Edora nodded calmly as Phante returned, rubbing his aching ribs. He said, "That's why we're here, Dad. I mean, you didn't even bat an eye when Arthia was in trouble. Why is it so urgent this time?”

It was the One-horned tribe’s ironclad rule to always stay neutral, a position that they had taken since ancient times which had allowed them to reign as the strongest clan. 

"I wasn’t going to interfere at first, but things have gotten complicated."

Phante and Edora frowned at their father’s words. He was one of the Nine Kings who had the highest status in the Tower, and in terms of sheer strength, he was among the top five—and yet he considered this situation complicated. "To make it short, we are going to join the war as mercenaries."

"What? But…"

"Flann said he'd give up his horn. You know what that means. There was nothing I could do. The other elders also gave their consent."

Phante’s and Edora’s eyes widened. The horn that grew on the heads of the One-horned tribe symbolized their honor and pride. Flann was their younger uncle and one of the best warriors of the tribe. Giving up his horn was like renouncing everything he’d achieved so far, and they now understand what their father...