MIGHT AS WELL BE OP-Chapter 341: Forgotten
On the Blue planet, deep within the heart of the Elf Domain, a grand castle stood with an imposing majesty, exuding an aura of timeless supremacy.
The landscape was a vast sea of verdant life, towering trees stretched endlessly, their branches spiraling in intricate patterns, while lush vegetation wove an unbroken tapestry of emerald hues.
Nature flourished in every direction, untamed yet harmonious.
Elves moved with effortless grace, their lithe figures flitting between branches as though gravity held no claim over them.
They danced through the treetops, their movements a mesmerizing blend of agility and elegance, embodying the very spirit of their enchanted realm.
Amidst this spectacle of nature, the grand castle stood in stark contrast, the sole structure untouched by wood.
Within its vast halls, upon a throne befitting his stature, sat a dignified being.
His eyes remained closed, a leg casually crossed over the other, one elbow resting upon the armrest while his head reclined against his fist in a pose of serene authority.
Though he neither moved nor exuded any aura, his mere presence commanded the very essence of the air itself, rendering it heavy with an intangible force.
His existence alone was enough to assert dominion over all within his gaze.
But then, a ripple disturbed the stillness.
The grand doors leading to the throne room parted with deliberate grace, their movement scarcely making a sound, yet heralding the arrival of another presence.
An elf.
He moved without a whisper, his steps so light that even the ancient stones beneath him did not dare echo his passage.
Approaching the throne with practiced elegance, he halted before the sovereign figure and bowed deeply, his voice measured and reverent.
"Greetings, Your Majesty"
The words resonated through the chamber, and in response, the being upon the throne stirred.
His eyelashes fluttered open, revealing eyes that held the weight of centuries.
Aeltharion Moonwhisper—the Elf King, fixed his gaze upon his Royal Advisor.
"What brings you this time?"
His voice, imbued with ageless wisdom, carried a gravity that seemed to permeate the very air.
With a composed yet deferential expression, the Royal Advisor straightened from his bow.
"The time for your decennial family dinner has arrived, Your Majesty"
At his words, Aeltharion responded without hesitation.
"Send word, I will not be attending this time"
For the briefest moment, a flicker of surprise crossed the Royal Advisor's face before vanishing into practiced composure.
The decennial family dinner was a tradition the Elf King had upheld for centuries, a sacred gathering held once every ten years.
Though it was merely a meal, its significance ran far deeper.
It was a time when every direct descendant, from his sons to his grandchildren, convened under one roof.
No cousins, no extended family, only those who carried his bloodline in its purest form.
Attendance was not a choice; it was an unspoken decree.
Aeltharion had never once absented himself.
Unlike many of his level, who over time grew distant from all but their immediate offspring, he had always ensured that his lineage remained connected.
Yet now, for the first time, he chose not to go.
"Forgive my impudence, my Lord, but may I ask, why have you not moved?"
The Royal Advisor's voice was measured, but beneath his deference lay a quiet concern.
Something was amiss.
That much he could sense.
Yet, despite being the Elf King's most trusted confidant, he knew nothing of its cause.
For weeks, he had scoured the Elf Domain, seeking any clue that might explain his sovereign's unyielding stillness.
Yet no answers revealed themselves.
There were no disturbances, no threats lurking in the shadows, nothing to justify the king's prolonged seclusion.
Aeltharion had remained motionless for over two months.
Since the departure of the delegates.
He had not left the throne room. He had not taken a single step beyond those gilded doors.
He had only sat.
Waiting.
If something were amiss, he would have acted without hesitation.
Yet even in the absence of crisis, he waited still, for their return.
Aeltharion responded with quiet finality.
"There is no need to th—"
His words halted abruptly.
A sudden shift in the air. A tremor in the fabric of the world itself.
His head snapped to the side, then skyward.
He had felt it.
Something had breached the barrier, an unseen force slipping past the veil that shielded their planet from the vast expanse beyond.
