《Rebirth System: Blood and Ash》


 Chapter 1: Prologue - Blood and Ash

    "Ah, it seems my life could be nothing more than a cruel joke in the end" Aric sighed bitterly.


    Blood had soaked the earth beneath his feet.


    The scent of metal filled the air, and the sound of shing steel mixed with screams of terror from a dying man and bravery from one about to.


    The fertile ground became a muddy graveyard for fallen soldiers, every crimson puddle filled with the blood of a man who fought and died for a cause they barely understood.


    Well, it was fitting really, as the Northrenders often say: a man¡¯s worth can only be decided in blood and ash.


    So what were these men, their lives, worth?


    Death, ever the patient mistress, imed man after man as it became painfully clear to each Valerian soldier that they would all inevitably die here.


    Truthfully, maybe the oue was to be expected; it wouldn¡¯t be far-fetched to say not a single person believed they could be led to victory with such amander.


    "My prince, we won¡¯t hold much longer." One of the Valerian soldiers stumbled to Aric, his grip on his sword trembling and his face made pale with fear.


    The young man didn¡¯t need to say it; even the blind could see the situation they were in. The enemy had surrounded them on all sides, pushing further into their ranks with every ughtered man.


    And at the middle of this disaster of a march, at the very center of the bloodshed, Prince Aric Valerian stood. At his side, the tattered banners of the Valerian Empire fluttered weakly in the wind, its colors dulled with the drying stains of blood.


    Aric stood there, an ill fated excuse of a Royal. He had been called a disappointment all his life, and it seemed there was no better proof of their ims than today.


    His meny dead or dying around him, the soldiers who had been made to swear fealty to him, who had followed him into this cursed battle, were now nothing more than corpses littering the battlefield, while the enemy stayed relentless and merciless in their ughter.


    Most would think he had failed as amander, as a prince¡­ as a man.


    Most, however, were ignorant of the truth.


    It wasn¡¯t the enemy that had led Aric to this fate, no, there was something far more sinister beneath the charade of an unlucky battle.


    As the distant rumble of war thunder rolled across the battlefield, Aric¡¯s thoughts were consumed by a single crushing realization: he had been betrayed.


    The first hint hade in the form of the missing reinforcements. Aric had waited, desperately, for the troops he was promised would nk the enemy¡ªan elite force that had been led by his elder brother: Crown Prince Valen Valerian.


    These reinforcements never came.


    Hours had passed since their nned arrival, and it was already painfully clear that they were on their own.


    ¡¯How could I be so foolish?¡¯


    Aric remembered the conversation before he had gone to battle¡ªthe cold, dismissive way Valen had spoken to him, the sneer of his other brothers, and the hollow assurance from the imperial court.


    Maybe it was foolishness derived from their sudden eptance that made him unable to see it from the start, but it was clear now.


    They had sent him here to die.


    He was, and always had been, a disposable pawn in their game for power, and even after recovering from decades of illness and reaching the level he¡¯s currently at, he was still nothing more than a dog who barked and bit at the slightest sh of bone.


    It made sense now; he and hispany were simply a decoy to draw the enemy¡¯s full strength while Valen led an army to strike elsewhere, securing the victory that would further cement his im to the throne.


    The final and clearest proof of this betrayal came when Aric saw the sh of a banner on the horizon¡ªthe Duke¡¯s banner, retreating without even a single arrow loosed in his defense.


    Aric raised his sword to nce at it, its steel chipped and weak, and a bitter, scornful smile twisted his bloodied lips.


    How delusional he had been, clinging to the hope that he could finally prove his worth, that he could be anything more than just the weak, forgotten prince.


    ¡¯What useless thinking.¡¯


    They had never intended to let him rise; even after he had ovee his illness, all he was to them was a tool, and now that his usefulness had ended, they discarded him without a second thought.


    As thest of his men were butchered and the enemy¡¯s forces closed in, Aric felt a strange calm settle over him.


    The rage that had burned so hotly in his chest slowly began to fade, reced by a cold, hard eptance.


    He had faltered for thest five years, but he always knew from the start: this was his fate, a life of disdain, one that would inevitably end in a death soon to be forgotten.


    "The forgotten prince... has that title ever been more fitting than now?" Aric muttered bitterly.


    He then noticed, all of his soldiers were dead, a march of a thousand men, mages, and martial artists alike were now nothing more than casualties of battle.


    But as he watched the dark figures of the enemy empire approach him, their weapons dripping crimson, and their mana ring brightly, something inside the forgotten prince refused to die quietly.


    He knew it was a useless sentiment, but if he were to meet his end, he would face it with eyes open and a resolve unbroken.


    The first enemy soldier reached him, a towering brute with his weapon aze with me magic.


    He held a wicked grin, eager to im the life of a Valerian prince. What glory it was, far less than if it were his brother¡¯s, but significant regardless.


    Aric met the brute¡¯s gaze, unflinching, and raised his sword for onest strike. It was a hopeless act, one more symbolic than anything else¡ªa final rebellious gesture against a world that had never wanted him.


    His sword shed with the enemy¡¯s de and was cleaved through with ease, soon meeting the flesh of the forgotten prince, and in that moment, Aric felt something strange.


    It wasn¡¯t the cold touch of death, no, time seemed to slow, and the world around him faded, reced by a suffocating darkness.


    A faint light then flickered before his eyes and with it came a voice¡ªcold, emotionless, and utterly foreign.


    [ Do you wish to change your fate? ]


    [ For revenge? ]


    [ To conquer everything? ]


    For a brief moment, Aric hesitated. What was this? A trick? Mockery of some god? But as the darkness began to close in, the alternative option became clear. He could ept this miserable end, or he could grasp at thisst, impossible chance.


    His lips curved in a final, defiant smile.


    "Yes."


    And with that, everything went ck.


    Then a screen materialized in the darkness.


    [ INITIALIZING REBIRTH SYSTEM ]

 Chapter 2: The Second Time

    Aric¡¯s eyelids fluttered open, his breath heavy as his pupils darted from one corner to another, trying to make out where he was. The dimly lit room was small, its walls cracked like spider webs, and it was filled with royal furniture that had long passed its glory days.


    The space was less air than dust, made visible by the weak moonlight sneaking through the curtains, and the entire thing smelled of neglect.


    Aric clenched his chest, expecting to find the fatal wound that should have killed him. Instead, all he felt was the rapid thumping of his heart.


    He sat up quickly, scanning the room again. The familiar sight of the shabby chamber sent a sh of recognition through him, along with a wave of confusion.


    ¡¯How is this possible?¡¯


    Aric remembered dying clearly, the sting of betrayal as he was left for dead on the battlefield still fresh in his mind.


    His hand trembled slightly as he raised it, expecting to see the calloused, weathered palms of a soldier. What he saw instead was a young and frail hand¡ªalmost skeletal.


    Panic settled as he pushed himself out of bed and stumbled towards a mirror hung on the far wall.


    The peeling gold of the mirror and its ss reflected the same thing: it was not the hardened face of a thirty-five-year-old man who had seen more pain and suffering than most. No, what stared back at him was a pale, sickly boy, no more than sixteen, with hollow cheeks, dark circles under his eyes, and a frail body.


    Aric touched his face and then his reflection, the cold ss of the mirror met his fingertips as he struggled to reconcile the image before him with the man he knew himself to be.


    Then, once more, the memories of the life he lived rushed at his mind.


    Just then, the atmosphere shifted¡ªa very subtle change, almost unnoticeable.


    A soft chime echoed in the room, and following it was a transparent screen that appeared before his eyes. Lines of text began to form, floating in the air, and they looked simr to what he had seen just before he was killed.


    -¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª


    Name: [Aric Valerian]


    Title: [Forgotten Prince]


    Race: [Human]


    Level: [Null]


    Health (HP): [14/15]


    Stamina: [3/4]


    Ki: [Null]


    \\\\Attributes:


    Strength: [2]


    Agility: [2]


    Endurance: [3]


    Intelligence: [3]


    -¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª


    Before he could react to the screen, a small, glowing figure materialized in front of him, hovering a few feet above the ground.


    It was no bigger than his hand, with small and delicate wings on its back, seemingly useless as they did not move. The figure had a vaguely humanoid shape, with a tiny, round face,rge eyes that glowed with a faint light, and a halo of soft, luminescent hair that framed its head like a crown.


    Aric instinctively stepped back, his heart racing. "W-what¡­ what are you?"


    The figure didn¡¯t answer immediately. It simply floated closer to him, tilting its head as if analyzing him. Then, in a voice that was high-pitched and mechanical, it finally spoke.


    "Greetings, User. I am the System Guide, Version 1.0. My purpose is to assist you with system functions. Please state your query."


    Aric blinked, trying to process what was happening. A guide? A system? This wasn¡¯t making any sense. He shook his head, trying to clear the fog of confusion.


    "System¡­? What system? What¡¯s going on?"


    The guide¡¯s wings fluttered slightly as it responded, its voice devoid of any emotion or inflection.


    "You have been granted ess to the Rebirth System. This system has been designed to enhance your physical and magical abilities, guide you through challenges, and assist in your survival and growth. Please state your query."


    Aric¡¯s eyes widened as the guide¡¯s words sank in.


    ¡¯Rebirth? System?¡¯


    He felt like he was losing his grip on reality. This had to be a dream, some bizarre hallucination brought on by the shock of his apparent regression.


    "I don¡¯t understand. How is this possible? Why am I back here, in this body?"


    The guide¡¯s expression remained nk, its tiny voice repeating its instructions. "Your current circumstances are the result of a system-triggered regression. The Rebirth System has reset your existence to a prior state to allow for the alteration of your fate. Please state your query."


    Aric stared at the guide, his mind racing.


    ¡¯Alteration of my fate¡­¡¯


    The words were familiar. He remembered the voice in the darkness, the question¡ªThe one that had brought him hope, but even then there was still so much unanswered. Why him? Why now? And most importantly, who had given him this chance?


    The guide, still hovering patiently, seemed to sense his hesitation.


    "User appears to be experiencing confusion. Would you like an exnation of the system¡¯s primary functions?"


    Aric swallowed, his throat dry. This was insanepletely, utterly insane¡ªbut it was also the only exnation he had.


    "Yes¡­ exin."


    The guide¡¯s wings fluttered slightly as it responded,unching into a concise, emotionless exnation while pointing nonchntly to the floating screen that first appeared.


    "The Rebirth System is designed to enhance User¡¯s abilities through the umtion of experience and thepletion of designated tasks. The system will provide guidance, skill upgrades, and situational analysis. At present, User¡¯s status is at baseline level. Further instructions will be provided as User progresses."


    Aric nodded slowly, trying to absorb the guides words. It was all so surreal, but the more the guide spoke, the more real it began to feel. This wasn¡¯t a dream. Somehow, impossibly, this was happening.


    "You have received your first reward," the guide continued, prompting a new window to appear.


    ---


    [ Regress Reward: Rejuvenation Boost /4 minutes/ ]


    ---


    "I see," he said, his voice steadier now. "But¡­ what is that?"


    "This is a system item. When used, it provides the user with a 70% health upgrade within the designated time frame."


    Aric just stared at the screen, still trying to wrap his head around it all.


    "What now?" he asked softly.


    The guide¡¯s eyes flickered, and for the briefest moment, Aric thought he saw a spark of something almost like curiosity in its expression.


    But when it spoke, its voice was as robotic as ever. "User¡¯s current objective: Survive. More detailed instructions will be provided as circumstances dictate. Please prepare ordingly."


    And with that, the guide¡¯s wings fluttered once more, and it floated backward slightly, giving Aric space. It seemed to be waiting, patiently and without emotion¡­ for something.


    As Aric stared at the screen before him in apprehension, still trying to process what exactly it was he was looking at, he began to hear shouts and the tter of metal outside of his room.


    This familiar rhythm of chaos was engraved in his mind, his heart began to race as the memories began to flood back¡ªhe knew this day, this moment.


    If he had been sent back, then this was the day that his estate was ambushed.


    Panic gripped him as he began to run, his sickly body protesting with each step he took as he stumbled towards the door, his frail legs struggling to move with the urgency he felt.


    He knew what happened next, it was burned into his memory from his past life.


    Aric managed to push open the door of his room, revealing the barely lit hallway, and immediately the metallic stench of blood flooded his nostrils.


    Then his eyes fell on the gruesome sight: two of his caretakers, loyal but powerless,y dead on the floor, their throats slit and leaking crimson as blood pooled around their lifeless bodies.


    He froze, his body trembling as memory of this exact scene came back to him. The masked men who killed the caretakers turned their attention to Aric, their cold eyes narrowing as they saw him.


    Perhaps that would have terrified him more, but he knew they weren¡¯t here for him.


    From a nearby room, Aric began to hear the terrified screams of his third caretaker¡ªa kind woman who had shown him the onlypassion he had ever known. Along with her screams were the pervertedughs of one of the men echoing from the room.


    He watched in horror as momentster the masked man dragged her out by the hair, her clothes torn, her face twisted in fear and pain.


    His breath caught in his throat as he recalled this exact moment, the powerlessness he felt in his inability to stop it then, and now¡­


    ¡¯What now¡­¡¯


    The woman¡¯s screams of pain and fear filled the hallway, mingling with the snickering of the men. Aric fell to his knees as his legs gave in, he had stood for too long and even that had taken its toll on his weak body.


    "Please¡­ don¡¯t¡­" he whispered, his voice cracking as he begged the men to spare her.


    The woman clenched her teeth as she screamed at Aric.


    "Stop them¡­ please¡­ order them to stop¡­ just this once, help me," the woman¡¯s voice trembled with pain.


    Aric opened his mouth to plead for the woman¡¯s life again, but then the leader of the masked men smirked behind his mask, and without hesitation, slit the woman¡¯s throat.


    A spray of crimson sttered across the floor, the woman¡¯s eyes rolling back before they let her body crumple to the ground, lifeless.


    A cold numbness ran through Aric, a paralyzing dose of pain washing over him as he watched her die for the second time. The same helplessness, the same despair. He could do nothing but watch.


    The hallway fell silent, so much so that it was almost deafening, a biting chill singing through it, as though to signify something.


    The killers, amused and satisfied, began to turn in preparation to depart. Then Aric¡¯s weak voice echoed in the night.


    "After all of that, you want to just walk away?"


    The masked men turned their attention back to Aric, and this time something inside of him snapped. His vision blurred as the screen shed a question before him.


    ---


    [ Use Rejuvenation Boost? ]


    ---


    "Yes," Aric muttered, pulling out a dagger he had ced in his robe.

 Chapter 3: A Play For The Blind.

    The hallway, now drenched in the stench of blood, was littered with the bodies of the three caretakers lying in a growing puddle of red.


    The masked men gazed at Aric, the shock on their faces obscured by their masks.


    They couldn¡¯t believe their ears and eyes; it seemed as though the weak and sickly prince had just challenged them, while gripping a dagger tightly.


    The system had responded immediately to Aric¡¯s reply. Upon prompting, he felt a surge of warmth spreading through his body. It felt as though adrenaline was flowing through his veins in copious amounts.


    Strength shot through his weakened limbs as he pushed himself off the ground.


    ¡¯It worked¡­¡¯


    Just as the floating guide had said, Aric¡¯s health had significantly increased. He didn¡¯t feel the utter weakness that gued him because of his sickness.


    His frail body felt stronger, more agile, and the constant exhaustion that weighed him down vanished.


    Aric clenched his fist as he felt the rush, his mind sharpened, and the fear that had overtaken him mere moments ago hadpletely fizzled away, reced by a cold determination.


    "Don¡¯t be a fool," one of the masked men warned. "We were told to leave you alone, but I¡¯m certain no one would miss you."


    Their words did nothing to deter Aric as he began his approach towards the masked killers.


    "Well, if you want to die that badly, why not?" the man decided to face the prince head-on.


    The first of them, the one who had slit the womans throat swung his machete at Aric, a weak and pathetic attempt at an attack. Whether it was simply because he waspletely untrained or because he underestimated the prince, either way, it was wed, and Aric, a trained warrior who had survived many battles, could see it.


    By slightly nudging to the left, Aric evaded the swing of the masked man¡¯s machete, his eyes locking on the man¡¯s torso, left open as a result of the missed attack.


    The man had no time to react before Aric drove the dagger into his side, slicing through his intestines and twisting. The man let out a scream of pain, and it was at this moment his two otherpanions realized something was wrong¡ªdifferent even¡ªabout the sickly prince.


    They rushed at Aric, and although armed, it was clear from their approach they were untrained. Both were no more than animalistic men with weapons, but what did that mean against a seasoned warrior with a burning desire to kill?


    Well, death.


    Aric ducked under their wild swings, sidestepped their clumsy thrusts, and delivered every counterattack with a precision that terrified them. It soon became clear that even fighting two against one, this was unwinnable for them.


    Aric noticed as one of the men stepped back, attempting to retreat. The prince opposed, grabbing him by the shirt and pulling the man into his dagger¡¯s de, piercing it into his chest.


    "Now, I really can¡¯t let any of you leave," Aric muttered, his narrowed eyes falling on thest remaining man as the stabbed one fell to his death.


    The man swiftly turned, deciding on escape as he started to dash to the right in an attempt to exit the hallway.


    Aric tried to pursue, but quickly realized that despite the boost, his health was far from its peak; each movement still took painful effort.


    He let out a deep exhale, watching the man running to the end of the hall.


    He gripped the handle of the dagger, stretched his left arm to mark his aim, while simultaneously winding back his right hand that held the dagger, and then with scary precision, he tossed the dagger.


    It flew across the hall, before swiftly finding its mark at the back of the masked man¡¯s neck. His legs began to twist and fail as he fell to the floor, bleeding to death.


    The hallway was now littered with the bodies of the in, each part of it stained with blood and the remnants of a massacre.


    Aric exhaled again. He knew he didn¡¯t have much time left before the effects of the boost wore off, but before that, he couldn¡¯t leave the scene as it was. It was far too early to have anyone on his back.


    Breathing heavily, he stepped back to survey the carnage around him.


    He could feel the weakness returning; he had only seconds before his body went back to its weak, frail state, so he immediately began setting the stage of the scene to his preference.


    He began to drag the bodies of the men into position, cing them in a way that suggested some kind of struggle with his caretakers, making it seem like they had defended themselves before having their throats slit.


    He ced the dagger in the hands of one of the dead caretakers while positioning their body as though they had thrown it at thest escaping masked man before sumbing to their wounds.


    As thest seconds of the rejuvenation boost counted down, Aric staggered to the door of his room, his breathsing in ragged gasps. His vision began to blur as the red screen popped up and red before him.


    [ Rejuvenation Boost Expired ]


    The strength he had felt very swiftly left his body, and he immediately copsed through his doorway.


    "At least this time I avenged you¡­" he proimed to his fallen caretakers dryly before turning to the corpses he had positioned. "Perfect," he muttered weakly.


    He had created the narrative he wanted: the weak, cowardly prince came out to see his caretakers being murdered, then swiftly turned to run back into his chambers before copsing onto the floor.


    "Yes, that¡¯s good. You must all remain blind for a while longer. My vengeance must not be seen until thest moment, when it is far toote for you¡­ bastards."


    Then, unconsciousness imed the forgotten prince.


    ---

 Chapter 4: Aftermath

    Aric felt the warm rays of sunshine dance on his closed eyelids as he forced them open. He quickly noticed he was lying in his bed, surrounded by the familiar confines of his room.


    It was morning, evident from the golden sunlight streaming into through the windows, escaping through the drapes.


    "Ah, you¡¯re awake, Aric."


    Aric¡¯s eyes widened at the voice, his breath almost catching in his throat as he turned to the far end of the room. Standing there in a cape of dark velvet and armor was none other than his older brother, Darius.


    ¡¯Why did hee?¡¯ Aric panicked internally, calcting the possibilities.


    The third prince¡¯s eyes were sharp and calcting, piercing through his own jet-ck hair that sometimes fell over them. They held a shrewd glint as he observed Aric.


    "Good morning¡­ brother," Aric muttered weakly.


    In response, Darius just stared at the fourth prince, saying nothing for a few moments, as if there was something to be discovered in the silence.


    "Yes¡­ morning," Darius finally returned the greeting, walking closer to the bed where Aricy.


    "There was quite themotion here yesterday," Darius added, briefly ncing at the door that led to the hallway before turning back to Aric.


    "Yes¡­" Aric¡¯s voice trailed off, his tone soaked in sadness, an intentional gesture that turned out to be genuine.


    "What can you tell me about what happened?" Darius asked.


    Aric gazed at him for a moment before turning his head slightly to face the ceiling, sadness shing in his expression as he began to recall.


    "Not much," Aric began. "I heard themotion outside and started calling for someone, but nobody came. So I struggled towards the door, and when I opened it, I saw one of my caretakers in a fight with some strange men, while Elisey on the floor¡­ there was blood, so much blood."


    Darius raised his arm, stopping Aric.


    "You said they were in a fight?"


    Aric nodded in confirmation. "Yes, they struggled with each other."


    Darius stayed silent for a while before speaking again.


    "Then what happened?"


    "I¡¯m not sure¡­ I immediately turned away and ran, but I cked out before I could get back into the room."


    The third prince¡¯s gaze bore into Aric, as if scanning his very soul.


    "Are you sure that¡¯s all?"


    "All I can remember," Aric replied steadily.


    Darius nodded and turned. He walked towards the door of Aric¡¯s room, holding both handles and swinging it open, his gaze sweeping through the hallway, checking for any listeners.


    Having confirmed there were none, he closed the door, turning back to Aric.


    "You are physically disabled, not mentally disabled, so I¡¯m sure you know why this had to happen?"


    Aric stayed quiet, almost unsure whether to answer the question or not.


    "Yes," Aric whispered.


    Darius nodded, adjusting his cape as he walked closer to Aric before resuming speaking.


    "So you know those innocent people died simply because you were a fool who tried to act smart."


    Aric¡¯s fist clenched under the covers.


    "I didn¡¯t know it was y¡ª" Aric¡¯s words died,ing out as nothing but straggling gasps.


    Darius had simply raised a finger, and as a red circle formed around the throat of the fourth prince, he immediately lost the ability to breathe.


    Aric struggled silently, unable to shout or scream as he was being choked with magic.


    "I don¡¯t care for your exnation," Darius spat angrily, standing a few feet from Aric. "The next time you even contemte reporting me to Father, I won¡¯t only kill the people you care about."


    He tightened the grip on Aric¡¯s throat. "I¡¯ll kill you as well."


    Darius dropped his finger, and Aric began to take deep, grateful breaths as his ability to breathe was restored.


    The young prince gripped his throat as he began heaving and coughing, his eyes a watery red feeling light-headed.


    "Am I clear?" Darius questioned, his tone stoic andposed as it so usually was.


    Aric was barely able to speak, but he swiftly managed a "Yes," followed by multiple violent coughs.


    "Good. I¡¯ve had them clean up the mess. I¡¯ll make sure all the bodies are tossed somewhere appropriate. Also, a new caretaker will be sent," Darius informed, speaking over Aric¡¯s coughing.


    "I understand," Aric managed to say again.


    Darius then turned away from the sickly prince, heading out of the neglected room, only to pause as his hands wrapped around the door handles.


    "Finally, whatever it is you are hiding from me, I advise you to hide it well. Because when I find out, you¡¯ll wish you were killed alongside your whore mother."


    With those words, Darius swung open the door, stepped through it, and mmed it behind him.


    Gripping his chest as he coughed, Aric sat up in his bed, his gaze hardening as he looked at the door the third prince had just walked through.


    "You bastard, you don¡¯t even know how much I want to kill you."


    [ You have received a quest ]


    [Title: Opposing the Third Prince ]


    "What?"

 Chapter 5: Quest

    Darius Valerian, the third prince and Aric¡¯s older brother, hated the forgotten prince more than most. For years, Aric had believed that the funds to his estate had been cut off by the emperor, leaving it in a shabby state. However, that was far from the truth.


    Darius had intercepted all the allocated funds for Aric¡¯s estate and had them sent to himself instead, leaving Aric, a prince, to live like amoner in arge but forgotten home.


    When Aric discovered this, he bravely decided to send a letter to the emperor reporting the theft. However, the letter was intercepted and given to Darius, and the death of his caretakers was Aric¡¯s punishment for defying the third prince.


    Aric took a breath, and then another.


    He gazed at the floating screen before him, his head slightly tilted in confusion. He read the text over and over but found himself unable to truly understand what it meant.


    Just then, an idea sparked in his mind.


    "The floating thing¡­ yes, it can exin."


    Aric began to twist and turn, searching for the system guide, but he could not find her. He started contemting ways to make her reappear.


    "Guide?" he attempted in a low voice.


    In response, blue shimmered and danced with a soft chime, and from it, the little guide appeared, floating meters from Aric¡¯s face.


    "Hello, please state your query."


    Aric gazed at the little floating woman, her tiny wings beating softly, while he still tried toe to terms with whatever was going on.


    "What is this?" Aric politely inquired, pointing to the floating screen that carried the quest title.


    The guide softly turned to the screen, hovering towards it before dragging it closer. Then, with a gentle tap, the screen expanded, showing further details on the quest.


    ---


    **M-QUEST: Opposing the Third Prince.**


    Stop the third prince of the Valerian Empire from stealing the funds allocated to your estate.


    Failure Penalty: -40 Health


    Reward: Martial God Technique. (S-rank)


    ---


    Aric¡¯s eyes widened as he read through the screen. He reached out to touch it, only for his hand to pass through as though it were a wisp of smoke.


    "That reward¡­" Aric muttered, just as the guideunched into her robotic exnation of quests.


    "The system will offer you quests from time to time based on circumstances and events. Each given quest is aimed at aiding the user and assuring a sessful rebirth. Quests are the primary method by which rewards or penalties are given by the system."


    Aric nodded, but his mind was still fixed on the written reward. The guide continued with her exnation.


    ---


    S-QUEST: Daily Exercise.


    - 30 Push-ups


    - 30 Sit-ups


    - 100 Jump Squats


    Failure Penalty: -1 Health Point


    Reward: +1 Strength, +1 Agility


    ---


    "There are two types of quests: main quests and sub-quests. Main quests are significantly harder toplete and take more time; therefore, sess is more rewarded. Sub-quests, on the other hand, have less significant results, but the quest difficulty is also lower."


    "Questpletion gives EXP, which passively increases stats and other attributes."


    Aric, still locked on the reward text, pointed to it and asked the question that had been guing him.


    "Does this mean, if Iplete the quest, I really get the Martial God Technique?"


    "Yes," the guide promptly answered.


    Aric almost couldn¡¯t believe it. He had heard countless stories of the Martial God Technique. It was one of seven Saint-level cultivation techniques, and countless wars throughout history had been fought over it.


    And yet, somehow, Aric was being offered it as a reward for a quest.


    "Is this real?"


    "Yes," the guide answered. "So is the penalty."


    Aric¡¯s gaze shifted to the text above the reward as he heard her words. He hadn¡¯t really given the penalty much thought because of the overwhelming reward, but now that he thought about it, it was quite severe.


    "How much health do I currently have?"


    [HP: 15/15]


    "You are currently at your max health with a total of 15 points," the guide pointed at the new window disying Aric¡¯s HP.


    "But the penalty says it will take 40 health points. I don¡¯t have enough."


    The guide, in the most emotionless, robotic manner, gave a blunt answer.


    "If the user¡¯s health points are less than the penalty points, then you will die."


    Aric looked at the tiny guide floating and staring at him nonchntly as she spoke. He, however, decided not to dwell on the negative. He had so much to gain that failure could not be an option.


    "Well, how do I go about this?" Aric began contemting out loud, prompting a response from the guide.


    "I¡¯m unable to give advice at my current level."


    Aric raised a brow at the guide¡¯s words.


    "So it is possible for you to do so at a higher level?"


    "My intelligence and charisma increase along with the intelligence stat of the user. My current inability is based on the user¡¯s low intelligence stat."


    "Is that an insult?" Aric side-eyed the guide.


    "I am incapable of making insults," the guide responded robotically.


    Aric scoffed, pushing himself off his bed. ncing at the sub-quest, his eyes glinted with determination.


    "Alright, let¡¯s get this done," Aric said, standing up and looking at the list of exercises.

 Chapter 6: House of Fools

    Aric stood in the middle of his room as the faint light of dawn crept into the space. The shadows cast by the dusty furniture felt oppressive in the silence.


    He felt weak just from standing alone. It was hard for him to get used to this illness-ridden state when his more capable self felt like it was just moments ago and not a life time away. Although he had still been an average human, he was quite strong for one.


    However, now he was far from that, and as he looked down at his frail limbs, he felt a surge of frustration shoot through him. Regardless, he was determined to push through.


    "Okay, I can do this," Aric muttered to himself. The system guide floated to the side, watching as he began the jump squats.


    Although this was simple calisthenics meant to strengthen his body, they felt far more difficult than that. Each time Aric hopped into the air, a ring headache would attack him, as though his brain was bouncing around in his skull.


    Yet, this alone was far from enough to stop the relentless prince as he continued with the jumps, his face contorting in pain each time hended, only for him to squat andunch himself off the ground again quickly.


    A grueling quarter-hour had passed. The floor beneath Aric didn¡¯t have drops of sweat but blood that dripped from his nose.


    "How many left?" Aric asked through breaths of exhaustion.


    "Seventeen," the system guide replied from not too far away.


    Aric gritted his teeth and continued.


    Hours passed. Aric nowy on the floor, his body drenched in sweat. Each exercise was painful; every push-up, every sit-up felt like climbing a mountain. His vision would blur, and his muscles would scream in protest, while the guide¡¯s cold voice counted his repetitions without any sign of concern.


    Aric fainted and awoke multiple times throughout his attempts. However, he refused to give up, pushing his body to the absolute limit. Each time he fell, he dragged himself back up, memories of the humiliation and betrayal he suffered fueling him.


    He could not fail again.


    "Is it done?" Aric asked, sprawled across the floor, barely conscious.


    "Yes, the sub-quest has beenpleted sessfully," the guide confirmed.


    ---


    [+1 STR]


    [+1 AGI]


    [+1 EDU]


    ---


    As Aricy on the floor, he knew he could not go on like this. What could he do if even basic exercise was this difficult? Futhermore he knew just exercise could not make him recover from his illness. He needed something more¡ªhe needed a healer.


    Although getting one who was capable was far harder than it seemed, since Aric was young, many healers had attempted to treat his illness, and every one of them ended up failing. However, he remembered one person, one he was certain would seed.


    Serina Marceli, the prodigy mage, known as the youngest 5th-ss healing mage¡ªwell, that¡¯s what she was currently. By the time of Aric¡¯s death, he had heard she had be a 7th-ss mage.


    He could still remember the day she had decided to assess his condition. He had been humiliated in front of her, and perhaps for other reasons as well, she had decided he wasn¡¯t worth the effort of healing.


    "If the estate ambush was yesterday¡­" Aric began to put the dates together. "Then it¡¯s just a couple of days till shees."


    Aric sat up from the floor, and although he was exhausted, he could feel a considerable improvement in his body. Although slight, he was stronger, more agile.


    He then managed to reach his washroom, cleaning up and changing as he prepared to head out.


    Aric stepped out of his room, carrying with him his staff that aided his walking. Entering the hallway, he could still smell the blood from the previous night, almost hearing the struggles of his dying caretakers as well. However, the hallway had been cleaned of the incident¡ªnot a single stain of red was left.


    Aric moved across the dark carpet of the hall and eventually made it to one of two staircases that curved down towards the foyer. With each step he took, the aged wood creaked and groaned beneath his feet.


    As Aric came down, he spotted five men along with a single youngdy who had been waiting for him down at the foyer. Aric had expected them.


    "How can I help you?" Aric asked as he came down the stairs, prompting them all to turn to him.


    The girl was the first to answer. She had brown hair that was packed atop her head and dark hazel eyes.


    "I was sent by the third prince. I am your new caretaker."


    "Ah, is that so?" Aric turned to her as he reached the end of the stairs. "You are aware of what happened to the previous ones. Are you not fearful you might meet the same fate?" Aric¡¯s eyes narrowed as he scrutinized the youngdy.


    "That¡¯s why we¡¯re here. We were sent to secure this ce and make sure something like that doesn¡¯t happen again," one of the guards wearing a meager attempt at armor said.


    "Hmm, I see" Aric raised a brow. "That¡¯s good, then." He continued walking past them.


    "I¡¯m going out for a walk."


    "Hey," the muscr and bald one among the guards called out. "Make sure you¡¯re back quickly, Aric. If anything happens to you, we will be responsible."


    Aric stopped in his tracks, his grip on his staff tightening slightly.


    "Aric?" He turned to the guard. "I¡¯m assuming you meant Prince Aric, right?"


    The bald guard smiled mischievously before responding.


    "I think I know what I said, Aric."


    "You think, huh?" Aric¡¯s lips curled slightly before he turned around and headed towards the door.


    "I won¡¯t be long," he announced before exiting therge manor.

 Chapter 7: Mirrored Tactics

    Aric, after walking for a while, emerged from the confines of his estate, his silver hair catching the early morning light. The stark contrast between his regal attire and the scanty city streets drew curious nces from passersby. It was not a usual urrence to see a prince, especially walking alone on the street, and Aric was no exception.


    Perhaps it was even more surprising in his case, as he never left the safety of his estate.


    His frail figure, supported by a staff, seemed a bit ethereal against the backdrop of the imperial city¡¯s gritty reality.


    As he made his way toward the empire courier station, the murmur of gossip and hushed whispers followed him. Some averted their eyes, while others openly stared, their expressions a mix of pity and disdain.


    Aric, ustomed to the scrutiny, maintained a stoic facade, his gaze fixed on the streets ahead.


    The district of the imperial city where Aric currently resided was not home to many; only a select few individuals of considerable status lived here, which meant fewer eyes on him.


    Ignoring the stares, Aric quietly made his way to the courier station, aided by his trusty staff. The courtyard outside the station was quite chaotic. Cartsden with goods rumbled past, their drivers shouting orders to their horses. Peddlers hawked their wares, their voices rising above the din. A few beggars sat huddled together, their eyes filled with despair.


    Despite the apparent chaos, a sense of order held, perhaps maintained by the two imperial watch guards meant to keep the peace.


    Aric walked to the door, and upon reaching it, the guards stationed there swiftly stood upright, recognizing the third prince and offering a nod of acknowledgment as he walked past them and into the building.


    Inside, the station was very much an active. The air was thick with the scent of parchment, ink, and sweat. Clerks scurried about, sorting through piles of letters and packages, too busy to notice the presence of a prince. The walls were lined with shelves filled with maps, globes, and timetables.


    Aric made a turn into a hall, stopping at a specific door and pushing it open before entering and closing it behind him.


    He now stood in an office.


    It was a small, cramped space. A desk piled with paperwork dominated the room, leaving little space for anything else. The walls were adorned with maps, timetables, and a few personal items, such as a family portrait and a potted nt.


    A slightly aged man sat at the desk, scribbling away on a paper, not even bothering to look up and see who had entered his office.


    "What do you want?" the clerk beckoned, still not raising his eyes from his work.


    Aric gazed at the man for a moment before strolling forward, pulling out one of the two chairs that faced the desk, and taking a seat.


    "Thank you for offering. Yes, I¡¯d like to sit," Aric jeered.


    Hearing the voice, only then did the clerk raise his head to identify who sat before him. As he saw the fourth prince, shock flooded his expression.


    "Your Highness¡­" the clerk sat up, momentarily lost for words. "What could bring you here?"


    Aric nced around the office, his eyes trailing until they stopped at the family portrait on the wall.


    "Great painting, and a beautiful family as well," Aricplimented.


    The clerk nced at the portrait Aric stared at before turning back to him.


    "Thank you. They are a great motivator to get through such a tedious job, after all surviving in the imperial city is no joke, huh?" the clerk chuckled dryly.


    "I imagine it¡¯s difficult," Aric said firmly. "And I¡¯m here today to ease your burden."


    The clerk sat up further in his chair, his backpletely straight.


    "What do you mean, Your Highness?" he asked, curious.


    "In theing days, I¡¯ll make sure a significant amount is sent to you, and in exchange, I want all letters from a particr sender for the next two days withheld and sent to me."


    The clerk¡¯s bodynguage immediately shifted at Aric¡¯s offer.


    "Prince, that is a crime."


    "A crime nobody will care about unless it¡¯s of utmost relevance or confidentiality, which this is not."


    The clerk thought for a moment before shaking his head.


    "Even then, I don¡¯t think I can¡­"


    Aric raised his hand, cutting him off.


    "I think it¡¯s important I make you understand, I¡¯m not giving you a choice, just an opportunity." Aric, relying heavily on his staff, stood from the chair before continuing. "It¡¯s no secret how low I stand as a royal, but I¡¯m a royal nheless, and if you think having a random clerk lose his job is out of the scope of this forgotten prince¡¯s influence, then I will only ask you this."


    Aric¡¯s voice darkened as he gazed deep into the man¡¯s eyes.


    "Are you willing to bet your family¡¯s well-being on it?"


    The clerk remained silent, perhaps lost for words, while Aric droppped a paper with a name on the clerks desk before walking over to the door, pulling it open.


    "I¡¯ll be expecting the letters," Aric whispered, closing the door behind him.


