As Thorian's four-man group followed the two guides, they deliberately bypassed the city of Locksley, venturing deeper into the forest. The path, obscured by shrubbery and dense vegetation, wound its way through the wild heart of the woods.

“Seems like Aqua’s conjecture was right, my lord,” Elder Oom whispered, his voice barely more than a breath against the rustling leaves.

Thorian gave a slight nod, his eyes scanning the surroundings. “They’re quite prepared.”

“But the fact that they’re inviting us to their secret hideout,” Zogarth pondered aloud, his brows furrowed in thought. “That is certainly strange.”

A knowing smile flickered across Thorian's face, appreciating the astuteness of his general. They likely wish to conceal their alliances, be it with the Stronghearts or any other faction, he mused silently.

His gaze lingered on their silent guides leading the way. The hideout they reveal today won't be their primary one, not if they are merely seeking dialogue, Thorian speculated inwardly.

Minutes slipped by unheeded until they emerged into a clearing. No structures were visible, but a curious assemblage of logs and shrubbery caught Thorian’s eye.

Unsurprisingly, the guides began to remove the logs and foliage, unveiling a hidden trapdoor beneath.

“Heh, these humans and their endless layers of secrecy and deception,” Forlune scoffed derisively.

Ignoring the comment, the guides opened the trapdoor, gesturing for the party to enter. “Let’s enter,” they invited.

Thorian accepted the invitation with a nod, leading the way as Forlune followed with a hint of hesitation. The quartet descended into the clandestine lair, the stairway engulfed in darkness except for the flickering torchlight held by the guides.

With a soft chuckle, Thorian conjured a small fireball atop his index finger, casting a warm glow around them. The walls, constructed of grey bricks, rose high, creating a spacious passage that accommodated even the towering figures of Thorian and Forlune with ease.

The guides spun around, their surprise evident in their stiffened posture, the flickering torchlight revealing the fear sketched on their faces.

“Don’t worry,” Thorian reassured them, his smile tinged with a hint of mischief. “While I wish for nothing more than to reduce you to cinder, this fire merely serves to light our path.”

Swallowing hard, the guides wordlessly resumed their lead, their tension palpable in the air. Thorian and his companions trailed behind, their presence like looming shadows.

“Heh, cowards,” Forlune snickered, amused by their discomfort, while Thorian's chuckle resonated softly in the corridor.

Minutes stretched on as they traversed the descending stairwell and navigated a lengthy corridor. At its conclusion, they were greeted by a sizable door.

One guide rapped on the door, announcing, “The shadows have been guided to the dawn.”

Thorian nearly let out a laugh. Cryptic passcodes are expected, but this is almost too cliché. An underground faction speaking in metaphors of shadows — how ironically fitting.

The door swung open, revealing a hulking figure. The man, known as Ragnor, scrutinized Thorian's group with a snide snicker. "Well, well, this is unexpected. I never thought you'd actually come."

He sauntered over to Forlune, eyeing him with a mix of curiosity and disdain. "So, you're the monster chief, huh? You've changed a lot since I last saw you."

Forlune's brows knitted in confusion, but before he could articulate his thoughts, Ragnor continued his tirade. "Why weren't you in your village during our attack? We decimated so many of your men, and you were nowhere to be found. Were you hiding in fear?"

As Ragnor's taunts escalated, Forlune's temper flared. He was on the verge of violence, but Thorian's timely intervention, a gentle tap, calmed him. Taking a deep breath, Forlune's laughter took on a maniacal edge. "To think you humans are not only cowards but fools as well. Not surprising, though."

He pointed at Thorian, clarifying, "Firstly, I am not the king; I am his general." Advancing towards Ragnor, Forlune towered over him. "Secondly, you should be less concerned about our king. It's me who can break your neck in an instant."

Ragnor, undeterred, cracked his neck and grinned provocatively. "Well then, let's see you try, you filthy monster."

As the tension escalated, Thorian intervened. Unleashing his mana, he exerted a powerful, oppressive force. The air thickened with the weight of his power, causing Ragnor to reel in shock and turn his gaze towards Thorian.

