---
The city streets of Draegorth fell silent as Amon Malrick knelt, charred and bound by the flames of Ralthoron K'vorr. The headmaster of the Academy of Dread stood towering over him, his presence a vortex of infernal power. The air shimmered with heat, the ground beneath their feet cracking from the oppressive energy radiating from the **Level 40 Infernal Archon**.
Noah Alcric watched the scene unfold with calculated interest. He had seen many powerful beings in his time, but Ralthoron's command of his infernal abilities was a reminder of why he was a figure of fear and reverence in Draegorth. Even a seasoned assassin like Amon, a **Void Stalker**, was rendered helpless in the demon's grasp.
Amon growled low, his wolfish features bared in defiance. "You think killing me will stop the World Hunting Council?" he spat, his voice a mixture of anger and desperation. "You've already sealed your fate, Alcric. They'll come for you. They'll come for all of you."
Ralthoron tilted his head, his expression a mixture of amusement and disdain. "Your threats are tiresome, beastkin. You think your council holds dominion over fear? Over death? No. That is my domain."
Raising his hand, Ralthoron's fingers flexed, and the flames encasing Amon intensified. The assassin let out a guttural howl, the void energy surrounding him splintering and fading as Ralthoron's power consumed it.
"Your kind is always the same," Ralthoron said coldly, his voice echoing with infernal authority. "You believe yourselves hunters, righteous in your cause. But you are nothing more than pawns playing at war."
Amon struggled, his **Predator's Instinct** and **Phantom Step** faltering under the relentless might of the demon's flames. He blinked in and out of the shadows, only to be dragged back each time by the burning chains of Ralthoron's power.
"Do you think you're special?" Ralthoron continued, his tone almost mocking. "You are a wolf hunting in the den of dragons."
With a swift, decisive motion, Ralthoron clenched his fist. The flames surged, engulfing Amon completely. The assassin's final howl was cut short as his body was incinerated, leaving only ash and the faint echo of his defiance.
The streets fell silent once more, the oppressive heat dissipating as Ralthoron turned to Noah, his gaze sharp. "One less insect to trouble us."
Noah's lips curved into a subtle smile. "Efficient as always."
---
As the flames subsided, Ralthoron knelt and retrieved something from the ashes. There, unharmed and still intact, was the severed head of Amon Malrick, his lifeless eyes frozen in an expression of fury and regret. The sight was both grotesque and triumphant, a message of finality that only the Infernal Archon could deliver.
Ralthoron held the head aloft, the faint glow of his infernal power still clinging to it. "The World Hunting Council needs a reminder of who they are dealing with," he said, his voice low but resonant. "If Darius Kain thought sending this whelp was sufficient, then he will learn the price of underestimating us."
Noah stepped closer, his crimson gaze locking with Ralthoron's. "And what message do you intend to send?"
Ralthoron's lips curled into a dangerous smile. "One they cannot ignore."
---
Ralthoron summoned a flicker of infernal fire, and with a whispered incantation, a portal began to form. The air crackled with dark energy as the headmaster's connections to the infernal plane bridged the gap between Draegorth and the distant stronghold of the World Hunting Council. The portal shimmered, revealing a darkened chamber—a courier's sanctum within the Council's vast network.
With a single, deliberate motion, Ralthoron cast Amon's severed head through the portal. It vanished into the ether, carried by infernal power to its intended recipient. The Council would soon find it waiting for them, placed on Darius Kain's desk—a chilling reminder of their failure.
---
Far from Draegorth, in a heavily fortified bastion of the World Hunting Council, Darius Kain sat alone in his chambers. The **Level 36 Hunter , a man feared for his relentless pursuit of creatures like Noah, was deep in thought. The assassination of Noah Alcric had been a calculated move. Amon Malrick had been one of their finest, a shadow who never missed his mark.
When the portal flickered into existence, Darius's sharp instincts drew his attention immediately. He rose, his hand instinctively going to the hilt of his blade. But when the severed head of Amon Malrick tumbled onto his desk, he froze.
The scent of ash and brimstone lingered in the air, and a faint glow of infernal magic clung to the remains. Darius stared at the lifeless eyes of his assassin, his expression darkening.
A single piece of parchment accompanied the head, its edges singed. Written in elegant, flowing script were the words:
**"The next time you send a hunter, send someone worthy.
— R.K."**
Darius's jaw tightened as he crushed the note in his fist. The message was clear. Ralthoron K'vorr had not only eliminated one of their finest but had sent his remains as a warning. It was a deliberate act of provocation, one that would not go unanswered.
The implications were troubling. Darius had suspected that Noah Alcric would be difficult to eliminate, but the involvement of Ralthoron K'vorr, a **Level 40 Infernal Archon**, made the situation far more dangerous. Ralthoron was a force of nature, his connections to the infernal planes giving him power that even the Council hesitated to confront directly.
"This isn't over," Darius muttered, his grip tightening on the hilt of his blade. "If Ralthoron thinks he can protect Alcric, he's mistaken. The Council will not stand for this."
---
Back in Draegorth, Noah stood beside Ralthoron as the portal closed. The headmaster's expression was unreadable, his gaze distant as if already plotting his next move.
"You've stirred the hornet's nest," Noah said, his tone neutral but tinged with amusement.
Ralthoron glanced at him, his infernal gaze piercing. "A necessary demonstration. They need to understand the cost of challenging us."
"And if they retaliate?" Noah asked.
"They will," Ralthoron said simply. "But that is the nature of power, Noah. It is not about avoiding conflict. It is about ensuring that when conflict arises, you are the one who dictates its terms."
Noah smiled faintly, his respect for the demon deepening. "Wise words."
The two stood in silence for a moment, the weight of their actions settling over them. The World Hunting Council would not take this insult lightly, but that was part of the plan. By drawing their attention and forcing their hand, Ralthoron and Noah could manipulate the coming conflict to their advantage.
As the first light of dawn began to creep over Draegorth, Noah turned his gaze to the horizon. The city was a powder keg, its factions teetering on the edge of chaos. And now, with the Council's attention drawn to them, the stakes had been raised even higher.
But Noah was not afraid. With Ralthoron at his side and his plans unfolding as intended, he welcomed the challenge. The storm was building, and when it broke, only the strongest would emerge unscathed.
For now, the message had been sent. The game continued.