    ---


    The prince returned to his estate. The guards that had been sent over positioned themselves at the front. They had no formal etiquette as they sat aroundughing and discussing among themselves. Paying them no mind, Aric walked into his home, simply wanting to fall onto his bed and rest.


    He made it up the stairs and into his room, and almost immediately after, the caretaker followed behind him, pushing a tray of food that she finally positioned beside his bed.


    "Make sure to eat, Your Highness," the caretaker advised as she headed toward the door of the room.


    "Thank you, Mia," Aric muttered.


    The caretaker reached the door, stopping as her hand gripped the handle, and turned back slightly.


    "If it¡¯s okay to ask, I never told you, so how is it you know my name?"


    ¡¯Shit,¡¯ Aric cursed internally.


    "Does it matter?" Aric replied, a frigid firmness in his tone.


    "No, Your Highness. I¡¯lle check on youter," Mia said, exiting the room.


    Aric sat down on the bed, staring at the food before him. He stretched his hand, picking up the ss of red wine ced to the side. He twirled the red liquid in the ss before sniffing subtly.


    "I always wondered...what kind of poison she had put in this."

 Chapter 8: Affectionate Writings

    Daylight filtered through Aric¡¯s windows, casting a muted glow on the sparse, old furnishings. A tension hung in the air, as if chaos was impending.


    In the middle of the room was Aric, hands pressed against the floor as he pushed himself upward, only to let himself down again and repeat. It had now been four days since his regression and the system¡¯s daily subquest begun, and Aric had made sure to never miss a single day of his rigorous routine.


    His body was still undoubtedly weak, and each session of training was grueling and painful, but he was gradually building strength. Although his nose still bled, he no longer fainted as much.


    [Subquest Completed]


    Following the prompt was also the voice of the system guide, who simply watched as Aric struggled.


    "You havepleted today¡¯s exercise," she confirmed, echoing the panel¡¯s words.


    Aric copsed onto the floor, his limbs feeling like they were on fire as he turned onto his back.


    "So, was today faster?" Aric asked the guide, his body drenched in sweat.


    "Yes, youpleted the routine 15 minutes faster than yesterday," the guide confirmed, causing Aric to let out a small smile. He found satisfaction in his little progress.


    ¡¯Today will be interesting, huh?¡¯ Aric thought.


    He couldn¡¯t forget even if he wanted to¡ªthis day in his previous life had potentially altered his fatepletely, and if things had gone differently, maybe he wouldn¡¯t have had to live so miserably thest time.


    Today was the day the Valerian Mage Academy would be touring the imperial city, but more than just a tour, this day held significant importance not just for the mages of the academy but for the princes as well.


    Part of their tour was a stop at each of the princes¡¯ estates, and the academy students would be given the opportunity to put on what was essentially a show for the princes. If impressed, a mage could be recruited by a prince and be a part of their respective houses.


    His estate would be the first stop, and Aric needed to make sure he was prepared to give them a wee befitting the forgotten prince.


    Just then, a knock echoed through the room, interrupting Aric¡¯s thoughts.


    "What is it?" Aric beckoned, annoyance evident in his tone.


    "A letter for you, Your Highness," the voice responded.


    Aric sighed in relief. He had begun to second-guess whether his threats to the clerk had actually worked, but it seemed they did indeed.


    Aric turned, pushing himself off the floor as he struggled to the door, his legs protesting with every step, burned out from the routine.


    He cracked the door open a bit to see n, one of his new estate guards. He was the youngest of them and the most respectful of the lot, so Aric was assured the contents of the letter were unread.


    "Thank you, n." Aric stretched out his hand to take the letters before retreating and closing the door behind him.


    Aric walked over to his bed, sitting as he began to open the first of the three letters. He read the address of delivery and shook his head.


    "I knew he wasn¡¯t dumb enough to send them straight to the lord¡¯s manor. If he had done that, no way the clerk would have agreed to send them to me," Aric mumbled to himself as he pulled out the first letter from its seal.


    As he began to read, a smile spread across his face, one with a glint of mischief and excitement.


    "Oh Darius, how much I want to see the look on your face when I¡¯m done with you... its now as though that is my main drive, and the quest reward is just a bonus"


    Aric closed the letter back up, not bothering to read the rest. He then began to scan around his room for a safe ce to keep them, knowing that if they were stolen, it could be incredibly problematic for his n.


    "Where do I hide this?" Aric muttered aloud.


    The system guide, silently watching from a distance as it always did, then glided toward Aric, who saw the familiar glint in her eyes and knew she was about to go into an exining frenzy.


    "The user has ess to an inventory: this is a subspace that can store any item as long as it¡¯s not a living being, and the user can retrieve said item at any time. To store an item, simply picture cing the item in the subspace."


    Aric¡¯s mouth dropped open in shock. It seemed as though each day this little floatingdy opened her mouth, she spoke of one new blessing or another. He began to doubt how it was possible for him to be this lucky.


    Aric stretched his hand as he imagined cing the letter into a subspace, and with nothing but a blue wisp, the letters vanished into thin air.


    Aric spun around, looking to confirm that they had truly disappeared, and he could no longer see the letters.


    He then reached out again, imagining retrieving the letters, and just like that, they appeared in his hand.


    Aric¡¯s face lit up with excitement, like a young child who had been shown magic for the first time.


    His mind raced with so many possibilities.


    "Guide, do things age in the inventory?" Aric questioned.


    "No, there is no flow of time in the subspace," the guide exined.


    "So if I were to store food in it, it would never go bad?"


    "That is correct," the guide confirmed.


    Aric sat back on the bed andughed almost excitedly.


    "I really thought Mia would find out I don¡¯t eat her poison if I kept sneaking around to feed, but now I can just store food with me wherever I go," Aric rubbed his chin as though brainstorming a master n.


    "Well then, I should get prepared before my guests arrive. After all, I¡¯ve nned quite the show for them... especially you, Serina."

 Chapter 9: Power.

    It was now midday at the Fourth Prince¡¯s estate, and a flurry of footsteps echoed through the prince¡¯s home, apanied by the chatter of young voices, signaling the arrival of the mage academy students.


    Led by Mia, they were given a tour of the prince¡¯s estate, and perhaps it was special in itself. The manor¡¯s state of neglect did well to capture the essence of Aric¡¯s title as the Forgotten Prince.


    Everyone knew the story: the youngest and only one of the four princes to not be a prodigy, but instead an illness-ridden disappointment.


    They hade for the tour, and they hade to see him as well, but nothing more than how one would go to see an animal in a zoo¡ªmost in amusement to see what a peasant prince would look like, a few in pity, but none in anticipation of being recruited under his house.


    The tour around the prince¡¯s estate ended as they escorted the students towards the courtyard. Although the rest of the estate had been left in shambles, the courtyard was well tended, courtesy of Aric¡¯s now-deceased caretaker.


    She had loved the flowers.


    Aric sat in silence at the far end of the courtyard as the academy students were led to him. He sipped from the tea he had made himself before dropping the cup on the table beside him.


    ¡¯Serina,¡¯ he mentally noted, spotting her in the crowd.


    He also turned to the imperial watch guard that apanied the group; those two were crucial parts of his n.


    The watch guard was far different from the guards that had been sent to his estate, who now stood around the courtyard. Unlike the weaklings with a sword and helmet he had gotten, the watch guards were rankers in the imperial army, loyal to the crown alone, and that meant loyalty to the royal family.


    One watch-guard, although the lowest ranking position in the imperial army, could oppose a hundred men single-handedly. They were the most easily seen imperial guards, but stillmanded respect and fear wherever they went.


    Aric watched as an old man with hair and beard colored white with time approached him.


    "Greetings, Your Highness. I am their supervisor, and with your permission, some students would like to disy their abilities for you."


    ¡¯Kalisto.¡¯


    Aric knew the mage quite well; the old man had eventually be a member of the Third Prince¡¯s entourage, and even then Aric could tell their rtionship spanned way back. This old bastard knew what he was doing.


    "Go on," Aric granted the request.


    "Alright then," Kalisto turned to the students and the other supervisors that apanied them. "Anyone who has something to show the Fourth Prince, please step forward."


    The old mage¡¯s announcement hung in the air a moment, not a single word said and not a single person stepping forward.


    Kalisto then repeats himself, even though it¡¯s clear he was heard the first time, and still no one stepped forward.


    Aric watched the scene unfold as he picked up his tea cup to take another sip, unbothered by the shenanigans. Even without the fact he had experienced this exact moment in hisst life, this oue was to be expected.


    Who would want to ally with a prince who could barely carry himself up, much less be part of the race for the crown? That was the quickest way to kill their potential.


    As the silence stretched, intentionally so by Kalisto, amused nces and snickers began to be exchanged by two of Aric¡¯s estate guards. They chuckled at the embarrassment the prince faced.


    And perhaps that was even more disgraceful than anything else¡ªit showed everyone present that even the guards of his home had no respect for Aric and openly mocked him.


    Then suddenly, a single boy stepped forward before Aric could respond.


    "Oh?" The Fourth Prince raised an eyebrow.


    The young mage, who seemed a bit younger than Aric, held a loaded crossbow in his hand as he bowed to greet the prince.


    "My name is Lerai, Your Highness," the boy greeted.


    "Greetings, Lerai," Aric finished a sip from his tea cup before putting it down. "What do you have for me?"


    "A crossbow."


    The boy¡¯s words caused the crowd of students to burst into discreetughter. Instead of a disy of magical power, Lerai had brought a normal weapon.


    Aric could see the young mage immediately begin to panic; his cheeks flushed with embarrassment as he looked down.


    The prince stood from his chair, walking over to the boy and putting a hand on his shoulder in an attempt to calm him.


    As the young mage looked up at the reassuring smile of the Fourth Prince, he could feel a wave of confidence rush through him.


    "Well, tell me about your crossbow," Aric said to Lerai, his voice calming.


    "It... uh... it¡¯s engraved with a magical rune that makes it shoot arrows slightly faster than normal, making them stronger and more deadly."


    Following his words, more subtle chuckles erupted among the students. Then, loudughter from the bald estate guard shot across the courtyard; he was not even attempting to be discreet anymore, clearly and tantly disrespecting the prince.


    "The only child that stepped out is one that made a crossbow with a slightly faster arrow," the manughed to the other red-haired guard, who chuckled with him.


    "Is something funny? Have I missed a joke?" Aric asked, holding and inspecting the boy¡¯s crossbow.


    "No, Aric, please continue checking out the slightly better crossbow," the bald guard responded.


    Aric gazed at the muscr guard for a moment; an awkward silence settled in the courtyard with nobody saying a single word.


    "Yes," Aric muttered, then raised the crossbow and aimed it at the guard. "Maybe I should test it on you."


    The bald guardughed aloud hysterically as he shook his head. "No need to do something like that; you might faint from holding that weapon too long."


    The guard followed his own joke with moreughter while the rest of the entire courtyard fell silent; even the red haired guard who had been chuckling with him knew it had now gone too far.


    "You must be under the impression I won¡¯t do it," Aric said, still aiming the crossbow at the guard.


    With confidence and an intimidating stride, the guard stepped closer towards Aric before speaking.


    "As a matter of fact, Prince, I don¡¯t think you can."


    Aricughed darkly, tilting his head slightly.


    "Well, you were never really good at thinking, were you?"


    Aric shot, the arrow releasing from the crossbow and prating the skull of the guard. It was instant; the man was dead before he could even react.


    Gasps and subtle screams began to echo from the students as they watched the guard fall to his death, while Aric turned to his red-hairedpanion that had been snickering as well.


    "Watch-guard," Aric called.


    The fully armored imperial guard came forward, standing before the Fourth Prince.


    "Your Highness?"


    "For the crime of l¨¨se-majest¨¦, cut off his arm," Aricmanded, gesturing to the red-haired man.


    "Yes, Your Highness." The imperial watch guard seemed to blur, reaching the red-haired guard in an instant, and forcing him to his knees, ready to take his limb.


    The red-haired man began to scream pleas for mercy as everyone could only stare in shock and disbelief at what unfolded.


    "Please, Your Highness, please forgive me, Your Highness!"


    He screamed relentlessly as he attempted a pointless struggle with the watch-guard.


    Hearing his pleas, Aric raised his arm.


    "Stop," hemanded the watch-guard, who swiftly obeyed.


    "I am a man of justice and fairness, and for that reason, I shall not take your arm," Aric dered.


    "Thank you, my prince," the red-haired guard immediately showed his gratitude.


    "Instead," the prince continued, "since youmitted the same crime as the other fool, you shall be given the same punishment: death."


    Aric turned to the watch guard. "Bring me his head."


    The imperial guard did not hesitate at themand, pinning down the red-haired man before swiftly drawing his sword and cleaving through his neck with it in one brutal stroke.


    Mouths were left agape as the guard¡¯s headless body crumpled to the floor and his head rolled.


    The imperial guard then picked up the head by its red hair, walking over to the prince and cing it on the table beside him, to which the prince simply nodded at a job well done.


    It was a grim and tant show of power.


    As the terror-stricken students and onlookers stared in horror, Aric nonchntly turned back to them, and then with a calm, almost bored expression, he asked:


    "My apologies, where were we?"

 Chapter 10: Grand Entrée

    The courtyard had fallen into a deathly silence, not a single word muttered, the only sound being the soft rustling of leaves in the gentle afternoon breeze.


    All present¡ªstudents, mages, guards, and onlookers¡ªwere frozen in shock, their minds almost unable to process the brutal event that had just transpired.


    Nobody had expected such a drastic action, and even more so, that it would be taken by the fourth prince. They could not believe their eyes.


    Aric, noticing the tension, broke the silence with a calm, almost casual tone.


    "Well then, if no one has anything else to show, you may all tour the courtyard before being on your way."


    His demeanor was tantly unemotional, as though the executions were nothing more than a minor inconvenience in his day.


    Upon his words, the students and supervisors began to disperse cautiously, keeping a wide berth around Aric.


    "You,e," Aric gestured to Lerai.


    Lerai, shaken up by the events, walked towards the prince without wasting a second, his fear evident.


    "Yes, your highness," he said, his voice shaking.


    ¡¯Will he kill me as well because my crossbow was what made themugh?¡¯ Lerai thought internally, praying to the gods he did not die here.


    "You are quite smart, more than people are willing to realize," Aricplimented.


    Just then, a small smile crept onto Lerai¡¯s face.


    "Thank you, your highness. The others don¡¯t think so, though," Lerai muttered, a tinge of sadness fading his smile.


    "Don¡¯t worry, it¡¯s human nature. Most are often blind to the bigger picture until it¡¯s painted in blood." Aric¡¯s voice had taken on a dark edge.


    "I don¡¯t think I understand, your highness," Lerai mumbled back.


    "You don¡¯t, but you will, and when you do, remember this moment and that I believe in you." Aric offered a warm smile to the boy, handing him back his crossbow.


    Lerai¡¯s face lit up, and he almost could not believe this was the same prince he had just seen execute two men forughing.


    "Thank you, your highness. Your words mean a lot." Aric nodded as the boy took the crossbow and turned away to meet up with the other students.


    Aric then turned to his left, where Serina had been staring directly at him as she plucked flower after flower. The girl looked about the same age as Aric, her eyes an almost fading grey, and her hair a wave of ck cascading down her back.


    Aric raised his hand, gesturing for her toe.


    The girl walked gracefully towards the prince.


    "Good day, miss," Aric greeted.


    "Your highness," the girl nodded.


    "I assume you have something to say to me," Aric reclined back in his chair.


    "What made you assume that?" Serina asked.


    "Well, I don¡¯t think you stared into my soul while murdering my flowers just for the thrill of it," Aric said.


    Serina let out a wry huff, looking away from Aric.


    "Would you attend this evening¡¯s banquet?" she asked.


    "It¡¯s likely," Aric replied simply.


    "That¡¯s also different from what I was told. They say you are not one to be seen at social or public gatherings."


    Aric shrugged. "Well, I have given them much to discuss tonight, and believe it or not, I do enjoy hearing my own gossip."


    "Is that so?" Serina chuckled with a head tilt.


    "Yes, the severed head beside me might have given it away, but I am quite the narcissist," Aric quipped.


    "No, you might not be that, but you are one dangerous individual. Those eyes are not those of a sheltered prince, but of¡­"


    "¡­a seasoned killer," Aricpleted.


    "What happened to you, your highness?" she asked, genuine curiosity in her voice.


    "I could ask you the same, Serina." Aric replied, staring into the dead grey of her eyes, and he wondered just how many lives she had taken.


    "I have an offer you might be interested in. Will I be able to meet you at the banquet to present it?" Serina asked.


    "Perhaps."


    She nodded, nced at the severed head propped on the table beside the prince, and walked away.


    Soon after, all the mages began to disperse from the garden as they exited the prince¡¯s estate and moved on to the others. Aric sat back in his chair with a sigh.


    His mind was upied with thoughts. All he had known about Serina were things he had heard in hisst life, but standing before her, it seemed there was something far darker beneath.


    ¡ª ¡ª ¡ª


    Night fell, the sun had long retreated, and the moon now ruled the skies, its silver glow reaching each crevice of the empire.


    The imperial city was quite alive on this particr night; well, it was every night, but this one was different. This was the annual banquet hosted by the emperor himself. It was a chance for a select few to see the supreme ruler and an even more select few to converse with him while also meeting other powerful individuals.


    The princes were usually a part of this annual banquet from a young age, but Aric, however, had always been too sick to attend. The forgotten prince was barely ever seen in public.


    Tonight, however, a carriage pulled in front of the door of the imperial pce, and unlike other carriages, this one waste, and by intention.


    Aric stepped out, a staff of silver in his hand and a coat hung over his royal attire. He usually wore more casual clothes, but tonight was different.


    He walked through the entryway and into the door. Now, normally, his entrance might have gone unnoticed, but Aric was royalty, and it was necessary that his entrance be announced.


    Upon seeing him, the imperial pce guard stationed at therge banquet room entrance mmed his sword into the floor, silencing the room.


    "In attendance, His Royal Highness, the Fourth Prince: Aric Valerian."


    The words of the imperial guard drew the attention of everyone present. All eyes fell on Aric as he walked through the room.


    "What a way to arrive at a function," Serina huffed a chuckle.

 Chapter 11: Fear Does Not Forget.

    The grand hall of the imperial pce had been adorned with decorations and filled with rows of long tables. Gathered around them were nobles, dignitaries, and the students of the Valerian Mage Academy.


    At the very end of the hall was aically longer andrger table, where Emperor Xavier Valerian sat at the head. The princes were seated immediately next to him, and further down were nobles by rank, followed by the head of the mage academy and the top five students, Serina included.


    As Aric stepped through the grand hall, the room plunged into a momentary stunned silence, only for a flurry of whispers to erupt a momentter.


    "Isn¡¯t that the forgotten prince?"


    "Isn¡¯t he bedridden?"


    "Careful with your words; I heard he killed men for speaking ill just earlier today."


    Nobles and guests exchanged gossip about the fourth prince, spections flew, and curious nces were thrown in his direction, but Aric remained asposed as could be, his expression unreadable.


    He walked to the emperor¡¯s table, currently escorted by one of the imperial guards.


    The seating arrangement was symbolic, trailing down from the emperor through the ranks of power. However, as Aric approached, it was clear there was no seat for him among the princes.


    Aric reached the table, standing a bit away from the emperor and the other princes.


    "Brothers," he greeted with a nod before turning to the emperor.


    "Father," he greeted with a slight bow.


    They all responded to his greeting with bodily acknowledgments before the second prince spoke.


    "Younger Brother, it seems your arrival was not anticipated, so they had not ced an extra seat among us. I¡¯ll have th¡ª"


    "No, no," Aric shook his hand. "There is no need for that. I¡¯ll just sit anywhere, it doesn¡¯t matter," Aric said, his toneposed as he walked along the table and found a seat in the far middle.


    His actions subtly undermined the situation, showing he was unfazed by the oversight.


    Emperor Xavier Valerian was known for being a rather quiet individual, but his aura spoke of unparalleled authority. It is said that martial artists with the ability to feel ki are almost unable to breathe in his presence.


    He had hair of pure white. It was clear he was quite aged, but he didn¡¯t look it; he seemed full of vitality.


    His head leaned on his arm, and his previously bored expression seemed to shift to amusement upon Aric¡¯s arrival.


    "Say, Aric, why did you finally decide to grace us with your presence this year?" the emperor asked, his voice as imposing as he looked, and the entire table went silent awaiting Aric¡¯s answer.


    "I heard the wine was worth the attendance," Aric replied, a hint of dry humor in his tone as he took a filled ss next to him, taking a sip.


    "I guess I wasn¡¯t lied to," he added after tasting.


    The table was quiet for a moment before the emperor burst into loudughter, followed by smallughs from some sycophantic nobles.


    "If that¡¯s not a good reason, I don¡¯t know what is," the emperorughed as he stood.


    Immediately he did, hemanded the attention of the entire hall and began his weing speech.


    "I don¡¯t believe there will be any more surprise arrivals, so I might as well address you all now," Xavier jested, acknowledging Aric¡¯ste attendance.


    "You are all wee, and although I host this every year, we must remember this is not about me, but instead about the young prides of the empire. Today, we appreciate the Valerian Mage Academy and its students.


    For many years, graduates of this academy have be a core structure of our empire, being the most honored of the imperial army and squad, and today we gather here to celebrate the future generation of these young prodigies."


    The emperor raised his ss, proposing a toast.


    "To the future of the empire."


    Everyone raised their sses in response, making the toast.


    The banquet continued, although the atmosphere remained subtly charged with curiosity and unease. Whispers and discussions of the fourth prince and his actions dominated most tables.


    At the emperor¡¯s table, however, more mature conversations were held, and from light-hearted banter, the discussions soon took a political turn.


    Aric remainedrgely detached from the conversations, as everyone present had expected. He had beenpletely absent from all political affairs of the empire, so his limited knowledge was to be expected.


    The fourth prince yed into their assumptions, only observing the dynamics of the court rather than participating in the conversation.


    He simply sipped his wine and listened, his mind analyzing the power ys and alliances being subtly negotiated around him.


    Soon, the sour topic of the rumored rebellion of the Byzeth Kingdom was brought to the table.


    "The Byzeth situation is actually quite unfortunate. The king broke through the martial master realm and suddenly believes he can defy the authority of the empire without any consequences. Foolish, but handling such matters requires a level of finesse, no?"


    Lord Hozai spoke, a wealthy sycophant of the third prince.


    "Finesse? Well, that¡¯s one way, or we could make a brutal example of them," the second prince, Ss Valerian, spoke.


    "But surely, your highness, the people of Byzeth are simply misguided. Perhaps a lighter hand could bring them back to the fold? A bit of gold here, a promise of autonomy there¡­ sometimes diplomacy can achieve what swords are incapable of."


    Lord Hozai exined, proud of his thinking, but before the second prince could respond, the Lord turned to the fourth.


    "What do you think, Prince Aric?"


    Aric had expected it, especially from a member of Darius¡¯s entourage¡ªan attempt to embarrass him by exploiting hisck of knowledge in strategic politics.


    All eyes turned to the fourth prince, most eager to get augh as he crashed and burned, while others, like the emperor and his second brother, were intrigued to hear his response.


    "You must believe money solves every problem," Aric responded coolly, not sparing the lord a nce as he gazed at his wine ss.


    "Indeed I do," Hozai swiftly retorted. "I pay my guards well, and as a result, none can humiliate me in public,"


    His words were a tant jab at the prince regarding the actions of his estate guards.


    Aric smiled, a cold, unreadable tug on his lips.


    "Let¡¯s say we follow your method: a few bribes, some concessions¡­ and suddenly the emperor¡¯s power is up for auction. Now, any kingdom looking for wealth simply revolts, and we continue to pay to keep our authority¡­ Clearly, that¡¯s unsustainable," Aric responded, seemingly ignoring the lord¡¯s provocation.


    "So what do you suggest?" the lord questioned, already uneasy by Aric¡¯s calm andposed artiction. His idea had been exposed as wed by the prince so easily.


    "Burn their fields, raze their city, hang their leaders¡­ let people see what defiance brings."


    Aric¡¯s words hung coldly in the air. No one had expected such brutal thinking from the third prince, and it became quite clear that the events earlier that day were most certainly not a rumor.


    "And the people?" Darius asked, the third prince putting on his facade. "You would advise we ughter women and children?"


    "Survivors will live their lives with a lesson. Fear breeds loyalty far more effectively than gold or promises. For example, the lord bragged about his wellpensated guards, but they are loyal to his coin, not to him. What happens when they are offered more money? Authority built on marypensation is certain to crumble eventually.


    However, I¡¯m certain my guards will find it hard to defy me again when the head of theirpanion decorates my table¡­ Don¡¯t you think so, Lord Hozai?" Aric¡¯s eyes narrowed, and his voice turned cold as he addressed the wealthy lord.


    The lord clenched his fist under the table.


    "Such harsh methods, your highness. Perhaps some would say it¡¯s unnecessary cruelty," Hozai spoke through slightly clenched teeth.


    "Cruelty? Perhaps. But sometimes cruelty is the most effective form of mercy." Aric shrugged slightly.


    "Mercy towards the rest of the empire. When one kingdom rebels, others will follow if not deterred. By ending this quickly and decisively, we prevent greater bloodshed in the future."


    Aric shifted his chair back as he spoke, standing.


    "Terror is a powerful tool, your lordship," Aric gazed straight into Hozai¡¯s eyes. "And unlike your loyalty bought with gold, fear does not forget."


    Aric picked up a filled ss from the table.


    "Now, do excuse me, as I go take some air on the balcony," he said, walking away and leaving the entire table in stunned silence.

 Chapter 12: May Thy Enemies Flowers Never Blossom

    The balcony was dimly lit, the night air had a cool chill, and the sound of the ongoing banquet that Aric left behind could be faintly heard in the background. Aric stood at the edge, gazing down at the vast and magnificent sprawl of the imperial city, lit up and abuzz with life.


    Its beauty contrasted the darkness slowly creeping into his mind. If he considered it, perhaps the person he had be since his regression surprised him as well, but he knew all too well the necessity.


    "I need to work faster," Aric mumbled to himself before sipping on the ss of red wine he held in his right hand, while his left hand clenched his silver cane.


    He could acknowledge the effect of the system¡¯s exercises, although not by a profoundly significant margin, he was stronger than he usually was. Normally, attending this banquet with his illness or even standing for lengthy periods would have been impossible.


    The quiet moment of Aric¡¯s thoughts was soon interrupted by the sound of footsteps as Serina joined him. He hadn¡¯t turned back, but he knew it was her.


    "I¡¯m quite lucky to be in the imperial city when the Forgotten Prince decides he does not want to be forgotten any longer. Watching you expose your cards has been quite entertaining, to say the least."


    Aric shook his head in disagreement, listening to Serina¡¯s words, and without turning back to look at her, he replied, "I haven¡¯t exposed anything, actually. Underestimation is a powerful weapon, Miss Marceli, and I n to use it to its fullest." He finally turned to look at Serina, her dress the same ck as her hair, both fluttering in the gentle breeze.


    "I might have changed how some view me, but I am still a powerless prince, so what significance is there in that?" Aric asked.


    "Well, you have shown potential. With that, if you adopt a more friendly and less oppositional demeanor, you might get some people on your side," Serina stepped closer, standing at the balcony¡¯s edge beside Aric as she gazed down at the city aswell.


    "I knew a woman; she always told me to rule others, you must shower them with enough kindness and love that opposition bes an inconvenience." Serina added


    Aric chuckled dryly. "Another wed strategy, perhaps even worse than the lord¡¯s theory ofpensation."


    "Is that so?" Serina nced at him.


    "It took a while and a painful event for me to understand, but no matter what you do, no matter how much you please and concede... you can¡¯t make everyone love you." A sh of sadness could be heard in Aric¡¯s tone as he reminisced about hisst life.


    "An act of kindness for one might be viewed as a slight by another. A king who lowers taxes might be seen as a hero in the eyes of peasants, but an inconvenience for the nobles."


    Serina¡¯s expression betrayed her intrigue. "So your n for the crown¡¯s battle is just to oppose everyone?"


    Aric raised and shook his walking cane dismissively. "I never said I intended to join the battle for the crown. However, I havee to truly understand that a person¡¯s sess mostly lies in their ability to suppress whatever it is that speaks against it, in eradicating any antagonism before it even realizes what it has transgressed...


    such a bloody and dishonorable road is the only path to absolute victory."


    Aric¡¯s words were not empty or unfounded ideas; in fact, they were anything but. He had lived most of his life as an observer, and he had seen many battles¡ªintellectual, political, and even physical. He had seen who won those battles along with what those victories took.


    Yet the depth of this knowledge was a privilege he could not fully share.


    As silence fell between them, the music that had been ying from the banquet hall behind them shifted to a slower tune. Guests had risen and begun to share dances.


    Aric, leaning his cane to the side, in a rare disy of charm, offered his gloved hand to Serina.


    "Lady?"


    She nced at the prince for a moment before taking his hand, and as the distant music yed its melody and the lights of the sprawling city over the balcony¡¯s edge offered illumination, they danced in the rhythm of the perfect violin.


    "I might have remarked on this already, but you are a very different prince than what I was told," Serina said, swaying side to side, gently held by the prince.


    "You too have surprised me, Miss Marceli," Aric replied.


    "Not just my name, you must know the kind of mage I am as well, right?" she asked.


    "I know a lot of things," Aric responded simply, maintaining the air of mystery that now surrounded him.


    As they danced, Serina subtly ced her hands at the back of the prince¡¯s neck. In doing so, her touch began to glow with a soft green light.


    Aric, sensing the warmth and the intent behind the gesture, asked, "Well?"


    "It is possible to heal youpletely, but it won¡¯t be easy or quick," Serina confirmed to him, words he had been waiting to hear.


    "I understand," he muttered in her ear.


    The burden of the challenge hung between them, unspoken but very much understood.


    Suddenly, the moment was interrupted by the sound of approaching footsteps, nearing the balcony.


    The figure stepped into view¡ªthe Valerian Emperor: Xavier Valerian.


    Sensing the shift in atmosphere, Serina swiftly excused herself, leaving the father and son alone.


    The Emperor stood before Aric, regarding him with nothing but curiosity and intrigue.


    "It¡¯s been a while, my son," he said, his voice carrying wisps of unspoken history and expectations.


    "Yes, it has," Aric replied, his tone unreadable.

 Chapter 13: Buried Pain

    "How have you been?" Xavier broke the silence, his voice deep and gravelly.


    Aric remained quiet for a moment, as though he genuinely pondered the question, searching for an answer.


    "Not too bad," Aric replied, his toneced with bitter sarcasm. "I¡¯m sure you¡¯re aware of my situation though, Father."


    Xavier¡¯s face betrayed no discernible emotion. He simply looked forward before speaking.


    "Whether it was bad luck or the opposite, you were born a Valerian prince. And what that means is that you must learn to survive, to thrive, even if the odds are stacked against you."


    ¡¯What bullshit.¡¯


    ¡¯What would it have cost to visit?¡¯


    ¡¯To make sure I wasn¡¯t starving... wasn¡¯t dying...¡¯


    Aric had many thoughts raging in his mind, ones he wished he could scream at the emperor at the top of his lungs. However,posed as he usually was, he simply replied with two words.


    "I understand." The fourth prince inhaled deeply before letting out a long sigh.


    As Xavier watched, it was clear what the boy was doing¡ªsuppressing whatever was left of the emotions he felt.


    Xavier nced at Aric, then turned his gaze to the city beyond.


    "You know, we think quite alike."


    Aric looked up at the emperor, a skeptical nce.


    "Your pitched approach was rather intriguing. It was an interesting disy, to say the least."


    Aric chuckled, a huff of amusement.


    "Well, I¡¯m d my well-thought-out strategy is just entertainment for His Majesty," Aric muttered.


    Xavierughed.


    "Back then, even when you were little, sometimes you acted like her¡ªyour mother, I mean," Xavier said, turning to look at Aric.


    A silence fell between them, one of unspoken pain. It was as though both wanted to say something but failed to find the words.


    "Well, if I¡¯m lucky, I won¡¯t end up like she did," Aric broke the tense silence.


    And then, just for that singr moment, the stoic, unreadable face of the emperor showed sadness.


    "I have always wondered what you n to do about that," Xavier spoke lowly, his tone growing darker.


    Aricughed, his face colored with amusement.


    "You really shouldn¡¯t be encouraging me to seek revenge."


    "You know what I am. My hands are tied, yours aren¡¯t."


    Xavier¡¯s tone was serious, clear.


    Silence, a constant intruder in their conversation, settled again. The emperor seemed lost in thought before snapping back momentster.


    "Well, I came here to give you some advice," Xavier remembered.


    "Please, Your Grace," Aric beckoned him, eager to hear it.


    "For someone whocks it, you seem to have constructed a dependency on power... It is foolish not to understand the value of other means," the emperor began.


    Aric raised a brow. "Is this concerning the Byzeth Kingdom? What is it you n to do then?"


    Xavier shook his head.


    "I don¡¯t n on doing anything," he raised his hand, pointing to Aric. "You, however, have seven days to journey to Byzeth and quell even the slightest whisper of rebellion."


    Aric¡¯s face contorted in confusion.


    "I¡¯m not certain I understand you," Aric sought rification.


    "You must go to the Byzeth Kingdom andpletely stop the rebellion."


    Aric turned to the emperor.


    "You¡¯re saying I should lead an army?" he questioned.


    Xavier shook his head.


    "No, you will do this with no assistance whatsoever from the empire."


    Aric,pletely and utterly shocked, managed to mutter again, "I don¡¯t understand."


    "I¡¯m certain you very quickly will, son. See, this is the greatest gift I can give you, and if you are worthy of it, you will receive it."


    Aric attempted to speak in contest of the emperor¡¯s words but was shunned by the raising of his hand.


    "This decision is final. You have seven days to depart," the emperor turned away from Aric, then suddenly paused, turning back and cing his hand on the fourth prince¡¯s shoulder.


    "Also next time you arrivete to an event I am hosting, I won¡¯t be so considerate."


    ¡¯What... is this?¡¯


    Aric felt as though the world around him had faded, burned, and incinerated to nothing but dust. Perhaps it was the emperor¡¯s ki or maybe something else, but what he felt and saw impaired his ability to think or breathe¡ªa raging inferno of pure mes, one that seemed as though it could consume the world.


    Aric did not possess ki, and yet he felt the emperor¡¯s power so potently.


    Then, as the emperor raised his hand from his shoulder, it all seemed to go back to normal. The raging inferno had be no more, leaving Xavier with a subtle smile on his face as he walked away.


    ¡¯Just how strong is he...¡¯


    As Aric contemted what he had just witnessed, a screen materialized before his eyes.


    [You have received a main quest]


    [Title: Overthrowing a Kingdom]


    [You now have 24 hours toplete former ongoing M-quest]


    [Failure will result in a 40-point health decrease]


    Aric gazed at the screens, thest of which speaking of his impending death if he were to fail, an exhausted sigh escaping his lips, he turned away from them.


    "It¡¯s no problem since everything is prepared. I guess tomorrow will be the day I see the look on your face, won¡¯t it, Darius my bastard brother?" Aric mumbled through arge grin.

 Chapter 14: Robbing Thieves.

    Aric slowly opened his eyes, squinting against the sunlight streaming through his window. He shifted under the sheets, trying to escape the brightness, but it was no use. A soft light danced on his face, and his head throbbed, the telltale sign of a hangover setting in.


    Regret washed over him as he recalled the excessive drinking from the night before, even though he had left immediately after his conversation with his father.


    He still rembered vividly the order of the emperor but thought it better to not dwell on it yet.


    Pushing himself out of bed, he was greeted by a familiar sight¡ªhis daily subquest panel, floating in front of him, waiting for him toplete it. Despite the mild headache and fatigue, he was determined to follow through.


    Dropping to the floor, he began his push-ups.


    ¡­


    Nearly an hour had passed, and sweat had pooled beneath him, but there was no sign of blood¡ªonly sweat.


    "Am I... done?" Aric asked, needing reassurance as he nced at thepletion panel.


    "Yes, today¡¯s S-quest has been sessfullypleted," the guide floating beside him confirmed.


    He could hardly believe it. Not only had he finished with much more ease, but he hadn¡¯t even suffered a nosebleed, as he usually did. Impressed by his progress, Aric cleaned himself up and left his room.


    Outside, the estate guards¡ªwhat remained of them¡ªstood at attention, vignt as they guarded the manor. As they saw Aric, they swiftly, and with upmost respect, greeted the fourth prince.


    Aric couldn¡¯t help but chuckle internally at the change. Though these three had never openly disrespected him, they had never shown this level of reverence either.


    "Good morning," Aric responded to their greetings. He pointed to two of the guards, one with dark, disheveled hair and a scraggly beard, and the other with bright emerald eyes. "You two, what are your names?"


    "Zahai, Your Highness," the first one replied.


    "Meholt," said the other.


    Aric already knew the third guard¡¯s name¡ªn¡ªfrom his past life, as he had been the only one Aric had a rtionship with.


    "Both of you, take off your armor. We¡¯re going to pay someone a visit."


    ¡ª¡ª¡ª


    Aric, apanied by Zahai and Meholt, arrived at the Imperial Exchequer¡ªa grand building of marble and granite, its stone facade carved with artistic precision. Imperial guards patrolled the premises, although it did not posses nearly as much as the imperial treasury, a considerable amount of wealth was retained within, hence the protection.


