as he rounded the desk to stand beside her. Leaning against the desk, he met her gaze squarely, "You said you suspected Rebecca of doing something to your mother because of their hostility against each other, right?"

Rowena's brows furrowed, her face clouding with a mix of past grief and unresolved anger, "My mother had tried to be nice to Rebecca when they were young, but Rebecca was too opportunistic, especially after marrying into our House and trying to usefor her iniquitous ambitions. So it was a given my mother had to show Rebecca her place. But because of that, Rebecca held deep resentment towards her. What was there to stop her from backstabbing my mother when nobody was watching? If only my father hadn't ordered us to stop investigations, I could have done something," she said, frustration and confusion filling her eyes, unable to still understand certain decisions of her father.

"Rebecca didn't do it," Asher interjected sharply, his statement cutting through the tense air like a blade.

Rowena's reaction was instantaneous; her eyes widened, and she reached out to grasp his hand, her voice carrying a hint of disbelief, "What? How do you know that?"

Asher's expression was grim yet resolute, "From what Kayla toldand from what I know about Rebecca, she can't be the culprit. A mindforce expert has to be the culprit, even though they could have had help. But I have a feeling that the woman Kayla vaguely remembered has to be the mastermind," he explained, his voice steady with conviction.

Rowena pressed her lips together, her brows knitting together in thought, "A woman with a black gown similar to the noble women in our House wear...Who else other than Rebecca could be that woman? Or were they in sdisguise?" She sighed heavily, the weight of uncertainty pressing down on her, "Now things seem even more uncertain. Whoever planned all this is no less a threat than the draconians. We don't know when they might attack us again to sabotage our kingdom."

Asher's gaze hardened, a protective fire lighting in his eyes, "I am here now. I won't let anyone backstab us, even if it's someone from within our House. You know that I don't trust easily. Nobody can hurt us if they can't get close to us," he reassured her, his determination palpable.

With those words, he resolved internally to return to Earth and continue strengthening himself. The threats looming over them were constant, but Asher was sure that the stronger he got, the less he had to worry about these threats.

The study hall was now bathed in the soft glow of the blood moonlight filtering through the high windows.

It was a sanctuary of silence and solitude for Rowena as she delved into the night's duties without a moment's rest.

Rowena was almost done with her duties, and before her lay a neat stack of letters and scrolls—communications from allies and noble houses within her kingdom, each demanding attention and thoughtful response.

As she reached for the next piece of correspondence, a peculiar scroll caught her eye.

Unlike the others, it was wrapped in black, an ominous contrast to the usual parchment. Intrigued and curious, Rowena picked it up, her fingers tracing the strange seal that kept it closed.

Breaking the seal with a soft snap, she unrolled the scroll, revealing glowing crimson letters that seemed to pulse with an eerie life of their own. There was only one sentence, stark and chilling:

[ The man who killed your father is still around you. ]

Rowena's breath caught in her throat, her crimson eyes widening in shock.

The scroll slipped from her trembling fingers, landing with a soft thud on the table.

Her mind raced—the Golden Prince, the Hunter who had slain her father, was long dead. His severed head was a morbid trophy in her possession, a cold comfort for vengeance she had never personally exacted and always felt regret for.

The message gnawed at her, unsettling her with its implications. Could this be a ploy by the draconians, or another enemy seeking to destabilize her mentally by dredging up the past? Her heart pounded as she considered the possibilities, each more incredulous than the last.

No matter how much she thought about it, not even the draconians would use such unreasoned methods to unsettle her. It would be something similar to what they did recently by bribing her kingdom's allies.

Everyone in this world knew who killed her father, and so this letter only appeared even more unbelievable.

With a decisive motion, Rowena crumpled the scroll in her hand. Crimson flames leapt from her palm, consuming the parchment in a fiery blaze that left nothing but ashes fluttering to the floor..

She resolved to dismiss the letter as a distasteful hoax, turning her attention back to the remaining letters with a hardened expression.

However, as the night deepened and the castle around her settled into slumber, the haunting image of her father's face lingered stubbornly in her thoughts.

Despite her attempts to focus on her duties and forget about the letter, the strange message weaved its way through her mind, a specter refusing to be banished, stirring old memories.

On Earth,

In a certain hall, a grand conclave assembled under the auspices of the World Hunters' Association (WHA), buzzed with an undercurrent of palpable anticipation and suspense.

Within its expansive, meticulously designed interior, nearly 200 world leaders and presidents gathered, each representing their respective nations.

This unprecedented meeting, cloaked in secrecy regarding its agenda, had drawn the attention of media personnel from across the globe, who jostled for prpositions to capture every moment of the historic event.

The atmosphere was thick with curiosity and a hint of tension, as not a single leader among the assembly knew the purpose of this urgent summons.

The seriousness with which the WHA President had called for this full assembly suggested that the topic was anything but trivial.

There were swho initially refused but ended up coming here anyway for certain 'reasons' they were too embarrassed to admit.

Off to the side, Rachel and Arthur occupied a bench, their attention intermittently caught by the flurry of camera flashes illuminating sof the world's most renowned Hunters.

Icons like Lenny, the SuprCommander of the WHA, and Lena, the Chief Advisor, were under particular scrutiny as they were two of the key figures of the WHA and closely worked with the president.

Arthur leaned towards Rachel, his voice low and tinged with curiosity, "What do you think your dad is going to discuss with every leader across the world?"

Rachel, maintaining her composed demeanor, shook her head slightly, "He hasn't even told me. We will know anyway in a couple of minutes," she replied, her gaze drifting towards Lenny and Lena.

She knew of their involvement in the murky circumstances surrounding Cedric's death and suspected that, other than her dad, they should also know what happened on that day.

Arthur sighed, a frown creasing his forehead as he glanced around the hall, "Sigh, I wonder when my combat advisor is going to reshis duties fully. He only shows his face for a couple of minutes every day before disappearing. I don't know how long I can keep making excuses to your dad before he finds out."

Rachel offered a reassuring shake of her head, her tone laced with certainty, "Don't worry about it. I already informed my dad, and Amelia's dad will also cover for him. But as you know, Ash is having trouble with taking care of his adoptive grandmother. She was the one who raised him in the orphanage, so he will be back soon once he has made sure she is alright and happy."

Arthur waved his hands, nodding in understanding, "Of course. I didn't mean that he should not take care of his grandmother. I was just—"

His words were cut short by a sudden hush that descended upon the room. All conversations ceased, and every eye turned towards the entrance as the large main doors swung open.

A man, distinguished in a blue and white suit with a delicately carved blue eyepatch covering his right eye, stepped into the hall.

His presence garnered immediate respect and attention, prompting all the officers and guards to salute sharply.

The president of the WHA, Derek Sterling, had made his appearance.