The sun had risen that morning, casting a blood-red glow over the Cult's fortress. However, even as its rays touched the stone walls, it felt like the world was in perpetual twilight. The gathering storm was not one that could be ignored, no matter how much Baek Sungho wished to.

  The Cult’s leaders convened once again in the great hall, but today, the tension was palpable. Each person present knew that the coming days would determine the fate of their entire organization. The time for cautious deliberation was over. The time for action had arrived.

  Baek Sungho stood at the head of the table, his eyes scanning the room. His generals, each a veteran of countless campaigns, sat in their usual places. The atmosphere was thick with the scent of unease, but none of them dared show it outright. Sungho had earned their loyalty through years of iron-handed rule, and they knew better than to question him now.

  "Report," Sungho’s voice rang out, steady and unyielding.

  Elder Hwan stepped forward, his expression grave. "The Stormborn’s forces have begun moving in earnest, Cult Leader. There are no solid figures as of yet, but our scouts report strange weather patterns surrounding the northern reaches. It seems the power of the tempest he wields is not merely metaphorical." He paused, as if struggling to put the words together. "It's real, Sungho. The storm is a manifestation of his power."

  Sungho’s gaze remained cold, his thoughts calculating. "We expected as much. This is no ordinary rebellion. The Stormborn is not merely a warrior; he is a force of nature. But we will not be cowed by his theatrics."

  Another general, Jae-won, leaned forward, his brows furrowing with concern. "But we must tread carefully, my lord. If this warrior can command the storm itself, what will happen if we push him too far? We risk losing everything in a single battle."

  Sungho’s eyes narrowed, and for a moment, a shadow passed over his face. "If we do nothing, we lose everything. If we allow the Stormborn to rise unchecked, we are signing our own death warrants."

  The Cult Leader’s voice was low but laced with undeniable force. "We will not run from this storm. We will confront it. But not in the way he expects."

  Elder Min, who had remained silent until now, spoke up with quiet resolve. "You intend to use the Stormborn’s own power against him, don’t you, Sungho?"

  A faint smile touched the Cult Leader’s lips, though there was no humor in it. "Exactly. His power is vast, but it is not infinite. We will find a way to counter it. But first, we need to understand how the storm operates."

  A murmur ran through the room, the leaders of the Cult realizing the path Sungho was taking. To defeat the Stormborn, they would need to harness the very power he wielded — and that meant delving into dangerous, uncharted territory.

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  "We will need the highest level of expertise in elemental manipulation," Sungho continued. "Bring forth the Sky-Master, the one who has long studied the winds and storms. I want him to join us in this fight. The storms are a weapon, and I will wield them as our own."

  Elder Min’s eyes flashed with concern. "The Sky-Master is a reclusive one, my lord. His power is formidable, but he is unpredictable. We have no guarantee that he will agree to help."

  "Then we will make him agree," Sungho replied coldly. "We will do whatever it takes to ensure the Stormborn falls before us."

  In the mountains to the north, beyond the Cult’s fortified walls, the storm raged. The air crackled with power, and the very sky seemed to tremble in response. At its center stood the Stormborn, a figure of unmatched power, his presence commanding the elements themselves. His eyes burned with a fierce, unyielding light.

  The Stormborn was no mere warrior; he was the embodiment of the tempest itself. The winds howled in his wake, and lightning crackled at his command. Those who dared approach him found themselves forced to the ground, battered by the winds and unrelenting rain.

  And yet, despite the sheer terror he commanded, the Stormborn stood alone, his eyes fixed on the horizon.

  "The Cult makes its move," he murmured, his voice like the roar of distant thunder. "Baek Sungho will come. He always does. But he will not find victory here. Not against the storm."

  A figure approached from the swirling winds, a dark silhouette moving against the chaos. The Stormborn did not flinch. He knew who it was — the one who had come to warn him, the one who had always been by his side in the shadows.

  "You are certain he will come for you?" the figure asked, their voice barely audible over the howling winds.

  "I am certain," the Stormborn replied, his gaze unwavering. "He will come for me, because he cannot stand the idea of someone like me rising above him. But he will not understand. He will not grasp the full extent of the storm until it is too late."

  The figure nodded, turning to leave, but before they did, they spoke one last time.

  "You will need to be ready, Stormborn. Baek Sungho will not play by the rules. He will use everything at his disposal to destroy you."

  The Stormborn’s lips curled into a grim smile. "I do not fear Baek Sungho. The storm fears no man."

  As the figure disappeared into the storm, the Stormborn closed his eyes for a brief moment, listening to the sound of the wind swirling around him. He was the eye of this storm, but even the calmest eye could become a deadly vortex.

  And soon, it would be time for Baek Sungho to face the storm — a storm that had no intention of allowing him to pass through unscathed.

  Back at the Cult's stronghold, preparations were underway. Baek Sungho was not a man prone to underestimating his enemies, and he was not about to allow the Stormborn to become a symbol of chaos. If anything, he would turn the storm to his advantage. The Cult had never shied away from the unknown, and this would be no different.

  As Sungho stood before the assembled forces, a single thought occupied his mind: The storm was coming, but the Cult would weather it — or break under its fury.