    This building held each ountant that managed the finances of the empire and royal family.


    As they entered, the three men were saluted by the guards, while onlookers whispered and stared. They walked through therge lobby, down a hallway, and stopped before a massive door. Carved into the granite wall beside it were the words: Fiscal Court of the 4th Prince.


    This was supposed to be the office handling all mary matters for the fourth prince¡ªwell, it was supposed to be.


    Aric pushed open the door and was met with a sight that filled him with disgust. His court¡¯s supposed ountants lounged across therge room, drinking and indulging with courtesans.


    The smell of cheap wine assaulted his nostrils as he walked further in. Some of the men were too skeptical to believe their eyes, and others were too drunk to understand the situation, but there, walking through the obscenity, was the very prince they were supposed to be working for.


    As some tried to sober up and make sense of the situation, Aric burst through the final door at the end of the room, entering a confined office.


    The man inside, seemingly in his mid-thirties, lookedpletely stunned as Aric and the two guards barged in.


    "Aric..." he muttered in shock, his gaze shifting between the prince, Zahai, and Meholt.


    Aric walked to the desk, pulled out a chair, and sat across from the man. Zahai and Meholt positioned themselves menacingly on either side of the treasurer.


    "Devan, my trusted treasurer, it¡¯s been a while, hasn¡¯t it?" Aric¡¯s tone was light, almost conversational.


    Devan¡¯s expression shifted from shock to fear. He had heard rumors of Aric¡¯s ordered beheading, and he knew the prince¡¯s presence here was anything but a good sign.


    "Yes, Your Highness," Devan stammered.


    "Well, I don¡¯t have much time. Where are my funds?" Aric went straight to the point, his tone sharpening.


    "I¡ªI¡¯m not sure what you mean," Devan lied, attempting to maintainposure.


    Aric¡¯s smile faded, disappointment shing across his features as he shook his head. "Wrong answer," he muttered.


    Without warning, Zahai grabbed Devan¡¯s head and mmed it into the desk in front of him. A sickening crunch echoed through the room as Devan clutched his bleeding, broken nose, groaning in pain.


    Unfazed, Aric repeated his question. "Where are my funds?"


    Devan, his hands stained red from his bleeding face, began to lie again. "There is no such thing. The Imperial Court ceased funding your estate a long time ago."


    Aric sighed. "Wrong again."


    Zahai smashed Devan¡¯s head into the desk with even greater force, shattering whatever remained of his nose bone. The man screamed in agony, but Aric remained unimpressed.


    "Maybe third time¡¯s the charm. Where are my funds?"


    Devan, cradling his bloodied nose, hesitated, stuttering as though he wanted to speak but was afraid to. But when Zahai raised his hand again, Devan¡¯s mind was made up.


    "The third prince, Your Highness!" Devan eximed. "He ordered that all your funds be moved to his fiscal court."


    Aric smiled. "So you¡¯ve been stealing from a royal house and giving it to the third prince," he recapped. "But I doubt the court would need to hear thatst part before sending you to the dungeons."


    "The Imperial Court is aware," Devan muttered through clenched teeth, slight mockery in his tone. "They know it would be a waste with your house."


    ¡¯Sigh. Those bastards.¡¯


    Even though it was unlikely the court would have allowed this, Aric understood it was a possibility. So, he had made sure to have another n.


    Aric sat up in his chair. "And you¡¯re willing to stand before the tribunal with that defense?"


    Devan shook his head. "I simply acted on the third prince¡¯s orders."


    "Do you think Darius would back that story? You know how well he keeps his facade as the innocent, honest prince. When ites down to it, whose word do you think they¡¯ll take¡ªDarius, the sinless third prince, or a thieving treasurer?"


    Aric yed his first card, and from the frown on Devan¡¯s bloodied face, it was clear it hadnded.


    "What do you want from me?" Devan asked, his voice trembling.


    "I know you¡¯re now the main treasurer for the third prince," Aric stated.


    "How do you know that?" Devan questioned in shock.


    "Don¡¯t ask stupid questions. I want everything he¡¯s ever stolen from me returned¡ªdown to thest coin."


    "That¡¯s impossible. If I do that, I¡¯ll definitely stand before the tribunal for theft aswell. Darius also wouldn¡¯t take it lightly. I¡¯d rather take my chances with the tribunal for stealing from one prince than from two."


    Aricughed. He wanted to kill the slimy bastard right then, but that wouldn¡¯t get him his money back.


    Aric then seemed to materialize paper from thin air, pulling out a letter from his inventory. He threw it onto the desk, and as Devan read through it, his face dissolved into terror.


    "Right there is the love letters you had written to the wife of the Grand Duke of Harzaine. You describe in great detail how you nned to touch and worship her body in frankly disgusting ways, while also speaking of how you had done so previously."


    "How did you get this..." Devan¡¯s voice trembled.


    "Does that matter? What does is that if I hand this over to him, not just you, but your entire family will face a fate worse than death."


    As Aric spoke, Devan immediately crumpled up the letter and shoved it into his mouth, swallowing it whole.


    Aric, grinning at Devan¡¯s panicked reaction, pulled out another letter. "I have more. Do you want to eat another, or are you full?" Aric¡¯s eyes narrowed as he looked directly at Devan. "Now, are you going to return my funds, or am I meeting with the Duke?"


    Devan remained silent for a moment, torn between his options. Then, with trembling hands, he reached into his desk drawer, pulling out a stamped sheet of paper. He drafted a signed order from the third prince¡¯s fiscal court to release twenty million gold coins to the fourth prince¡¯s holding vault.


    With a shaky hand, he handed the signed decree to Aric, who took it with a smile.


    "Good. That wasn¡¯t so hard, was it?" Aric stood from his chair and turned to the two guards who had apanied him. "Both of you, please have a conversation with Devan about why theft is a terrible habit."


    Both men nodded in understanding as Aric turned and exited the office.


    Reentering the hall of his fiscal court, Aric noticed that the courtesans had been sent away, and all the ountants, though still drunk, stood in ate attempt at weing him.


    However, before they could speak, Devan¡¯s agony-induced screams pierced through the door behind Aric.


    "Please, don¡¯t be rmed," Aric said to them. "They are only having a light discussion."

 Chapter 15: Best Of The Bunch.

    Each groan, each shout of pain that echoed through the door behind Aric sent a shriek of fear through every one of the ountants standing before the 4th prince. They stood and watched with pale faces and horrified expressions, while Aric waited patiently.


    Momentster, the screams stopped. The two guards exited the office and closed the door behind them, their hands and clothes now stained with red, in such amounts that it was terrifying to think about what had happened in that room.


    Aric, his expression as unreadable as it usually was, asked, "Alive?"


    "We can¡¯t be certain," Meholt reported.


    "Good," Aric nodded.


    He began to walk through the hall of his court. As he moved, each of the men present held their breath, as though awaiting his next words, praying internally that their punishment would not be as agonizing as Devan¡¯s.


    Aric walked past, reaching the entrance of the fiscal court before turning to the group.


    "You are all sacked," the prince announced, taking his leave.


    And each of them breathed a sigh of relief, grateful to keep their lives.


    Aric made his way to the other side of the Exchequer building, where he had submitted the signed decree, with which the stated funds were all transferred into his personal vault.


    As Aric exited the building, a panel materialized before him, causing his face to light up with excitement.


    [M-Quest Completed]


    [You have been rewarded: Martial God Technique.]


    Aric exhaled deeply; it still felt surreal, but he had done it. He had taken back what was his¡ªand from Darius, no less, a man whom in his former life he couldn¡¯t even fathom going against. Yet here he was, winning his first battle against his brother.


    However, the good part was yet toe, as Darius was not aware of what had transpired yet.


    ¡ª¡ª¡ª


    The prince, with a stride of victory, returned to his estate. The notification for the new main quest still lingered at his peripherals, but he continued to ignore it, deciding to at least understand his first reward before diving into another quest.


    As Aric walked through the doors of the manor, sitting on the worn-out chairs at the side, were Serina and Lerai.


    ¡¯Is it time?¡¯


    Aric¡¯s head tilted slightly as he regarded both mages.


    Seeing him, both stood and, with a nod, greeted, "Your Highness."


    "Well, this is a surprise," Aric remarked as he walked closer to the two.


    "I doubt that," Serina replied with a skeptical gaze.


    "No, truly," Aric reiterated. "What brings you both?"


    Then, suddenly, Lerai dropped to one knee, his face brimming with respect and determination as he bowed before Aric, who instinctively took a step back, startled by the sudden gesture.


    ¡¯What the hell?¡¯


    "I kneel before His Highness to swear fealty to him and his house!" Lerai eximed.


    "Please do not do that," Aric raised his hands, slightly flustered.


    "I told you, get off the floor¡­ this is embarrassing," Serina shook her head, facepalming.


    "Will you not ept me, Your Highness?" Lerai asked, slightly devastated.


    "No, I do, just¡­ no need to do¡­ well, that," Aric stated before turning to Serina. "So, are you here to swear fealty as well?"


    She shook her head, her dark hair ruffling a bit as she did. "No. However, if I¡¯m going to heal you, it requires that you be of swift and easy ess."


    "I see," Aric smiled. "Well, thank you. Your decision means a lot to me, both of you."


    In that moment, it was clear that the usually irascible prince was genuinely appreciative and grateful.


    "If only both of you are here, then the other hundred or so graduating mages must¡¯ve joined my brothers¡¯ houses?" Aric asked.


    "No, about half decided to join the imperial army evaluation, in hopes of maybe making it to the imperial squad someday. And one-third of the rest did indeed join your brothers."


    Aric almost let out augh. He couldn¡¯t believe that out of all the mage students, he had managed to get the two strongest of the generation, even if nobody knew it yet. Lerai Castro, the Maker of Mages, he would eventually be called. He had single-handedly pioneered a future where powerless men wielded weapons that aided them in opposing martial artists and mages, and with it, he raised an army.


    Serina Marceli, the Ardian gue, a healing mage who eventually reached such a level that she could raise the dead. They said she had be darkter on in life, but from what Aric saw, it was quite early on.


    "Both of you can make yourselves at home, for now at least," Aric gestured to Mia, who stood at the side, asking her to take them to their rooms.


    "For now?" Serina raised a brow.


    "It¡¯s likely we might have to leave soon, but we will speak on thatter."


    Mia led Lerai to his room, leaving Serina and Aric.


    "I¡¯ll be retreating to my chambers for a while; there are things I must take care of. Afterward, we have much to discuss," Aric said, ncing at the screen still disying his reward along with the new, unopened main quest from the previous day.


    "Alright then, Your Highness," Serina nodded.


    "Before I leave, though, one thing I¡¯ve been curious about: the woman you spoke about, the one who talked of ruling with kindness and love. How is that going currently?"


    Serina¡¯s face dissolved into a rather grim expression, her eyes narrowing slightly as she spoke.


    "She can¡¯t really rule anything since I long killed her," she replied darkly.


    ¡¯So, it was her mother¡¯s words after all,¡¯ Aric thought internally.


    "Well, good night, Serina," Aric said, turning and ascending the stairs.

 Chapter 16: Martial God Technique

    Aric stood in the middle of his room, reading the panel before him that detailed his reward.


    ¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª


    **Martial God Technique**


    An ancient and unparalleled cultivation technique passed down from the age of the gods, said to have been crafted by the first Martial God who transcended mortality. It is a technique that transcends ordinary martial cultivation,bining both martial and divine aspects to forge a path to godhood.


    ¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª


    It was powerful, perhaps the strongest cultivation technique in existence, but Aric knew that much. What he truly wanted to know was how he could actually practice it.


    "Guide, what now?" Aric asked.


    Previously observing from a distance, she slowly floated towards Aric, her hands gliding as she gestured to empty air, only for another panel to materialize there as well.


    "The rewarded technique is built on the principle of bnce between destruction and creation, chaos and order. It harmonizes the body¡¯s physical strength with the soul¡¯s spiritual power, creating a union that surpasses mortal limitations. To begin, you must learn to embrace both the raw, destructive power of the universe and the gentle, nurturing force of life, achieving a perfect equilibrium."


    The panel that materialized now disyed an image of a figure sitting in a cross-legged position.


    "Please follow my instructions from now on. Sit in the position shown," the guide requested.


    Aric nodded, dropping to the floor and sitting cross-legged.


    "The rewarded technique epasses three necessary ingredients for its sess: the Essence of the World, ded Rock from the Mountain of Kasuga, and the Venom of the Serpent Dragon."


    Aric nodded,pletely ignorant of the unparalleled level of items that had just been mentioned to him.


    The Essence of the World was known as water scooped from a dried-up pond at the top of Kasuga Mountain, where it is rumored the Martial God had ascended from. It is said that the majority of the world¡¯s ki converges at the mountain and is absorbed by the pond. After many decades, barely a couple of drops could be found in it.


    Meanwhile, from the very same mountain, in the Caves of Seclusion, where it is said the Martial God had cultivated for many years, the dripstone is said to be a more deadly weapon when sharpened than any other¡ªded rock from the Kasuga Mountain was a lethal requirement.


    Andstly, there was the venom of the Serpent Dragon, an ancient beast that roams the north.


    "When the Essence of the World is ingested, ki begins to flow through the user¡¯s body in unparalleled amounts, so much that it forces open ki channels and is used as the basis for the technique."


    The panel before Aric disyed the figure with ki flowing, carving channels through their body.


    "This will cause pain beyond measure," the guide warned before quickly moving on.


    "You will then be stabbed with the Kasuga de. Although this would normally eradicate the user¡¯s soul, having ingested the Essence of the World, you would offer resistance, and your soul will be rebuilt with the immense ki as the forging me. You are likely to die at this step."


    Aric turned to the guide, genuine worry beginning to show on his features the more she went on. He had definitely heard her say he was likely to die, but she had glossed over it so nonchntly he began to doubt that¡¯s what she actually said.


    "Finally, ingesting a very minimal amount of the Serpent Dragon venom willpletely destroy your bones and nervous system, but while the Essence of the World is still active, physical damage cannot end your life, so your bones will be rebuilt and made stronger with the immense ki."


    The guide gestured to the panel of the figure¡¯s bonespletely shattering.


    "I must warn you, this is extremely painful as well, and although you might not die from the pain, you could die from the trauma" the guide added.


    Aric¡¯s face had gone from intrigue to shock toplete horror. With each listed process, learning the technique seemed more like suicide than anything else. Then, while still gripped by the terror of what he had just heard, in the most robotic, emotionless manner, the guide asked:


    "Would you like to begin the process?"


    Aric stared deadpan at the guide for a moment.


    "You know what, I¡¯m not so sure anymore."


    The guide tilted her head before floating even closer to Aric¡¯s face, observing the sweat that began to run down his forehead.


    "I sense the user is afraid. I would like to reassure you that the percentage of survival is a considerable 23.765%."


    Aric sighed and fell back, lying down on the floor as he gazed at his cobweb-covered ceiling.


    He had been so excited to be a martial artist with the greatest possible foundation, but now it looked more like a death sentence than a chance at power.


    ¡¯If I¡¯m alive, even though I¡¯m weak, I can still exact my revenge¡­ I can use my knowledge of the future to at least achieve something, at least even slightly frustrate their efforts. But if I die, I lose everything.¡¯


    Aric faced a dilemma. In that moment, he had to decide what truly mattered to him: a chance at revenge, no matter how watered down it might be, or a chance at unparalleled strength with a high likelihood he would die in the process.


    ¡¯I can¡¯t do this. Maybeter on I¡¯ll find another way to open my ki channels, another less dangerous cultivation technique as well. Yes, I have the system, so there will always be another chance,¡¯ Aric¡¯s mind raced as he fought against his fear and was seemingly losing.


    He mmed his clenched fist on the floor behind him.


    "Excuses," he mmed his fist again.


    "That¡¯s all I madest time. I kept deluding myself: my chance wille, I would be loved by my brothers, I would eventually be respected¡­ I told myself these lies again and again because I was terrified of the truth, that as long as I was the weakest, I was damned to be a failure. Well, not again, not this time."


    Aric sat up from the floor.


    "This time, I won¡¯t make excuses. I won¡¯t depend on your respect; I¡¯ll demand it. So you all better pray to any and every god that I do not survive this!" Aric eximed before turning to the guide. "Let¡¯s begin."

 Chapter 17: A New Man

    "Please retrieve the vial of World Essence from the inventory and ingest it," the guide instructed.


    Aric did so, pulling out a small sk. As he looked inside, he saw it contained barely a couple of drops.


    "Now ce your hand on your neck, just below yourrynx and slightly to the left of the trachea," the guide instructed again.


    "I have not the slightest idea what those words mean." Aric nced at her.


    For a split second, Aric thought he heard the guide sigh as she floated towards his face. She then touched a spot on his neck, and he felt something almost like a cool breeze on the spot.


    "Please ce your hand here," she guided.


    "Okay?" Aric awaited the next instruction.


    "Now strike that spot as hard as you can."


    "What?" Aric turned to the guide.


    "Using your finger, strike that point as hard as you can," the guide repeated.


    Confused but deciding to follow any and every instruction, Aric did as he was told. With as much force as he could muster, he struck the point. He groaned in pain¡ªwell, at least he thought he did¡ªbut no sound escaped his mouth.


    "You have temporarily paralyzed specific nerves, rendering the vocal cords unable to vibrate and thus unable to produce sound. This step is necessary as you are going to scream during this process, a lot, and to avoid interruption, you must not be able to make a sound."


    Aric was already determined to go through this in its entirety, but it didn¡¯t make it sound any less horrific the further they went.


    The prince nodded.


    "Now, ingest all the contents of the vial and brace yourself."


    Aric nodded again. Without another thought, Aric tipped the vial to his lips and drank it all in one swift motion. The liquid was cold, almost burning as it slid down his throat, and within moments, he felt it¡ªa surge of ki so powerful that it nearly knocked him unconscious. Then, the pain began.


    It started as a sharp, burning sensation in his core but quickly escted into something far more excruciating.


    The ki was not simply flowing through him; it was tearing him apart from the inside out, carving new channels through his body with brutal force. It was as if moltenva was being forced through every vein, every nerve, every fiber of his being.


    Aric¡¯s vision blurred, and his body convulsed, muscles locking up as the pain intensified. His instincts wed at him to scream out loud, to release the agony building up inside him, but he couldn¡¯t¡ªthe nerves in his throat were disabled by his own hand. He could only feel the raw, overwhelming pain and silently endure it.


    His hands wed at the ground, nails digging into the floor, but it did nothing to alleviate the torment. Sweat poured from his body, soaking his clothes, as he fought to stay conscious.


    Every second felt like an eternity, and for a moment, he wondered if this was how he would die¡ªnot at the hands of his enemies, but consumed by his attempt at power.


    But deep within the pain, there was something else¡ªa wisp of strength, of immeasurable energy. As the ki channels were forcibly opened, he could feel the energy beginning to flow, more powerful than anything he had ever known.


    The pain was not without purpose. It was the birth of something new, something far greater than what he had been before.


    Hours passed, though it felt like days, and slowly the pain began to subside. The ki channels had been carved open, and the Essence of the World had settled within him, merging with his core. Aric¡¯s body trembled, exhausted, but alive. He had done it¡ªthe first step at least.


    Breathing heavily, Aric opened his eyes, the glow of the system panel still hovering before him. His vision was clearer now, his mind sharper.


    However, he failed to understand that within him was a power he could not hold, preying on his being and threatening to destroy him if not used.


    "Next, quickly retrieve the ded Rock and the poison vial," the guide instructed.


    Aric immediately did as he was told.


    "Now pour the poison onto the de and stab yourself in the heart. This must be done immediately; every second wasted lowers the chances of survival."


    The words were brutal, but perhaps even more so was the fact he had no time to contest them¡ªhe was without options.


    Aric smashed the vial on the rock, pouring the poison all over its blunt de. Then, gripping the small, irregrly shaped weapon with great force and strong determination, he thrust it into his own heart.


    Immediately, everything seemed to go ck.


    Everything faded, leaving him in darkness once more. Aric felt himself float in a void of absolute and utter nothingness and found it greatly familiar to when he had been killed in his previous life.


    ¡¯So¡­I died.¡¯


    No, it was more, well, less than that. This time, as he floated in the abyss, he had nothing¡ªnot even his soul. Even that was gone.


    All that was left of him was the fleeting irrelevance of his mortal consciousness.


    He was, by all means, worse than dead.


    However, just then, in that moment, he felt warmth¡ªa feeling that felt like a forgotten ability, one from so long ago that it seemed unnatural, foreign.


    But as quickly as it came, it disappeared, back to the cold nothingness that was his, just like his failure was his.


    ¡¯Is this where you stop?¡¯


    The voice could have been that of another just as much as it could be his own. He didn¡¯t know, and quite frankly, it did not matter.


    ¡¯What do you have to live for? to continue on for?¡¯


    ¡¯You med your fate, the world¡­but who will you me now?¡¯


    ¡¯You cannot die here¡­I cannot die here.¡¯


    ¡¯¡­not yet.¡¯


    Aric iled his arms in protest of his fading existence, but he had no limbs. He screamed in refusal, but he had no voice.


    However, each act, each time he struggled and rejected this end, the warmth returned, and it grew and engulfed him.


    And in that defiance, he was born a new man.


    [You have obtained the Martial God Foundation.]


    ---

 Chapter 18: Martial Knight

    His eyes slowly peeled open, his consciousness seeming to return in parts. First, he felt the warmth of the floor beneath him, then the air he breathed into his lungs, and finally, his vision, bing clearer by the second.


    "Where...?" Aric muttered, disoriented and confused as he looked around.


    At first, it felt almost unrecognizable, but soon he realized he was in his room. Though subtly, there was a difference¡ªnot necessarily in the room, but within himself. He tried to sit up, his body aching slightly as he did.


    As he ced his hand on the floor to help himself up, it felt as though the floor beneath him had turned to sand.


    He looked down, but the floor was still wood. However, in his attempt to sit up, his hand had torn through it with ease, the wood feeling like sand in his grasp.


    Aric raised his arm, gazing at his fingers for a while before noticing the glow of multiple panels surrounding him.


    ---


    [You have obtained the Martial God Foundation]


    [You have obtained the Martial God Body]


    [You have broken through to Tier 1 of the Martial Knight Realm]


    [Physical attribute stats have been recalibrated]


    [You have received a reward: 2 Rejuvenation Boosts]


    [+3 Intelligence]


    [System upgraded]


    ---


    The multiple notifications felt overwhelming. Aric was still processing them when his eyes caught sight of a ring red panel off to the side.


    ---


    [Ki flow limited]


    [Ki flow limited]


    ---


    "Guide," Aric muttered, realizing the restriction on his voice had worn off. "What¡¯s going on?" he asked as he rubbed his forehead.


    "After a long struggle, you finally finished the process. Your heart stopped multiple times throughout, but you made it," the guide exined.


    Something about the guide felt off, but Aric ignored it.


    "What do you mean, long struggle?"


    "Well, it¡¯s been three days since you began," the guide informed him.


    Aric put a hand to his head, running his fingers through his hair as he sighed. The system guide floated gently closer to him.


    "On the bright side, since you were unconscious longer than expected, you slept through the excruciating process of your bones reconstructing."


    Aric raised his head. "Well, that is good." He nced at the red notification again.


    "What does that mean?"


    "Currently, your illness is severely limiting the flow of your ki," she exined.


    "By how much?" Aric turned to the guide.


    "Eighty percent," she replied almost hesitantly.


    "What the¡ª" Aric began.


    "Yeah, it¡¯s bad."


    "Also, why do you keep talking like that?" Aric narrowed his eyes.


    "What do you mean?" The guide shrugged, uncertain of what Aric was referring to.


    "That," Aric pointed, referencing the shrug. "You¡¯re acting... talking like a person," he rified.


    "The flow of ki heightens the user¡¯s mental capabilities. With an increase in your intelligence, mine has improved as well."


    Aric tilted his head. "So it gave you a personality, or made you smart enough to fein one?"


    Silence filled the room for a moment.


    "I... I don¡¯t know."


    Those words felt very unnaturaling from her¡ªshe always had an answer.


    "It doesn¡¯t matter anyway. I really owe my life to you," Aric said as he stood from the floor.


    "I am only a guide," she shook her head, ring her tiny hands in disagreement.


    "Well, I don¡¯t know who else... what else gave me all this... this chance," Aric¡¯s voice fell low, almost a whisper.


    The guide remained silent.


    Aric sighed again, attempting to walk over to the window, but as he took a step, the wood beneath his feet crumbled.


    "You must be careful and restrict your strength. Since you skipped an entire realm of cultivation, you didn¡¯t have the chance to learn to adjust."


    "Yeah," he muttered.


    Aric knew this, but it still felt unreal. Back then, he couldn¡¯t even dream of entering the Martial Warrior Realm. Now, not only had he reached it, but he had also jumped through nine levels and immediately entered the second realm of Martial Knight.


    The prince took another step, but this time he was light on his feet. Instead of shattering, the wood only creaked. With the next step, the creak was less audible, and soon Aric was walking as he usually would.


    He opened the window, letting fresh air into a room now filled with the stench of sweat.


    Turning back to the guide, he asked, "What are my stats now?"


    With a gesture and a soft chime echoing through the room, the panel appeared.


    ---


    Name: [Aric Valerian]


    Title: [Forgotten Prince]


    Race: [Human]


    Level: [Martial Knight (1)]


    Health (HP):[70/70]


    Stamina: [70/70]


    Ki: [20/100 (restricted)]


    Attributes:


    Strength: [34]


    Agility: [27]


    Endurance: [45]


    Intelligence: [6]


    ---


    Aric gazed at the panel. What he saw was significantly different from the first time he checked it, in just a short time he had be so much stronger. He was still uncertain what the system was or how it could assign tasks, reward him, and grant him power along with a way to track it. It was a heavenly blessing.


    "Guide, is there more to the system?" Aric wondered aloud.


    "99% of system capabilities have been unexplored. Would you like to begin now?" The guide floated closer, her face brimming with excitement at the chance of exining system functions.


    "Please, no," Aric flicked her away, causing her to stumble through the air.


    "I¡¯m exhausted, just tell me the next quest"


    "Hmph," she turned, before gesturing as another panel materialized with a soft chime.


    -¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª


    Overthrowing a Kingdom


    The Kingdom of Byzeth ns rebellion. Do not convince them¡ªeradicate the ruling body and make them submit.


    Reward: des of Heigard


    -¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª


    "I guess it¡¯s time I go have a talk with my mages," Aric said.

 Chapter 19: The Wind

    Dust choked the slightly dark yetrge room. Aric walked over to the window and pulled open the curtains, allowing light to find its path into the dining hall. Like every other space in the house, this one was quiterge¡ªafter all, it was the home of a prince, even though most times it didn¡¯t quite feel like one.


    Aric turned away from the window to face Serina and Lerai, who had settled into chairs around therge dining table, summoned for an urgent meeting by Aric.


    "I apologize. This room hasn¡¯t been used in a while," he said as he used his hands to clear the dust that floated around his face.


    Aric walked toward the side of the dining hall, where an oddly ced bookshelf stood. He reached for one of the books, wondering when the shelf had been ced there and why it was seen a fit addition to a dinning hall.


    "Before we begin," Serina spoke, her gaze scrutinizing Aric since she first saw him. "What the hell happened to you?"


    "What do you mean?" Aric feigned ignorance.


    But he knew exactly what she meant. He had seen it in the mirror before leaving his room. He looked different¡ªgone was his skeletal frame, reced by well-defined muscles. His hair was richer, his face fuller.


    "You look a lot more handsome and healthy, Your Highness," Lerai added with a smile, appealing to aric¡¯s hiddencency.


    "Yes, very odd," Serina rubbed her chin, still scrutinizing Aric.


    "Both of you, stop talking," Aric raised his hand to silence them. "We have more important matters to handle."


    Serina, intrigued and curious since she had first arrived, sat back and let Aric speak.


    "Yes, please go on," she said.


    "The Emperor has ordered that I go to the Byzeth Kingdom and quell any thoughts of rebellion," Aric announced, leaning against a desk not too far from the dining table.


    "So, you are to lead an army?" Serina asked, echoing Aric¡¯s question when he was first told.


    "That¡¯s the thing. I am to do this without any assistance from the Empire whatsoever."


    Serina¡¯s expression immediately shifted to confusion, a sentiment Lerai shared.


    "So, he means you should negotiate and discuss?" Lerai suggested, trying to interpret the Emperor¡¯s words.


    "Perhaps," Aric shrugged. "I have no ns for that, however. Their lesson will be taught in fear¡­ I will have their king¡¯s head."


    Serina and Lerai exchanged a look. They did not doubt the brutality of the fourth prince, but his capabilities alone were still in question.


    "How are the three of us supposed to achieve that? I heard at the banquet that their king had reached the Martial Master Realm¡ªnot even considering the kingdom¡¯s manpower," Serina voiced her concern.


    As the problems were posed to Aric, a mischievous glint appeared in his eye. He pushed himself off the desk he was leaning on and began walking forward.


    "There once was a mountain. It was so tall andrge that it cast a shadow over the entire valley below it," Aric stretched his hand as if to disy the mountain¡¯s enormous size. "It was mighty and strong, with peaks that pierced the heavens and roots buried deep into the earth. No power could break it, no strength could topple it¡­ and so it lived like that."


    Aric turned, gazing outside the window at the vastnd of his estate.


    "One day, a gentle breeze, barely more than a whisper, began to blow through. The wind was weak, not even strong enough to rustle leaves or carry a scent. The mountain, in all its might, paid no mind. It had no reason to¡ªafter all, a breath of air was insignificant against its strength."


    Aric turned back toward Serina and Lerai, who now stared at him, listening intently.


    "But the breeze was patient, you see¡­ persistent. Each day it blew, weaving its way through the cracks and crevices of the great mountain. It found the tiniest openings in the stone and whispered through them. It didn¡¯t push against the mountain, only touched it in ways the mountain couldn¡¯t resist."


    Aric walked closer, slowly approaching them.


    "Days became months, and months became years. With the wind¡¯s persistence, the soil loosened around trees, causing them to fall. Grains of sand were blown away, and stone was polished until it was smooth and fragile." Aric raised his hand. "And yet, the mountain still stood tall. But in its depths, there were cracks. Still, the mountain didn¡¯t see the wind as a threat.


    However, through persistence¡ªby chipping away slowly at its core and foundation¡ªafter many years, the great mountain could bear it no more."


    "Cracks formed at its base, splitting the mountain in two. With a thunderous roar of defeat, the once-immovable mountain was reduced to rubble and dust. And the wind? Well, it blew through the fallen stone and whispered through the valley."


    Aric stayed silent for a moment, as though to let his words simmer, before asking, "Is this understood?" The prince gazed at them, half expecting he would need to further borate.


    "We wouldn¡¯t fight them, since we are not as strong¡­" Serina began, with Lerai following afterward.


    "Instead, we find weaknesses. Hit ces they won¡¯t notice, where they can¡¯t fight back, and eventually, they be weak," Lerai continued, rubbing his chin.


    "There are many ways: Seeds of distrust, assassination, whispers of betrayal along with ns of dictatorship¡­ we make them crumble from the inside, and when they are at their lowest¡­" Serina began to piece it all together.


    "We finish it," Aricpleted, grinning.


    Their train of thought aligned with his, making them an even more productive assembly than he initially thought.


    Suddenly, loud voices andmotion could be heard through the open window, and although Aric couldn¡¯t be certain, the angry yells sounded quite familiar.


    He turned, stepping toward the window to confirm what was going on, and as he saw the furious face of the third prince, Darius, facing off with his guards, Aric¡¯s expression brimmed with delight.


    "What brilliant timing," Aric said, turning away. "Let¡¯s put a pin in this. I must attend to a very important guest."

 Chapter 20: Broken Heart.

    The fourth prince made his way downstairs. His guards, who had attempted to persuade the third prince to wait until they announced his arrival to Aric, were quickly pushed aside. They feared Aric, but they feared Darius as well, and they knew better than toy hands on him to prevent his advance.


    "Brother, it¡¯s great to see you."


    Darius turned to Aric, who spoke as he descended the stairs. The third prince clenched his teeth and balled his fists in anger, his eyes bulging with fury.


    "What have you done?" Darius muttered, barely containing his outburst.


    This was exactly what Aric wanted¡ªthe unguarded look on his brother¡¯s face. He had forced his hand. All his life, Darius had always looked at Aric as though he were nothing but a slight inconvenience.


    But this was different. This was raw, primal anger.


    "Calm down, brother. I¡¯m not sure what you mean," Aric smiled, knowing that each word of ignorance would only fuel Darius¡¯s rage.


    Just as it seemed Darius might explode in fury, his anger dissipated, leaving only the usual unreadable stoicism.


    "Don¡¯t waste my time. You¡¯re mistaken if you think I won¡¯t kill you¡ªand everyone present here," the third prince¡¯s voice echoed ominously through the manor.


    "Whoa," Aric raised his hand. "Watch yournguage, elder brother. People might see your true colors."


    "What is wrong with you? You¡¯re acting foolish," the third prince spat.


    "Foolish?" Aricughed heartily. "I was¡ªperhaps the most foolish in all of Valeria. But not anymore, certainly not now. You took from me and destroyed me, mentally and physically, but no longer."


    Aric turned to Mia, who stood to the side.


    "You know, I¡¯ve kept a gift for you. As much as I wanted to give it earlier, I had to wait¡ªso you could see your failure with your own eyes."


    "Where is my money, Aric?" Darius red at the fourth prince. Days ago, he might have spoken less and attacked immediately, but something was different about the man standing before him. Many things, in fact, which made him hesitate.


    "You mean my money?" Aric tilted his head. "Well, let¡¯s not get ahead of ourselves."


    Aric turned to Meholt before pointing at Mia. "Bring her over here."


    Meholt, confused but swift to obey, escorted Mia, the caretaker, toward Aric.


    "Make her kneel," Aricmanded. Meholt pushed her down, forcing her to kneel before them.


    "I have one question, brother, and I will ask it once. If you answer truthfully, she lives. If you don¡¯t, well¡­"


    Aric walked over and drew Meholt¡¯s sword from its sheath. Everyone present¡ªLerai and Serina included¡ªknew what was about to happen.


    "Please, Your Highness, don¡¯t do this. I¡¯ve done nothing but care for you," Mia whimpered, realizing her peril.


    "Don¡¯t plead. It only infuriates me more. Instead, beg him, as your life depends solely on his answer." Aric turned back to Darius. "Tell me, brother, did you or did you not send this woman to poison me, ensuring I never recover from my illness?"


    "Say yes, and I will spare her, believing she acted on your orders. Say no, and I will execute her for treason."


    As Aric asked the question, everyone became aware of his motives. Yet Darius¡¯s expression remained unchanged.


    Aric pressed the cold steel to Mia¡¯s neck.


    "You bastard!" Darius hissed through clenched teeth, his hand glowing as his mana red. Hisposure cracked once again.


    "Third prince!" Serina called out, her eyes glowing with a fierce purple light, her hands crackling with energy. "I advise you to reconsider doing anything that puts us in a difficult position."


    Darius nced at Serina. He knew who she was¡ªhe had plotted several times to prevent her from allying with Aric. She was in the top five of the mage academy, and even though he was a prodigy, a fight with her was one he might not win.


    "I won¡¯t ask again, Darius. You have five seconds to answer."


    Darius¡¯sposure faltered once more, his anger ring alongside his mana. "Aric, you dare to do this?"


    "Three seconds," Aric responded calmly, raising the sword.


    "Please, don¡¯t" Mia mumbled again, but was ignored.


    "One," Aric whispered, ready to strike.


    "Stop! I did¡­ I ordered it."


    Aric¡¯s eyebrows raised in surprise at the prince¡¯s admission. There was a reason for this disy. Normally, Darius wouldn¡¯t care enough about a subordinate to admit he had plotted poisoning another prince. But Aric had discovered something in his previous life: Mia wasn¡¯t just a subordinate.


    Mia was the third prince¡¯s lover, the only person he trusted tomit treason on his behalf. She had been Darius¡¯s most trusted mole because he was in love with her, a truth Aric had only uncovered when they had officially be engaged near his final years.


    "Well, I see," Aric dropped the de, helping Mia up. "You were simply acting on orders."


    She stood, tears filling her eyes, as Aric gestured for her to go to the third prince. Barely containing her emotions, she began to walk toward Darius.


    But as she took a step, blood sttered, and her head snapped back. With a sickening thrust, Aric shoved his hand into her back.


    "But treason¡­ is treason," Aric muttered, pulling his hand free, holding Mia¡¯s still-beating heart in his cold grip.


    Mia, dying swiftly, stumbled toward Darius, whose eyes widened in utter shock. By the time he could even hold her, she was already dead.


    "You came here for money, but I¡¯ll give you something even more valuable, Darius, my dear brother." Aric raised his hand and tossed Mia¡¯s heart onto the floor in front of Darius.


    "The heart of your lover."

 Chapter 21: The Bigger Failure

    A silence filled the estate.


    Each drop of blood from Aric¡¯s fingers, crimson from Mia¡¯s heart, seemed deafening in the quiet. Darius held her in his arms as he dropped to his knees, her blood staining his robes. His pupils trembled, and his lips quivered as he held the corpse of the woman he loved¡ªa gaping hole in her chest made by the brother he had always thought of as nothing.


    What was this situation?


