Peakwest 2 : Berserk, Blood And Peace

૮ɦαρƭε૨ 245

P͟e͟a͟k͟w͟e͟s͟t͟ 2͟   | υρ∂αтισи

____________________________________

In the dimly lit throne room of Agiadd's castle, Muzan’s surprise had not yet waned as he continued to pore over the status report. His eyes, previously filled with disbelief, now narrowed in intense focus as he scanned the numbers and names listed. The room was quiet, save for the soft rustling of the report's parchment.

Suddenly, Muzan’s gaze fell upon a specific detail that caused his eyes to widen in astonishment.

The report detailed an extraordinary feat: AlanJoel, an individual from the Heavenlys, had single-handedly destroyed 22 castles within just one day. The number was staggering, and Muzan's mind struggled to reconcile this new information.

“How is this possible?” Muzan muttered under his breath, his voice barely a whisper. “AlanJoel is supposed to be dead. How could he have accomplished such a feat?”

The realization hit him like a jolt. The enigmatic reappearance of AlanJoel, who was believed to be dead, had managed to create a significant shift in the balance of power. Muzan’s initial shock began to morph into a dark, calculating smirk.

“So you’re alive, brat,” Muzan said with a malicious grin. The corners of his mouth curled upward as he processed the implications of AlanJoel’s survival. “You’ve managed to be a thorn in my side once again.”

His eyes gleamed with a predatory light as he considered the challenge posed by AlanJoel’s unexpected return. Muzan’s expression grew darker, the initial surprise replaced by a determined malevolence. The knowledge that AlanJoel was not only alive but also capable of such destructive power ignited a dangerous resolve within him.

“AlanJoel,” Muzan said slowly, his voice dripping with contempt, “you’ve become quite the nuisance. But your little resurgence won’t last. I won’t allow you to continue disrupting my plans.”

With a sudden burst of energy, Muzan’s malevolent grin widened. His mind raced with schemes and strategies to neutralize the threat posed by AlanJoel. The prospect of dealing with someone who had the capability to wreak such havoc required immediate and decisive action.

“Prepare the troops,” Muzan ordered, his tone cold and commanding. “We need to ensure that AlanJoel and his allies don’t make any further progress. Double the patrols, increase surveillance, and eliminate any potential threats.”

Akshat and Kind, who had been observing silently, exchanged concerned glances. The gravity of Muzan’s reaction was evident, and they understood that the situation had escalated to a new level of urgency.

As Muzan’s orders were carried out, his mind continued to churn with plans. He was determined to crush the unexpected challenge posed by AlanJoel and assert his dominance once more. The prospect of a formidable opponent only fueled Muzan’s resolve to maintain his position at the top.

The throne room, once filled with the quiet authority of Muzan, now echoed with a dark promise of impending conflict. Muzan’s gaze, fixed and unyielding, was a clear signal that he would not rest until AlanJoel and the Heavenlys were decisively defeated.

As the preparations began, Muzan’s thoughts remained consumed by the image of AlanJoel’s defiant return. The battle for supremacy had taken an ominous turn, and Muzan’s plans were set to ensure that no one, not even the reemergent AlanJoel, would stand in his way.

Aarush trudged through the desolate landscape, his mind clouded with concern. The sun was setting, casting an eerie glow over the ruins that stretched before him. He was on a mission to reach the Heavenlys castle, but as he drew closer, an unsettling feeling gnawed at him.