Azron was stepping out of the government office when a military guard came running toward him, urgency etched into every movement.
"Lord Azron, a warrior from the Raptor force has just arrived. General Rin and Sera were ambushed by Lord Lurion."
Azron's eyes widened at the news, the world around him seeming to fall into a sudden, suffocating silence. For a fleeting second, his chest tightened painfully at the sound of her name, a fear he rarely allowed himself clawing its way to the surface. Without hesitation, he immediately went to the military grounds to assemble the army, his steps sharp, driven by something far deeper than duty.
The Raptor warrior was gravely wounded. He was the only one left alive from his group, his body barely holding on, as if clinging to life just long enough to deliver the message.
"Where are they?" Azron asked the wounded warrior, his voice controlled, but beneath it, there was a dangerous urgency.
"Spine…mountains." He answered, catching his breath, barely alive.
Lord Azron hastily mounted his horse with his army. The moment the Western gates opened, Azron didn't waste a single heartbeat and rode out, as if every second lost was a second closer to losing her. His armies followed him without question.
His army was so vast that they nearly covered the entire field on the Western part outside Mort City, a force driven not only by command—but by the unspoken intensity radiating from their lord.
The army scattered into groups across the Spine Mountains to search for Sera and General Rin, their movements swift, urgent, relentless.
"My Lord, Lord Lurion and his men are spotted on the northern side," one of the warriors reported as Lord Azron rode along with his group.
Azron immediately turned his path toward where Lurion was spotted, his grip tightening around the reins, his mind burning with a single thought—Sera.
They intercepted them.
Azron tightened his grip on his sword as they met Lurion's troops. His gaze sharpened, darkened, at the sight of Lurion dashing forward as well, never denying his challenge—as if he had been waiting for this very moment.
Their swords clanged violently as they met, the force of it echoing through the battlefield. Around them, their troops clashed with brutal intensity and unwavering valor, steel against steel, life against death.
Lurion's and Azron's arms shook under the force they unleashed against each other. They were each other's nemesis. Their strength nearly matched, each strike carrying years of rivalry, hatred, and pride. It was only a matter of time to prove who was stronger. Among the four states, they were both equally feared—two forces destined to collide.
Their gazes locked as they both halted for a fraction of a second, breath heavy, tension suffocating.
"If you're here to save your woman…too bad. You were late…" Lurion said, chuckling demonically, his voice dripping with cruel amusement.
Azron gritted his teeth at his words, something dark flickering violently behind his eyes.
"She's already being feasted by the crocodiles in the Spine River as we speak. If you go now, maybe you can still save her bones, together with that General of yours and your prized Ghosthoof. It seems his legend ends here." Lurion continued as he laughed, savoring every word.
Azron let out a low groan as he dashed forward, rage surging through his entire being, uncontrollable, consuming.
Lurion continued to laugh while blocking Azron's attacks, though the laughter slowly strained against the sheer force behind them.
Azron was so angry that his strikes became brutal, relentless, each blow carrying something deeper than fury—fear, desperation, something raw and unguarded. It was as if he was finally unleashing a strength he had long kept buried. A strength even he didn't know existed—one born not from battle, but from the thought of losing her.
Lurion was slowly being overwhelmed by Azron's attacks, forced backward step by step, his footing faltering under the sheer intensity. Azron's strength dragged him back, relentless, merciless.
Azron released another powerful strike and Lurion blocked it. Their swords locked against each other, metal grinding, their faces close, their gazes colliding once more.
"She was feisty…but killing her was too easy…do you know why?" Lurion said as their blades remained locked, his voice low, taunting. "…she was too busy protecting the child inside her womb that she forgot to protect herself."
Child?
Azron's eyes widened at his words, the world around him suddenly falling silent again, the battlefield fading into nothing.
"That's right. She was pregnant. And now they're both dead! Your child…an extra payment for my brother's life!"
Lurion's words struck deeper than any blade ever could.
Azron's mind went blank.
His grip loosened.
His strength…vanished.
For a moment, he wasn't a warlord, nor a commander—just a man standing in the wreckage of something he didn't even know he had…until it was taken.
Lurion took the opportunity to push him away and flee. While Azron stood frozen, unmoving, the weight of those words crushing everything within him. He didn't even notice Lurion's men retreating, disappearing into the distance.
"Lord Azron!" General Dan called as he rode in with Wang and Jidu, leading the East, North, and Southern troops.
They had traveled to Raptor Fortress after discovering that Lurion had moved his army to the West. And knowing Sera was there, they hurried to warn General Rin and Sera. But when they arrived, they learned Lurion had already chased them, so they rushed to Mort City to aid.
"Lord Azron, are you okay?" General Wang asked, concern evident as they all looked at him.
Azron stood still, his gaze distant, his thoughts spiraling—her face, her voice, her...carrying his child.
Then slowly…his expression changed.
His face hardened, but beneath it was something deeper—something fragile, something desperate.
"Spine River. Sera and Rin fell to the river. Have the army search for them."
"Yes, Lord Azron!"
Before the three generals could depart, Azron stopped them.
"Wait."
His face shifted—not into command, but into something far more vulnerable. A plea. Raw. Unhidden. A look the generals had never seen on him before.
"Please find Sera…she's…pregnant with my child. Find her."
His voice was quieter now, but it carried a weight heavier than any order—a confession, a truth, a desperate hope he refused to let die.