    How could she be dead? And killed by Aric, no less.


    "Wh-what have you done?"


    Darius stuttered. Aric had never heard his brother stutter, not once in his life until now. What did he feel? Shock, anger¡­ fear?


    "I killed a traitor," Aric¡¯s response was cold, almost unamused.


    However, he was anything but. This scene¡ªwatching his brother cradle the corpse of someone he cared about¡ªthrilled him more than he had expected, so much so it felt psychotic.


    "So, what will you do now, Darius?" Aric raised his hand, and Meholt swiftly handed him a rag.


    "You could fight me while being outnumbered, but God knows that won¡¯t put her heart back into her chest." Aric wiped the blood from his hand. "You could make me stand before the tribunal for murdering your subordinate¡­ but you did admit, in front of all these witnesses, that she had indeed been ordered tomit treason."


    Aric walked closer to the third prince, lowering himself, watching as Darius¡¯s body vibrated in anger, veins bulging.


    "I want to kill you," Darius¡¯s words barely escaped his clenched teeth, his mouth dripping with saliva and blood as he bit his lips, barely containing his rage. "I want to kill you so bad it hurts."


    Aric chuckled. "And it¡¯s still not as much as I want to kill you."


    He stood, stepping away.


    "But we must be patient, brother. Bloodshed between princes? Such fun can only be saved forter, as we cannot handle the wrath of the emperor. Not yet."


    Aric grinned. "I¡¯m also certain you¡¯ll want to keep your role as Daddy¡¯s good little boy, no? I¡¯m sure you don¡¯t want the emperor to find out you¡¯re poisoning and stealing from your brother."


    Darius kept his head down, watching as blood and saliva dripped from his face. But Aric saw something else¡ªwas that a tear?


    ¡¯To think he loved her this much¡­¡¯


    "I swear by the gods, you will regret what you¡¯ve done here today¡­ this does not end here."


    Darius¡¯s trembling hand reached for Mia¡¯s heart, gripping it as he stood up with her corpse.


    "What don¡¯t you understand, Darius? You are a failure. You went up against the forgotten, sickly excuse of a prince, and you lost. So what do you think will happen against our brothers? You are nothing to them, just as you are nothing to me."


    Aric¡¯s voice grew, anger brewing within him as he spoke.


    "I was never given a chance. From birth, I had nothing¡­ not even an opportunity. I was too weak to walk, so how could I have protected the people I cared about?" Aric pointed to the third prince. "But you¡­ a genius mage with the best trainers, the best education, taught by people I could never dream of meeting¡ªevery single aspect of your life tuned to ensure you seeded.


    And yet you watched the person you love get killed right before you. What is your excuse?"


    Aric released his fist, eyes boring into Darius.


    "You are a waste of everything you were ever given, and that dead body in your arms is the biggest proof of your ring ipetence. So walk away knowing this."


    Darius took ast nce at Aric before turning around and walking toward the exit.


    "Watch your back, little brother¡­ if you thought I was evil before, I will show you how terrible I am, even more so than what you¡¯ve be."


    With everyone watching, Darius walked out of the manor, carrying Mia¡¯s corpse and her heart in his hand. No matter what he said, as Mia¡¯s blood left a trail behind him, it was clear¡ªtoday, Darius had lost.


    ---


    An evening breeze made its way into the study of the fourth prince¡¯s home, along with the pale light of the setting sun. Aric sat in a chair, while Serina stood behind him, the golden rays dancing on her face as her hair seemed to glisten in the glow.


    "Is this part of the healing session, or¡­?" Aric asked, fully rxed in his chair as Serina massaged his shoulders.


    "I guess so, since we can¡¯t begin until your muscles stop being so tense," Serina exined.


    Aric sighed. "Well, everyone keeps stressing me out."


    "Very interesting events with the third prince today. You keep surprising me, Your Highness."


    "What do you think?" Aric asked, genuinely curious.


    "That the third prince is going to be a problem for Your Highness," she spoke honestly.


    "He always would have been. But now, even less so. I¡¯ve shattered everything he thought he knew about me. Now, he¡¯s uncertain¡­ afraid."


    Aric¡¯s tone carried confidence in his actions.


    "Besides, he¡¯s a very insignificant bump on my road to the throne, if I think about it."


    Serina raised an eyebrow. "Hmm, though you implied to me you wouldn¡¯t be joining the battle for the crown."


    "Well, it¡¯s inevitable that I¡¯ll go against my brothers. And when all is said and done, there will be the two oues for us: The who sits on the throne or a dead prince¡­ and I have no ns to be thetter."


    Serina smiled, a gesture Aric couldn¡¯t see, as she ced her glowing hand on his neck, beginning the healing.

 Chapter 22: Skill collection.

    The emperor had given Aric an ultimatum of seven days to depart for the Byzeth Kingdom, of which he had three days left. Having been ordered to embark with no support from the empire, Aric¡¯s preparations were minimal.


    First, Aric had gone to the exchequer and gained ess to his personal vault, where his twenty million gold coins were stored. He was able to store five million of those in his inventory, while dedicating two million to the renovation of his estate while he would be away.


    However, the final and perhaps most important preparation was visiting the imperial library. Aric was no schr; he had no interest in books of history or war. He was one who acted by his own experiences rather than relying on that of others. However, within the grand confines of the imperial library, there was a section of great importance to the fourth prince.


    Aric stepped forward to the desk of the librarian.


    "Your highness, surprised to see you here," the librarian greeted, only ncing at Aric for a moment before continuing to write on a scroll.


    "How may I help you?" he inquired.


    "The martial arts vault."


    The librarian paused as the prince responded, then nced up at Aric again, his eyes narrowing slightly.


    "Hmmm¡­ what reason would the prince have to go there?"


    ¡¯That¡¯s strange.¡¯


    Aric didn¡¯t show his surprise, but he was. It seemed even the librarian was unable to sense his ki.


    "For personal research," Aric gave a simple response. If even the librarian didn¡¯t know he had ki, there was no reason for him to say it himself.


    The man, aged with a beard the color of fading silver, stood and gestured for Aric to follow him. They walked through therge library, and with each turn they made, it began to seem more and more like they were traversing a maze.


    After several moments, they finally reached a door. It was made of wood and looked anything but sturdy, as though Aric could burst through it with a single, effortless kick. He had assumed a ce holding the most valuable martial arts techniques of the empire would offer better protection.


    "Walk closely behind," the librarian gruffed, his tone a warning.


    Aric nodded, moving closer to him.


    He pushed open the door, and with an almost inaudible creak, it swung open. Following closely behind, Aric entered the martial vault.


    It was¡­ well, a room.


    Frankly, nothing special could be said about the space. It was not veryrge and simply had shelves lined with manuals. However, at the end of the room was another door, made of the same wood.


    "You are not authorized for the next vault. Please do not try to go through that door; it¡¯s quite the painful experience," the librarian warned as he turned back toward the exit. "You are allowed six hours in here per day. I will return when your time is up."


    Without a word, Aric nodded again, watching the librarian exit the vault, if it could be called that.


    As the door closed behind him, Aric turned to the guide, who had been floating beside him the entire time¡ªunseen.


    "Okay, what now?" Aric asked.


    "You may begin to search for martial techniques you are interested in."


    Aric clicked his teeth as his eyes began to scour the room, trailing from one manual to another.


    He grabbed one from the shelf, its cover made of hide-like leather, as were most of the manuals. He flipped it open.


    [Scanning technique]


    [...]


    [Scanned]


    ¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª


    // Mouth Gust //


    Allows the user to create significantly stronger force when blowing from the mouth.


    Skill rank: Basic


    ¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª


    [Would you like to copy this skill?]


    "When you scan a martial skill, it can be copied and saved, and then be ¡¯learned¡¯ afterward."


    Aric nodded in understanding before ncing back at the screen disying the technique¡¯s details.


    "That¡­ doesn¡¯t seem very useful," Aric muttered, clearly disappointed. It was just a random pick, but he expected more from the sacred martial vault. "Well, I should probably copy as many as I can. They may be usefulter on."


    The guide shook her head in disagreement.


    "Currently, you are allowed to save four techniques only. I advise you use the slots wisely."


    Aric sighed, stroking his chin. He then returned the manual and picked another one closest to it.


    Aric continued this process, picking a manual, scanning it, and when the system disyed its details, deciding if it was worth copying. If so, he set it aside, allowing him to see if there was something of more value.


    After about an hour, Aric had scanned every single manual in the room. It was understandably done quickly, as the room was quite small and didn¡¯t contain many manuals.


    The ones he had no interest in were returned, while the ones he did were stacked on a nearby table.


    He nced down at the twenty or so manuals piled up before him, and with a sigh of exhaustion, began to go through them. Not long after, his decision was made. Aric had now spent a total of an hour and thirty minutes in the vault.


    He copied the skills he had settled on and then prepared to leave.


    "Say, could there be a reason why my ki cannot be sensed?"


    The guide¡¯s alreadyrge eyes widened as though contemting for a moment before answering.


    "I can¡¯t be certain, but it is most probable that your illness not only limits the flow of ki within you but also prevents it from radiating outward, making it difficult for other martial artists to sense."


    "I see" He said, exiting the room.


    Recalling the route he had taken to reach the vault, Aric retraced his steps. He reached the librarian, offering a quick "thank you" as he walked past him.


    Aric could not see it, but the librarian¡¯s face had frozen pale with shock.


    "Without my presence, I¡¯m certain that vault door can¡¯t be passed through by someone lower than the 8th rank of the Martial Warrior realm¡­ So how have you managed this without ki¡­ Fourth Prince?" the librarian muttered to himself, amused.

 Chapter 23: Trainer.

    Aric had made it back to his room. He had given the order for a carriage to be prepared for their departure, and Serina and Lerai had begun preparations, as they would be leaving the imperial city on their long journey to Byzeth.


    However, before setting off, The prince deemed it a priority to improve his martial arts now that he had Ki, and the quickest way to do that was to learn martial arts techniques. Normally, this was anything but an easy task, as even the simplest of techniques could be extremely difficult to learn.


    One would need to read through the manual many times, understanding every single word and instruction, sometimes having to meditate over it for many days before even starting to grasp the technique¡¯s concept.


    This was not the case for Aric.


    ¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª


    Learnable Skills


    Muscle Burst (Basic - Upgradable)


    Ki Fists (Basic)


    Ki Barrier (Basic - Upgradable)


    Breakthrough (Basic)


    ¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª


    Of the hundreds of skills in the martial arts vault, Aric had decided these four would be the most useful.


    Muscle Burst was a technique that allowed the channeling of Ki into specific muscles to enhance speed and reaction time in swift, explosive bursts.


    Ki Fists was a basic technique that allowed the user to concentrate Ki into the fists, strengthening attacks made with the hands several times over.


    Ki Barrier, as the name suggested, gave the ability to create a basic barrier made of Ki, capable of stopping assaults of low force.


    While Breakthrough was a burst shot from the palm, capable of pushing things of considerable weight back.


    They were not divine destruction level skills, but they were something. If Aric wanted to find anything better, he would need ess to higher levels of the martial vault, and that was an endeavor he currently did not have time to pursue. He would have to make do with what he had.


    [Would you like to learn this skill?]


    The prompt appeared just below the description of the Muscle Burst skill.


    "Yes," Aric epted.


    [Would you like to learn this skill using AR training?]


    Aric¡¯s eyes narrowed, slightly confused, as he turned to the guide, floating silently at his side.


    "AR training? What¡¯s that?"


    "Augmented Reality is a high-level system function that allows the user to learn through augmented entities. Would you like to try it out?" the guide asked, her usual excitement about system functions clear in her cheerful movement.


    "Yeah¡­" Aric replied, uncertain about what to expect.


    The air around him became cold and glowed with a soft blue hue. Suddenly, a holographic humanoid figure materialized before him, its body glowing with an azure light and emitting a faint sound. The figure stood still, but its sheer presence caused Aric¡¯s instincts to re. He immediately tensed, dropping into a battle stance.


    His heart raced as he prepared for the worst. "What the¡ª!?" His fists clenched, ready to strike.


    Before he could react further, the guide floated in front of him, a tiny chuckle escaping her lips.


    "No need to be rmed. This is an augmented entity, part of the AR training mode. It¡¯s here to demonstrate the technique for you, not attack."


    Aric blinked, slowly rxing. "An augmented entity?"


    "Yes," the guide chimed with excitement. "It¡¯s a high-level system function that shows you how to perform martial techniques in real time. Think of it like having a personal instructor¡ªexcept it never tires and shows you everything perfectly, down to the smallest detail."


    Aric nced back at the holographic figure, now standing motionless. "So, it¡¯s going to show me how to perform Muscle Burst?"


    "Precisely," the guide hovered closer, her tiny form now dancing around his head. "Just watch closely. It¡¯ll demonstrate how to channel Ki into the muscles and execute the technique."


    The holographic entity moved without warning. Its body shifted into a battle-ready stance, much like Aric¡¯s, but far more refined and controlled.


    Aric could feel the energy in the air shift as the entity began to channel Ki into its arms and legs. With every slight movement, he could see how the Ki flowed through its translucent muscles, causing them to bulge slightly, then contract in explosive bursts.


    In a blur of motion, the entity dashed forward with blinding speed, its body a controlled convergence of power. It stopped just as suddenly, standing as still as before, the demonstrationplete. The entire sequence had taken less than a second, yet Aric had witnessed every tiny detail¡ªthe shift of energy, the precise control over each muscle, and the timing needed to execute the burst.


    "Oh¡­" Aric muttered, taking a deep breath. "So that¡¯s how it¡¯s done."


    "Now you can attempt it," the guide sounded far too cheerful for what Aric knew would be a tough task. "Try to follow the same steps."


    Aric focused, taking the same stance the entity had shown. He tried to mimic the flow of Ki into his muscles, but as soon as he attempted it, the energy faltered. His legs tensed awkwardly, but no speed or power followed.


    He gritted his teeth and tried again, but his body refused to cooperate. Every time he thought he had it, the Ki slipped away, leaving him with only strained muscles and frustration.


    Again. Failure.


    Aric growled under his breath, a flicker of irritation shing across his face. "It¡¯s harder than it looks."


    The guide, still floating near his shoulder, offered a sympathetic smile. "Don¡¯t be discouraged! This is your first time using AR training, and mastering techniques takes patience. The entity will continue to demonstrate as often as you need."


    The entity reset itself, ready to disy the technique again. Aric watched with narrowed eyes, determined to get it right. The process was clear to him, but putting it into practice¡­ that was significantly more difficult.


    "Alright, one more time..." Aric muttered to himself. His muscles burned with effort, and his Ki felt like it was slipping through his fingers.


    However, he had endured far more for far less¡­ so he was determined not to stop until he got it right.

 Chapter 24: All Roads Lead To Evil...

    The sound of heavy breathing echoed through the entire room. Aric sat in one corner, his back against the wall, his chest heaving as sweat ran down his face. His silver hair clung to his forehead, almost blocking the gray of his eyes.


    The soft glow of the system panels dimly illuminated his face as he stared at the screens with a slight smile. He had worked for hours on end, but he was more than satisfied with the result.


    [Muscle Burst has been learned]


    [Ki Fists has been learned]


    They were basic skills, and perhaps the difficulty of mastering them, even with the system¡¯s incredibly helpful method, made Aric realize he was no martial arts genius.


    He turned over his hands, gazing at his palms. In hisst life, he had trained day and night tirelessly from the moment he was healed of his illness. For this reason, unlike now, his hands had be calloused and peeled, as he would swing his sword until his muscles burned at the slightest attempt to move them. In retrospect, this was still significantly easier training.


    Although he had learned two techniques, he decided the remaining two could wait to be learnedter, not because he was fatigued but rather because he didn¡¯t have the time¡ªHe had to depart.


    [Would you like to delete the two copied skills?]


    "Yes," Aric prompted.


    [Copied skills deleted]


    ording to what the guide had told him, deleting already learned copied skills would free up slots to copy more skills. Though he briefly considered returning to the martial vault, he decided there was nothing of significant worth in the basic section he was allowed.


    ¡¯I¡¯ll have to obtain better manuals elsewhere.¡¯


    Aric stood from the floor. Today was the day he left the imperial city and the estate where he had lived all his life, heading straight into the unknown. Well, it wasn¡¯t entirely unknown¡ªhe was significantly informed about the Byzeth Kingdom, especially its future.


    This was knowledge he was ready to use in his determined capture of the kingdom.


    Aric stretched, pushing his hands up and twisting his body.


    "Okay, Father, I¡¯ll go and see exactly what this ¡¯gift¡¯ you¡¯ve given me is."


    ¡ª¡ª¡ª


    The night was moonless, the wind whispered in the silence, its whistle the only disturbance in the darkness¡ªor at least in thergends of Aric¡¯s estate. From the manor, the fourth prince walked out, d in a subtle cloak, worn not to attract any unnecessary attention... not until it was necessary.


    Aric moved with a confident stride, an air of certainty now surrounding what was once a weak and sickly prince.


    He no longer needed a cane, nor did he receive the exercise sub-quests any longer. His body was now far stronger than that of an average human. However, that did not mean his illness was without effects. His health and stamina still capped at 70, ording to the status window, which the guide said was over two times less than the human average.


    This meant that while his body could withstand more damage than non-martial artists, when he did get hurt, his health dropped more easily. As for his stamina, he fatigued faster than most, and his Ki flow remained restricted. The illness was still a ring inconvenience.


    Aric stopped in front of the carriage. It was nothing special and far from being fit for a prince, but this journey was meant to be as mundane as possible. That¡¯s why he also decided embarking in the dead of night¡ªas when outside the imperial city, it made it far easier for his brothers to make a move against him.


    "Everything has been prepared, Your Highness," Meholt informed, standing with Zahai, while Ren, the youngest of the guards, had taken his position with the recruited driver at the front of the carriage.


    Aric trusted only the young guard to apany him.


    "Good. Please take care of the estate until my return."


    "Certainly, Your Highness," both guards bowed as Aric turned away, stepping into the carriage and shutting its door behind him.


    Inside, Serina and Lerai had already boarded. Lerai sat at the other door while Serina sat opposite him. Although far from luxurious, the carriage had considerable interior space, giving them legroom.


    Soon enough, the groan of wooden tires against the cobblestone paving, along with the clops of the horses¡¯ hooves, signified the start of their journey. From their estate, they would traverse the imperial city until reaching its outskirts, and from there, it would be a long route down Ezra¡¯s Path until they reached the outskirts of Byzeth.


    "How long will getting to Byzeth take?" Lerai asked, perhaps out of curiosity.


    "The driver said two or three days, depending on our stops."


    "Three days?" Lerai¡¯s eyes widened in shock.


    "Calm down, it¡¯s not that long," Serina countered.


    Their conversation easily became background noise to Aric as he stared out the carriage window, just as they began to exit his estate. Over the past few days, Aric had pondered many times about his approach to this new quest and his father¡¯s reasoning.


    He knew he would have to overthrow the kingdom. That had be less of a choice and more a necessity imposed by the system. Even if he had wanted to soothe the mes of war, he couldn¡¯t.


    As for what the emperor intended, Aric slowly began to realize it might be the same. Thinking back to their conversation, perhaps the emperor wanted him to find different methods to his ideology that didn¡¯t require raw power.


    It would make sense, given the "Wind and the Mountain" story, was told to him by his father.


    If the emperor had intended for Aric to overthrow Byzeth from the start, could it be that bing the first prince to conquer a kingdom without help from the empire was the "gift" Xavier spoke of?


    ¡¯What are you nning, Father?¡¯

 Chapter 25: Home of Sinners

    The Northrend Empire, by all means, was the clearest definition of a powerful sovereignty. It held the farthest north, and it was said that most wars ever brought to it died before reaching its borders.


    Unlike the Elven Empire of Sylvanna, the Northrenders were not isted by choice, but simply because most were terrified of them¡ªbrutes and warriors bred from a constant fight for survival against both the beasts that surrounded them and against themselves.


    Their entire lives were built on a simple ideology: a man¡¯s worth could only be decided in blood and ash.


    Nothing would be taken from their hands unless they were dead and cold, and nothing from their empire unless it was reduced to ashes. These men of constant cold were as harsh and brutal as their climate.


    And as if they weren¡¯t terrifying enough, they possessed martial artists of realms most could not even fathom.


    It was an unspoken rule, but one most knew: life was always better when the men of winter were left alone.


    However, the Byzeth King had be cocky¡­ greedy.


    Most refrained from engaging in any business with the Northrenders, given their nature. Trade with them was a dangerous yet profitable endeavor. For that reason, they had only traded with the Draken Empire¡ªthe dragon riders. Like the Northrenders, the Drakens were ones to be feared, after all, they had managed to obtain the secret of taming sacred beasts such as dragons.


    This bnce of enormous power maintained a level of fear and respect between the Drakens and Northrenders that allowed them to trade for many, many years.


    However, the Drakens sold to the Northrenders at heavily inted prices. The Northrenders had no choice but to buy from them, as no one else would trade with the men of winter.


    This knowledge gave Aszer Hait, the King of Byzeth, a brilliant idea: if he decided to sell to the north at market price¡ªwhich was almost fifteen times less than the steep prices of the Drakens¡ªthe Northrenders would obviously choose the Byzeth Kingdom as their preferred trade partner, giving Byzeth the trading power of an entire empire.


    This was Aszer¡¯s first vital step in his n to take the Valerian throne.


    And it was also what had gotten him and his people ughtered, their kingdom reduced to rubble, and what started one of the many wars Aric had to fight.


    However, this oue was years into the future, but this knowledge was vital.


    "Isn¡¯t there a single town where we can stop?" Lerai groaned, leaning further back into the carriage seat.


    "Yeah," Serina agreed. "This path is far more deste than I expected."


    Since the start of the journey, she had always scolded Lerai¡¯sints, telling him it wouldn¡¯t be as long or tiring as he assumed. Well, she was wrong.


    It had been forty hours since they had set off. Continuously sitting in the carriage, their muscles and bones began to ache. Perhaps to highlight theirck of preparation, they had also run out of food and water.


    Aric did not indulge in any of that, however¡ªwhether it was eating orining about the journey¡¯s length. His cultivation level allowed him fewer needs than the mages, and he was far too deep in his thoughts to notice the agonizing stretch of their journey.


    In fact, he only paid attention now because there was business to handle in a town they should have already reached.


    "The town should be close now," Aric offered, though it wasn¡¯t much of a reassurance.


    They had been traveling on Ezra¡¯s Path for many hours now. It was a long and brutal stretch of road with nothing but drynd. This deste path ran through the Valerian Empire, connecting many of its kingdoms.


    Over the years, some towns were built close to it, eventually thriving and bing a home for bandits and criminals alike.


    As Ezra was the most traveled path within the empire, it was targeted by those looking to make money through hical means, whether it be kidnapping, robbery, or assassinations. Many such crimes urred daily on this path, and since the area around Ezra was mostly destion, the criminals thatmitted these crimes made the towns near the path their home base.


    Before reaching Byzeth, Aric needed to see a particr criminal who would be of much use to him.


    So far, their carriage had not encountered any assaults, simply because most knew better than to attack anything leaving the imperial city, as it was likely well-guarded.


    "I need to eat¡­ and sleep in an actual bed," Lerai groaned, his face falling into his hands.


    Aric sighed. "Ask the driver if we¡¯re close to the town."


    As though he had been waiting for the prince to say it, Lerai stuck his head out the window. His hair danced violently in the wind as he opened his mouth to inquire about the town, but as he looked forward, he saw it in the distance.


    "We¡¯re here," Lerai announced excitedly, pulling his head back into the carriage.


    ---


    A few momentster, their carriage made the turn and drove into the nearby town. The drynd transformed into an unevenlyid cobblestone road. As they rode through, many passersby began to side-eye the carriage.


    Some were just townsfolk who assumed this was yet another capture of the many criminals that inhabited their home, while a few criminals wondered if a fish had somehow swum onto the boat.


    The carriage stopped, and Aric stepped out. Serina and Lerai followed. Aric turned to n and the driver.


    "Secure the carriage. We¡¯ll be back."


    Both men nodded as the driver directed the horses to a corner.


    The two mages followed behind the fourth prince, who seemed very aware of where he was going. With his face barely visible, he made his way through the town almost expertly, as though he had been there before¡ªwell, he had.


    They reached a building, and like most in the small town, it was made of wood and had quite a minimalist design. The notable difference was the strong, almost revolting smell of alcohol that oozed from within, along with loud, obnoxious conversation.


    Aric, followed by Lerai and Serina, stepped into the tavern. Eyes nced at them, noticing they looked far different from those of their simr "profession." Aric walked over to the bartender.


    "Please, arge pint of beer," he requested, passing over a gold coin.


    The bartender nodded, swiftly turning to retrieve his request. As he did, Aric made an inquiry, loudly.


    "Pardon me, but I am looking for a gentleman by the name of Borag."


    Immediately upon hearing that name, tension fell upon the tavern. Some tried to remain discreet in doing so, others were not, but weapons began to slowly be drawn.


    "No?" Aric looked around, as though trying to make eye contact with each man. "He¡¯s not in? Out in the field, perhaps? A shame."


    He turned to the bartender, who ced therge pint of beer before him. The jug was made of wood and iron.


    "Thank you, good sir," Aric said, taking a sip.


    "Then perhaps Twicher is present?" Aric rubbed the beer foam off his mouth with his sleeve.


    "You¡¯re one audacious bastard, aren¡¯t you?" one of the men spoke. His hair was long and brown, his forehead marked with a scar.


    "Ah, Twicher," Aric¡¯s face shed with recognition as he held his beer in hand, approaching where Twicher sat.


    "Most know better than to say those names so loosely," Twicher said, drawing an axe and cing it on the table before him as Aric reached his table. "The de of my axe still has warm blood on it, and that man had done far less than spout my name. I had thought the foolishness of men would eventually see its limit, but I guess it is imp¡ª"


    The sickening sound of the wooden jug Aric held smashing against Twicher¡¯s skull resounded through the entire tavern. Aric had broken the wood into several pieces as he swung it into the man¡¯s head, knocking him unconscious in a single hit.


    "You talk too damn much¡­ I forgot how much it pissed me off."

 Chapter 26: Beer And Blood

    The tavern was enveloped in shocked silence following the loud bang of the mug that shattered on Twicher¡¯s head.


    For a moment, the men hesitated, contemting their next action. However, these were not men of thought¡ªthugs like them were known tosh out first and thinkter.


    But, as Aric had said, terror is a powerful tool. It was enough to make them think twice, especially since Twicher was no ordinary thief among them, and yet the man before them had disrespected him so tantly.


    They had to ask themselves: Could they afford to act recklessly?


    "This won¡¯t do," Aric muttered, throwing the mug¡¯s handle onto the wooden table, all that was left of it. "Do you not feel a sense of duty? As henchmen, should you not avenge him?"


    Aric posed his question to the tavern full of thugs, who remained still and silent, their drawn weapons clenched.


    "Who are you?" one of the thugs finally spoke.


    Aric shook his head. "Wrong question. That¡¯s useless."


    He leaned on the table, raising his hand as if to emphasize his next words. "What you should ask is: What do I want?"


    Aric sped his fingers and stayed silent, leaning back as though waiting. Moments passed before one of the thugs stood up.


    "I¡¯m tired of this nonsense. What do you want?" he growled, brandishing his machete.


    Aric pointed at him. "Wonderful question," he said, pushing himself off the table and walking around the tavern slowly. "At first¡­ it was your lives. I mean, I am just passing through, so why not get rid of you lot? It would add to my list of heroics."


    Then he stopped.


    "However, I had a better idea. Rather than waste your lives, why not use them for something worthwhile? So, I guess what I¡¯m saying is¡­ you¡¯re now all under new management. And don¡¯t worry, I¡¯ll take it up with Borag when I see him."


    "Bullshit!" one of the men shot up from his table.


    "Oh?" Aric¡¯s head tilted, intrigued.


    "You¡¯re gonna have to do your managing in the afterlife," the thug, a man in ragged clothes clutching a knife, barked.


    He tapped the men closest to him, who began standing, readying themselves for a fight.


    "Yes¡­ yes, that¡¯s it," Aric smiled as he watched the men prepare to attack. He reached under his cloak, retrieving white bandages.


    "You see¡­" Aric began, wrapping the bandages around his hand, "I do try to offer the carrot before the stick. But if I¡¯m being honest, I always hope the carrot is never taken. I¡¯m a firm believer in teaching through¡­ physical methods."


    "Do you see how many people are in front of you? You¡¯re two boys and a girl," the thugs tried to intimidate, referring to Serina and Lerai.


    "Please, don¡¯t worry. They won¡¯t be intervening," Aric assured, turning to the bartender. "What kind of wood is this? How easy is blood cleaned from it?"


    "Not easy at all," the bartender shook his head with a sigh.


    "Well¡­ that¡¯s a shame."


    Aric moved, almost blurring as he reached the nearest man, his hand swinging across his jaw, sending a mix of blood and loose teeth flying. As the others tried to process what had happened, Aric¡¯s fist moved a sceond time and struck the man¡¯s throat, crushing his cartge.


    The man gasped for breath he couldn¡¯t seem to draw, copsing to the floor before anyone understood what had happened.


    Aric was a trained warrior, but now he was more than that¡ªhe was a martial artist, possessing ki as well.


    And although these thugs were cold, ruthless, and unsympathetic killers, they were still human.


    Their strengthy in numbers, which proved useful against the powerless travelers of Ezra¡¯s path. But their numbers were useless against a skilled cultivator.


    "Please, there¡¯s no point in hesitating. None of you will be leaving here untouched."


    One by one, the thugs steeled their nerves and lunged at Aric, weapons drawn, faces disying anger and something akin to fear. The first attacker, the man with the machete, charged recklessly, bringing his weapon down with a wide, heavy swing.


    Aric was faster, sharper.


    He sidestepped with an almostzy grace, his bandaged fist snapping forward and striking the man square in the jaw with a loud crack.


    The machete-wielding thug stumbled back, his head whipping to the side as blood sprayed from his mouth. Aric followed through with a knee to the man¡¯s stomach, sending him crashing into a nearby table, splintering wood and knocking mugs to the ground.


    Another thug leapt at him from the side, a knife aimed at Aric¡¯s ribs. With a fluid twist of his body, Aric caught the man¡¯s wrist, wrenching it painfully as the knife ttered to the floor.


    In the same motion, he drove an elbow into the thug¡¯s nose, shattering it with a sickening crunch. The man let out a howl of pain, clutching his face as he staggered backward, blood pouring between his fingers.


    From behind, two more thugs rushed at him, thinking to overwhelm him with numbers.


    Aric spun on his heel, his foot catching one in the knee with a brutal kick, the joint bending at an unnatural angle. The man screamed as he copsed to the floor, writhing in agony.


    The second thug swung a club toward Aric¡¯s head, but Aric caught the weapon mid-swing, wrenching it from the man¡¯s grasp. With a swift motion, he mmed the club into the thug¡¯s ribs, sending him crashing into a nearby wall.


    The tavern was now a scene of chaos. Men groaned on the floor, clutching broken limbs and gasping for breath.


    Aric slithered like a shadow through the fray, his movements precise, economical, and brutal. He was careful not to kill¡ªhis blows were meant to incapacitate, not end lives¡ªbut the damage was severe. Bones snapped, teeth flew, and blood sttered across the wooden floor, seeping into the cracks of the old nks.


    "You¡¯re all hesitating," Aric said, his voice calm, almost bored, as he stood over the fallen thug. "There¡¯s no point in dragging this out."


    ¡ª¡ª¡ª


    The one-sided assault went on for a while. The stench of sweat and blood had now ovee the lingering smell of alcohol and beer.


    Blood smeared the floor, staining the tavern with crimson streaks. Serina and Lerai, who had been watching from the sidelines, looked on in silence. Aric, standing in the center of the mess, was untouched, his breathing calm, his expressionposed.


    [Stamina: 15/70 (Low)]


    He wiped a speck of blood from his cheek with the back of his hand, surveying the broken bodies littered around him. None of them were dead, but they would carry their injuries¡ªand the memory of this night¡ªfor a long time.


    He rubbed his bandaged hand across the blood-smeared table closest to him, but it did little to remove the crimson stains.


    Aric turned to the bartender, who stood behind the counter, quiet. "You¡¯re right," Aric said, his voice casual. "Blood really doesn¡¯t clean easily from wood."


    Suddenly, the doors of the tavern swung open, and a man d in mismatched armor and a dark cloak stepped in. His hair was fiery red, just like his eyes.


    As he walked inside, he surveyed the carnage around him¡ªfrom the incapacitated thugs to Aric, whose bloodied bandages were the only sign of his involvement in the altercation.


    "I seem to have missed a lot," the man remarked, his tone strangely calm.


    "Ah, Borag," Aric said with a faint smile. "I had begun dreading having to hunt you down, but since you¡¯re here, I should wake Twicher up so we can have an important conversation."

 Chapter 27: Recruiting

    The bartender, stepping over the bodies of the beaten thugs sprawled across his tavern, walked to the unconscious form of Twicher, whoy across a table. He turned a bowl of water over the man¡¯s face, and in response, Twicher shot up, gasping heavily as though he had been drowning.


    As he awoke, Twicher took a look around him¡ªthe men¡¯s bodies¡ªand then his gaze shifted to Aric, who sat in a chair on one side of the bar. His eyes then trailed again to Borag, who also sat, calmly drinking a pint of beer.


    "Good, you¡¯re awake," Aric said to Twicher, who still looked starkly confused. "I do apologize for knocking you out. It was important you did not intervene."


    Twicher was nothing like the other thugs. If Aric had given him a chance to attack with them, it would have be problematic.


    The men Aric had made quick work of were not martial artists. Bing a cultivator was nomon feat; in fact, less than twenty percent of the world¡¯s poption were born with the ability to harness ki. If one were to be a cultivator, they were guaranteed a spot in the imperial army, and if they were strong enough, they could swiftly rise in ranks, earning unparalleled wealth and fame.


    For this reason, martial artists had no reason to resort to bing petty thieves to make a living, which meant most thugs were nothing but average humans. However, Borag and Twicher were exceptions.


    Both of these men, at the time Aric had met them in hisst life, were already at the realm of Martial Knight. Even with the opportunity being a martial artist presented, they turned to a life of petty crime and led groups of bandits.


    For what reason they chose this, Aric did not know, and frankly, he didn¡¯t care. What mattered to him was their use.


    "Now, Mr.¡­" Borag dragged out thest word, waiting for Aric toplete it.


    "V," the fourth prince offered, not wanting to reveal his identity.


    "Mr. V¡­ please do tell what business you have with us, as you¡¯ve certainly piqued my curiosity now," Borag inquired.


    This red-haired bandit before Aric most definitely did not seem like one. The way he spoke and carried himself, his mannerisms¡ªall pointed to something more. He was a dangerous man, and Aric knew that.


    "I already informed the others, but I doubt they¡¯ll be able to convey any message to you right now," Aric nced at the nearly half-dead men lying on the floor, not a single one capable of getting up yet, only letting out groans every now and then.


    "I n to take leadership of your¡­ organization," Aric dered, his tone assertive and carrying a certain dominance. "You and your men will now answer to me."


    Borag let out a small chuckle. "Why would we do something like that? Oh," he stopped himself, gesturing to the thugs on the floor. "I guess to avoid ending up like them?"


    "No," Aric shook his head. "You¡¯ll do it because it¡¯s more worthwhile than your petty thefts."


    Aric, seemingly reaching into thin air, retrieved tworge pouches, both of which he had prepared and stored in his inventory.


    "Thirty thousand gold... each," Aric threw one pouch to Borag and another to Twicher.


    "I¡¯m sure that¡¯s more money than you¡¯ve ever made stealing, but now, think of this as a wee incentive. When you carry out an order sessfully, you get even more."


    After Aric spoke, a moment of shocked silence settled over the room.


    Then, suddenly, both men erupted inughter. They looked at each other and then back at Aric.


    "Oh sire, why did you get your hands dirty? If you wanted these fools disciplined, you could have asked me to do it for you," Twicher said, loosening the pouch to peek inside. The reflection from the coins almost blinded him.


    "Just tell us what you want done. Is it killing? Give us a name, and they¡¯ll be dead in two hours," Boragughed loudly.


    Aric sighed, standing up from the chair. He gestured to Lerai, who tossed him a rune stone the young mage had crafted himself.


    "Keep this with you at all times. I¡¯ll be in touch soon." He tossed it to Borag.


    Aric gave these men the coin fully understanding that when it came to loyalty, gold forgets.


    The fourth prince walked, his footsteps marked with blood as he reached the exit. Turning back to the two bandits one final time, he said, "These men will wake up afraid¡ªafraid of the consequences of opposing me. Today, they learned a new kind of fear, one that surpasses the respect they harbor for you both. I don¡¯t need to offer them anything else, but I¡¯ll let you lead them by my name."


    Aric¡¯s eyes narrowed as he gazed at both men.


    "All right then,ds," Aric nodded, turning around and leaving a few more coins on the counter for the bartender before exiting the tavern.


    For Borag and Twicher, the gold was the reason they would do the prince¡¯s bidding, but the fear of a fate simr to or worse than that of their men was the reason they wouldn¡¯t dare to do otherwise.


    Unlike coins, fear always remembers, and Aric had instilled varying amounts of it in every person who witnessed the events of that tavern.

