Under the Sovereign Banner, the once-chaotic city had undergone a rebirth.
What was once known for its trafficking rings, black-market operations, and lawless streets had now become the first crime-free city of the post-Gate era.
The people spoke in whispers and awe:
"The Sovereign Legion patrols the streets."
"Criminals vanish overnight."
"No one dares commit a crime under the Sovereign's gaze."
Zareth and the commanders had set strict laws, an efficient patrol system, and a powerful surveillance network using cultivated scouts and spiritual sensors. The former slave camps were converted into training grounds, crafting workshops, and resource centers.
The base of operations, once a rough encampment, now stood tall—an obsidian tower adorned with a silver sigil of a crown impaled by a blade. The city itself had taken a new name: "Sovrenhold."
The Sovereign Legion was no longer a gang.
It had become a movement.
Zairon's Path: The Need for Power
Yet amidst this blossoming empire, the man who started it all had vanished.
Zairon didn't leave out of boredom, nor rest.
He left because of a single truth:
He had reached a wall.
Though he commanded tens of thousands…
Though he had wiped out hundreds of dungeons…
He was still only a D-Rank.
And to reach C-Rank?
He needed 100,000,000 EXP.
Insane. Absurd. Impossible.
But Zairon only smiled at those words.
"If that's what it takes," he said, standing at the edge of the wastelands beyond Sovrenhold, "then I'll hunt until the world has nothing left to offer me."
He turned toward the horizon.
C-Rank dungeons were rare.
B-Rank dungeons were suicidal.
But Zairon had already chosen his path:
A path of madness. Of endless monsters. Of godhood.
And so, with no fanfare—no goodbye—he vanished into the wilderness…
…to carve out the legend of the Sovereign with blood, bones, and EXP.