The generals' eyes widened in shock, the weight of his words settling in. But they didn't hesitate. There was no time for disbelief.
They nodded and rode out immediately, ordering their men to search relentlessly toward the Spine River.
All four forces of the Mort army searched the Spine River, combing through its violent currents and treacherous edges, but they didn't find even a single trace of General Rin and Sera. Not a piece of clothing, not a weapon, not even a sign that they had ever been there.
Lord Azron was so consumed, so relentlessly focused on finding them, that he didn't pay attention to Lurion slipping away, retreating beyond Mort territory and returning safely to Vaiels State—as if vengeance had already been fulfilled.
The search went on for a day…two days…three…a week. Each passing day stretched longer than the last, heavy with dread and fragile hope. Yet still, they found nothing. No answer. No end.
Weeks had passed, yet the search did not cease. The river was scoured again and again, its depths feared but challenged. Even Lord Azron himself attempted to throw his body into the river, desperate enough to face its jaws and currents with his own hands—but his generals stopped him, restraining not just their lord, but a man unraveling under the weight of loss.
Months passed, and the search became known across all of Mort City and the other four states. Whispers turned into stories, and stories into mourning.
The news of Sera being pregnant with Lord Azron's child—and both of them lost to Lurion—spread like a shadow. Mort City was swallowed by sorrow—the unborn heir of Mort, gone before ever seeing the world.
The grief reopened old wounds, dragging back the memories of Azron's father and brothers, their deaths echoing once more through the halls of the state. It was as if tragedy had returned to claim what little peace remained.
Grand Ersi and Shrin mourned deeply at the thought of Sera's death, their grief quiet but suffocating. The entire Mort Mansion fell into silence, its once imposing walls now heavy with absence and regret.
Even Madam Han was devastated, her heart burdened with guilt that would not ease. She couldn't stop thinking—if only she had treated Sera differently, if only she had made her feel accepted, then Sera would not have left for the West…would not have crossed paths with Lurion…would not have died. And the child—their child—would still be alive.
But Azron never lost hope.
He refused to.
He continued the search with unwavering resolve, clinging to the belief that Sera and Rin were still alive somewhere beyond reach. As long as he had not seen their bodies…as long as there was no proof of their end…he would not accept it. He could not. To him, they were still breathing, still fighting, still waiting.
He believed in Rin and Sera's skills—believed in them with a certainty that refused to waver. They were not the kind to fall so easily, not to Lurion, not to anyone. The thought of them being defeated—without leaving even a trace—felt impossible to him, something his heart stubbornly refused to accept.
...
A year had passed since the incident. Slowly, life forced itself forward. Duties resumed, responsibilities returned, and some began to move on—at least on the surface. And eventually…the search stopped.
Azron had no choice.
He could not allow the army to abandon the borders forever. Mort State still needed its lord. Its people still needed protection. No matter how much it tore at him, he could not neglect what remained of his responsibilities.
He returned to being the Lord that Mort City had always known.
But something had changed.
He became colder. More brutal. More ruthless.
Losing Sera, his friend Rin—and the child he had only just learned to love…left a hollow space within him, deep and unhealing. A crater in his heart that nothing could fill. It hardened him, stripped away what softness he had begun to discover through her.
The other three states learned quickly not to provoke him. Whenever they dared to test him, Azron responded without mercy, without hesitation. He destroyed everything in his path with a terrifying finality, as if each battle was an outlet for the grief he could not release.
The other generals were devastated by the loss of General Rin. They mourned him quietly, each carrying their grief in silence. The entire army fell into a month-long stillness, a mourning that echoed through every rank and every post. They had lost not just a general—but a mentor, a brother, a pillar of strength.
Nothing was the same anymore.
Nothing ever would be.
…
FIVE YEARS LATER
Azron sat silently on the gazebo of Sera's house, the stillness around him almost sacred. It had become his ritual ever since a year after Sera and Rin's disappearance—a quiet, unspoken devotion he never failed to fulfill.
Every night, he returned to her house.
To her.
He would sit there and look at the things she left behind. Everything remained exactly as it was the day she disappeared. Nothing had been moved. Nothing had been touched. For five long years, Azron preserved it all—clinging to the illusion, the fragile comfort, that she might return and find everything waiting for her just as she left it.
The house breathed her presence.
It reminded him of her in ways both gentle and cruel.
The night he held her in his arms.
The warmth of her body against his.
The quiet moments they shared—unspoken, unfinished.
And with those memories came regret.
A sharp, unrelenting ache.
He regretted not telling her sooner. Not saying the words when he still had the chance. Not fighting harder to keep her by his side.
Though Azron had ordered the army to stop the search, he never truly stopped himself. In secret, he still returned to the Spine River, standing at its edge, staring into its depths as if it might one day return what it had taken. Hoping…always hoping…to find even the smallest trace of Sera and Rin.
Hope was the only thing he refused to bury.
The story of Lord Azron's devotion to Sera spread far beyond Mort City, carried by whispers and retold through time. The tale of a ruthless warlord who, for a brief moment, became tender when he discovered love—and who became even more merciless when he lost it.
A man who lost not only the woman he loved, but the child they had created together.
A sorrow so deep it reshaped him.
A love so unwavering it endured beyond loss.
He never remarried.
He never let her go.
And in a world that demanded strength above all else, Azron made one quiet, defiant declaration—
He named Sera Voren as the Lady of Mort.
A title given not out of duty…
but out of love.
A love that remained, unbroken, even in her absence.