 Chapter 28: The House of Arkhan

    [Requirements met: The user now has enough subordinates.]


    [Subordinate management unlocked.]


    Aric saw this panel appear just after his discussion with Twicher and Borag, though he decided to ignore it then, until he had a chance to fully explore what it meant.


    They returned to their carriage, where the young guard n and the driver stood, awaiting their return. Aric could clearly see they had also gotten into an altercation, though neither of them looked hurt or even significantly exhausted.


    "Looks like you guys weren¡¯t left alone," Aric remarked.


    "Yes, your highness, but they quickly realized we had nothing valuable. After the first two, no one came to try again."


    Aric, having told them to remain outside with the carriage, had expected they would be confronted and was quite satisfied with how they had handled it.


    "Alright," Aric stretched, "You all can go get some food and water, have some rest. Be back here in four hours... I¡¯ll be waiting in the carriage."


    "Your highness, it¡¯s fine, I¡¯ll stay here with y¡ª"


    The prince stopped n mid-sentence.


    "No, no," he shook his head. "Go on, I¡¯ll be fine."


    If anything, The prince might have worried about them going off on their own, but with Serina present, he was certain they would be fine.


    Aric boarded the carriage while the rest went off, and with the prince now having some time alone, he could finally contemte what the text on the panels he had seen meant.


    "Guide," he called.


    She materialized at the side of his head, a curious look on her face.


    "What does this mean?" Aric inquired, gesturing to the panel before him.


    [Subordinate management unlocked.]


    The guide turned to the screen and then back to him.


    "This is one of the many system functions you refused to let me brief you on," the guide reminded Aric, her tone gloating.


    "I doubt anything about that would¡¯ve been brief," Aric retorted.


    "But you would have had knowledge of all¡ª"


    "Alright, alright," Aric stopped her, "We can go through system functions another time. Just tell me what this is."


    The guide cleared her throat, her wings fluttering as she entered her exnation frenzy.


    "The subordinate management function allows the user to track the state of all subordinates, from their level of loyalty to their feelings toward the user. When upgraded, more information can be disyed, like attributes and more."


    "Oh," Aric¡¯s eyes widened, thrilled by the prospect. "How do I see the subordinate details?"


    "First, you must name your party."


    [Please choose a name for your party.]


    Aric thought for a moment. Although it didn¡¯t seem like a profound decision, he contemted it intently.


    "Would you like a suggestion?" the guide asked.


    "Go on."


    "Since you also have no name for your political house in the empire, you can name them both The House of Arkhan."


    Aric tilted his head slightly, curious about the reasoning behind her choice.


    "Why that?"


    "Ark-han, in the ancientnguage of the Men of Winter, means ¡¯to be reborn.¡¯ Not physically, but in a metaphorical sense¡ªtopletely change and be someone far different than before," the guide exined.


    "I assumed it would be a fitting name for your house, but you may still¡ª"


    "No, I think it¡¯s great," Aric said. "Let¡¯s go with that."


    [You have named your party: House of Arkhan.]


    [Showing party member details.]


    -------------


    The House of Arkhan


    Lerai Castro | Human Mage


    Loyalty: 83


    Emotion: Inspired, Respect


    ///


    Serina Marcel | Human Mage


    Loyalty: 54


    Emotion: Intrigued, Respect


    ///


    Estate Guards | Humans


    Avg Loyalty: 93


    Emotion: Fear, Respect


    ///


    Keins Town Bandits | Humans


    Avg Loyalty: 70


    Emotion: Fear


    ///


    Borag and Twicher | Human Cultivators


    Avg Loyalty: 28


    Emotion: Greed, Intrigue, Fear


    ///


    Marcus Leman | Human


    Loyalty: 50 (Quickly decreasing)


    Emotion: Betrayal, Fear


    --------------


    Aric was astonished by the panel, his eyes widening.


    "I believe the rest are self-exnatory. As for emotions, this shows your subordinates¡¯ current feelings toward you, with their strongest feeling listed first," the guide offered insight.


    Everything about it made Aric curious, offering him a better understanding of the aftermath of his actions. However, one person left him confused.


    "Who the hell is that? And why do they feel I betrayed them?"


    Aric stared hard at the name, thinking carefully in an attempt to remember, and then his memory shed to a name tag on a desk.


    "...The clerk," Aric facepalmed.


    It all made sense now. He hadpletely forgotten, but he had promised topensate the clerk for the letters he gave him, and Aric never did. That would exin the betrayal and the falling loyalty.


    "I didn¡¯t mean to¡­ I actually forgot," Aric sighed, ncing at the name again.


    He shook his head, ignoring the thought. He then nced at all the other sections. As expected, Borag and Twicher¡¯s loyalty was low. If he hadn¡¯t given them gold, they wouldn¡¯t have submitted, but Aric had already nned out how to change that.


    ---


    The four hours had passed, and Serina and the others returned. With their legs stretched, bellies full, and enough food and water for the rest of the journey, they continued on.


    Aric hadn¡¯t eaten yet, though he had plenty in his inventory. He didn¡¯t feel the need to.


    Perhaps he was the slightest bit nervous, confronting the Byzeth King?


    ¡¯Oh, please,¡¯ Aric scoffed internally.

 Chapter 29: A familiar Scent

    Hours eventually ticked into days, and after what felt far longer than it could have been, they reached the singr trail of Ezra¡¯s Path. Following it, the bleak destion that had gued their view was exchanged for a scenery of scattered countryside buildings.


    They had reached the far outskirts of the Byzeth Kingdom.


    Byzeth was one of the thirteen kingdoms under the sovereignty of the Valerian Empire. Although it was significantly the smallest, and not the strongest in military power, the kingdom thrived as a business capital.


    Byzeth was a trade hub in Valeria, seemingly producing every in-demandmodity. It was a staple in the empire¡¯s trade market.


    The kingdom was an important asset to the Empire, and even if removed from the empire¡¯s sovereignty, the kingdom could still thrive on its own, having built a system of self-sustainment.


    These were the reasons the Byzeth king had grown cocky. However, it was far from enough to contemte rebellion against the empire without expecting death as the end result.


    Aszer Hait, the Byzeth king, was rumored to have broken into the realm of Martial Master, the fifth realm of cultivation. He was now a man capable of opposing a thousand single-handedly. This strength is what had tempted the greedy king into considering rebellion, but even then, that too, was still far from enough to execute such a n.


    Such cultivation was basic among the members of the imperial squad, let alone the Valerian Emperor, who, rumors say, had reached a realm where he now grappled with divinity.


    Aszer knew opposition by himself was impossible, so he nned to coborate with those he knew stood a chance against the Valerian Sovereignty¡ªthe Northrenders. By forming a trade alliance, Aszer saw it as a window to offer them more: conquest.


    "We¡¯re finally here¡­" Serina sighed, looking out the window at the rolling hills as they moved through a field.


    "Should we ride straight to the capital and give the king a piece of our mind?" Lerai offered humorously.


    "Yeah, if our goal is to see how fast we can get killed, we should definitely do that," Serina huffed lightly.


    "We¡¯ll set camp at Midgard Province. It¡¯s close to the capital and serves as the main dock for all trade routes to the north. This is important."


    Serina turned to Aric after he spoke. "I¡¯m guessing you¡¯ve conjured an entire n to take down this kingdom¡¯s government with only three people?"


    "I have something in mind," Aric assured.


    ---


    The carriage pulled through the final stretch of its journey, entering Midgard Province. Buildings were no longer scarce; they lined every corner of the cobblestone streets.


    This ce was a far different setting from the Imperial City, but it seemed just as popted.


    Each building served some business purpose or another. The walls were smooth stone lined with skillfully carved wood, giving the town amunal feel. The streets were busy, even during thete hours of sundown as they rode in.


    Every part of the street was lined with vendors bargaining with patrons, or bustling establishments filled with customers. Taverns, brothels, and restaurants were everywhere, yet all were lit and buzzing with activity.


    Even as the sun was sinking below the horizon, it seemed, for the people of this province, as though their night had only just begun.


    Soon enough, their carriage passed through the central district, and the buildings began to look less like businesses and more residential. This was where they would make their stop.


    The carriage came to a halt. The horses, having pushed through for days with only a few hours of rest in between, bent their knees and copsed to the ground, relieved of their burden.


    They exited the carriage, Aric ncing around in an attempt to ensure they were in the right ce.


    "Where to now?" Lerai inquired, dusting himself off and stretching after spending hours in the confined carriage.


    "There," Aric pointed to a building not too far away. "If we¡¯re lucky, old man Hitoki should own it at this time."


    "Old man Hitoki?" Serina nced at Aric with a curious look.


    "Yes, an old friend of mine¡­" Aric¡¯s tone was reminiscent as he turned to the carriage driver and the guard. "Secure the horses and meet us over there," he instructed, pointing to the building while sharing a look with n.


    "Yes, Your Highness," both men replied, watching Aric lead Serina and Lerai away.


    The building stood far from others erected around the area, and unlike the bustling establishments at the district, it looked more like a home. It was built from brick rather than polished stone, and it didn¡¯t have the same consumerist energy.


    Aric pushed open the door, and the group of three entered. Their figures, cloaked and pale from the long journey, moved cautiously. Serina and Lerai were weary from travel, while Aric had pushed himself too hard fighting bandits, his illness making it a close call.


    They walked into a living room, the sound of crackling wood from the firece immediately reaching their ears. The smell of burning logs mingled with a unique scent they couldn¡¯t quite ce, though it felt familiar to Aric.


    Chairs made of soft hide were arranged around the room, and the wooden floor was covered with rugs.


    The night had brought a chill outside, but here, the warmth felt like aforting hold against the cold.


    "Who are you¡­ and why did you barge in here?"


    A man walked out from a passage. His hair was white, and his wrinkles told of a man well on his years, yet he moved with surprising vigor.


    "Old man¡­" Aric muttered, a slight sadness in his voice.

 Chapter 30: Beginning Conquest

    The old man stayed silent for a while, simply staring at Aric as if trying to recognize him. However, the longer he stared at the fourth prince, the more confusion welled up. He was certain he didn¡¯t know the prince, even though it seemed Aric knew him.


    At the very least, that is what he made it seem like.


    "Do you... know me?" the old man asked. In that moment, the sadness in Aric¡¯s expression swiftly dissolved, leaving behind his usual nk look.


    Aric cleared his throat. "Uh, no¡­ I heard there was an inn open here."


    Aric¡¯s words only deepened the confusion on the old man¡¯s face.


    "I don¡¯t open until next month¡­"


    ¡¯I¡¯m too early¡­¡¯ Aric sighed.


    "Then we apologize for intruding like this, but we n on paying for a stay here," Aric exined.


    The old man stayed silent for a while, contemting.


    "How many rooms, and for how long?"


    "We¡¯re not yet certain how long we¡¯ll be staying, but we¡¯d like to pay for the entire residence, allowing only us to stay until we depart," Aric offered.


    "I don¡¯t know, that doesn¡¯t seem good for business," Hitoki mused.


    "A hundred thousand. That¡¯s how much we¡¯ll pay, for this month alone," Aric countered.


    "A hundred thousand silver¡­ that¡¯s not bad... but," the old man stroked his chin in thought.


    "Not silver¡­ gold," Aric rified.


    The old man¡¯s face tightened, his skepticism evident.


    "Is this a new type of scam? What are you three really doing here?" Hitoki¡¯s guard went up, wary of the trio.


    "I¡¯m not messing with you," Aric reassured as he retrieved a bag of gold from his inventory. "I¡¯m offering an honest transaction." He tossed each bag onto a nearby chair, slightly opened, revealing the gold coins within.


    The man expression shifted as aric did that, not because of the gold, but how he had retrived them¡­he assumed magic.


    Hitoki turned, looking at the bags. He slowly moved over, using his hand to pry the bags open further, confirming they were indeed filled with gold coins. He nced back at Aric.


    "Isn¡¯t this... too much?"


    Aric raised his hand, as though refusing a rejection. "No, no. Please ept this aspensation for inconveniencing you before you¡¯ve even opened."


    The weariness shifted from the old man¡¯s face, reced by gratitude.


    "You are too kind¡­ Please, follow me. I will show you around," the old man said, gesturing for them toe along.


    ---


    Hitoki took the group of three around therge house, showing them all rooms and allowing them to choose where they would reside. After the tour, the old man led Aric into a study to finalize the transaction.


    "It¡¯s a nice house," Aricplimented, walking over to a desk and running his hand over the wood.


    "Thank you. I have a question, though," Hitoki¡¯s voice had changed. It was a tone Aric recognized, and it made him smile subtly.


    "No other person is aware of my intention to turn this house into an inn¡­ so how exactly do you have that information¡­ your highness?"


    Aric turned around, ncing at Hitoki, who now held a long sword in hand, wiping the edges of the de with a rag.


    "You cunning old man... you¡¯ll get killed for knowing everything," Aric grinned at the man.


    "Well, that is my job, your highness. But I have a feeling you know that as well," Hitoki dropped the rag to the floor. "However, this is very confusing, even for me. If I somehow caught the attention of the imperial court, why would they send the sickly fourth prince¡ªwho, for some reason, doesn¡¯t look very sick as of now? There are a lot of things not adding up."


    "Despite the man you are, I¡¯m not here for you¡­ unless you have ties to the rebellion," Aric said.


    "Come on, even I have my limits," Hitoki scoffed.


    "Then you have nothing to worry about¡­ so please, lower the sword. I¡¯m getting nervous."


    Hitoki sighed, cing the de to the side.


    "I know better than to harm the imperial prince. It was only for intimidation¡­ but it didn¡¯t seem to work."


    Aric shook his head with a smile.


    "No, I was very intimidated, actually."


    "Don¡¯t patronize me."


    Aricughed¡ªperhaps genuinely, for the first time since he regressed.


    "The things you know... how do you know them?" Hitoki¡¯s curiosity was evident.


    Aric shrugged slightly.


    "Who knows? Perhaps I¡¯ll tell you one day. It won¡¯t be today, though."


    The old man sighed. "Well, I can appreciate the emphasis on keeping sources a secret."


    "I¡¯m sure you can."


    "Aszer¡¯s n for rebellion... so it has reached the imperial ears? No offense to you, your highness, but if they sent you alone, they must not be taking him seriously."


    Aric stayed silent for a moment. The thought crossed his mind¡ªcould that be the reason? However, the contemtion quickly faded. Aric knew Xavier was not one to take such matters lightly.


    "Perhaps. It does not matter. What does is that I have a job to do¡­ and I don¡¯t mean to intrude, but there¡¯s no better ce to set up base than here."


    "But you know my upation. Shall I not be smitten by the royal hand of righteousness for my sins?" the old man asked.


    "I am far from a hand of righteousness. All I am is a man with a goal... and I see nothing but that."


    The old man grinned slightly before turning away and heading toward the door of the study.


    "Alright then, your highness. Please enjoy your stay at my home," Hitoki said, exiting the study.


    Aric walked around the desk, moving to the leather chair behind it. He sat down, leaning back with a long sigh.


    [You have begun your first conquest: Byzeth Kingdom.]


    [Conquest feature has been activated.]


    [Hidden Base Established: Stronghold security +5%.]

 Chapter 31: Elements of Coup

    Soon after the panel appeared, Aric watched as the room suddenly filled with simr blue screens, more than he had ever seen before. They materialized all around him, painting his entire vision in a ring blue.


    "What is... this?" Aric muttered slowly, pushing his chair back and turning his body slightly to look at the other screens behind him.


    Each one had different information disyed, and without thinking much, Aric turned to the closest one to read.


    ¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª


    Masir Genult \\ Human


    {Current value: 7}


    - Financial advisor to the Lord of Heidz


    essibility: Medium


    Influence: - (You do not have any influence on this)


    Expand/?


    ¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª


    "Who the hell is that?" Aric nced over the screen, moving to read another.


    ¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª


    The Stretch of Miredis \\ ce


    {Current value: 86}


    - Long stretch ofnd between Byzeth and the northern river, the only trade path between it and other kingdoms.


    essibility: Medium


    Influence: -


    Expand/?


    ¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª


    Aric¡¯s eyes moved from panel to panel, ncing over them one after another. Slowly, he realized what it was¡ªhe had the entirety of the Byzeth Kingdomid bare before him. Routes, ces, people... anything that had even the slightest influence on the kingdom was shown.


    The panels revealed what they were, their value to his quest, how easy they were to ess, and even his current influence on them, with an option to expand on the information.


    "Guide¡­" Aric eventually called out. Although he had a slight idea of what he was looking at, he couldn¡¯t fully understand it without her help.


    She materialized close to him with a flutter of her wings. Without prompting, she immediately began exining as though knowing why she had been called.


    "The conquest feature is integrated into the system to aid the user in the acquisition of suzerainty over a state or governed entity. The user will be given details on all parts of the state¡¯s authority, and how the actions you take affect this authority and strengthen your own. Quests, among other aids, will further assist you in toppling the state and assuming leadership."


    The guide shed light on what Aric had already suspected. The prince sat back, gazing at the floating screens around him. Although the guide told him that most of the system¡¯s functions were yet to be explored, he was still surprised each time a new, boundlessly useful feature like this was revealed.


    [You have received a sub-quest.]


    [S-Quest: Taking the Stretch]


    ¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª


    Increase influence in the Stretch of Miredis to 40%.


    - The Stretch of Miredis is the main trade route used by the kingdom and the only possible route for trade with the Northrend Empire. Increasing influence will allow for the inflow of necessary information and give you the ability to make important decisions regarding Byzeth¡¯s main staple: trade.


    Reward: Party feature upgrade.


    ¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª


    Aric had already devised an approach to overthrow Byzeth, and though he briefly worried that the system quest might contradict his ns, he concluded it was unlikely. This current quest was well within his ns, and he had already mapped out how to achieve it.


    Aric stood from the chair, the wood creaking as he did.


    He swiped his hand across the air, and with that motion, all the blue screens vanished. He took a deep breath, and then another, before exiting the study.


    As Aric walked through the halls of the house, he was haunted by a striking nostalgia that brought memories of an eventual cmity. Each part of the house seemed to echo with theughter of the squad he had led.


    He remembered their ughter quite vividly... especially that of the old man.


    Aric shook his head in a mostly ineffective attempt to dispel the thoughts that gued his mind. He walked up the stairs and eventually through another hallway. Although the house was far from asrge as his estate manor, it was quite sizable.


    Aric reached a door, stopping as he gripped the handle and pushed it open.


    The wooden door swung, revealing Serina, who was in the middle of putting on a night dress. Her breasts were left bare, her hands covering them in a failing attempt at modesty.


    "My apologies, I should have knocked. My mind was a bit upied," Aric broke the silence. He wasn¡¯t flustered or awkward, and his voice remained calm and monotone as always.


    "It¡¯s fine. I did tell you toe at around this time," Serina replied, also seemingly unfazed by the situation. She slowly dropped one hand, revealing herself to raise the dress, slipping her hands through the strings as she fully donned the nightgown. "Please,e in," she added.


    Aric walked in, looking around the room, reminiscing as he smelled the familiar lingering scent of the home, now mixed with Serina¡¯s.


    The mage¡¯s hair was wet, hinting she had just taken a bath. Aric watched as she pulled her dark hair up, and with a deft flick of her wrist, she swiftly tied it atop her head, messily.


    "You may sit on the bed, your highness," Serina offered, gesturing towards the queen-size bed in the middle of the room.


    "Oh... what are you nning, Miss Marceli?" Aric teased, leaning over to the bed and sitting on its edge.


    "Your highness has jokes, I see," Serina smiled, moving to the side as she climbed atop the bed and positioned herself behind Aric.


    "I¡¯m quite funny from time to time," Aric clicked his teeth as Serina raised her hand just above the back of his neck, her hand glowing with a green light.


    "How long will we have to do this until I¡¯mpletely healed?" Aric asked.


    "I¡¯m not certain. The current process is slow¡­ this illness seems like some kind of extremely strong virus. Honestly, the fact that you¡¯ve survived it this long is a surprise. I¡¯m able to gather and eliminate it, but not in considerable amounts. But I¡¯m close to advancing to the next circle, and the process will be a hundred times faster then."


    Aric sighed. Although he wished for an immediate recovery, he was more than grateful to even have a chance.


    "Thank you," Aric whispered.


    And though he didn¡¯t see it, Serina smiled at his appreciation.


    "You said the old man was your old friend, but he didn¡¯t seem to know you," Serinamented, chainging the conversation.


    "I guess he forgot."


    "We¡¯re lucky he¡¯s a nice old man and let us stay," she remarked.


    "Not at all," Aricughed. "He¡¯s a murderous, lying, cunning old bastard whose entire life is treason to the kingdom and empire... but that¡¯s why he¡¯s important to us."

 Chapter 32: Confronting Aszer.

    Aric stood close to the window of his modest room. The surroundings were simple, and the furniture, although not old, was far from the royal adornments of his prior quarters.


    The room wasn¡¯t much, but it suited his needs.


    Aric stretched, the sunlight filtering through the small window, illuminating his face in a glistening gold.


    "Aszer, how long has it been since we met?" Aric shot his head back, running his hands through his dark silver hair in an attempt to push it away from his forehead.


    The fourth prince had made a decision, a vital and perhaps deadly one¡ªhe would confront the Byzeth king directly. It was a risk, and many would deem it foolishness, but Aric knew that a crack inside could shatter even the strongest shields.


    Swiftly getting through his morning routine, Aric headed down the stairs.


    Before even reaching the bottom, Aric could smell the pleasant aroma of food permeating throughout the house, and he immediately knew who was creating the divine scent.


    He entered the living room; there was no one present, but he began to hear grunts in the distance. He walked towards the door leading to the kitchen, and as he pushed it open, the aroma of roasting meats and spices flooded his senses.


    "Ah, you¡¯re up," the old man acknowledged Aric as he moved through the medium-sized kitchen, preparing a meal.


    Aric was hit with nostalgia once again. The old man was a wonderful cook and had always made breakfast for him and his men back then. It was a hobby that contrasted sharply with who the man truly was.


    "Yeah¡­ I need to get to the capital to meet the king," Aric exined.


    Hitoki stopped what he was doing, turning to the fourth prince.


    "That¡¯s suicide," the old man warned gravely.


    "Don¡¯t worry, it¡¯s just for a friendly chat," Aric assured him, turning away. "And it smells great, but I can¡¯t wait for the food. Do help me tell the others I¡¯ll be back by sundown."


    "And if you¡¯re not?" Hitoki asked.


    Aric sighed, his face hardening.


    "Then they should return to the imperial city immediately."


    He said firmly before walking away. He nced out therge window, where he saw the young guard sparring with Lerai, both grunting. Not wanting to rm anyone, knowing they would suggest tagging along or stopping him, he left without further discussion.


    Aric knew the Migard Province well. He made his way to the carrier station, where he boarded a carriage heading to the capital. It was designed to amodate more people than a typical carriage, and this was the quickest mode of transportation between provinces formon folk.


    The carriage driver screamed, "To the capital, to the capital. 50 silver!" repeatedly, joining the chorus of shouts from other drivers calling for passengers to different provinces.


    Aric had sat, and soon enough, the carriage was full and set off on its journey.


    The ride was not sluggish, but it was far from fast. However, with the distance between the provinces and the capital not being too significant, they would reach their destination in a few hours.


    The carriage had no roof or windows, so Aric could easily observe the outskirts of the province. As time went on and they traveled further from the business district, the more rural thendscape became. The scenery shifted fromrge stone buildings to small cottages clustered together¡ªviges where people lived simple lives, unaware of the inevitable looming over them.


    He pondered Darisu¡¯s words from the banquet, when he asked if Aric would ughter the innocent to quell rebellion¡ªto achieve his goals.


    As he gazed at the modest viges, Aric clenched his fist, his answer unchanged.


    After a few hours of travel, the Byzeth capital came into view. High walls and grand buildings rose in what seemed like a mockery of an attempt to mirror the imperial city splendor. It was far from as grand, but it was vastly different from the countryside they had passed through.


    The carriage made its way into the busy city and halted at the receiving station.


    The prince stepped out, pausing to take in the sight of the fortress-like capital. Excitement began to brew within him at the thought of all of this being his.


    He couldn¡¯t help but think his father was right. The Byzeth Kingdom was the greatest gift his father could have given him.


    He moved through the crowded streets. Vendors, soldiers, and citizens roamed around, going about their lives. Though Aric¡¯s presence was unremarkable to most, especially with his cloaked figure obscuring his identity, this was a pivotal moment in the kingdom¡¯s history. They, however, had no idea.


    Aric looked up at the castle, which dominated the center of the capital and stretched as though attempting to graze the heavens. His cloak billowed in the wind, and his gaze turned cold and calcting. He was not here to admire the city¡ªhe had a job to do.


    He made his way toward the pce.


    Aric reached the massive gates of the royal castle, heavily guarded, with men stationed at every possible point. The guards, standing rigidly in their armor, eyed him as he approached.


    One of them stepped forward, his voice stern.


    "State your business."


    Aric met the man¡¯s gaze, his voice calm yet unsettlingly intense.


    "I¡¯m here to see the king."


    The guard fell silent for a moment, perhaps confused, before letting out a smallugh. He turned to hispanion as if sharing the absurdity of the situation.


    "You can¡¯t just walk in and demand an audience with His Majesty. Is this a joke?" the guard barked, nearly losing his patience.


    "Oh?" Aric¡¯s face carved into a sharp, predatory smile. "But I¡¯m quite certain I can..."


    Aric lowered his cloak¡¯s hood, stepping closer as he reduced his voice but not his intensity. "Tell your king that Aric Valerian is here¡­ he will understand."


    The name utterly unsettled the guards. A visit from an imperial prince, and at a time like this, was no light event. They hesitated, unsure of how to proceed, trying to conceive a way to confirm that this was indeed the fourth prince.


    Why would he approach in such a manner, unannounced? It didn¡¯t make sense. But the man before them exuded such confidence that they felt as though they were already in danger.


    Finally, with slight reluctance, the guard said, "Wait here."


    Aric waited, his hands sped behind his back, while the remaining guards kept their distance, their hands hovering over their weapons.


    After a short while, a new, seemingly higher-ranked guard returned, slightly anxious. "The king will see you," he said as the gate creaked open.


    Aric walked through the halls of the Byzeth pce, his boots echoing on the marble floor. The majesty of the pce did little to impress him¡ªhe had seen better in his own empire¡ªbut he could sense the power that lingered here, the authority of a kingdom on the verge of challenging its betters.


    As Aric entered the throne room, all eyes turned toward him. The royal court, filled with advisors, nobles, and high-ranking officials, fell silent.


    Murmurs swept through the room, tension rising as they realized who had walked through their doors¡ªthey had been skeptical when the guard announced it, but now that they saw him, they were all certain: this was the fourth prince of Valeria.


    At the end of the room, on a raised tform, sat King Aszer Hait, ruler of Byzeth. The king was slightly aged, as one would expect, with a stern, calcting expression. His eyes narrowed as he watched the foreign prince approach.


    Aric¡¯s footsteps were the only sound as he strode confidently down the center of the room, his eyes never leaving the king¡¯s. His posture was rxed, almost casual, but there was an unmistakable menace in the way he moved, as though he held all the cards in this confrontation.


    The king¡¯s voice boomed across the throne room as he spoke.


    "Prince Aric Valerian, fourth prince of our great empire¡­ you seem to be doing better than I was informed."


    "Not all information can be trusted, Your Grace," Aric replied, his voice calm and devoid of any discernible emotion.


    "You are right," the king¡¯s eyes narrowed. "So, what brings you here, unannounced and without formal invitation?"


    The entire court watched, holding their breath as they awaited Aric¡¯s response.


    The fourth prince¡¯s lips curled into a grin as he looked up at the king.


    "Oh, you know, to catch up, maybe discuss business..." His grin widened slightly.


    "...and to find out what gave you the audacity to contemte rebellion."

 Chapter 33: What I Want.

    The entire throne room fell into a void of utter silence. In it, even the drop of a pin would seem ear-shatteringly loud. Each and every person present tensed up, and all the guards were like coiled vipers, ready to attack at a singlemand.


    Aric¡¯s words were, well, heavy to say the least, but his audacity was even far more profound. He had walked into the pce alone and used a king in front of his court of nning treason and rebellion.


    [Conquest notification]


    [The Lord of Meisterfort is shocked by your actions.]


    [The Countess of Lorin is afraid | Susceptibility increased by 5%.]


    [The third Royal Guard has be wary of you | Danger increased by 5%.]


    [The King of Byzeth is intrigued by your actions.]


    A flurry of panels began to materialize and surround Aric.


    Aszer leaned back in his throne, his head leaning to the side on his left hand as he regarded the fourth prince with a nk expression.


    "Hmmm... That¡¯s a bold usation, fourth prince... Especially one to make all alone."


    "usation?" Aric scoffed. "Let¡¯s cut the charades. Was your ambition supposed to be a secret? If it was, it was quite terribly kept... But we both know you¡¯re a smarter man than to keep loose secrets, no?"


    "Where are you heading with this?"


    Aric smiled at the king¡¯s question. "Where? Well, I already said what I wanted to know: What gave you the audacity to contemte rebellion?"


    Aric turned to the rest of the court.


    "Let¡¯s not kid ourselves. We know a kingdom opposing Valeria is nothing but a dead man¡¯s quest." Aric turned back to the king. "So I kept asking myself, why would you consider it and even go as far as to leak your ambitions? As far as I knew, you were no fool, nor were you suicidal."


    "Watch your next words very carefully... prince." The king¡¯s Ki was released very subtly, but it was enough to make breathing difficult.


    "It was a trap, wasn¡¯t it? You made yourself look like a weak, ignorant sheep waiting for ughter. But in the shadows, behind your facade, a predator lurked¡ªthe men of winter waited to collect their prize."


    "Fourth prince..." Aszer muttered, his hands clenching around his throne.


    "I have to give it to you. I had honestly believed you had nothing to do with the Northerners, but to think you¡¯ve already made them dependent on you at this point... So much so that you are certain they will go to war for you. Aszer, you cunning bas¡ª"


    The king had moved from the throne, though no one had noticed. Aric most definitely did not¡ªhe only felt Aszer¡¯s tight grip around his throat as he was lifted off the ground, choking.


    "Why should I not snap your neck this very moment?"


    "Because the moment you do, all your years of nning, everything, goes to nothing. You will stand no chance, and death will be your only end."


    Aric¡¯s words came through gritted teeth as he choked.


    "So what? You¡¯re implying that isn¡¯t already the case?" The king asked, releasing his grip on Aric¡¯s throat slightly.


    "No," Aric answered. "Not if I intervene."


    The king fell silent, and the entirety of the throne room was quiet as well. Not even a breath could be heard, not until Aszer spoke again.


    "Everyone but the council... get out." The kingmanded, dropping Aric. Immediately, the entire court began to troop out of the throne room, evoking a flurry of footsteps.


    After they had all left, leaving only a few men and guards, the king returned to his throne.


    "borate your words... prince," the king said.


    "You have a great n, but the emperor is no fool. Why do you think he hasn¡¯t yet sent a march to level your kingdom? Others might not conceive it possible, but he can see your trap as clear as day. As for how the trap works... that¡¯s something only I have managed to figure out."


    The king tilted his head. "Is that so? Then if I kill you, the knowledge dies with you, and everything should be fine."


    "You need to listen better, Aszer," Aric spoke his name, disregarding respect. "I alone figured it out, but that doesn¡¯t mean I alone have this information. If I am not in ces I am supposed to be at the times I am supposed to be there, not only will the emperor be given full information on your n, but he will also be informed that you have the blood of an imperial prince on your hands."


    Aszer stayed silent a moment, ncing at his council before turning back to Aric.


    "What will that change? You have figured it out already. In the end, a battle with me would be a battle with the Northrenders, and all I will have to do is sit and watch Valeria crumble. We both know the men of winter will not lose."


    Aric gazed at the king, smiling slightly.


    "Perhaps they won¡¯t, but when they fight two empires, what then? And what if that second empire controls far too many divine sacred beasts forfort?"


    "What do you mean?" Aszer asked, muscles tensing.


    "Come on, you¡¯re a smart man, no? The Drakens don¡¯t know it yet, but it¡¯s you who have taken their business. And even if they did find out, they would consider if it¡¯s worth going to war with Valeria," Aric raised his hand. "But what happens when the Valerian emperor gives you up on a tter? Will the Northerners defend you against two empires?"


    "We both know the answer to that question," Aric finished, grinning from ear to ear. They were ying a deadly game of chess in that moment, and the king seemed to have made blunder after blunder.


    "What do you want, Valerian?" Aszer asked, his face now betraying his fury.


    "Great question. In the end, that is always what ites down to... what I want."


    Aric began to take slow steps, approaching the throne.


    "What I want, your grace," Aric looked directly into the eyes of the king, "is for your rebellion to seed."

 Chapter 34: The Worst of Men

    There are only two ways an empire or kingdom can fall. The first is through force, a siege¡ªthe bloody and brutal normalcy of war. The second is for it to crumble from within. When its cracks are exposed, and weak points are struck, it will copse.


    Aric had no means to utilize the first method. As for the second, the deeper you are within something, the easier it is to destroy it from the inside. If Aric managed to enter the king¡¯s ranks, he would gain an undeniable advantage¡ªgathering crucial information and manipting it to his benefit. This would be the prince¡¯s ultimate card.


    However, Aszer was no fool.


    The king chuckled dryly, his voice echoing through the throne room before turning into a heartyugh, booming through the castle.


    "Youe here to tell me that you, a Valerian prince, are willing to aid me in taking power from the current sovereign, and you expect me to believe you?"


    The kingughed once more while Aric watched in silence before speaking, his voice the calmest and most level among them.


    "What other choice do you have?" Aric asked. "Without me, your n is set to fail, and my offer is to ensure that it doesn¡¯t."


    The king leaned back on his throne, seemingly in thought for a moment. "Why should I trust you?"


    "You don¡¯t. You would be foolish to. Our partnership will not be built on trust but on a shared desire for amon goal: for the current imperial rule to fall. If I wanted to thwart your ambitions, I could have simply told the emperor everything I know, and the Valerian and Draken empires would turn this kingdom to rubble. Even the Northerners would hesitate to fight both.


    So, you see, you don¡¯t need trust to know I am not against you¡ªonlymon sense."


    [The King of Byzeth is intrigued | Susceptibility increased by 2%]


    Aszer stared at the cloaked form of the fourth prince, uncertainty shing across his features.


    "Why do this? Why help me?"


    Aric turned away from the king as he heard the question, perhaps deep in thought.


    "Because¡­ I have nothing to lose," he replied, turning back to meet the king¡¯s gaze.


    "Yes, I am an imperial prince by name¡­ but I¡¯m certain we all know the story. The tale of the Forgotten Prince has spread across the empire, hasn¡¯t it? Without Ki or mana, I¡¯ve been abandoned by the royal family. I might be a prince, yet I live like a peasant, because in this world, it¡¯s not a man¡¯s name or birth title that matters¡ªbut his ability."


    The king raised an eyebrow. "The ability to use Ki or mana?"


    "Yes, but only to fools."


    Aric scoffed. "Let me tell you what abilities truly matter¡ªthe ability to take another man¡¯s life, whether by knife, magic, or even by orchestrating it. The method doesn¡¯t matter. The ability topletely brutalize, chastise, and eradicate one¡¯s enemies to such an extent that others dread enmity with you.


    The ability to contaminate every single meter ofnd but the one beneath your feet so thatpetition never finds ground to grow!"


    Aric paused, regaining hisposure before continuing.


    "In this world, what truly defines a person is their ability to be the worst of men. I may have nothing to lose, but that puts me in a position to gain everything. I get my vengeance and power, and you get to rule Valeria¡ªis this not a fair business exchange?"


    The king exchanged nces with his council, who had remained silent until now, then turned back to the prince.


    "I would be honored if the prince would join us for a meeting in two days at sundown. Perhaps then we may discuss a way forward."


    "Wonderful, I¡¯ll see you then," Aric nodded, turning around to exit the throne room.


    "Please, allow me to arrange a chamber for your stay¡­ I am very hospitable," the king offered.


    "I¡¯ll have to decline, your grace. As I said, if I¡¯m not in the ce I¡¯m supposed to be at the time I¡¯m supposed to be there, it would be a problem for both of us."


    The prince continued toward the exit but stopped at the door.


    "And before you give the order, I want you to understand that the moment I find out I¡¯m being followed¡ªbecause I will, whether it is by a person or even a mouse¡ªthis information will immediately be ryed to the emperor. Have a pleasant rest of your day," Aric nodded, exiting through therge door opened by the guards.


    ---


    The fourth prince, through the same method of travel he had arrived with, returned to the Midgard Province. The sun had begun receding into the horizon as he arrived back at what was now their base of operations.


    Aric pushed open the door to see Serina and the old man sitting near the firece, both cradling cups filled with a hot liquid, as indicated by the trails of steam rising from them.


    "Ah, you came back alive," Hitoki said, genuinely shocked.


    "I told you," Serina said with a smug smile.


    "It seems the king is still under the impression that his ns have not reached the imperial city," Hitoki spected.


    "No, he¡¯s aware. In fact, I confronted him about it."


    Serina and Hitoki nearly spat out the tea they were sipping when they heard Aric¡¯s words.


    He spoke as if what he had just said was another mundane event in his day, while taking off the cloak around him and setting it aside.