Thorian's response was measured, yet unmistakable in its threat. "We accepted your invitation, but if you seek a confrontation, we are more than prepared." With that, he summoned a fireball, infusing it with a tenth of his entire mana reserve. The ball of fire, pulsating with raw power, was a clear warning. "I have no qualms about reducing this place to ashes."

Even Ragnor, who had moments ago radiated defiance, could not hide his trepidation. The energy radiating from Thorian's fireball was immense, dwarfing even the mightiest of known fire spells. It held the potential to engulf the entire lair in a destructive inferno.

Forlune, reveling in the display, laughed heartily. "There you have it. You've managed to rile up the king."

As the oppressive heat from the fireball filled the corridor, causing Ragnor to perspire profusely, another figure emerged from the doorway, clapping. "I believe that's quite enough for an introduction," the slender man, Soren, announced as he approached Thorian. "Don’t you agree, Monster King?"

Thorian, wordlessly, closed his hand, extinguishing the fireball into mere wisps of flame.

Soren chuckled, glancing at Ragnor. "It appears even monsters possess greater civility than you, Ragnor. Not that I'm surprised."

Ragnor's gaze was venomous. "One day, it'll be your neck I snap."

Soren rolled his eyes, refocusing on Thorian. "Now that you've made the journey, why not join us? Let's put this hostility aside."

"Very well, let's hear what you have to offer, considering your audacity to detain my men," Thorian said, motioning for his entourage to follow. They entered the room behind Soren, a space bustling with activity and filled with an array of food and drink. The occupants of the room cast various glances towards Thorian and his monstrous entourage - some fearful, some intrigued, and a few burning with a visible thirst for conflict.

Soren, unfazed, explained with a sly grin, "Your men ventured into our domain uninvited. Naturally, we had to detain them. I'm sure someone of your stature, the Monster King, can appreciate the necessity of such actions."

Settling into a chair, Soren continued, "We can arrange their release, but there are conditions, certain... tasks we'd require from you in exchange."

Thorian, observing the scene, smirked and shook his head. Ignoring Soren's proposal, he casually picked up an apple from a nearby table, carefully sniffing it for poison before taking a bite. Addressing Soren without even a glance in his direction, he said, "I'm not inclined to negotiate terms with a mere subordinate, especially one from a group that's been nothing but a thorn in my side." He then turned to Soren, his expression blank. "Where is your leader?"

The atmosphere in the room shifted perceptibly at Thorian's brazen act. Soren's expression turned icy. "You seem to forget that your men are our prisoners. We hold their lives in our hands," he retorted, his voice edged with a cold warning.

“Oh, is that so?” Thorian's response was a nonchalant chuckle. He reclined in a chair, casually propping his legs on the table. "And you seem to overlook the fact that I can reduce everyone here to ashes. A fair trade, I'd say - your lives for a squad of mine."

A heavy hush fell over the room. The men who had been watching the exchange tensely gripped their weapons, preparing for the worst. Forlune's eyes sparkled with anticipation of conflict, while Zogarth’s expression darkened, his hand never straying from the hilt of his axe, ready to unleash chaos at a moment's notice.

The tension reached a palpable peak when a new figure stepped from behind a curtain. A young woman, adorned in a flowing green dress, entered with a relaxed smile. Her presence seemed to alter the room's dynamics instantly.

“Well, well, it seems that everyone is having quite the lively discussion," she observed with a light laugh, surveying the charged atmosphere.

Thorian's expression momentarily hardened upon seeing her, a surge of anger coursing through him. So this is she, the grand whore in flesh and blood. The one responsible for turning Nox into such a mess, he thought bitterly.

The woman, undisturbed by the palpable hostility, continued with her charade of hospitality. "A grand battle would indeed be a spectacle, but consider the effort we've put into arranging this feast," she said, her voice laced with a feigned warmth. Her eyes, shimmering like the depths of the ocean, locked onto Thorian, her smile unwavering. "So, what will it be, Monster King? Will you choose battle or banquet?"