Blood trickled down his chest, warm and slow, sliding over his scarred muscles.
Kane didn’t look down at the fresh scratches.
Instead, he met Sylvara’s calculating green eyes, refusing to give her the reaction she desperately wanted.
"What do you propose?" Kane asked, letting his shoulders slump slightly against the chains to feign fatigue.
Sylvara wiped her bloody fingertips on a conjured silk cloth, tossing it onto the stone floor with a look of utter disdain.
"I want to take over Milfheim."
Kane blinked, genuinely surprised by the pivot, and a laugh bubbled up in his chest before he could stop it.
"Can’t happen. My wife’s mother rules it. And trust me, that woman is not someone you want to share a border with."
"And I will kill your wife," Sylvara replied without missing a beat, her tone as casual as if she were discussing the weather.
’I’m going to smash her head into this stone wall,’ Kane thought, his hands clenching into fists until his knuckles turned white.
’I am going to break her delicate neck and throw it aside. She talks about murdering my family like she is planning a garden party.’
Rage flared hot and bright in his chest, yet he forced his face to remain a mask of bored amusement because losing his temper now would only prove her right.
"What for?"
Kane challenged, tilting his head to maintain intense eye contact.
"You hold the World-Tree. That is the single most important thing that keeps the world together. You have endless mana, infinite resources, and the highest elevation on the continent. Why Milfheim?"
"Her army is strong," Sylvara admitted, turning to pace the length of the cell while her emerald gown whispered against the stone floor.
"I need them."
"For what? To guard your jewelry?"
"For the devils, of course."
She stopped, looking at him as if he were a slow child who couldn’t grasp basic arithmetic.
"If the devils start appearing, I will need a vanguard to protect my empire."
’Devils.’ Kane’s mind went completely blank for a split second.
’The end-game antagonists. The strongest race in the game, whose appearance always indicates the nightmare difficulty stage. Have they formed yet? Damn it. I was too busy playing king, building trade routes, and worrying about arrogant elves that I completely forgot the actual threat.’
A sudden chime echoed directly inside his skull.
A familiar blue interface materialized in his field of vision, the text glowing with urgent red warning signs that illuminated the dim cell.
[Warning: Supreme Devil Appearance in 100 days.]
[New Quest: Unite the great five empires to prepare for the war.]
[Reward: Berserker Barbarian armor. Ultimate command over every army.]
[Failure: Death of your loved ones.]
Kane read the glowing letters three times.
’One hundred days. That is nothing. It takes thirty days just to march across the plains. And I have to unite five empires? Empires that currently want to slaughter each other?’
Panic pierced through his usual arrogance because the penalty for failure made his stomach drop.
Death of his loved ones. Elara. Thora. Sira. Firlia. Seraphine. Misha. Everyone he had bled to protect would be gone.
Sylvara watched his eyes track the invisible text, a mocking smirk playing on her lips.
"You are quiet, Barbarian. Did the reality of your insignificance finally set in?"
"No," Kane said, snapping his focus back to the Elf Queen.
"I was just recalculating my schedule. We have exactly one hundred days until a Supreme Devil tears a hole in the sky."
Sylvara flinched, her perfect composure finally slipping as her green eyes widened.
"How do you know about the Supreme class? That knowledge is strictly restricted to the High Council."
"I know a lot of things, Sylvara. I know your kinetic barriers will shatter in seconds against hellfire, and I know your stargazers are lying to you about how much time you actually have left."
"You are lying to save your own skin."
"Am I?" Kane grinned, leaning forward as far as the silver chains would allow.
"Unchain me right now, and let’s go check your astrological charts together. If I am wrong, you can execute me yourself in the public square."
"And if you are right?"
"Then you are going to bow to me."
"I bow to no one!"
"You will bow, or you will burn," Kane stated simply, his commanding voice echoing loudly in the cold cell.
"Because Milfheim cannot save you. The World-Tree cannot save you. If you want to live past the next three months, you need to unite the five empires under one banner. And I am the only one who can lead them."
"You are insane. You are a chained prisoner in my lowest cell, bleeding on my floor, and you demand command of my forces?"
"I am the only one who knows how to fight what is coming out of those rifts."
"I have generals who have studied war for centuries!"
"And they have only fought other mortals," Kane shot back, his voice dropping into a dangerous growl.
"Devils don’t care about your hanging bridges or your royal bloodlines. They don’t negotiate, and they don’t take prisoners. They will burn this entire forest from the roots up just to watch the ashes fall."
Silence stretched between them. Sylvara stared at him, searching his face for any trace of a bluff, but found only cold, undeniable certainty.
"You speak as if you have seen them," she whispered.
"I know exactly how they fight." Kane met her gaze, letting the glowing blue light in his own eyes flare brighter to match the system interface still hovering in his peripheral vision.
"Kill my wife, and I will let the devils turn your city into a graveyard. Work with me, and we might actually live to see next year. So, Queen Sylvara. Let me ask you again. What do you propose?"
Sylvara’s lips pressed into a tight, bloodless line. She despised being cornered, especially by a man she viewed as a mere savage.
"I will speak with my seer," she stated, her voice entirely stripped of its previous arrogance.
"If your timeline is a lie, Warlord, I will return with a blade instead of an offer."
She turned on her heel and walked out, her emerald gown whispering against the floor. The iron door clicked shut, sealing him inside.
Kane let out a slow breath, letting his aching muscles relax against his binds.
’One hundred days,’ he thought, staring at the ceiling. ’I need to break out of these chains fast, or we are all dead.’