“Phew.”
The capital of the Kaizell Empire: Walzard.
In the heart of the city stood the imposing Zesal Castle, a symbol of imperial grandeur and dominance that loomed over the capital skyline like a shadow cast by power itself. And from the rooftop of a distant building, a lone man glared at it with eyes as sharp and cold as a hawk surveying its prey.
His gaze swept over the city like a predator on the hunt. Every alley, every courtyard, every tower; nothing escaped his vision.
“It’s been a long time, way too long.”
The man spoke with a low, simmering voice, each word pushed through clenched teeth as if he was grinding his resolve into shape.
He lifted his head slightly and looked beyond the buildings, beyond the lights, as if he were seeing something far, far away.
“Just a little longer, and I’ll finally avenge you.”
The one he’d lost—someone irreplaceable—had died because of this empire. And for years, the man had followed every lead, every whisper, gathering information with tireless obsession.
And now… finally… it was time.
The man known as Hellsmoke was ready to claim his revenge.
In his hands was a bundle of worn documents: intel reports, maps, hand-drawn diagrams.
He flipped through them again, scanning repeatedly to ensure nothing had changed and that everything would proceed smoothly.
“Over the past few months, the Emperor has suddenly stopped showing his face,” he murmured, eyes narrowed. “No public appearances, not even in the audience chamber. Initially, I suspected he might have died… but I’ve personally seen servants still bringing food to his chambers. And if he were dead, he wouldn’t be directing those damn invasions anymore.”
These reports weren’t cheap. Hellsmoke had poured a fortune into gathering them, hiring multiple informants from all over the empire’s underworld. And he hadn’t just taken their word for it; he’d verified every detail himself, cross-referencing reports, watching troop movements, tracking diplomatic patterns in neighboring countries.
The man left nothing to chance.
“I didn’t rely on just my own eyes. I hired others and paid them well. Set watchers on the castle. And ever since that bastard locked himself in his chambers… every person who’s gone in eventually came out. Not one stayed behind. That means there are no guards left inside. Not anymore.”
The Emperor of the Kaizell Empire suddenly going into isolation was strange, even concerning. But to Hellsmoke, the cause was irrelevant.
All that mattered was: Right now, the throne was vulnerable. And that made this… the perfect moment to strike.
“That bastard Helio, the so-called Phantom Mage and one of the king’s closest advisors, is neck-deep in coordinating the empire’s invasions,” Hellsmoke muttered under his breath. “And for some reason, even that Kingblade bastard isn’t guarding the king anymore. Looks like he’s off running his own little op.”
As the alias Kingblade crossed his mind, Hellsmoke recalled his past battle with the man known as Zakia, a memory laced with pain and anger.
And with it, the word he himself had once spat out with contempt: puppet.
“Heh. Looks like he’s not a puppet anymore…”
The thought hung in the air for a moment before Hellsmoke pulled a cigarette from his coat—a signature habit—and lit it with a practiced flick of his lighter.
He exhaled slowly, smoke curling around his lips.
“Well, whatever. Right around the time the king went into lockdown, that bastard Helio started pumping out Transcendants using some kind of artifact. It was like a damn nightmare, but fortunately, all those enhanced freaks are off fighting a war right now… with Helio. Which means I don’t have to deal with them.”
Hellsmoke had once considered the possibility that even the Emperor himself, Sheldt, might have used the artifact and become a Transcendant. But at this point, it didn’t matter.
If he had, then so be it.
Compared to everything Hellsmoke had prepared for, that possibility barely registered as a threat.
“The last problem would be the king’s personal assassins, but according to the info I bought, they’ve been deployed on assignments by Helio,” he said with a bitter chuckle. “At this point, who’s really running the empire?”
He blew another plume of smoke into the night sky.
“This is it. You couldn’t ask for a better opportunity. The bastard king is completely unprotected.”
Under normal circumstances, someone of the Emperor’s rank would never be left unguarded.
And if anyone was to stand at his side, it would’ve been Zakia, the Kingblade himself.
But Zakia wasn’t there.
In fact, his entire Second Division had vanished from the public eye, now operating somewhere deep in the shadows of the Kaizell Empire. And based on the intelligence gathered, Zakia was personally leading them.
That alone meant only one thing: Zakia was planning something. He was no longer the king’s sword. He was acting independently. And whatever it was he was preparing to do… it wasn’t guarding the throne.
With Zakia gone, Hellsmoke had no reason to hesitate.
Because in this empire, Zakia was the strongest man alive. If he wasn’t present, then there was no one left who could truly stop him.
Helio might still pose a threat, sure. The Phantom Mage had his reputation. But Hellsmoke had prepared for him, too. Nothing Helio could do would derail his plan now.
He took another drag of his cigarette, eyes narrowing as he glared at the audience chamber windows of Zesal Castle.
“Honestly… I’d love to just shoot the bastard from this distance and be done with it.”
But it wasn’t that simple.
He’d already tried that once. And ever since that failed assassination attempt, the castle had implemented countermeasures.
Direct sniping was no longer an option.
For Hellsmoke, the task wasn’t impossible, just difficult. But his goal wasn’t attempting to kill Sheldt; it was succeeding in killing him. And with no sign of the Emperor anywhere near the windows, there was nothing to aim for. A clean shot was out of the question.
He crushed the half-burned cigarette between his fingers, dropped it to the rooftop, and lit another.
“Hah. All right, time to move.”
Exhaling once to steady his heartbeat, Hellsmoke stepped off the edge of the building and plunged into the air. His coat snapped in the wind as he landed silently on the next rooftop, then the next, moving like a shadow toward Zesal Castle.
Tonight’s operation was built on timing, and the current situation offered the best he was ever likely to get.
More than that, this was the culmination of years of preparation. Ever since Zakia had thwarted his first attempt, Hellsmoke had pushed his body beyond its limits.