Days later, Valen arrived at the imperial capital, the towering spires of the palace rising above the city like a testament to the power of the Empire. He was met with respectful bows from the imperial guards as he was escorted into the grand hall where the war council was already assembled.
Seated around the massive table were the most powerful figures in the world—warriors, mages, generals. Many of them cast curious glances at Valen as he took his place among them. Despite the rumors, none of them fully grasped who he was.
One of the generals, a grizzled veteran with scars across his face, leaned over and whispered to another noble. "Is that the vampire lord? I heard he's under the top 20 in strength."
The noble nodded, eyeing Valen with suspicion. "That's what they say. Though I hear he's far more dangerous than the ranking suggests."
Valen said nothing, allowing the whispers to flow around him. Soon enough, they would all know the truth. The world thought they could rank him, measure him by some arbitrary scale of strength. But Valen had always played a deeper game, and now, with war looming and the Serathin Empire closing in, he would show them what it truly meant to hold power.
---
The game of politics and power was no longer one of shadows. Soon, the world would see Valen for what he truly was—the one they had underestimated, the one who would rise above them all.