In Iceland, a building resembling a church stood tall. Yet, this structure wasn't a house of worship—it was the headquarters of the Shadow Pavilion. Inside, the atmosphere was thick with tension, every corner of the room heavy with the weight of decisions yet to be made.
The Shadow Pavilion, an assassin organization originally founded by Americans, had moved to Iceland over twenty years ago. Over time, it had evolved into the most formidable assassin network in the country. But recently, the Pavilion had stopped taking on missions, its operations grinding to a halt.
Why?
Because the Kingslayer Alliance had been putting the pressure on them. The message was clear: surrender or perish.
The Shadow Pavilion was governed by three major palaces: the Pluto Palace, the Yaksa Palace, and the Blood Prison Hall. Today, the three kings of these palaces gathered to discuss the future of the organization.
All three kings were in agreement—the Kingslayer Alliance was expanding at an alarming rate, and to resist them would be suicide. Their only choice, as they saw it, was to join the alliance.
At the head of the meeting sat Thomson Hutch, a middle-aged man with a thick mustache. He was the master of the Shadow Pavilion. His face, usually calm and commanding, now showed signs of deep concern.
Hearing the three kings' proposals, Thomson's brow furrowed. "Joining the Kingslayer Alliance means we would be fully antagonizing the martial arts world of the United States. Are you all certain this is the right choice?"
Thomson's hesitation was clear. His reputation and the Pavilion's legacy were important to him, and giving in to the Kingslayer Alliance felt like a betrayal. But he knew the alternative was likely extinction.
The king of the Bloodshed Palace, an elderly man with a deep red complexion, was the first to speak. "Master, the martial arts world of the United States changed dramatically the day the Oracle King died. The current martial arts world holds little threat to us. If we don't join the Kingslayer Alliance, we will be left behind or destroyed."
The stocky king of the Pluto Palace chimed in, "The Kingslayer Alliance will eventually unify the entire martial arts world. It is better to join them now than face annihilation later. Besides, we have no other choice."
The Kingslayer Alliance's reach was vast, and their ambitions clear. They sought to control martial artist organizations worldwide. For the Shadow Pavilion, resistance wasn't an option. If they refused, the Kingslayer Alliance would simply wipe them out and establish their own assassin network in Iceland.
Their power was undeniable. With cutting-edge genetic modification technology, the Kingslayer Alliance could create soul realm warriors on a massive scale. They believed they could conquer everything.
Behind the two kings sat the king of the Yaksa Palace, a man who had yet to speak. His presence, however, was just as resolute as the others. The time had come for the Shadow Pavilion to submit, and his silence echoed the thoughts of the other kings.
Thomson sighed. "I understand your reasoning. The Kingslayer Alliance is powerful, and perhaps submitting is the only option for survival. But… there is something that doesn't sit right with me. The Kingslayer Alliance itself is insulting. Even the name, 'Kingslayer,' is a mockery of the King of Horizon. How can we ally with such an organization?"
The king of the Bloodshed Palace scoffed, his voice dripping with disdain. "Master, we've been living in Iceland for over twenty years. The blood of the United States no longer runs in our veins. I would rather be Icelandic than remain tied to a dying country."
Thomson's eyes narrowed, his voice colder. "I am not like you. I have lived in Iceland for more than two decades, yet I will never forget that I am an American citizen."
The king of the Bloodshed Palace didn't hold back, sneering at Thomson's sentimentality. "Does it really matter whether you're American or not? The United States has abandoned us. Why hold on to such an outdated identity?"
Thomson's jaw tightened as the words sank in. He understood the king's point, but something deep inside him still refused to let go of his roots. He wasn't ready to let the shadow of the United States fade completely from his identity.
The silence in the room was broken by a voice—soft but firm.
"Master," said the king of the Yaksa Palace, his voice tinged with an edge of accusation, "You speak of American loyalty, but should I remind you that it was the United States that betrayed us first? It wasn't just the Martial Arts League that turned their back on us. It was the entire system. The Moore family... they are the ones who failed us."
The words hung heavily in the air. For a moment, Thomson's gaze grew distant, his mind turning back to the past. The betrayal he had suffered at the hands of his homeland. The Yaksa king's words had struck a chord deep within him.
The three kings now spoke as equals to Thomson. Their growing power meant they no longer saw themselves as subordinates. They had come to discuss their future, but it was clear they were no longer concerned with Thomson's approval.
"If you are unwilling to join the Kingslayer Alliance," the king of the Bloodshed Palace said with a hint of finality, "then we will find our own way. The three of us will leave the Pavilion, and we will no longer be tied to your decisions."
Thomson's face darkened. The three kings were no longer asking for his approval—they were laying out their own path. They had already made their choice.
"Fine," Thomson said after a long silence. "But let me remind you of one thing. It wasn't the United States that betrayed us. It was the Martial Arts League and the Moore family. If we forget that, then we have truly lost everything."
The king of the Bloodshed Palace nodded, still resolute. "There's no difference. The Martial Arts League is the face of the United States, and the Moore family represents its soul. They are the same. And now, they are both rotten to the core."
The conversation had taken a darker turn, and Thomson's mood grew colder. "What about the Oracle Palace?" he suddenly asked, his voice cutting through the tension.
The three kings looked at each other, their expressions a mix of confusion and realization. The Oracle Palace. The name seemed to send a chill through the room.
The king of the Bloodshed Palace spoke first, his voice thick with disdain. "The Oracle Palace? They are just another puppet of the Martial Arts League. They did nothing while we suffered. They are as rotten as the rest."
The king of the Yaksa Palace nodded. "Agreed. The Oracle Palace and the Martial Arts League are cut from the same cloth."
Thomson's voice grew cold. "You three are becoming bolder. How dare you speak so flippantly about the Oracle King?"
The name "Oracle King" had been uttered, but it was the name "King of Horizon" that made Thomson's heart race. It wasn't a mere slip of the tongue—it was reverence, awe. In his mind, the Oracle King was not a figure to be mocked.
"I am not talking about the Oracle King," Thomson continued, his voice sharp. "I am speaking of the King of Horizon. Do you have the audacity to speak of him like that?"
The name sent an icy shiver down their spines. The King of Horizon. No one dared utter his name lightly.
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