    "You did what?" Serina asked, shocked.


    "It¡¯s fine. I¡¯m here, aren¡¯t I?" Aric assured them. "Hitoki, I¡¯ll need all the information you have on the king¡¯s council by tomorrow morning¡­ I¡¯ll pay well for it."


    The old man nodded.


    "Where¡¯s Lerai? I need to speak with the bandit leaders," Aric asked, ncing around in search of the young mage.


    "He¡¯s been in the basement with n for hours now," Serina responded.


    "Yeah?" Aric turned toward the hallway that led to the basement. "I¡¯ll go meet him," he said, walking away.


    He took the hallway path and then went through the basement door and down the stairs. The light from the torches barely illuminated the staircase.


    As Aric stepped into the basement, his pupils dted as his eyes widened. In a swift burst, his hand shot up, catching an arrow mere inches from his face.


    "What the¡ª"

 Chapter 35: Arcanic Code

    The prince nced at the arrow gripped firmly in his hand. It was fast¡ªso fast that the only reason he was able to stop it before it reached him was the use of the Muscle Burst skill. Even then, it was a close call.


    Aric turned from the arrow towards the direction it had been shot from. There, standing with a face full of dread and regret, was n, and around his hand was a device of sorts.


    The young guard immediately dropped to one knee, bowing his head.


    "I have made a grave mistake, Your Highness. I will ept whatever punishment you deem fit," the guard eximed, his voice slightly trembling.


    Aric, still confused about what was going on, turned to Lerai, who stood not too far from n.


    "Deeply sorry, Your Highness. It¡¯s not his fault. He was probably a little startled when you walked in, which led to the misfire," Lerai exined.


    "I have no excuse, my prince," the guard continued apologizing.


    "Get up, it¡¯s fine... I¡¯m quite curious, however¡ªwhat was that?" Aric asked, his gaze shifting to n¡¯s hand.


    Lerai, a smile brimming on his face, stepped forward. He reached for n¡¯s hand, pulling him up from the ground.


    "This is the improved version of the crossbow I showed you. That was just a demo of how something like this could work," Lerai said, pulling n closer to Aric so he could see the device on his hand.


    Aric leaned in to observe it. The device was like a glove on the guard¡¯s hand, sleek and metallic, with a dark silver finish and glowing lines etched across its surface. Just above his knuckles was a smallpartment where tiny arrows were loaded¡ªalmost too small to be real. A crystal embedded in the wrist pulsed with light, like it was alive.


    "This¡­isn¡¯t a crossbow," Aric muttered in shock.


    "No, it¡¯s the: Arrow Compress and Release upon Expand Arrow Arcane Shooter, version 3.44."


    Aric looked up from the glove to Lerai with a deadpan expression. "That¡¯s the worst name I¡¯ve ever heard."


    "Fine, fine, I¡¯ll work on it," Leraiughed, raising his hands in mock surrender.


    "How does it work?" the prince asked, still examining n¡¯s hand closely.


    "d you asked," Lerai said, turning to the guard. "Please provide His Highness with a demo."


    Aric stepped back, giving the young guard space. n raised his right hand, which was d in the device, and aimed it at the far wall. The crystal gave off a glow, and a streak of red shot from the guard¡¯s hand, thrusting into the wall.


    "Oh," Aric muttered, intrigued.


    He walked over to the wall to inspect what had happened. Upon reaching it, he noticed the arrow had driven deep into the stone, leaving only its tail exposed. The arrow was also of normal size, which puzzled Aric, as he was certain it wouldn¡¯t have fit in the glove that n wore.


    "How?" Aric examined the arrow further before turning to Lerai. "How does thate out from there?"


    Lerai walked over to therge table in the center of the room, which was cluttered with wooden objects¡ªlikely prototypes¡ªandrge sheets filled with multiple drawings. He opened a journal, revealing pages filled with words, maybe spells. Whatever they were, Aric was certain he couldn¡¯t understand them.


    "These are Arcanic Code," Lerai said proudly.


    "I¡¯m not a mage; I don¡¯t know what that is," Aric replied.


    "Even if you were a mage, you wouldn¡¯t know what this is because only I do. I invented it."


    Aric¡¯s mind shed to a memory. He remembered now, in hisst life, the one thing Lerai Castro had created that changed the arcane world forever.


    "They¡¯re like instructions, created from aplex embedding of mana. Each stroke of ink holds amand," Lerai exined further.


    Aric stared nkly at Lerai, barely understanding the exnation. This prompted Lerai to borate.


    "It¡¯s a highlyplex arcanenguage that embeds magical instructions into physical or metaphysical objects. It allows a person to predefine specific oues, behaviors, or transformations of an object by inscribing or embedding coded sequences of arcane runes, sigils, and forms."


    Lerai flipped through more pages as he spoke.


    "Each piece of Arcanic Code is aplex set of instructions thatmunicates directly with the inherent magic of an object or system, guiding it to perform tasks autonomously without the need for active spellcasting."


    "That¡¯s¡­ revolutionary," Aric muttered, genuinely impressed.


    "Thank you, Your Highness."


    "So that¡¯s how the arrow can shrink to be stored and expand back while shooting at such high speed," Aric said, gesturing to the wall.


    "Yes. The device is embedded with Arcanic Code that runsmands for four spells. The ¡¯Shrinking¡¯ spell keeps the arrow tiny, allowing more to be loaded. The ¡¯Thrust¡¯ spellunches the arrows. The ¡¯Observe¡¯ spell detects when the user is tense and ready to shoot. Finally, the ¡¯Leech¡¯ spell is the glyph that draws mana from the mana crystal."


    Arcanic Code is written in runes and sigils, each representing a different function or behavior. Control Runes define how the object or spell interacts with the world for example: "project," "consume," "store," "repel".


    Action Sigils represent actions and processes. They define how a task is performed, such as "fire," "move," "shield," "heal." These are like verbs in the code, instructing what needs to be done. While Mana Glyphs control the flow of mana and regte how much energy is used for any given task. These are crucial for energy efficiency, making sure the code doesn¡¯t drain all avable power at once.


    Aric was left both shocked and impressed. Although he had assumed it would take Lerai time to be the great mage he had been in Aric¡¯s previous life, the young mage was progressing faster than expected.


    "Of course, it¡¯s not perfect," Lerai continued. "It would be far stronger with better mana crystals, and I still need to perfect theunch mechanism to avoid misfires like the one that just happened."


    "It¡¯s still incredible progress," Aricmended. "Is Arcanic Code also how the rune stones we gave the bandits work?"


    Lerai shook his head. "No, that¡¯s different. Rune stones use a different mechanism."


    "I see," Aric nodded. "Speaking of which, I came because I need to speak with them."


    "Oh, should I connect to the stone right now?" Lerai asked.


    Aric nodded. "Yes. It¡¯s time we begin taking Byzeth¡¯s main trade route."

 Chapter 36: Connection

    Lerai began to scramble around the table in search of something. After a short while of not finding it, he walked to the side of the wall where a drawer was ced. He opened one of the sections and pulled out a stone.


    "Ah, found it," he eximed as he walked back to Aric with the rune stone.


    Lerai cleared the table of the cluster of papers and different magical instruments before cing the stone in the middle, while Aric stood back and gave him space to work his magic, literally. The fourth prince was unaware of how it was supposed to work exactly, but Lerai had told him it would give him the ability tomunicate with anyone with the other rune stone, regardless of distance.


    Lerai stretched his hand above the stone, took a deep breath, and began to mutter incantations.


    "Serimu losbu iieukin oruik kass."


    As the young mage did this, the stone began to give off a subtle glow. The runes etched atop it now shone a bright blue and eventually dimmed before glowing again, as though it was shing.


    Then, Aric heard a voicee from it.


    "Uh... Borag, it¡¯s shing light."


    "What... what did you do to it?"


    "I don¡¯t know, it just started shing."


    "Here, give it to me... eh, is anyone there?"


    Aric walked closer to the table where the rune sat and cleared his throat.


    "Borag, Twicher... it¡¯s Mr. V speaking," Aric announced.


    "Oh, sire! We¡¯ve been waiting to hear from you. How have you been?" Twicher spoke excitedly, his voiceing across from the stone.


    "Let¡¯s skip the pleasantries. I need you to mobilize as many men as you can and set up base somewhere along the stretch of Miredis, as close to Byzeth as you can without being easily found."


    "Understood, but setting up base... could this be a long job?"


    "It¡¯s likely to be," Aric replied.


    "Well, then it will cost you extra," Borag informed the prince.


    "Money isn¡¯t an issue, just do as you¡¯re told... and remember, bring as many men as possible."


    "Understood, sire," Borag affirmed.


    Aric nodded to Lerai, and the mage disconnected from the other rune stone.


    "That was impressive, thank you," Aricmended.


    Lerai¡¯s face lit up with a smile at the praise as he nodded. "My pleasure, your highness."


    Aric turned to n, ncing at the magic device on his hand, and slowly an idea began to brew in his mind. Currently, his n was to drive the bandits to their ughter little by little while achieving minor goals with each killed man.


    After all, most of them were only human and could have little impact on a main business route, which would most likely have cultivator or mage supervision for some transports.


    However, what if the bandits could be more than human, not limited to just their low physical ability?


    "Lerai, how many of these can you make in a week?" Aric asked, referring to the glove.


    "It¡¯s not really that hard to make, so maybe a couple dozen. However, the problem is magic crystals; they¡¯re hard to get. The one this device uses was lent to me by a professor at the mage academy."


    "I see," Aric thought for a moment. "I think I have a solution to that."


    They were in Byzeth, the business capital of the Valerian Empire. Everything one could ever need was sold here. However, to be certain of getting the best of the best at a great price, it was better to go to an auction.


    And one was held at the capital every week.


    "Also, do you have any other builds?"


    Lerai turned back to the table where the wooden prototypes and drawings were scattered all around.


    "I have a lot of designs, and some have been made into physical wooden prototypes, but currently, only that one has been made into a working prototype," Lerai exined.


    "Okay. I want you to take the most stable and effective design you have and make it into a working prototype." Aric then reached into thin air and pulled out a pouch of gold. "This is ten thousand gold to get any materials you might need."


    Lerai took the money with wide eyes. He had always needed funds to pursue his projects, but no one would ever lend it to him as they did not believe in it. Lerai was also hesitant to ask the prince for money.


    "Thank you so much, your highness."


    "No," Aric shook his head, walking closer and grabbing Lerai by the shoulder. "Thank you. What you are about to do is going to change everything."


    "I understand, your highness. I won¡¯t fail you."


    Aric nodded. "I know you won¡¯t," he said before turning away, heading for the exit of the basement.


    He then went back through the hallway and into the living room where Serina and the old man were previously sitting by the firece.


    However, upon reaching there, Serina was no longer present, and Hitoki was standing, seeminglying from another room.


    "Where¡¯s Serina?" Aric asked the old man.


    "She said something about breaking into the next circle."


    "I see."


    "You said you wanted info on the king¡¯s council tomorrow, but I¡¯ve already prepared it, so if you¡¯re free now..." Hitoki began.


    "Of course," Aric swiftly replied. "That¡¯s way more efficient."


    "Alright, let¡¯s go."


    Aric and Hitoki both went to the study where they had their first discussion. As the prince entered, he saw sprawled across the desk multiple leather folders, papers, and even a few portraits.


    "Oh wow," Aric expressed his shock.


    He knew the old man¡¯s line of work, but to think he would be able to pull out such intensive material on the council alone in such a short time was almost unbelievable.


    "Before you is information on every member of Aszer¡¯s council, whether current, executed, exiled, or even the ones who think they work from the shadows... it¡¯s all here," the old man exined.


    "Does your job include helping me go through all this information?"


    "Depends on how much you¡¯re paying me."


    "A lot," Aric replied.


    Hitoki chuckled. "Then I guess it does... where do we begin?"

 Chapter 37: Death, An old friend.

    The long night had begun. The two men had dived deep into the numerous folders and started to go through each member of the King¡¯s council¡ªwho they were and how they thought, even their backgrounds.


    Aric noticed something with each new piece of information: he received a system notification.


    [Lord Orin info updated]


    "So, Lord Orin... he is quite the person," the old man grabbed a folder. "He¡¯s stern and principled, and believes inw and order above all else. He has the King¡¯s respect but often shes with him over matters of right and wrong."


    As Hitoki exined, Aric could see the panel update in real-time with the council member¡¯s information.


    Hours stretched through the night, and one by one, they went through each member of the council until they had covered every single person. Aric now had information on the council members¡ªtheir personalities, their rtionships with the King, their backgrounds, and even some of their well-kept secrets.


    This information armed the prince with the ability to approach the council with a set method to pull the necessary strings he needed.


    [17 character profiles updated]


    They had finished, and by the time they did, morning was only a few hours away. The old man left the study, while Aric leaned back on the chair behind the desk, trying to catch whatever bit of rest he could get.


    However, after what felt like just a few minutes since he closed his eyes, the sun began its ascent once more, and the rays of light slowly snuck through the tall window of the study.


    They met Aric¡¯s eyes, causing his face to twitch before he raised his arm, blocking off the light from assaulting his pupils. He took his legs off the desk in front of him as he turned away from the window with a yawn.


    He nced at the desk. The files that had been sprawled across it onlyst night had now been taken¡ªnot even a single paper left. Hitoki was very cautious with his information; he had given Aric all he needed to know, and it was up to him to remember. Luckily for the prince, the system had alreadypiled and arranged the info for him.


    "Sigh, everything seems to be going well for now, but soon, I¡¯ll need to show some force."


    Aric summoned the skill panel.


    ---


    Skills


    Muscle Burst (Basic - Upgradable)


    Ki Fists (Basic)


    Ki Barrier (Basic - Upgradable) {Not learned}


    Breakthrough (Basic) {Not learned}


    ---


    "And I¡¯m currently incapable of doing that," Aric sighed as he nced at the screen.


    His skills were at the basic level, no match against any of his current adversaries. His cultivation was enough to bully low-ranked cultivators and the average person, but if he were to sh with anyone slightly skilled, it would prove problematic.


    Aric still had the Martial God foundation, which meant he had more potential than almost every other cultivator. But that was all it was¡ªpotential. If he failed to utilize what he was given, he would still end up weak.


    He still remembered the guide¡¯s words:


    *"The rewarded technique is built on the principle of bnce between destruction and creation, chaos and order. It harmonizes the body¡¯s physical strength with the soul¡¯s spiritual power, creating a union that surpasses mortal limitations. To begin, you must learn to embrace both the raw, destructive power of the universe and the gentle, nurturing force of life, achieving a perfect equilibrium."*


    There was something more to it than just cultivation.


    Aric closed his eyes and began his attempt at meditation. The sounds of chirping birds in the distance offered a soothing background as he felt Ki begin to flow through his body. It then interacted with energy outside of himself, ultimately merging with it and streaming into him.


    That, in itself, was the simple yet profound act of cultivation.


    Aric remained in this meditative posture for an hour more. He could feel his Ki bing more pure within his body; however, the progress felt way too slow. If he wanted to give his full time and effort into taking Byzeth, he would have to make cultivation secondary until that was aplished, as it took far too much time and effort.


    Regardless, he still needed to be stronger than he currently was, and the only way to achieve that was by obtaining better skills.


    And as earlier noted, there was nothing one would want to purchase that could not be found in Byzeth, especially at the auction. Perhaps there, along with the mana crystals, he could acquire some high-ranking martial techniques and kill two birds with one stone.


    Aric stood and exited the study. The auction would begin at midnight, so they would need to leave for the capital before evening to get there in time.


    Stepping into the main room, he saw Lerai and n lying on the rug, knocked out cold from fatigue. Aric assumed they had probably been working all night. Deciding to allow them more time to rest, he went upstairs to inform Serina instead.


    However, as Aric moved through the hallway and reached the mage¡¯s room, he felt something¡ªhis chest tightened, and though he wasn¡¯t fully aware, sweat began to form on his skin.


    He stopped at her door, his hand gripping the cold handle.


    "Serina?" he called out as he knocked but got no response. However, strange noises wereing from within, as though someone else was in the room.


    "Serina, are you alright?" he called again, hesitant to barge in to avoid a situation likest time. But as he received no response from the mage again, he realized it might be his only choice.


    Aric pushed open the door, swinging it wide as he stepped into the room.


    His eyes widened at the sight before him. In the middle of the room was Serina, floating a few inches from the ground, and above her was arge purple magic circle, from which light seemed to stream towards her.


    The entire room crackled with arcane energy and an aura of slight evil, making it hard to breathe.


    "Hey¡­ are you okay?" Aric asked, taking another step forward toward the mage.


    Perhaps then, and only then, as he took that action, did he realize how much of a mistake it was.


    "I¡­ am dead?" Aric whispered under his breath as he felt his body cut into a thousand pieces.

 Chapter 38: A Fools Conviction.

    "Where am I?"


    Aric had seen death before, more than once, but even then¡ªthis was different.


    He stood in a field, and around him in every direction, flowers of dull purple seemed to stretch endlessly. In fact, the only thing interrupting the stretch was a single cliff, jagged and daunting.


    It rose in the far distance, as though in defiance of what had already been.


    The third thing Aric noticed was that he could see, and this surprised him, as the field was bright¡ªnot from the presence of light, but by some conceptual abnormality: the absence of darkness.


    Aric then noticed the final thing¡ªsilence. One so perfect it felt almost defiling to disrupt it. Perhaps that was why the wind blew, yet did so quietly and the flowers rustled in kind, but they, too, did so quietly.


    Not a single sound was made, and the silence continued to prevail.


    It was then, as Aric looked, that he noticed something poised atop the stretch of flowers¡ªSerina. Her veins glowed ck, and a mist surrounded her.


    "Serina?" Aric mutterd, and it was at that moment he realized he had no voice.


    So the silence remained.


    "Do not disrupt her... She must absorb."


    "The stillness, let it consume her¡­shape her."


    Aric turned. He had heard the words, but not as sound, rather as a feeling. As he searched around to see where they hade from, he found nothing but the single jagged cliff.


    His confusion only arose further. Why was Serina here? Where was he? Moments ago, he had been at the house, so how could they have changed scenery so drastically?


    "I know you, boy."


    The voice came again, softly it spoke.


    "Who¡­what are you?" Aric asked.


    "Does it matter? No. But I will answer you¡ªI am bnce, the sharpest of edges upon which chaos and order sit¡­ I watched them choose you, but I never once agreed to such a decision."


    "What do you mean?"


    "That you were given a chance, but that has nothing to do with me, and I cannot be med for your foolish decision. So if that foolishness also leads to your death, that too has nothing to do with me¡­ do you understand?"


    "No," Aric gave an honest reply.


    "And yet nothing has changed¡­ Who do you think you are, to defy fate again and again? Not this time. You will face this music because it has beenposed from my own misced hatred¡­ Die, and be forgotten, Aric Valerian."


    Just then, as the voice spoke its final words, the wind had be more persistent. It sped through the field, tugging at the petals of the flowers, and soon it began to dismantle them, pulling them from their roots. Next, it was as though a storm had formed from nowhere.


    The wind ravaged and roared, mirroring the aggression of the lightning that began to strike around him. Soon, the field was stripped of all the flowers, leaving nothing but deste ground.


    However, this chaotic disy was silent as well.


    Not a single sound followed it. It raged like a hurricane in quiet, and as Aric¡¯s clothes billowed in its persistence, he looked and found that the wind twisted and converged at a point where Serina now stood, still unconscious.


    It was as though she was a vacuum, and everything was now being sucked into her. Just as he realized this, he too began to be drawn in.


    "There are two options, Valerian. You be fertilizer, and from the grave of your wasted potential, something worth saving awakens. Or I let you leave, but not without a piece of her¡­ That is a sacrifice I am not willing to make. You stepped into the circle¡ªthat was your slight."


    Aric nted his feet into the ground, but it was no use. Slowly but certainly, he was being pulled into the vortex that was now Serina.


    "Stop¡­ Stop this right now!" Aric eximed, attempting to resist the pull but ultimately failing.


    His words fell on deaf ears. He was still being dragged into the vortex, like everything else, to ultimately crumble into ck dust moments after reaching her.


    "This is how it should¡­will be. ept this end. It is for the greater good."


    Aric took a deep breath, and then another. He balled his hand into a fist for a moment, then released it.


    "I don¡¯t care about the greater good or any of that bullshit. I don¡¯t care what you want, or what anybody else wants for that matter. But this time¡­ this time, nothing¡ªno one¡ªwill stop me."


    Aric¡¯s hands became aze with his ki. He concentrated everything in him into his outstretched palm, and the ki converged, bing so dense the air around his hand warped.


    [Skill (Ki Fist): Ki consumption abnormally high]


    [Ki is dropping rapidly]


    "You gave me two options, but I propose another: what if I thrust my hand right through her heart? What will I be absorbed into then? A corpse?"


    Aric waited a moment for a response as he raised his outstretched arm.


    "Silence? That must be the way, then," Aric smiled bitterly.


    "Don¡¯t be foolish," the voice warned.


    "It is far toote for that, no?" Aric said, now mere feet away from Serina. He poised his hand, ready to strike through her chest.


    "Valerian, you are making a mistake," the voice continued.


    "Perhaps. But what is my alternative?"


    Aric stood just six feet away from Serina, the pull of the vortex intensifying with every step. He paused, taking a deep breath to steady himself, his muscles tense as he cocked back his hand, ready to strike.


    "I¡¯m sorry, Serina," he whispered softly, his voice inaudible over the silent storm.


    The voice echoed once more, colder than before. "I will remember this, Valerian."


    Without hesitation, Aric thrust his hand forward, but just as his fingers reached her, the ki that had zed fiercely in his palm flickered out, vanishing like a dying me. His arm swung past her, but instead of the fatal blow, his hands instinctively caught her copsing body as she fell into his arms.


    The chaos that had raged moments before¡ªwind, lightning, and the vortex¡ªdisappeared as if it had never been, leaving them standing in the stillness of the mage¡¯s room.


    [Mana core formed]

 Chapter 39: Fate.

    Themotion that had urred seemed to have gone unnoticed by the rest of the house¡¯s inhabitants, as none hade to check what had happened. Perhaps it was because the chaos Aric had witnessed didn¡¯t reach the physical ne.


    Serina now sat on the bed, sipping from a cup of water the prince had gotten for her, along with the nket he had wrapped around her, as she had been shivering slightly.


    "I¡¯m fine now, and I know you¡¯re itching to ask, so go ahead, Your Highness," Serina looked up at Aric.


    Aric sighed. "Was I that obvious? Well, curiosity is eating me alive¡­ Where were we? Who was that?"


    As he fired off his questions, Serina let out a smallugh.


    "I guess I¡¯ll have to start from the beginning¡ªthere are eight sses of mages, and each ss represents two circles. So, a first-ss mage would be a one or two-circle mage, a second-ss mage would be a three or four-circle mage, and so on."


    Aric raised his hand, interrupting her. "You don¡¯t have to go that far back. I know that much."


    "Well, I¡¯m sure you don¡¯t know this, because not many do, but when a mage reaches the fourth ss, something happens¡ªthey stand a very slight chance of being tied to things¡­ entities known as the Weavers."


    "That is what was speaking with me?" Aric muttered.


    "Yes," Serina confirmed.


    "What are they?"


    "No one can be entirely sure, but think of them as ancient, powerful beings that exist outside the mortal ne. They control the threads of fate, weaving destinies and the flow of magic without direct intervention. Those chosen by a Weaver gain ess to the Arcane Weave."


    Serina went on to exin all she knew to Aric.


    The Arcane Weave was a fundamental force of magic that connects life, death, chaos, and order. There were seven primary Weavers who governed it, each representing a different aspect of existence: Bnce, Chaos, Order, Death, Life, Fate, and Time.


    "The Weavers choose people to be their instruments, and I was chosen by the Weaver of Bnce when I reached the 8th circle. The subspace we were in represents this bnce."


    "The raging storm was chaos, and the perfect quiet was order¡ªthat was the bnce," Aric quickly caught on.


    "Yes, exactly. While for you, it seems you were chosen by the Weaver of Fate," Serina paused, looking away. "You are no mage, it doesn¡¯t make sense for that to happen, and Bnce doesn¡¯t seem to permit it either¡ªyou are an abnormality, Aric."


    "For me, being connected to the Arcane Weave of Bnce has made breaking through to the next circle difficult. For true bnce to exist, there must be a give and take¡­ a sacrifice and a reward. The moment you stepped into the circle, you became that sacrifice. In exchange for your life, I would have gained the power I needed¡­ this is not what I wanted, but I couldn¡¯t stop it. Only she could."


    The prince had already guessed from Serina¡¯s urate recollection of his conversation with the entity, but he decided to ask regardless.


    "So, you heard everything that happened?" he asked.


    "I saw it too. In that subspace, everything is visible to me at all times."


    Serina stood from the bed, walking slowly towards the prince until she was mere inches away.


    "So I must ask, when you swung your arm over my shoulder instead of through my heart, was that decision made beforehand, or only after the Weaver of Bnce gave you what you wanted?"


    Aric remained silent, looking directly into the mage¡¯s eyes. Then, with an unreadable whisper, he answered.


    "Get some rest, Miss Marceli. We leave for the capital before sundown."


    The prince turned around, walking away and exiting the mage¡¯s room.


    ---


    Hours passed, and the prince, followed by Lerai and Serina, had gone to the boarding terminal to take the ride to the capital. They now sat in the carriage, cloaked fully, as they rolled through the countryside.


    Aric was lost in thought. In thest few hours, he had received an influx of information he struggled toprehend. When he had first seen the panel, it felt nonsensical. What could "mana core awakened" possibly mean? He was a martial artist, not a mage¡­ no one could be both. No one had ever been.


    Perhaps, at that moment was when he thought back to the first words of the guide when they had first met: "This system has been designed to enhance your physical and magical abilities." At the time, Aric thought nothing of it. It didn¡¯t seem to matter.


    But after the guide rified a few hours ago, it seemed that statement wasn¡¯t just a loose phrase.


    Aric had indeed awakened a mana core, as evidenced by his current status window.


    -¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª-


    Name: [Aric Valerian]


    Title: [Forgotten Prince]


    Race: [Human]


    Level: [Martial Knight (1)] / [Tier 1 Mage (First Circle)]


    Martial Mage Level: 1


    Health (HP): [73/73]


    Stamina: [73/73]


    Ki: [25/100 (Restricted)]


    Mana (MP): [10/10]


    Attributes:


    - Strength: [34]


    - Agility: [27]


    - Endurance: [45]


    - Intelligence: [6]


    -¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª-


    There were clear differences in his status window. First, the mage ranking system was added to his level, along with a mana stat. But the most important change was the "Martial Mage" level, because, ording to the guide, that is what he had be.


    This was a critical development¡ªnot just because Aric was now the first cultivator and mage, but because by being both, he had created something entirely new, a different kind of power altogether.


    The guide exined that Aric had now merged ki and mana, creating something unheard of¡­ but unimaginably formidable.


    And even given this chance, something still irked Aric. Without the Martial God foundation, specifically designed to bnce the chaos of such a fusion of ki and mana, this would not have been possible.


    From the words of the guide on the day of their meeting about Aric having "magical abilities" to the system granting him the Martial God technique as a reward for his very first quest, it seemed as though, despite his ignorance, everything had been meticulously nned.


    Though he hadn¡¯t noticed it before, it felt as though his life, from the moment he regressed to the time he stepped into the magic circle hours ago, had been orchestrated by someone¡­ something.


    "The Weaver of Fate¡­" the prince whispered.

 Chapter 40: Home of The Little.

    The carriage rolled into the capital, along with many others packed with people. The steady influx of travelers into the city was evident, whether for business or other reasons. It was a busty capital.


    They had spent hours on the road, and by the time they arrived, night had fallen. Yet, the city was still alive with activity, much like the business district of the province they had left, but amplified many times over.


    The streets were lit withnterns while vendors shouted out their wares, and people of all types roamed around.


    In this crowd were all kinds of individuals: pickpockets, scam artists, and even murderers. It was a ce where the moment someone sensed they could profit from you, they made sure they did.


    The deeper they ventured into the capital, the more they passed through small, lively night markets, taverns filled with music andughter, street performers, and the asional shady alley where it seemed most men went to die¡­or at the least get very close.


    Aric led the two mages with a quick and purposeful stride through the streets, his eyes sharp and his head low.


    Soon, they reached a towering building. Unlike the smaller businesses illuminated by torches, this one was lit by a disy of magical lights. Its entrance was designed with symbolic carvings, and it was clear that wealth and power surrounded the establishment.


    There was a divide, a clear difference.


    Back in the streets with the market vendors was wheremon folk and peasants went to purchase their needs and wants. Here, in this absurdly grand building, the rich had the chance to either spend far less than something was worth or many times more.


    The door was guarded by two imposing men in armor, leaking a dangerous level of ki, perhaps an intentional deterrent to any foolish ambition. They watched as the group of three entered the building.


    Upon entering, a formally dressed doorman swiftly approached them, sizing up the trio. He spoke in a polite tone, though it wasced with uncertainty. The cloaked figures in front of him didn¡¯t resemble the elite he usually rushed to serve, but he couldn¡¯t be sure.


    "Wee to the Casmir¡¯s Auction House. Will you be joining us in the basic, elite, or prestige section tonight?"


    Aric showed visible confusion. Though he was aware of the auction house, he had never actually attended an auction there and wasn¡¯t aware of the tiers of attendance.


    Noticing Aric¡¯s confusion, the doorman was prompted to exin.


    "A deposit of 500 gold coins grants basic ess to the auction, with seating in the normal area and no added benefits. A deposit of ten thousand coins grants ess to a more prestigious seating area. Lastly, a deposit of 200,000 gold coins allows ess to a private section with numerous amenities.


    Please note that all deposits can be used for purchases during the auction, but any unused gold is non-refundable."


    The man exined, expecting the group to opt for the elite section, as they didn¡¯t look like the average businessmen who paid for the basic tier, nor the nobles or ultra-wealthy who paid for the prestige.


    "Where do I pay for the prestige?" Aric asked.


    "Uh, s-sir, the prestige is 200,000 gold," the doorman rified.


    "I heard you the first time," Aric replied with a nk expression.


    "Alright," the doorman turned to one of his colleagues who stood nearby, gesturing for him toe over. "Take them," he said, and the colleague nodded in understanding as he led Serina and Lerai away.


    "Please, this way, sir," the doorman gestured for Aric to follow him to make the payment.


    Taken to an office, Aric retrieved multiple bags of gold coins and handed them over, an action that caused the auction house managers to take note of him. After making the payment, Aric was led to the private section where Serina and Lerai had already been led to and waited.


    As they entered their private section, Aric could immediately see the reason for the name and the high deposit price. They stepped into a room lined with soft velvet couches on either side. In the middle was a table with an assortment of fruit and snacks. To Aric¡¯s left was arge ss pane.


    From it, the stage where the auction would take ce was clearly visible, along with the numerous rows of seats below, which Aric assumed were for those in the basic section.


    "To make a bid," the doorman walked toward the table in the middle, gesturing to a rune stone thaty on it, "just speak through the rune stone. I hope you have a wonderful time."


    With a nod, the doorman exited the room, leaving the group of three. Lerai and Serina had already begun stuffing their faces with the foodid out on the table, while Aric walked closer to the ss pane.


    The rows of seats were scantily filled, and the other prestige sections on either side seemed empty as well. It was clear they had arrived slightly early.


    "Hey," Serina called out almost inaudibly, her mouth full of food. "What if they don¡¯t auction any mana crystals tonight? You would¡¯ve just wasted 200,000 gold. I know you¡¯re a¡ª"


    Aric raised his arm, stopping Serina before she could finish her sentence. He knew she was about to call him a prince.


    "That stone," he said, gesturing to the rune stone on the table, "if it can be used to hear our bids, it can probably hear everything else we say."


    Serina tilted her head, her features flooding with realization as she nced at the stone.


    "But the rune isn¡¯t shing," she countered.


    "He never said it needed to, and they definitely wouldn¡¯t expect us to do the incantation ourselves. That stone is active, and they are listening. So be careful what you say."


    "Understood," Serina nodded, wiping crumbs from her mouth.


    Meanwhile, in a different room, a man sat leaned all the way back in a chair, his legs propped up on a table in front of him as he sipped from a ss of wine.


    "Come on, Valerian. You don¡¯t need to hide that you¡¯re the imperial prince. That¡¯s not the information I want from you."

 Chapter 41: Bidding

    The auction house slowly began to fill. After a few moments, it was clear the demographic of people for whom the basic section was reservedmon merchants, adventurers, and opportunistic bidders hoping to make a fortune on the lower-end auction items.


    The section had dim lighting, the seats were in and packed very closely together. Soon after it was filled, conversation began to hum through the hall, along with a subtle tension.


    Those seated here could only hope that what they wanted would not be eyed by those above them, as they would swiftly be outbid by those in the higher-tier sections.


    Aric¡¯s gaze swept over the crowd, studying each face. Although most were unfamiliar to him, a few caught his attention. He recognized a lord¡¯s steward from the conquest profile, noting how they seemed out of ce among the others.


    "Hmm, is this going to be more than it should be?" the prince muttered.


    Lerai, who had been standing just behind Aric, moved closer to the ss.


    "They look like vultures," he remarked.


    "More like scavengers," Aric said thoughtfully. "They will pick at the scraps left behind by those higher, but they are still hungry¡­ that¡¯s worth noting."


    Soon, everyone below had settled. Aric had no way of seeing those who sat in the elite section, as their seats were raised higher and just under the room they resided in. Although he could see the prestige section, the ss appeared to be one-way, unable to be viewed from the outside.


    The auction began. A tall, slim figure stepped onto the auction stage below, dressed in elegant robes. His voice boomed through the hall, magically amplified, with an air of authority that instantly silenced the crowd.


    "Ladies and gentlemen!" he raised his arm in greeting. "Wee to tonight¡¯s event. We begin our auction with items that may interest those of discerning taste."


    Following the man¡¯s words, the light in the auction hall dimmed slightly, focusing on the stage. A buzz of excitement flowed through the crowd as everyone present below anticipated the first item.


    A woman walked to the stage, a covered item resting atop a cushioned tter in her hands. She glided to the center of the stage and ced it on the tform. As the light focused on the covered item, anticipation began to rise.


    The auctioneer then pulled the cloth, revealing a dagger. Its de was silver, while its hilt was an ashy grey.


    "A fine weapon for those in need of a truly reliable de. It has been enchanted, and its edge can never dull. This dagger¡¯s de is so sharp it can cut through wood like butter."


    As the auctioneer finished exining the de¡¯s properties, everyone prepared to bid.


    "We shall start the bidding at 100,000 silver coins."


    Aric simply stood and watched with his hands crossed behind his back. He was not remotely interested in the item. However, a flurry of bids began to shoot from those below.


    "115,000."


    "140,000."


    "143,000."


    Merchants and adventurers began to shout their bids. This was not an overly valuable item, but so far, the bids were well below the price one would pay for such a dagger at the weapon house.


    "275,000!"


    As the bid was offered, silence followed. The auctioneer gave a couple of moments to see if it would be challenged, but none did. It seemed the dagger had already reached close to its market value, making it no longer worth pursuing.


    "Sold to bidder B134!" the auctioneer announced.


    Soon, they moved on to the next item, another magic-infused weapon. As before, a bidding war was held between those in the basic tier until a winning bid was given. This continued for a few more basic items, but soon, the items grew more valuable.


    The auctioneer lifted the cloth, revealing the next item to be bid on.


    "A magical amulet that allows the wearer to detect magical and ki-type illusions within a certain radius."


    "We will start the bidding at 500,000 silver coins."


    There were not many in the basic section who could afford such an item. But before the few who could had even a chance to ce a bid, a voice shot from the back, where the elite sat.


    "800,000 silver."


    Aric watched as heads turned slightly upward toward the elevated seating area of the elite section. As much as he wanted to see who ced the bid, he was unable to.


    Silence followed, everyone waiting to see if the absurd jump in bidding price would be challenged, but after moments of silence had passed, it was clear none would.


    "Sold to bidder E11."


    "Next, the Smesarina nt, from the southern desert. It is used to create high-grade healing potions, invaluable to alchemists and healers."


    "Let¡¯s start the bidding at 10,000 gold," the auctioneer announced.


    "Oh, Your Highness, you should get that¡­ maybe it can be used in treating your illness," Lerai suggested.


    "No, I drank about seven potions made from that nt from different healers when I was younger. None worked."


    Aric had explored many healing methods, even in hisst life, moving from one healer to the next, and none had suceeded. There was something unique about the illness that gued him, something more profound. If it were normal, reconstructing his body while gaining the martial god foundation would have cured him.


    As the starting bid was announced, no one in the lower section offered an amount, and for some moments, it seemed nobody at all was interested. Perhaps the price far outweighed its use.


    Then, resounding loudly from one of the prestige sections, a bid was made.


    "40,000 gold."


    In expected fashion, all turned their heads to cast their gaze at the prestige booth from which the bid hade.


    It was an absurd bid, and quite obviously a tant show of wealth and power. It was clear the item had no contesting bids, yet the bidder decided to pay an extra 40,000 gold¡ªequating to a staggering four million silver¡ªfor an item nobody else seemed to want.


    "Sold to bidder P4."

