Lord of Annihilation

Sitting behind an enormous golden desk fitted with resplendent, colorful gems and filled with stacks of paper, was a portly man with a round face and a sapphire-colored gem on his forehead. 

His hand held onto an exquisitely crafted quill which scribbled on the paper before him. Making a few corrections there, signing his name over here, the portly man quickly and methodically worked through the mountains of paperwork.

After blowing through a few stacks of paper, the quill on his hand suddenly paused and a noticeable frown appeared on his face. 

Reading through the paper before him once more, the frown on the portly man's rotund face grew deeper as he solemnly uttered a name.

"Uriel."

His deep voice resounded endlessly through the empty room and into the long corridor that lied before. Repeating through the pure-white marble walls, his voice continued to echo farther and farther away.

After what seemed like an eternity, the echo finally came to an end and silence resumed.

Not for long though, as almost immediately after, the sound of metal striking against the marble floors sounded out.

Tack! Tack! Tack! Tack!

The thumping sound continued to increase in volume and intensity, as it progressively got closer to the room with the portly man within. 

The latter's eyes continued to remain focused on the sheet of paper before him, unaffected by the deafening sound that echoed. His narrowed eyes seemingly bored into the paper when suddenly a smooth voice spoke.

"You called, your highness?"

Raising his head, the portly man saw the expressionless face of a woman possessing peerless beauty. 

Her figure which stood tall and straight was covered in golden knight armor, with a shield mounted on her back and a sword sheathed at her waist. Golden hair whose resplendence overshadowed even the sun cascaded down her head, framing her face and covering her back.

This woman, who was called Uriel by the portly man, was the Grand Alcana Empire's Sword of Dawn, an expert that stood at the very apex of the Middle-Region and a powerhouse with Peak-Level Stage 5 strength.

Seeing her arrival, the portly man indifferently raised the sheet of paper in his hand and showed it to her. With an impatient tone, he asked.

"Who is this?"

On the parchment held in the portly man's hand was a picture of Lucius followed by a list of his information. It had largely changed since the last time it had been read out by Olivia.

[Name: Lucius]

[Known Aliases: Black Blade, The Last Nightmare, The Demon of Shangri-La, Corpse Collector, Crimson Death…14 others.]

[Power Level: Quasi-Peak Level Stage 4. Possess the ability to combat Low-Level Stage 5]

[Race: Nightmare (confirmed)]

[Soul Type: Killer-archetype.]

[Evil Subjugation Ranking: 26 (↑13)

[Current Bounty: Undefined]

Reading his sheet containing the newly updated information, Uriel monotonously replied.

"Name: Lucius. Known Aliases: Black Blade, The Last Nightmare, The Demo—"

SLAM!

The portly man rose from his seat, fiercely slammed the table with his fists, and roared, "Stop repeating the information written on the paper!"

"It was Your Highness' order, asking me who this person was," Uriel flatly replied.

"You—Impudent!" The portly man roared with a heaving chest. The anger within his heart peaked, before suddenly cooling down.

Sitting back down, he asked with irritation, "I was asking for your opinion on this person."

Uriel seemingly paused in thought for a few seconds before curtly answering, "Very good looking."

Hearing her answer, the veins on the portly man's face bulged and threatened to burst out. The rhombus-shaped gem on his forehead rapidly alternated between intense brightness and darkness, capturing his current mental state.

Realizing that it was useless to ask for any constructive opinion from this stone block of a woman, he suppressed his rising irritation and spoke.

"I don't know which hole this bastard crawled out from; however, his seemingly random acts of terrorism over the last eight months have been expertly aimed at destabilizing and crippling the foundations of the six factions at war for the throne."

Taking a deep breath, he collected his thoughts and continued.

"I don't know what his motives are, or which force he represents. Alas, I cannot rest in peace knowing that such an unstable variable has appeared on the board while the day of my enthronement draws close."

"I want him to disappear."

He declared with a chilling tone, murderous intent filling his voice. 

Seeing such a reaction from the Crown Prince, Uriel soullessly asked, "Are you asking me to kill him?"

Hearing her words, a look of conflict appeared within the portly man's eyes. The frown on his forehead deepened further as he seemingly struggled to make a decision.

After an inordinate amount of time, he grimly spoke.

"No. I do not want to use one of my two remaining chances on him."

"Oh," Uriel neutrally voiced.

"Also, I do not want to kill him before learning who he works for. I cannot afford to overlook the slightest piece of information, especially now that my Royal Uncle has suddenly gone silent."

Lifting his head, he stared into Uriel's expressionless face with clear eyes and continued.

"Pass down my orders. Instruct the Sunrise Army to capture this bastard and put him in 'that' place."

"Understood," vocalizing her affirmation, Uriel performed a slight bow before turning around to leave the room.

Just as she was about to take her last step outside the room, she was stopped by the portly man.

"Wait!"

Turning around, she shot a deadpan look towards the Crown Prince. 

"Have the forces sent by King Elysion to join the Sunset Army. I do not want to take any chances with this bastard." (AN: Elysion is the Elven King)

Nodding her head, Uriel turned around and walked out of the room.

The Crown Prince, who remained standing, looked at the picture on the sheet of paper within his heart and inwardly wondered.

'Who do you belong to…Lucius? What is your motive?'

Unable to come up with an answer, he crumpled the paper and threw it inside the bin by his side. Sitting back on his luxurious chair, he took the finely-crafted quill into his hand and continued with his paperwork.

The sound of the quill scratching the paper and that of sheets rustling filled the room once more.