'They are here'
The thought resonated within him, weighty and certain.
"Your Majesty, what is wrong?"
The Royal Advisor asked, his voice laced with growing concern.
He had seen the flicker of urgency in Aeltharion's gaze, the sharp shift in his demeanor.
But the Elf King did not answer.
In the blink of an eye, he vanished.
His presence, vast and commanding, simply ceased to exist.
The Royal Advisor stood in silence, his frown deepening.
He had no way of knowing where Aeltharion had gone.
And even if he did, he could not follow.
Across the vast expanse of the world, in every great domain, its sovereigns stirred.
Kings, queens, and patriarchs, each attuned to the delicate balance of their realms, felt the same disturbance ripple through existence.
Without hesitation, they moved.
Like streaks of light and shadow, they cut through the skies, leaving behind only echoes of their formidable presence.
The air itself trembled beneath their might as they converged upon a single point, a place now tainted by the arrival of the known force.
In mere moments, they had all arrived.
Elara Bloodmoon—the Vampire Queen, her crimson gaze shimmering with ancient dubiousness and silent menace.
Kaelen Wildhart—the Demi-Human King, his presence a tempest of raw, untamed power.
Aeltharion Moonwhisper—the Elf King, his expression unreadable, yet his stillness carried the weight of ages.
Irene Crimson—the Saintess of the World, draped in an aura of divinity, her very presence suffused with an otherworldly radiance.
Suspended in the sky, they exchanged measured nods, acknowledgments of both presence and purpose.
No words were needed.
They all understood.
The airship's speed gradually decreased as it descended into the Blue Planet's atmosphere.
With a soft hum and a controlled thud, it touched down gracefully upon the land.
The moment it settled, the enchantments shrouding it in invisibility dissipated, revealing its sleek form to the world once more.
A faint hiss echoed as the hatch unsealed, opening with mechanical precision.
Anthony and the other delegates stepped out.
Before they could fully take in their surroundings, a voice resonated through the air, clear, commanding, and unmistakable.
"You all are back"
Elara Bloodmoon.
Her words carried effortlessly, reaching every ear like an undeniable decree.
Then, they found themselves turning toward something, or rather, someone, who should not have been there.
Klaus.
A presence unaccounted for.
A mystery in his very existence aboard the ship.
None knew how he had arrived.
Yet, as if utterly unbothered by their scrutiny, Klaus merely smiled.
With a dismissive wave, he spoke, his voice laced with an eerie nonchalance.
"I suppose my time here has come to an end"
And just as his words faded into the air, so did he.
Vanishing. Without a trace.
All eyes shifted back to the returning delegates, figures who had embarked on a journey spanning months.
Questions burned in their minds.
Yet none were voiced.
The walls had ears.
The wind carried whispers.
And in this world, even silence could be stolen.
Without a single word, an unspoken consensus passed between them all.
The need for secrecy was absolute.
There was only one place where their voices could not be reached, where no artifact, technique, or skill could pry into their discussions.
The Sanctuary.
A place of power.
A place of decisions.
It was there that they had once gathered to deliberate on the fate of their prodigies, to name the representatives of their races.
It was there that the decree of the Bloodbath had been sealed.
And it was there, beyond the reach of the Blue Planet itself, that they would convene once more.
With a silent nod.
They vanished.
A blip in space. A whisper in existence.
Anthony stood there, unmoving, his expression blank.
'Did they… forget me?'
The thought drifted through his mind, absurd yet entirely justified.
Because they had.
In their urgency, in their silent understanding, they had vanished, leaving him behind.
Anthony hadn't even had the chance to register their speed, let alone attempt to follow.
He simply stood there, dazed, staring at the empty space where they had once been.
Then, a voice, deep, calm, and laced with quiet helplessness, reverberated in his ears.
"Ahem. Apologies. We were in a bit of a hurry"
Michael.
Before Anthony could respond, a firm hand settled on his shoulder.
And in the next instant.
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They vanished.