 Chapter 42: Bidding ii

    The auction hall lights dim even lower as the glow is set on the stage. It was clear that the air was burning with even greater anticipation than before¡ªthe main event was starting. This was the moment the rich would have their battle.


    The auctioneer stepped forward, his movements strangely ceremonial, even pompous.


    "Now," the auctioneer began, drawing the attention of the entire hall, "for the moment many of you have been waiting for, we present some of the highest-tier martial techniques avable in all of Byzeth."


    Aric stood. This was it, one of the main reasons he hade. However, he knew no one would just let him have it. Those in the basic section would likely not bother cing a bid. For them, all they gained from this moment during the auction was the entertainment of watching the rich and powerful fight to prove who was wealthier.


    Assistants began to flood the stage, carrying boxes where the techniques were safely stored. The number of assistants was less a necessity and more an emphasis on the importance of the next items. That many men were not needed to carry the boxes.


    Then, music began¡ªa soft violin that simply flowed in the background, so blended with the backdrop it could go unnoticed.


    The assistants cleared the stage, leaving the auctioneer. The hall went silent as they awaited the bidding war to begin.


    "We will begin with the first technique of the night, a technique of profound grade¡ªStorm Devourer Fist. This technique allows one to channel violent energy into their strikes, turning Ki into storm-like sts."


    Everyone seemed at the edge of their seats as the auctioneer gave the description. The warriors and adventurers below who were martial artists had their mouths watering. They would give anything for a profound-grade technique, but they simply had nothing of value to give for such an item.


    This was further proven when the auctioneer announced the starting bid.


    "300,000 gold coins."


    That was an absurd amount, at least to those in the basic section. As they wondered how anyone could spend that much, a voice shot from behind them, from the elite section.


    "310,000," they offered.


    However, their bid did notst long, as it was quickly challenged.


    "325,000," another from the elite section gave an opposing bid.


    Both bidders continued their back and forth, but everyone present knew that what they did would only matter if those in the prestige section didn¡¯t want what they were fighting for.


    "371,000."


    Thest bid stood unchallenged for a few moments, then, as expected, a bid resounded from the prestige section.


    "450,000."


    Aric¡¯s voice resonated through the entire hall. It was calm, confident, and enough to permanently silence the elite section bidders.


    "Damn these bastards, always raising it so high," one seated in the elite tier looked up, ring at the booth where Aric resided.


    "Oh, it seems the high sitters have decided to make their move. So, do I hear any challengers?"


    Another voice boomed from the prestige section.


    "500,000."


    It was clear the fight had shifted, and from then on, it would be a battle between the lords and other powerful figures.


    "600,000," Aric countered.


    "700," the voice quickly raised again.


    "700,000 for a technique? Madness," one from the basic section eximed.


    Those at the bottom simply turned their heads and watched as sums of money they could only dream of were called out so nonchntly. But it was great entertainment. Their eyes now fell on Aric¡¯s section, waiting for the mysterious bidder to make a challenge.


    But nothing came. Aric just watched silently, his face unreadable as he gazed down at the stage.


    "Sold! To bidder P4!" the auctioneer announced.


    "Now for our next technique, also of the profound grade, we have the Heaven Piercing Spear, a deadly technique that can prate all, including magical and physical defenses."


    Like thest one, this was another formidable ability every martial artist would wish to possess, but most could only sit and watch.


    "We will start the bidding at 300,000," the auctioneer announced.


    Insistent on trying their luck again, one of the bidders from the elite section offered a whopping bid.


    "Three hundred fifty thous¡ª"


    However, before their sentence was even finished, Aric¡¯s words cut through the entire hall.


    "One million."


    A flurry of whispers and gasps began to shoot through the hall. Aric¡¯s words had brought chaos.


    "A million gold, just like that?"


    "Is it not unfair for people to be this wealthy?"


    "Just who the hell is in that section?"


    From both the basic and elite sections, conversations erupted. It was always something to be surprised by wealth at auctions like this, but this wasn¡¯t any less shocking. To take the bid to one million so easily was absurd.


    Now they waited to see if anyone would challenge therge sum. It wasn¡¯t out of the realm of possibility that someone in the prestige section would offer arger amount.


    However, as the seconds ticked on and moments passed, Aric¡¯s bid still hung in the air unchallenged.


    "Sold! To bidder P1," the auctioneer announced.


    "Now for our next and final martial arts technique for the night¡ªShadow Step Arts. This techni¡ª"


    "One million gold."


    The entire hall was brought toplete and utter silence as Aric¡¯s words interrupted the auctioneer. Most present were left speechless. Whoever was in that booth had not only spent a million gold unprovoked once but was about to do it a second time as well.


    "A-Alright," the auctioneer stammered. Even he, the epitome of professionalism andposure, was momentarily taken aback. "Do I hear any challengers?"


    As he asked, heads began to turn to the booths, their eyes burning with anticipation as they waited to see if anyone could challenge whoever this rich bastard was that had ced the bid. However, moments passed, and all that followed was silence.


    The auctioneer looked around, giving a few more opportunities for anyone to challenge the bid, but no one did.


    "Sold! To bidder P1," he dered.


    The assistants then came and retrieved the martial arts technique boxes from the stage while bringing in another box.


    "Now for our final item, and a Casmir Auction House special: a box of 45 C-level mana crystals."

 Chapter 43: Taken to be returned

    The auctioneer draws the hall¡¯s attention to a small, unassuming box, and within it are announced to be forty-five C-level mana crystals. As the assistants open the box, the radiant glow of the crystals fills the hall.


    The items before them were very valuable, perhaps the most valuable of the night¡ªfor a mage, a mana crystal, depending on its rank, could greatly increase their ability for the duration until it¡¯s used up and could even aid in breaking into the next circle. For Aric, it could give him a chance to create a band of powerful humans to cause a nesary havoc.


    "We will start the bid at 600,000 gold coins," the auctioneer announced.


    All eyes turned to the prestige section, the rest of the hall already aware that this had gone far beyond their purchasing ability.


    However, this was very quickly disproven as a voice shot from the basic section.


    "650,000," a man offered.


    Aric tilted his head in intrigue as he nced down to see who had made the bid¡ªit was the lord¡¯s steward whom he had earlier recognized.


    ---


    Masir Genult \\ Human


    {Current value: 7}


    - Financial advisor and steward to the Lord of Heidz


    essibility: Medium


    Influence: - (You do not have any influence on this)


    Expand/?


    ---


    As Aric pulled up the Conquest profile to confirm, others had simply turned to the young man, all sharing the same shocked expression. But only allowing the attention on the man a few moments, a bid was called from the prestige section.


    "700,000," a female voice offered from the prestige side, causing all to turn to her booth.


    "1.2 million gold," Aric countered.


    Serina and Lerai turned to the prince, also shocked by therge summ.


    "That¡¯s a huge amount," Lerai muttered.


    Aric sighed, rubbing his forehead as he turned away from the ss pane, walking back and falling onto the couch.


    "It doesn¡¯t matter," the prince said, pulling his hair back. "Since that man is here¡­ we won¡¯t be getting the crystals." Aric nced at the profile screen before him.


    ---


    Razid Heidz \\ Human


    {Current value: 34}


    - The Lord of Heidz and Migard and currently the wealthiest in Byzeth, his influence on Byzeth trade system allows him posses even more wealth than the king.


    essibility: Difficult


    Influence: - (You do not have any influence on this)


    Expand/?


    ---


    The Lord of Heidz, who oversaw the Migard province, was the richest in the kingdom¡ªso much so that he felt it beneath him toe for an event like this. Instead, he sent his steward to get what he wanted, and since seeing the young steward, Aric had hoped he would ce a bid on the earlier items and that the lord¡¯s desires did not ovep with his own.


    However, it seemed they did, and for that reason, getting the mana crystals was hopeless. Then, as if to highlight Aric¡¯s understanding of the situation, a bid shot from below, made by the steward.


    "Five million gold coins."


    Aric sighed. For him, this oue was expected.


    However, the rest of the hall was left in shock as they began to whisper among themselves. Some spected if it was a joke taken too far or some crazy individual spouting nonsense, but the auction house knew who the steward was and who had sent him.


    Aric rose from the couch, ncing at the stage one more time before turning to the exit.


    "Let¡¯s leave," he said, prompting Serina and Lerai to follow behind him.


    The group of three exited the room, navigating their way out of the hall. Standing just in front of the exit of their section, a staff member waited for them.


    "This way, sir, I will lead you to your things," the young man gestured.


    They followed him to another room. It was heavily guarded. Serina and Lerai were made to wait outside while Aric was led in alone. Inside, there was only a single table present, and atop it were both the martial techniques Aric had purchased.


    The prince retrieved his due gold from his inventory and made the payment while also storing the techniques.


    As he prepared to leave, the auction house manager entered¡ªa slick, well-dressed man with a knowing smile. He approached Aric with polite respect.


    "I must admit, you have made quite the impression tonight."


    Aric offered the man a nce. He was clearly uninterested in the pleasantries, simply wanting to leave, but the manager was insistent on conversation.


    "Few can bid against a lord and win."


    Aric nodded at the man. Having finished his business, he turned to the exit.


    Then the manager slyly added, "It¡¯s been a long time since we had someone of your status here¡ªan imperial prince, I mean"


    Aric¡¯s expression shifted slightly. He turned to the manager with a wry grin.


    "You must learn to be patient, Solen. Don¡¯t be foolish¡­ if you keep acting irrationally, it¡¯s the king who will chop off that talkative head of yours, and my work will be little."


    The manager appeared taken aback momentarily by Aric¡¯s words.


    "I do have a meeting with the king¡¯s council tomorrow. Perhaps I¡¯ll mention your irrationality before him."


    At that moment, the manager¡¯s smug look dissolved intoplete fear, his fists clenching.


    "I apologize. It seems I have misspoken¡­ I assure you, no sound leaves this room."


    Aric gazed at the manager, his head tilting slightly before he nced at the young man who stood beside them, the one who had collected payment. Aric then turned back to the manager, who gave a nod with clenched fists.


    "Have a great rest of your day, Solen."


    The prince turned away, opened the door, walked through, and closed it behind him, soon meeting up with Serina and Lerai as they exited the auction house. Going back into the street, they found someone waiting for them.


    "Sir, may I speak with you a moment?" the steward stepped toward Aric.


    "Yes?" the prince answered.


    "The Lord of Heidz understands you have an appointment that will keep you in the capital till tomorrow. He insists you stay at one of his many inns. He assures you a very hospitable rest."


    Aric gazed at the steward for a moment. He began to wonder if this appearance and meeting were all by chance or something carefully mediated.


    "It would be rude of me to decline the lord¡¯s offer, no?" Aric responded.


    "Excellent." The steward raised his hand, and a carriage that had been parked at the side began to clop and roll toward them. "Then pleasee with me."

 Chapter 44: Invitation.

    The horses pull the carriage away from the bright lights of the auction house, and they begin to travel deeper into the capital city. As they do, the atmosphere shifts. The vibrant city life begins to fade into quieter, more secluded streets.


    Less rough and chaotic.


    Aric leaned back in the carriage, his mind shuffling between his new knowledge of the weavers and his uing meeting. When he sits before the king and his council, whatever is done there would matter most. He needed to y his cards perfectly.


    Lerai gazes out the window, his eyes zipping from one rising architecture to the next, while Serina was quiet and appeared contemtive, her mind just as deep in thought as Aric¡¯s.


    "There is something about this city, it feels¡­ guarded," Lerai muttered.


    Serina turned to Lerai then back at the window. "Yes, well, they have secrets to hide. I¡¯d say it¡¯s best we keep our wits to ourselves."


    The carriage passes through several districts, each street lined by imposing buildings made of stone and wood. The glow of manamps offers some illumination to the main roads. The hum of distant voices andughter filters in from open taverns and streets filled with revelers.


    They were in the noble district, the dwelling ce for the rich and wealthy.


    Large manors loomed, boasting sigils of noble families. Perhaps the best spot for a wealthy businessman like Razid Heidz to build an inn. However, they went on further, and the streets began to be more narrow and gave way to quieter alleys lined with more businesses, inns, brothels, and shady establishments.


    Rather than the more professional courtesans that found business in the imperial city, the streets were rampant with what could only be described as cheap whores.


    Their clothes were loose and revealing, their bare bosoms catching wind as they bothered not to raise thecking linen that failed at an attempt at decent covering, revealing plump thighs and all the other things that would incline one to indulge in their lust.


    They swarmed any passing carriage while repeatedly calling out the same thing:


    "Good sir,e have the night of your life for only 100 silver¡­ I won¡¯t disappoint."


    Some carriages would open, allowing one or more of these escorts to board, while some, like Aric¡¯s carriage, would simply pass¡ªperhaps in disgust.


    Aric, however, did not judge. He very well understood that most times life did not give options, and whether it was to steal, kill, or even sell your body, one would have to do whatever was needed to survive.


    After all, a person¡¯s life is only worth as much as it is useful.


    And warming the bed of some lustful lord for a night was, in itself, use. Whether it was honorable use was another matter.


    At one point, the carriage halts for a moment as a group of city guards patrols the area. Aric watches carefully through the window, but the guards pass without issue.


    Aric¡¯s eyes linger on a few familiar buildings that might be a ce of interest.


    After a rtively short ride, the carriage pulls up to a discreet but well-maintained inn. It was erected in the less noisy parts of the capital. It was quiterge yet understated, as though meant for high-profile guests who seek privacy.


    As they enter, the innkeeper, a middle-aged man with sharp eyes, greets the group. He is a man familiar with the importance of discretion and bows respectfully as they enter, without a question spoken.


    "your rooms have been prepared, my lords," the innkeeper announces, assuming Aric to be a lord like the usual frequenters of the estblishment. He then leads the trio through the dimly illuminated corridors, their footsteps echoing softly.


    They are taken to the upper floor where three rooms await them. Each one had a core element of luxury, but not overly extravagant¡ªit kept a perfect bnce for those wishing to avoid unnecessary attention.


    Lerai and Serina exchange a few quiet words before nodding at the prince and heading to their respective rooms, leaving Aric alone in the hallway.


    He turns and he aswell enters his room. Aric began to look around, taking in his surroundings. The room was spacious and furnished with arge bed, a writing desk, and a window overlooking the quiet streets of the capital.


    The dim light from antern contorted shadows across the room, offering a slightly serene atmosphere. Aric took a breath, as though inhaling the silence after the tension-filledst couple of hours.


    As the prince walks further into the room, his eyes lock onto an unexpected sight: arge wooden crate, sitting in the corner near the window. Its surface, which was well-polished, gleamed under the light¡¯s soft glow.


    Aric, his curiosity now piqued, approached closer to the crate, noticing a piece of parchment neatly attached to the top. He pulls it off, unfolding it to reveal a handwritten note.


    "I hope this invitation gift suffices. If you are ever in Migard, pay me a visit. ¡ªSigned, Lord Heidz."


    Aric¡¯s lips curved into a smile. He had expected a lot of the unfolding events, but this one hade as a total surprise.


    ¡¯Invitation?¡¯


    The Lord of Heidz was not a part of the king¡¯s council despite being the wealthiest and one of the most powerful in the kingdom. However, he was aware of the council meeting, which would indicate he had interest in the king¡¯s affairs.


    What this could mean is that Heidz might not be on amiable terms with the king, and if that is the case, then the lord¡¯s usefulness to Aric might significantly increase. The Migard province where Heidz ruled was the most strategic location in the prince¡¯s conquest.


    Aric set the note aside, and although already knowing what was inside the crate, he opens the top, revealing C-rank mana crystals, stacked neatly inside.


    Seeing no need to leave it in kept in there, Aric began to store away the crystals, safely keeping them until he would hand them over to Lerai back at the base. The value of the crystals in his hands was more than any could understand. They were now leverage in theplex game of politics and power he was preparing to y.


    Standing by the window, Aric gazes out at the darkened street below.


    "Things are falling into ce faster than I expected. First the council. Then¡­ perhaps Migard. What if the entire province was made a stronghold?"


    Aric sighed, turning away from the window as he pulled out two books from thin air.


    "But before that¡­ how much stronger can I get with these techniques?"

 Chapter 45: First Stroke of Blood

    Sunlight offered its gentle warmth over the world once again, its rays sneakily finding their way through the room of the fourth prince. He sat on the floor, his body bare and shirtless,pletely drenched in sweat.


    "Stop it."


    At the prince¡¯smand, the holographic entity that stood in the middle of the room dissipated, leaving him alone with his huffing breaths and the ever-quiet presence of the system guide, floating silently to the side.


    A soft chime echoed, and a screen materialized before the prince.


    ---


    Skills


    - Muscle Burst (Basic - Upgradable/Dual Powered)


    - Ki Fists (Basic)


    - Barrier (Basic - Upgradable/Dual Powered)


    - Breakthrough (Basic)


    - Shadow Step Arts (Profound/Upgradable)


    - Heaven Piercing Spear (Profound/Upgradable/Dual Powered)


    ---


    Aric had learned every skill he could in just the span of a single night¡ªfour different martial techniques, all learned in one night as opposed to the two he had barely managed thest time.


    Was it that Aric had somehow be a genius of martial arts? Or perhaps profound-ranked skills were easier to learn than basic-ranked ones? No. Something had changed in the prince¡ªhe now possessed an energy within him, one that was neither mana nor ki... but both.


    These two conceptual forces of existence, on the foundation of the Martial God¡¯s technique, coexisted¡ªnot in harmony, but in raw, pure chaos. They created and formed a new type of energy, hungry for destruction. It oozed and licked at even molecules, eradicating anything the moment it was unsuppressed.


    It was a different type of power entirely, one that Aric had no time to explore, but the mere thought of it gave him chills.


    Aric nced at the skill window again. The "dual powered" meant that the martial techniques could use not just ki, but mana, making them more powerful... evolved.


    Within the prince now were three forces: ki, mana, and the chaos derived when both are mixed.


    ---


    Aric came down to the lobby of the inn, his figure cloaked as it usually was, and just in front of the establishment, the same carriage from the previous night was parked. The innkeeper stood at the entrance.


    "My lord," the innkeeper nodded respectfully before gesturing at the parked carriage. "The lord offers a ride to the castle."


    Aric nced at the carriage for a while before turning to see Lerai and Serinaing down the stairs as well. The young mage gave Aric a nod, causing him to raise his hand, telling the innkeeper to hold on as he approached Lerai.


    "That was fast," Aric said in a hushed tone as he reached the mage. "When did they arrive?"


    "Last night," Lerai informed him.


    The prince stroked his chin as his head swiveled slowly, his mind racing with ideas.


    "How many?"


    "120."


    Aric¡¯s face betrayed his surprise as he heard the number. He had told Borag to gather as many men as he could, but to think he had managed one hundred and twenty in such little time was nothing short of impressive. However, that many more men would mean a weakening of Aric¡¯s established authority, as the new recruits of bandits did not fear him as the old ones had learned to.


    "Tell them toy low and set up camp for now. We will need to work faster," Aric whispered, turning to the carriage parked outside. "You and Serina will take this carriage back to Migard. You give Serina the rune stone and tell her to head to the stretch of Miredis. I¡¯ll meet her there by sundown, while you go back home.


    I want you to begin production on all the prototypes and produce as many as you can."


    Lerai nodded in understanding before asking, "What of the mana crystals?"


    "Don¡¯t worry, I have that sorted out... I¡¯ll provide them when I get back." Aric then reached into his inventory and grabbed a couple, handing them to Lerai. "Here, you can¡¯t carry them all, so use these for testing."


    Lerai stored away the crystals within his cloak as the prince continued, "One more very important thing. Can you make it so your devices can be exploded and kill the wearer bymand?" the prince asked, his voice dropping lower.


    "That is already integrated into all designs, your highness."


    Aric smiled, gripping the mage¡¯s shoulder.


    "A war begins from this very moment, and you, Lerai, are my sharp and deadly de... What did I tell you? Most times, they won¡¯t see the bigger picture¡­"


    "¡­Unless we paint it in blood," the magepleted.


    Aric moved his hand behind his neck, pulling him closer as he leaned into his ear.


    "Yes, and this kingdom will be our canvas, our first masterpiece drenched in crimson for the entire world to see. And then, all whoughed and mocked us will see just how great an artist you truly are."


    Aric pulled away, his gaze locking with Lerai¡¯s as he gave a nod, and the young mage nodded back. The prince then turned away to head for the exit.


    [Lerai Castro¡¯s Loyalty has been maxed.]


    The prince walked past the carriage parked outside, turning to the innkeeper.


    "I¡¯ll find my own way. Take them where they need to go."


    The innkeeper bowed his head. "As you wish, my lord."


    ---


    Around an hourter, the prince arrived at the castle gates once again. The guards, swiftly recognizing him, opened the gates, all saluting his arrival. As he walked in, four of the guards immediately joined behind him, while one went in front, leading him.


    They navigated the grand castle until they reached a courtyard. The scent of blooming flowers was soothing, noticed first before the beauty of the well-tended court.


    However, what was more attention-grabbing was therge table ced right in the middle, and at the head of this table sat Aszer, the king. To his sides were the council.


    In usual fashion, Aric waste to this meeting, and only his chair at the bottom of the table opposite the king remained empty. The eyes of the council all fixed on the prince as he approached.


    "Council," Aric nodded before turning to the king and nodding again. "Your grace."


    The king acknowledged the prince¡¯s greeting with a hand gesture as Aric took his seat.


    "All right then, shall we begin?" the prince spoke, his tone carrying what they might perceive as misced authority.

 Chapter 46: Plans of Brutality.

    The sun hung low in the sky, casting long shadows over the grand courtyard of the Byzeth castle. The table, adorned with goblets and parchment, stretched out before Aric as he sat calmly at one end, directly across from King Aszer.


    The council members, eleven in total, nked both sides of the table, their eyes sharp and their postures tense. Suspicion hung thick in the air, with some of the council members barely concealing their disdain.


    They all discreetly released and red ki and mana, all in an attempt to intimidate the prince and make him fumble, and although Aric did not show it¡ªthis gesture affected him.


    The king himself watched Aric closely, intrigued but unreadable, waiting to see how the prince would y his next move.


    A man sitting closest to the king¡ªa thin, sharp-featured lord dressed in deep purple robes¡ªspoke first, his voiceced with contempt.


    "Your Grace, forgive my boldness, but how can we cohert with a Valerian prince to aid in a rebellion against his own empire? Surely this reeks of deception."


    Murmurs of agreement swept through the council. A count with a thick beard and an borate coat nodded aggressively. "He ims to offer help, but it¡¯s far more likely he¡¯s a spy¡ªsomeone sent to sabotage us from within."


    Aric leaned back in his chair,pletely unfazed. His eyes scanned the table, taking in the small ripples of tension that these usations caused. Then, he smiled, a calm, measured smile that only made the tension thicker.


    "If I were a spy, I assure you, you¡¯d already be dead," Aric said smoothly, his words causing several of the council members to stiffen.


    "Why waste time entertaining ns and meetings? Like I said before I could have delivered every piece of your strategy to the emperor the moment I confirmed your ns."


    A silence fell over the courtyard, pressing with the weight of the prince¡¯s words. The thin lord in purple seemed about to respond, but Aric spoke again, cutting him off before he could.


    "But let¡¯s be honest. I¡¯m not here to prove my trustworthiness. I¡¯m here because I offer something far more valuable than empty promises or words of loyalty." Aric¡¯s eyes sharpened as he leaned forward slightly, drawing the attention of everyone present. "I offer victory. And that¡¯s something no one at this table has been able to guarantee. Not even King Aszer."


    The king raised an eyebrow, still intrigued but now keenly listening.


    Aric continued, shifting his gaze to the bearded count who had spoken earlier.


    "You doubt me because of my blood, but bloodlines don¡¯t win wars. Strategy does. And as for trust¡­" Aric leaned back again, his voice taking on a tone of casual confidence. "You needn¡¯t trust me. What you need is results. And I know how to get them."


    The bearded count scowled but remained silent.


    Aric¡¯s eyes gleamed as he turned his attention to the rest of the council. "Let¡¯s talk about the Northrenders. They are warriors¡ªsavages bred in the cold with a thirst for blood and victory. They won¡¯t fight for just anyone. They respect power, cunning, and strength of will. They¡¯ve already aligned themselves with you as business partners, but you¡¯ve only scratched the surface of what they can offer."


    The thin lord, trying once more to discredit Aric, scoffed. "What more can you possibly offer them, prince? You speak like you know their hearts, yet you¡¯ve never even met their chieftains."


    Aric¡¯s smile widened, his voice cold yet brimming with certainty. "Because I understand their nature better than you ever could. You¡¯ve yed the diplomat with them, negotiated trade and alliances. But the Northrenders don¡¯t want words. They want blood. They want conquest.


    They want an empire that isn¡¯t content to sit behind walls and negotiate deals but one that takes, crushes, and burns. They want to fight alongside someone who isn¡¯t afraid to wage war as they do."


    The king, intrigued, leaned forward slightly. "And you believe you can give them this?"


    "I know I can," Aric answered without hesitation. "Your current n is solid¡ªon paper. But the Northrenders will only follow you so far if they believe you¡¯re simply another weak king, ying at rebellion while sitting safely behind stone walls. They need to see action. We need to give them targets, raids, viges to burn.


    The Valerian Empire fears the men of winter because they don¡¯t y by the rules of civilized warfare. It¡¯s time to show the Northrenders that you¡¯re more than just another southern king. You are their equal. No¡ªmore. Their de."


    A murmur rippled through the council, some nodding, others looking more doubtful. But Aric pressed on, his voice rising with confidence.


    "Start small. Send them into Valerian territory, hit outlying forts, border towns, maybe other kingdoms outskirts¡ªces that won¡¯t raise rm but will send a message to the Northrenders that this is a rebellion worth fighting for. I can provide you with intelligence¡ªces to strike that the empire won¡¯t expect. And when the timees, we don¡¯t wait for them toe to us.


    We take the fight to Valerian...because then the northerners are not fighting for some weaklings who merely uses their power to protect themselves, but they are fighting alongside a conqueror just as blood hungry as they are."


    The room grew silent as Aric finished, his words hanging in the air like a challenge.


    The bearded count, still unconvinced, narrowed his eyes. "And what would your role be in all of this, Prince? Youy on your sick bed while we work? What use is a weak and sickly prince like you to such a violent n of battle and war"


    Discover exclusive content at freewebnovel


    Aric looked at him with a cool, predatory gaze.


    "No need to show your foolishness to me count, I¡¯m already well aware of it"


    "You dare?! " The count shot up from his seat, ki ring.


    The king raised his hand, stopping the count, gesturing he let the prince speak.


    "Strong men win battles, smart men win wars. I will be the one guiding your strategy. I have knowledge of the empire and every kingdom within it that none of you can match¡ªso much so I knew your entire n. I know the empire weaknesses. I know how to exploit them. And more importantly, I have nothing to lose.


    The Forgotten Prince is dead to Valeria. But here, in Byzeth? I am an instrument of a grander chaos."


    The king exchanged nces with several members of his council, his intrigue now tempered with calction. Finally, he nodded slowly, his gaze locking with Aric¡¯s.


    "You speak well, prince. But talk is cheap. Show me results, and then we will see where our partnership leads."


    Aric grinned, knowing he had won the first round of his deadly game. "I¡¯ll have your first target soon."


    ¡¯Use Rejuvenation boost.¡¯


    [Rejuvenation boost has been used | Time left: 4:00]


    [Ki flow has increased by 65%]


    [Ki and mana are shing]


    Aric smiled, his hand gripping the seat handles as he prepared to stand up. "Also, the next time the lot of you try to intimidate me with such an embarrassing disy of ki..."


    As the prince spoke, the eyes of the council members widened, and the hair on their skin stood erect. They felt something. It wasn¡¯t mana nor ki¡ªit was, put simply... destruction.


    "... I will damn the consequences," the princepleted, standing up from the chair, which then turned ck and crumbled to ash.


    "Have a good rest of your day," The prince said, turning and exiting the courtyard.

 Chapter 47: Significance

    [Rejuvenation boost time left: 00:20]


    Aric stumbled into a dark, narrow alleyway, his hand leaning on the stone wall for support. It quickly turned ck and crumbled into ash. The prince reached the opposite wall, leaning back against it as he heaved heavily.


    He was far from the castle now. With his ki flowing at almost full capacity, plus the boost from the energy formed from mixing ki and mana, he had been able to cover massive distances in a short time.


    The prince had shown a necessary disy of power. His n was never to oppose the Byzeth people with force, but if he allowed them to perceive him as weak, he would eventually face those who disagreed with his methods and would eventually grow too ambitious for their own good.


    [Rejuvenation boost expired]


    "Ughh¡­"


    The prince groaned in pain as he slid down the wall onto the floor. Even with the rejuvenation boost, the chaos of mixing both forces was taking a great toll on his body. Now, back to his weakened state, the pain had be many times worse.


    Aric turned his hand, gazing at his palm as he breathed heavily.


    "Guide," Aric called out.


    She responded, floating gently in front of him.


    "If the system can give me something that cures my illness for four minutes, then surely it can also cure my illness."


    Aric spoke out his thoughts. At first, he hadn¡¯t questioned much. He simply took what he was given and was grateful for it, but now, with his knowledge of the Weavers, he knew there was something more at y¡ªand he was curious.


    The guide stayed quiet. For the first time, it didn¡¯t answer a question Aric asked.


    "Answer me... I need to know."


    The guide looked away from Aric.


    "I don¡¯t have your answers, User, but I will say: bnce is important, and perhaps fate more so. There are necessities required so that things fated happen the way they must, and it is not for anyone to alter this."


    Aric clenched his hand into a fist and ced it on the floor beside him.


    "This system¡­ this second chance¡ªthey gave it to me, didn¡¯t they? The Weavers," Aric looked at the guide for a while, but she remained silent. "Why? Why would beings like that care for me? Or perhaps I¡¯m just entertainment¡­ or a means to an end. My whole existence and actions, all carefully mapped out to reach a finale designated by forces beyond.


    Am I doing the bidding of gods, but too much of a mortal fool to see it?"


    Aric sighed, his head tilting backward as he looked up.


    "Does it matter?" the guide glided closer, whispering.


    "What?" Aric turned to her.


    "So far, you have only done what you wanted. And although it might feel like there is something more profound at y, would you rather all that has happened be any other way? If in the end, it¡¯s your desires being fulfilled, then what does the significance of that matter?"


    Aric let out a short, wryugh.


    "You sound more... real, each day."


    "I know," the guide nodded.


    "Well, do you have a name... besides System Guide, that is?"


    Discover exclusive content at freewebnovel


    She shook her head from left to right.


    "Well, maybe I¡¯ll figure one outter."


    Aric stood from the floor, pushing himself off the wall he had leaned against, his strength slowly returning.


    "I have to meet up with Serina at Miredis." Aric exhaled exhaustedly as he began to move.


    ---


    The prince boarded a carriage and made his way back to the Midgard Province, where the stretch of Miredis began, and most goods leaving the Byzeth Kingdom were loaded before starting their journey.


    As Aric reached the loading station, it was packed with people and multiple crates. One could barely hear the sound of their own voice over the shouts of instructions from wagon loaders and the neighs and grunts from the horses and camels.


    Some sections of the area seemed to have no type of guarding whatsoever¡ªperhaps goods being exported by less wealthy businessmen¡ªwhile some wagons and their loads were surrounded by numerous guards. It was quite easy to tell which of the wagons were being sent to the Northrenders.


    Aside from the almost overboard security, the wagons were far fancier than they needed to be, and the crates were plentiful. It was a veryrge transport.


    Aric weaved and brushed through man after man, his head constantly swiveling in search of Serina.


    Then, he felt a tug on his shoulder. He swiftly turned, slightly startled, and his eyes met Serina¡¯s. She nodded at him discreetly before walking, and Aric followed closely behind her.


    The farther they went, the more the crowd began to thin. What remained were broken-down caravans at the side of the deste, sandy road and wagons that were passing, having set off on their journey.


    Serina and Aric boarded a wagon that took them farther into the stretch. The more they traveled, the more Miredis opened up into a dry desertndscape. The ground was a mixture of dusty dirt and scattered rocks.


    In the distance, low-lying mountains rose under a cloudy, golden-bathed sky as the setting sun added contrast to the t, seemingly lifeless terrain. The dirt road cutting through thendscape stretched toward the horizon.


    They made their way deep toward one of the mountains in the distance. Behind them, the wagon rolled and stopped at the entrance of some abandoned mining tunnels. As the wagon came to a halt, a single man wielding a machete strolled out.


    "It¡¯s best you move along from here," the bandit threatened, swinging the machete in a failing attempt to intimidate Aric and Serina.


    The prince sighed, hopping off the wagon, his boots crunching against the barren dirt as he eximed,


    "Borag, Twicher¡­ get out here."


    As the prince spoke, two figures suddenly emerged from the shadows of the mine, walking past the single machete-wielding bandit.


    "Oh, sire, it is you," Borag greeted.


    "Come out, boys," Twicher eximed, and as he did, multiple bandits began to troop out from the different mines.

 Chapter 48: A coin and a life

    Aric looked around. The low mountains that surrounded them on almost all sides cast an enormous shadow over the area. It was a secluded part of Miredis, one that most would not normally pass through on their journey, and made the bandits even more obscured with the added cover of the abandoned mines.


    "Seems you lot found a good spot," Aricmented, his eyes trailing from one bandit to another. Some faces were familiar, the terror in their eyes was obvious, while most were unknown to him and only showed skepticism in their gaze.


    "I don¡¯t know if you¡¯ve been briefed or not, but I¡¯ll tell you myself: you are all now under my leadership. That means every single action you take from this point on will be by my orders alone. You will do what you¡¯re asked, when you¡¯re asked. I don¡¯t care how dangerous or ridiculous the order seems."


    One of the bandits raised his hand as Aric spoke.


    "To do that much, how much are we to be paid?"


    Aric tilted his head as he turned to the bandit and pulled out a single gold coin, raising it.


    "Do you think your life is worth this much? Any of you?"


    Aric¡¯s gaze swept from the left of the crowd to the right before he continued speaking.


    "I know men who would slit the throat of any one of you for this single gold coin. So, are your lives not worth less than it?"


    Aric gripped the coin as he lowered his hand.


    "Right now you are worthless and not deserving of a single silver. But that can change. Show me you¡¯re useful, and I¡¯ll make you very wealthy men."


    "Bullshit! I didn¡¯te here to be bamboozled!" one of the bandits eximed, getting some murmurs of agreement from the others.


    "Well, then you may leave. I won¡¯t stop you. But those who do stay, if you work hard, you might end up earning just as much as Borag and Twitcher here," Aric said, retrieving two bags of gold coins and tossing them to the two men.


    "That is your second payment of thirty thousand gold," Aric announced as both Borag and Twitcher opened the bags, dipping their hands in and pulling out gold coins withrge grins on their faces.


    Murmurs spread through the crowd of bandits as they saw this. Gold in the thousands was something most of these men had never seen in their entire lives, but Borag and Twitcher were given that all at once.


    "Sire, we ran through almost every tavern and brothel we could find, and we still couldn¡¯t use even a quarter of our first payment. And here you give us another," Twitcherughed, overwhelmed by excitement.


    "Well, you carried out an order excellently, and I know what both of you are capable of, so you are worth being given this much," Aric said before turning to the rest of the bandits. "So, who¡¯s leaving and who¡¯s staying?"


    The bandits shared a look among themselves before promptly bowing their heads and unanimously dering, "We are here to serve you, sire."


    ---


    Recruited Bandits | Humans


    Avg Loyalty: 50


    Emotion: Greed, Fear


    ---


    "Good," Aric grinned. "Do what you¡¯re told and do it well, and you won¡¯t just make thousands of gold. I will give you the power to go against cultivators and mages."


    Aric began to walk back to the wagon, his words about giving power leaving the bandits both confused and intrigued.


    "Finally, I might not be present, but I see everything¡ªthrough the eyes of Borag and Twicher¡­even beyond, and I know exactly who is worth what. You will understand this the next time we speak," Aric exined as he boarded the wagon.


    "Sire, are you not leaving us with a task?" Borag asked.


    "Keep the rune stone close. I will send word by tomorrow."


    Both bandits nodded as the wagon began to pull away from the mine entrance, retracing the same path. As they moved, Aric shifted to the wagon driver and pressed the cold steel of a knife to his throat.


    "Can I trust you to keep your mouth shut about all you¡¯ve seen here today?" Aric asked, handing the driver a small bag of coins with his other hand.


    The driver nodded, and Aric then turned to check the panel beside him.


    ---


    Oratz the Wagon Driver | Human


    Avg Loyalty: 91


    Emotion: Greed, Fear


    ---


    The prince exhaled, removing the knife from the driver¡¯s throat, handing him the pouch, and then stepping back to sit beside Serina in the wagon.


    "You are very thorough," shemented with a smile.


    "I am."


    "I¡¯m sure there is a calcted reason behind the disy back there. Most of those bandits would happily do whatever you asked for a payment of 30 gold per week, but instead, you gave them hopes of thousands."


    Aric huffed, leaning further back as he watched the sun finally dip behind the horizon.


    "If I gave them a fixed payment of 30 gold, I¡¯d end up with useless thieves who feel entitled to it regardless of what they did. For that reason, they would do nothing or the bare minimum¡ªwhatever made getting those 30 gold coins the easiest. But now, I¡¯ve given every single one of them something to work toward. A reason to do their best because, in return, they get a greater reward."


    Serina smiled. "That¡¯s a brilliant tactic to make them the most efficient."


    "Not just efficient. It also prevents them from stealing from me. When they begin hitting the transports and obtaining goods, some might consider the goods worth more than a measly 30 gold and perhaps run off with them. But by promising the chance at farrger wealth, they won¡¯t throw that away so easily."


    "It¡¯s as if every action you take is without ws," the mage lowered her head. "Sometimes it¡¯s terrifying, even more than your brutality."


    "What¡¯s terrifying is how little I know about your intentions," Aric replied.


    Experience more on freewebnovel


    She turned to him. "You¡¯re a mage now, aren¡¯t you?"


    Aric stayed quiet, but he didn¡¯t need to answer. The question carried a strong certainty.


    "I told you there has to be bnce, your highness. The mana core you now possess was formed by taking from me. But for that reward, you must give a sacrifice."

 Chapter 49: Maker of Mages

    Aric stood in the middle of the study, the afternoon sun like a spotlight on the wooden floorboards. The prince¡¯s gaze was fixated on maps that sprawled across the desk in front of him as he contemted deeply. It had been three days since the council meeting, and he had said he would give them targets.


    Aric had for a while battled with the practicality of his decision. Currently, his n was to lead Byzeth to attack other kingdoms in a show of ferocity to the Northrenders. Although, like he had told them, this would indeed increase the Northrenders¡¯ rtionship with the kingdom, however it wouldalso leave Byzeth¡¯s forces scattered.


    While the kingdom spread its forces for small battles, Aric would use this opportunity tounch a full attack on the stretch of Miredis¡ªnot just physically, but tactically as well¡ªassassinations, bribes, and changes of position. He would increase his influence in Miredis to the extent that it depended on his word to function.


    And if Aric controlled the single trading route that connected the Northrenders, that would mean the Northerners¡¯ rtionship with Byzeth would be dependent on him alone.


    Whether to anger them by making only half the goods reach them or have his men move with the goods and carry out small-scale attacks on the Northern traders who received the goods, he could easily influence the king¡¯s backing from the Northrenders and soil it.


    However, he would need to spread Byzeth¡¯s forces in very particr ways.


    Discover hidden tales at mvl


    The prince rubbed his aching forehead as he exhaled before turning away from the sprawling maps and heading out of the study. He headed straight for the basement to check on Lerai¡¯s progress.


    The prince slowly pushed open the basement door.


    "May I enter? Or will I get shot in the head with an arrow?" Aric sought confirmation.


    "You may enter, Your Highness," Lerai called out from inside the basement.


    Aric descended the steps into the dimly lit basement, his gaze locking onto n, who now stood before him, d in an array of Lerai¡¯s newly crafted magical devices. The young mage grinned, eyes gleaming with pride as he gestured toward his creation like an artist unveiling a masterpiece.


    n, who normally cut an unimposing figure, now looked anything but ordinary. His form was bulked up with what appeared to be a vest and a strange, rune-covered glove that radiated faint arcs of magical energy.


    "Your Highness," Lerai began, stepping closer to n and gesturing proudly, "I present to you... the strongest non-mage and non-cultivator in existence."


    Aric reached the foot of the stairs, his gaze fixed on the transformed n, intrigued. The devices were unlike anything he had seen before. Arcanic runes glowed softly across the fabric of the vest, and the glove emitted a low hum, like a dormant beast waiting to be unleashed.


    "Tell me," Aric said, walking a slow circle around n, "how do these devices work?"


    Lerai wasted no time diving into an enthusiastic exnation. "This," he pointed to the vest, "is the Vest of Impact Reduction, Version 1.0. It¡¯s designed to absorb and deflect any physical damage n takes."


    He ran his hand across the vest¡¯s surface. "The Arcanic Code I¡¯ve embedded into the fabric uses abination of *Absorb* and *Deflect* spells. *Absorb* will take the brunt of the impact, while *Deflect* sends smaller projectiles or weaker strikes off course."


    Lerai¡¯s eyes sparkled as he exined. "The vest draws mana from the crystals embedded within it, but it¡¯s smart enough to ration the energy. Only when n is hit does it activate, meaning the vest can stay powered for quite a long time."


    "And the glove?" Aric asked, turning his attention to the thick, rune-covered glove on n¡¯s right hand.


    Lerai nodded, practically bouncing in excitement. "Ah, this is my **Strength Augmenting Glove, Version 1.1**. The glove amplifies n¡¯s natural strength tenfold when using the D rank mana crystal. I¡¯ve woven the *Amplify* and *Reinforce* spells into the runes and sigils. *Amplify* boosts his muscle power, allowing him to lift and strike with immense force.


    Meanwhile, *Reinforce* hardens his muscles and bones to prevent him from breaking under the strain of his own strength."


    Lerai nced at n, who flexed his gloved hand, and continued, "And of course, since the glove is powered by mana crystals as well¡ªThe higher rank the crystals, the greater the boost in strength."


    Aric crossed his arms, his analytical mind already racing through how these devices could tip the bnce in his favor. "And you¡¯ve added the self-detonation feature to these as well?"


    Lerai nodded. "Yes, Your Highness. Should either device fall into the hands of an enemy, you can activate the self-detonation sequence, reducing them to nothing."


    Aric allowed himself a small smile. "Good. Now, show me."


    n took a deep breath, his expression turning serious as he stepped into the center of the room. Lerai moved to the side, watching eagerly. With a single flex of his arm, the runes on the glove began to glow brighter, humming as power coursed through it. n¡¯s body seemed to swell with new strength, his muscles visibly tightening as the *Amplify* spell took effect.


    Without hesitation, n walked over to arge wooden crate sitting in the corner of the room, one that had been filled with rocks for the demonstration. He ced both hands under the crate and, with minimal effort, lifted it high above his head. The weight that would have taken two men to move barely seemed to faze him.


    Next, n set the crate down gently before turning toward arge metal target set against the far wall. With his enhanced strength, he made a fist and swung at the metal target. The sound of the impact echoed through the basement, and the target, which had been bolted to the floor, bent under the force of n¡¯s punch.


    Aric raised an eyebrow, impressed. "The vest? How well does it handle direct hits?"


    n nodded, ready for the next demonstration. Lerai handed him a small dagger, and without flinching, n plunged it directly into his side where the vest covered his torso. The *Absorb* spell activated instantly, the runes glowing as the force of the blow was dissipated. n stood tall, unaffected, as the de stopped mere inches from his skin.


    "It¡¯s like being hit by air," n remarked, pulling the dagger back with ease.


    Aric stepped forward, his smile widening. "Lerai, you¡¯ve outdone yourself. I guess taking Miredis will be faster than I anticipated."


    Lerai beamed. "Thank you, Your Highness. There¡¯s still room for improvement, but this is only the beginning."


    Aric nced back at the maps in his mind. It felt as though things had gotten way easier.


    ¡¯Damn Aszer, how unlucky are you?¡¯

 Chapter 50: Money Tree

    Lord Heidz¡¯s Manor.


    Four days since the council meeting.


    Aric walked into the lord¡¯s manor after traversing a long expanse ofnd, like a sea of well-cut green grass decorated with multiple statues and fountains made of white stone. The manor itself wasrge andplexly beautiful, its design speaking of unparalleled architecture and even more profound costs.


    It didn¡¯t take a second look to know this was the home of the extremely wealthy, and upon entering inside, it was an even greater sight to behold. The entire interior was covered in gold and marble furnishings, and there was no ce to look that didn¡¯t offer a gleam of wealth.


    "Please, this way," one of the servants beckoned as Aric followed behind him.


    He was led through arge hallway and eventually up the breathtaking curve of stairs before traveling through another hallway, only stopping when they reached the door at the far end of the hall.


    Although made of wood, the door seemed very grand. It had a multitude of artistic carvings that adorned it, and it was very dense. The servant pushed the door open, before stepping aside and gesturing for Aric to enter.


    "Please, this way," the servant said.


    Aric nced at the servant before turning back to the door¡¯s entrance, proceeding with slight hesitation. As he looked around, attempting to ascertain where he was, he quickly noticed numerous bookshelves at the depths of the room¡ªit felt like a library of sorts.


    Continue your journey on mvl


    In the far right of the room, near a window, was arge desk and an upied chair. A man, perhaps in his fifties, sat down, carefully reading a book. His failure to acknowledge the prince¡¯s presence made Aric assume he had yet to be noticed.


    However, it didn¡¯t seem so, as the man greeted, "Wee, Your Highness¡­ I had begun to worry my invitation would not be honored."


    The lord spoke while his eyes still trailed from one side of the book to the other, reading with concentration.


    "I am very grateful for your gift;ing was the least I could do."


    "You honor me." The man rose from the chair he sat in, pushing it back and closing the book before cing it on the desk. "That was but a small token, not worth your presence in my humble abode."


    "I disagree," the prince smiled, walking slowly closer to therge window at the other side of the room. "I assume there is a reason you invited me here."


    The lord sighed, stepping away from the desk as he walked to a cab. He held the two handles gently, parting it open, and Aric watched as he took out a bottle of wine, twirling it slightly before retrieving another, his mind unmade. The prince then turned his gaze to the window.


    Below him sprawled thergend of the manor, with a couple of servants attending to menial tasks, whether it was trimming the grass or cleaning the pathways. However, Aric quickly realized these were not ordinary men.


    They reeked of Ki, though it was well concealed.


    Razid Heidz settled on a wine, moved it along with two brass goblets, and ced it on the desk. He then raised the bottle, tipping it gently as a velvet liquid streamed out into both cups.


    "Please, have a drink with me," the lord offered.


    Aric first turned his head slightly, his gaze still fixed on the supposed servants below, before fully turning to the lord. He walked over and took one of the filled cups with a nod of appreciation.


    "It¡¯s quite stupefying for an imperial prince to be meeting the council and king at a time like this... it makes one think the worst," the lord said, walking back to the chair behind his desk.


    Aric chuckled dryly. "And what is the worst?"


    Razid shook his head.


    "May the gods not allow me to speak against the imperial prince."


    Aric smiled, staying quiet as he gazed at the lord before raising the cup and taking a sip of the wine. He nodded his head in a gesture topliment it.


    "For someone far removed from the affairs of the king, you seem very aware of it."


    Aric turned, walking away from the desk as he spoke.


    "In a position like mine, information bes the most valuable."


    Aric walked closer to the window again as he gazed down at the servants.


    "Speak freely, your lordship. Why do you let Aszer keep his life until now¡­ you seem more than capable¡­ ready even."


    The lord hesitated at Aric¡¯s question, allowing silence to settle between them before he finally spoke.


    "I¡­ don¡¯t want to be king, nor do I want the chaos that would ensue from taking that throne, and even worse, the wrath of Valeria."


    Aric smiled before he turned back to the lord.


    "¡­but you don¡¯t want Aszer to remain king either?"


    "No," Heidz sharply answered. "That bastard will be the doom of Byzeth¡­ it only saddens me that it seems you have colluded with him on his¡­ well, rather foolish ambition."


    "Oh?" Aric¡¯s toneced with intrigue. "Then perhaps you have called me here in an attempt to sway me away from my intentions."


    "No, if you have truly decided on aiding the king, then I shall not convince you otherwise. However, I can¡¯t seem to shake the thought that you have a deeper interest, and I only invited you to confirm or disabuse this notion."


    Aric looked into the eyes of the lord sternly, as if searching for something within their depths. He then threw his head back and drank all of the remaining wine in his cup before letting out a strong exhale.


    "The king will die for his treason," Aric dered as his eyes narrowed, and he slowly approached the lord. "But you may die before him."


    The lord shot up from the chair, panic evident on his face as modestly sized golden spears began to materialize behind the prince, their sharp and deadly points aimed straight at the lord as Aric approached him.


    "Don¡¯t bother, no one wille. My Ki cannot be sensed¡­ you can only live by answering my questions truthfully."

 Chapter 51: Half way there

    Razid began to breathe heavily. He was a man who could not even remember thest time he had faced death, since he was well guarded by the strongest of men. Not even the king could so easily pose a threat to his life.


    However, like most¡ªhe had underestimated the fourth prince. He was no sickly prince, but he did not expect that he was a skilled cultivator as well, and one that could even go unsensed by his guards.


    It seemed as though for the lord, he did really stand a chance of dying today, and that thought panicked him, although he did well to maintain hisposure.


    "If you are fretful that I may ry your words to the king, I assure you, your highness, I possess far too much hatred to warn my enemy of his demise."


    Aric shook his head, the spears inching closer to the lord.


    "I have to be thorough when ites to loose ends, so I will let you live if you answer rightly."


    "Please speak, your highness."


    "You despise the king and his ideals, is that correct?" Aric asked.


    "Very much so," the lord replied.


    "And you believe that Byzeth will do better under new leadership, and although you wish not to sit on the throne, if I wish to take rulership, overthrowing Azser and eliminating the wrath of Valeria, will you support such an ambition?"


    The lord walked from behind his desk, his entire demeanor changing as he heard the words of the prince.


    "With all my being, I shall want nothing more," the lord dered.


    "Then we see eye to eye, but I cannot trust you until you swear your loyalty."


    Razid did not hesitate a moment as he dropped to a single knee with his head bowed before the fourth prince.


    "I, Razid Heidz, son of Otto Heidz¡ªswear total fealty to the fourth prince of Valeria, Aric Valerian. I shall give my life for the fulfillment of your ambition."


    Aric turned from the kneeling lord to nce at the panel at the side.


    ---


    Lord Razid Heidz | Human


    Avg Loyalty: 85


    Emotion: Patriotism, Fear, Intrigue, Ambition


    ---


    Aric turned from the panel back to the lord, the floating spears dissipating into thin air as he walked closer to him.


    "You may rise," the princemanded.


    The lord stood up at once, his face brimming with excitement.


    "So you are telling me, Azser is to lose the throne?" the lord confirmed.


    "Soon he will, and then I shall ascend it, and you will be made lord chancellor."


    Razid bowed his head. "You honor me, your highness."


    The lord then moved to the wine that stood atop the desk, refilling both of the cups and handing one back to the prince.


    "To Azser¡¯s fall," Razid dered.


    Aric raised his cup in a smile before drinking the wine.


    "But I must ask, if the imperial ears have heard of Azser¡¯s rebellion, why did they not march to level Byzeth?"


    Aric sighed. "Because it¡¯s a trap¡­the moment imperial forces begin a march, the Northrenders will be ready to defend¡­and with a full-scale war in Byzeth, the imperial city will be weakened."


    "It seems your ambition is well thought out?" the lordmented.


    "It is. There is no point in ruining a prosperous kingdom like Byzeth with the tides of war¡­so I will take the more tactical approach."


    "I am assured then," Razidughed as he gulped more wine.


    "Say, what would you say your influence on the Miredis stretch is?" Aric asked.


    "It is quite significant. I control about half the flow of goods annually. What is not controlled by me are the collective transports of smaller merchants and trades with the Northrenders¡ªthat is done strictly under the king¡¯s people."


    Aric nodded, his ning together in his mind.


    "I n to gain full control of the Miredis stretch. I already have ns set in motion to achieve this, but for now, I will ry instructions soon concerning what you can control, and I want you to follow them carefully."


    "Understood, your highness."


    [Miredis influence increased]


    ---


    Stretch of Miredis \\ ce


    {Current value: 86}


    - Long stretch ofnd between Byzeth and the northern river, the only trade path between it and other kingdoms.


    essibility: Easy


    Influence: 43


    Expand/?


    ---


    [S-Questpleted]


    [Reward has been granted]


    [Party feature has been upgraded]


    ¡¯43¡­that is not enough.¡¯


    "I will be in touch, I¡¯ll take my leave now," Aric bid his farewell to the lord.


    ¡ª¡ª¡ª


    The prince headed back to Old Man Hitoshi¡¯s home, while prepared for them to leave for Miredis to meet with the bandits. Although he had nned to let them make moves unaided, he altered his decision since Lerai had acted faster than he expected.


    As he reached what was now their base, the carriage which they owned was parked outside the house, their driver tending to the horses, while to the side were crates that were loaded and were to be transported.


    The prince saw Lerai walking out with n, who effortlessly held another of the crates and ced it down among the others.


    "You have returned, your highness," Lerai acknowledged the prince¡¯s presence, while n bowed in respect.


    "Yes, are we set?"


    "Uh huh," Lerai confirmed, looking around as though mentally checking things.


    "How many do we have?" Aric asked.


    Lerai raised his arm as he began to point to one box after another.


    "We have 15 pieces of the arrow shooter gloves, 25 vests, and 20 of the strength gloves."


    Aric nodded in satisfaction.


    "That¡¯s more than enough for now," he said as he turned to n. "Load them into the carriage¡­we leave for Miredis immediately."


    "Uh, but we wouldn¡¯t have space in the carriage to sit."


    "It¡¯s no bother, we take position with the driver."


    "What of Serina, won¡¯t she be joining us? Come to think of it, I have not seen her in a while."


    Aric turned to the house, looking up.


    "No, she won¡¯t being. She has important matters to tend to."

 Chapter 52: Power Handouts

    The prince¡¯s carriage rolled into the cover of the mountains where the bandits had settled. As they approached, he could see some of them discreetly taking positions outside while others were within the mine, keeping themselves hidden.


    When one of the bandits recognized the prince, he immediately went into the mine to fetch Borag and Twicher, their leaders.


    Aric hopped off the driver¡¯s seat, where he had been sitting alongside Lerai. He walked back toward the carriage and swung open the door.


    He then turned to one of the nearby bandits and called for him to approach.


    The man, seeing Aric¡¯s gesture, rushed toward him.


    "Yes, boss?"


    "Bring these out," Aric instructed, referring to the crates.


    "Understood." The man then called for some others nearby to assist him as they began offloading the crates. As this was happening, the remaining bandits began to flood out of the mine, including Borag and Twicher.


    "Ah, sire, you¡¯ve returned... we have been awaiting instructions," Twicher greeted.


    "Yes, I came with those. But first, as I said, I will offer you all something more"


    Aric turned to see the crates fully offloaded and ced on the ground before turning back to the crowd, scanning their faces one by one.


    "Borag, step forward," Aric instructed.


    The bandit looked around, slightly confused, before walking forward until Aric raised his hand to signal him to stop.


    Aric then turned to the panel.


    ¡¯Open party: Human bandits only... list by potential.¡¯


    [Showing party member details.]


    [Filter: Human Bandits, Potential]


    -¡ª


    House Of Arkhan


    Bandits/Humans


    Ss Petoni | Human


    STR: 7 | STM: 7 | SPD: 5


    Loyalty: 52


    Emotion: Greed


    Potential: 81


    Current Worth: 0


    ///


    Regin Kalo | Human


    STR: 4 | STM: 8 | SPD: 3


    Loyalty: 91


    Emotion: Fear, Greed


    Potential: 79


    Current Worth: 0


    ///


    Markin Ozine | Human


    STR: 3 | STM: 4 | SPD: 8


    Loyalty: 52


    Emotion: Greed


    Potential: 78


    Current Worth: 0


    ¡ª-


    Aric turned away from the long list of panels and back to the bandits who had now all gathered before him, listening.


    "Ss Petoni... step out."


    Hearing his full name called out, Ss froze. He couldn¡¯t believe his ears, as he was certain he had never told anyone his real name, let alone his surname. But Aric, who he had never interacted with, called his name in full.


    Hesitantly and confused, and perhaps slightly terrified, the muscr man with rough dark hair and a beard slowly stepped out from the crowd, standing opposite Borag.


    "Regin Kalo," Aric called out again.


    Just like Ss, Regin also stepped forward with an expression of utter confusion. Aric gestured for him to stand beside Ss, and as he did, both men whispered to each other about their shared confusion. Then Aric spoke another name.


    "Markin,e forward," Aric called out once more.


    A man with bright white hair and a slender figure stepped out as well, his face unreadable.


    "Good," Aricmented before turning to Lerai and the driver. "Gear them up."


    Lerai nodded as they opened up the crates, taking out gloves and vests for the three selected bandits.


    "Borag, you will fight these three men today."


    Borag smiled, looking away from the prince beforeughing. He then turned back to Aric, whose face remained cold and stern, indicating that he was not joking.


    "Wait, you¡¯re serious?" Borag confirmed.


    "Yes... I am," Aric responded quickly.


    "That doesn¡¯t seem fair at all. I¡¯m a cultivator; they¡¯re just men," Borag voiced his concerns.


    "I understand that... just make sure to do your best against them," Aric smiled, almost mischievously, before turning to Lerai, who had nearly finished gearing up all three men and giving them the instructions they needed.


    Aric stepped back, allowing Lerai a couple of minutes to finish his exnation.


    When the mage was done, all three bandits stood opposite Borag, d in the strength-enhancing and arrow-shooter gloves along with the damage-reducing vests. Uncertainty was written very clearly on their faces. They knew Borag was far stronger than them, but they were also curious if what Lerai had told them was truth.


    It was a curiosity that could be found on the faces of every bandit watching the scene unfold.


    "Ready?" Aric confirmed with both sides.


    Borag smiled confidently as he nodded, while the three bandits opposite him nodded slightly nervously.


    The air in the clearing oozed with anticipation as Aric stepped back, giving the bandits and Borag space for their impromptu match.


    Borag, a seasoned cultivator, showed only confidence as he cracked his knuckles, the smirk on his face growing wider. Across from him, the three bandits¡ªSs, Regin, and Markin¡ªlooked far less certain.


    Despite the shiny new gear strapped to their bodies, they found it next to impossible to aplish defeating the mighty bandit leader. Borag wasn¡¯t just another thug; he was a battle-hardened warrior with years of cultivation experience.


    "Begin," Aricmanded, his voice calm, almost detached.


    Ss, physically the strongest of the three bandits, naturally, was the first to make a move. He lunged forward with brute force, his new strength made evident in the way his muscles rippled under the augmented glove.


    He swung his fist toward Borag¡¯s side, aiming for a quick blow to test the waters. But Borag was faster¡ªhis years of training had honed his reflexes to perfection. With a simple sidestep, he dodged the attack, letting Ss stumble forward awkwardly.


    Borag grinned. "Is that it... really?"


    Regin and Markin joined in next, moving in tandem. Regin wielded a short sword, and his attacks, while clumsy, were aggressive and persistent.


    He swung wildly, but the power behind his strikes was amplified by the glove, forcing Borag to stay on the defensive. Markin, on the other hand, was quicker¡ªhis speed outmatched the others, but his blows were less powerful. He darted in and out of the fight, throwing rapid strikes with his arrow-shooting glove, trying to find an opening.


    "How could they get that strong?" A confused whisper ran through the crowd of thugs as they watched the men perform feats they were certain were beyond average humans.

 Chapter 53: Consequences

    At first, it was chaotic.


    The three bandits were unused to the incredible power flowing through them, which made them uncoordinated, often tripping over themselves or each other. Ss would swing too hard and stumble forward, leaving himself exposed.


    Regin¡¯s heavy-handed sword strikes were easy for Borag to parry, and Markin¡¯s quick movements made him a blur, but hisck of strength meant Borag barely flinched when he managed tond a hit.


    At this point, Borag wasughing, clearly enjoying the one-sided fight. He ducked under another wild swing from Ss, then countered with a quick elbow to the man¡¯s ribs. Ss grunted, stumbling back, his vest absorbing most of the damage but leaving him dazed.


    "Come on!" Borag taunted, stepping forward tond a solid punch on Regin¡¯s vest, sending the bandit sprawling backward. "All the power our sire gave you, and yet you remain weak?"


    But as the minutes passed, something began to change.


    The three bandits, though still clumsy, were starting to adapt. Ss, regaining his footing, stopped relying solely on brute force. His strikes became more controlled, his movements more deliberate.


    Regin, too, began to fight smarter, using the strength in his glove to counter Borag¡¯s attacks instead of just swinging wildly. And Markin, the fastest of them, began to use his speed strategically, drawing Borag¡¯s attention with quick jabs while the others pressed him from the sides.


    Borag, who had been toying with them, started to realize¡ªslowly but surely¡ªthey were bing a real threat.


    Ss came at him again, but this time, instead of a direct punch, he feinted left and caught Borag off-guard with a right hook, enhanced by the glove¡¯s power. The blow connected with Borag¡¯s jaw, and for the first time, the cultivator grunted in pain, staggering back.


    "Is that still weak, huh?" Ss muttered, his confidence returning.


    Regin followed up with a powerful overhead strike. Borag barely managed to block it, but the sheer force of the blow sent him reeling. Markin, seizing the opportunity, dashed in from behind, his glove¡¯s arrow-shooter activating with a soft whirr before a small, high-speed arrow shot out, aimed directly at Borag¡¯s leg.


    The arrow hit its mark, piercing through his pants and making him stumble.


    The cultivator cursed under his breath, his smirk fading. He could feel the tide of the battle turning.


    The bandits pressed their advantage. Ss came in hard,nding another heavy blow on Borag¡¯s side, the impact of his glove making the air ripple. Regin shed at Borag¡¯s arm, and though the cultivator managed to block it, the force of the strike sent him skidding across the ground.


    Markin fired another arrow, this time grazing Borag¡¯s shoulder.


    Borag growled, hisposure starting to slip. He swung out in desperation, managing to catch Ss with a wild punch to the gut, sending the bandit crashing into the ground. But before he could capitalize on the opening, Regin was already on him,nding a solid blow to his back. Borag staggered forward, blood now trickling from a cut on his lip.


    Panting, Borag tried to regain his bnce, but the three bandits had finally found their rhythm.


    They moved in sync now¡ªSs using his strength to force Borag onto the defensive, Regin delivering heavy blows with his sword, and Markin darting around, harassing him with arrows and quick strikes.


    Borag, for all his skill, was starting to falter.


    Then it happened.


    Ss lunged forward with a powerful strike, his glove crackling with energy. Borag tried to dodge, but Regin was already there, cutting off his escape with a vicious sh to his leg. Borag stumbled, and before he could react, Markin was behind him, his gloved hand raised high, ready to deliver the final blow to Borag¡¯s exposed neck.


    Time seemed to slow as the de hovered inches from Borag¡¯s throat. The bandits were panting, adrenaline surging through their veins. They had done it. They had brought Borag, the mighty cultivator¡ªruler of bandits¡ªto his knees.


    But just as Markin¡¯s de began its descent, a hand shot out, catching the de mid-swing.


    "That¡¯s enough," Aric¡¯s voice rang out, calm yetmanding.


    Markin froze, his de trapped between Aric¡¯s fingers. The prince stood there, his grip like iron. He had appeared in a blur, effortlessly stopping the fatal blow. Borag gasped for air, sweat dripping down his face, while the three bandits looked at Aric in shock.


    The prince¡¯s cold eyes met Borag¡¯s.


    "I didn¡¯t bring you here to die."


    He released the de and turned to Markin and the other two. "Back up."


    The entire crowd of bandits was left in utter andplete shock, even Twicher, who had beenpletely confident in Borag¡¯s ability to swiftly dispatch the group of three, now stood silent, left without words¡ªa rarity for him.


    "Do you see?" the prince began, his voice loud. "I told you I shall not just make you wealthy¡­but I shall give you the power to oppose mages and cultivators."


    The bandits began to murmur among themselves as excitement raged among them.


    "There are currently not enough of these devices for everyone, so they will be given out based on potential and worth," Aric announced. "The more useful you are, the better you¡¯ll be paid, and you will be given this power as well."


    "Heil sire!" the bandits began to exim as they raised their weapons.


    "Heil sire!"


    "Heil sire!"


    Aric raised his hand, stopping their chants.


    ¡¯Open party: Human bandits only¡­list by low loyalty.¡¯


    [Showing party member details.]


    [Filter: Human Bandits, Loyalty]


    ¡ª¡ª¡ª


    House of Arkhan /


    / Bandits / Humans


    Arteez Manaya | Human


    STR: 2 | STM: 2 | SPD: 3


    Loyalty: 3


    Emotion: Greed


    Potential: 8


    Current worth: 0


    ...


    ¡ª¡ª¡ª


    "Arteez Manaya, step forward," Aric called out.


    A short man with a scruffy beard immediately made his way out of the crowd with excitement on his face, while the rest of the bandits watched with slight envy.


    Aric saw Borag shake his head slightly, perhaps in an attempt to warn him not to select that bandit in particr, but the prince simply smiled back.


    Lerai d the bandit in the devices, giving him instructions on how to use them. As soon as Lerai finished speaking, the bandit sent his gloved hand crashing into Lerai¡¯s gut while raising the arrow glove and pointing it at Aric.


    "Hahaha!" the banditughed hysterically. "Why work for you when I can sell this for millions?"


    Aric watched as the bandit slowly began to back away, a terrifyingly long smile on the face of the prince.


    "Now¡­watch closely what happens if you decide betrayal a choice," the prince said, almost excitedly.


    "This is for punching me, bastard," Lerai muttered.


    Lerai¡¯s eyes narrowed as the banditughed maniacally, backing further away, greed blinding him to the danger he was in.


    The young mages hand twitched, and in that moment, the tense silence erupted into a deafening screech. The devices strapped to Arteez¡¯s body began to glow, pulsing with a dark hue. His eyes widened, and he tried to rip the glove off, frantically pulling at it.


    He knew something was wrong.


    "W-wait! What is this?!" Arteez screamed, his voice cracking with terror as the devices on his body began to spark wildly.


    With a surge of energy, the devices detonated in a blinding sh of light.


    The explosion tore through the air, shaking the ground beneath their feet. A torrent of fire and shrapnel erupted from Arteez¡¯s body, turning him into nothing more than a cloud of blood and smoke.


    The bandits watching recoiled in shock, gasps filling the air as bits of flesh and blood rained down on them.


    For several seconds, it rained crimson as his remains were scattered across the clearing.


    Aric stood unmoved, his expression cold and calcting, while Lerai dusted off his hands, a look of satisfaction on his face. "That¡¯s what you get for punching me, bastard," he muttered again, louder this time, as he wiped a drop of blood off his cheek.


    The bandits, now covered in the remains of their formerrade, stood in stunned silence, their earlier envy reced with fear. No one dared to speak, their eyes wide and filled with terror.


    Aric let the moment hang in the air before his voice finally broke the silence. "Loyalty is rewarded. Betrayal is punished." He gestured toward the blood-stained ground where Arteez had once stood. "I would tell you to remember this, but I know you will."


    After all, fear does not forget.

 Chapter 54: Bare and Beautiful Art

    The message was clear: if they attempted to escape with the devices, it would lead to inevitable death. The power they were being given came at a cost.


    Aric went through the list of bandits with the highest potential and loyalty above fifty percent and gave them the first batch of mana-powered gear, or MPG, as Lerai had named it. Currently, around thirty of the bandits were equipped with MPG, making them far more formidable than the average human.


    "Borag and Twitcher...e with me," Aric instructed. The three men shifted from the group to the other side of the mine.


    "We are going to start making a move," Aric informed.


    "Just give us a target," Twitcher said.


    "For now, I need all the information surrounding Miredis: who controls what, transport details, and any information on anyone with any relevant influence whatsoever."


    "Understood," Borag nodded.


    "Have your men prepare. In theing days, we are going topletely overtake this stretch."


    "Yes, sire," both men nodded.


    "All right, I¡¯ll be in touch."


    Aric walked off, leaving both men standing. He raised his hand as he approached the carriage, gesturing for Lerai to follow him as they began leaving.


    "For those of you with MPG, stay within this part of Miredis. Go too far without authorization, and you¡¯ll end up like your foolishpanion¡ªnothing more than a rain of blood."


    Aric¡¯s warning brought fearful nods and nces before the prince boarded the carriage along with Lerai. They began their journey toward the capital. The prince had done his necessary nning and mapped out all the points he would lead Byzeth to attack. Now, he only had to bring his ns before the council.


    Aric sighed as he leaned back. He hadn¡¯t gotten a chance to explore the party feature after the upgrade, but with the little the guide had exined to him on the way to Miredis, he had used it to his advantage.


    Now, he could not only see loyalty and emotion but also strength, potential, and utility of those under him¡ªand there was still more to explore.


    After a while of riding, they reached the Migard province, where Aric ordered Lerai out of the carriage and sent him home. His meeting with the king needed to remain personal for the time being.


    The prince was then driven straight to the capital.


    ---


    The carriage rolled through the towering gates of Byzeth¡¯s capital.


    As the carriage came to a halt before the royal pce, Aric stepped out, his eyes scanning the grand surroundings with disinterest.


    He waited at the gates a short while before he was approached.


    Guards, everly d in shining armor, came to him, their hands resting on the hilts of their swords.


    "The king has been informed of your arrival, Prince Valerian," one of the guards said, his voice steady. "Though he wasn¡¯t expecting you, he will see you."


    Aric nodded curtly and followed them through the massive pce doors. The corridors they moved through this time were grand and vast, adorned with artistic carvings and ornaments.


    They passed by servants who scurried away at the sight of the group. After winding through what seemed like a maze, they arrived at arge, double-door room.


    The guards pushed the doors open, revealing an extravagant chamber soaked in the warm glow of candle chandeliers.


    The scent of exotic oils and incense hung in the air, their smell was thick and almost intoxicating. The walls were lined with portraits of ancient kings, but what immediately caught Aric¡¯s attention was the scene unfolding before him.


    The King of Byzeth, Aszer Hait, stood at the center of the room, his robe loose and carelessly draped over his frame as he worked on arge canvas, brush in hand.


    Surrounding him were several women, their naked bodies reclined on luxurious cushions, their skin glistening with oil under the soft light. Theirughter was soft and melodic, like a subtle melody in the background.


    Some of the women lounged on couches, while others whispered among themselves, running their hands over each other¡¯s skin. A few eveny on the floor, watching the king with a mix of awe and sexual desire.


    The king was lost in his work, his brush moving across the canvas with practiced ease, the painting a deliberate mess of colors. His eyes, however, were sharp as he nced over at Aric without breaking the rhythm of his strokes.


    "Ah, Valerian," Aszer said, his voice dripping with amusement. "You¡¯ve arrived. Apologies for the mess¡ªart, as they say, waits for no man. Though I suspect you didn¡¯te here for an audience."


    Aric¡¯s gaze swept over the scene without a hint of interest. The sight of the naked women and the king¡¯s indulgent lifestyle meant nothing to him¡ªfor now. His mind was entirely focused on the task at hand.


    "I¡¯vee with a n," Aric said inly, stepping forward. The women turned their attention to him, their curiosity piqued, but he had still paid them no mind. "We are going to lead the northerners to begin a war and I have the strategy you need to do so"


    Aszer raised an eyebrow, dipping his brush into a jar of paint. "Oh? And what strategy might that be?"


    Aric wasted no time, pulling a map from his cloak andying it on a nearby table. He pointed to several marked locations near the border of other kingdoms and the Valerian Empire.


    "These are key border towns and strategic outposts on the outskirts of the empire," Aric began. "If we target these ces first, we cripple the empire¡¯s ability to respond quickly as they are too distant. The goal isn¡¯t just to raid them¡ªit¡¯s to ignite war."


    Aszer wiped his hands on his robe and approached the map, ncing at the marked spots. "Hmm¡­ but why start there? Those towns are small and insignificant. If we¡¯re to make an impact, shouldn¡¯t we strike at more prosperous locations?"


    Aric shook his head. "No. The strength of these ces lies in their insignificance. The empire won¡¯t send a significant force to defend them, which means we can hit them hard without resistance. Meanwhile, therger cities will be left vulnerable. By the time they realize what¡¯s happening, it will be toote."


    Although this very much sounded like a tactic against Valeria, but hidden within it was the very strategy by which byzeth was to fall.

 Chapter 55: The Lotus 14

    The king stared at the map for a while.


    As he did, the women in the background began to hum a tune, one quite familiar to the prince. It was a song of war, one that Byzeth soldiers had sung as the Draken Empire ughtered them in hisst life.


    As they hummed in fine melody, Aric gazed at the women, noticing their predatory glint. Beneath theirrge, bare bosoms and plump, soft thighs, they ran their hands sensually as they bit their lips and gazed at the prince in a seductive manner. There was danger in their eyes; these women were more than just courtesans.


    However, that was not Aric¡¯s problem. Not now.


    Aszer rubbed his chin, considering the proposal. "But the towns you¡¯re suggesting¡ªhere, and here¡ªare near imperial garrisons. We risk drawing attention to ourselves too soon."


    "That¡¯s the point," Aric said, his voice cold and calcting. "We want them to know something is happening, but not to realize the full scope. These raids will be surgical strikes¡ªquick, brutal, and unpredictable. We hit them hard, take what we need, and disappear before reinforcements can arrive."


    The king frowned, pacing around the map. "Still, I¡¯m not convinced. What about the supply lines? We need resources to fund this rebellion, and these towns won¡¯t provide enough."


    Aric tapped a finger on the map, his eyes gleaming with confidence. "The towns are just the beginning. Once we¡¯ve created enough chaos, we move on torger targets. By then, the empire¡¯s forces will be spread too thin, and they¡¯ll be too disorganized to stop us."


    Aszer stared at the map, the wheels in his mind turning. After a moment, he nodded slowly. "I see¡­ It¡¯s a sound strategy. Strike at their heart while their hands are too busy putting out fires."


    Aric smirked. "Exactly. And with my knowledge of the empire¡¯s internal workings, we¡¯ll know where to strike next."


    The king stared at the prince for a long moment, then chuckled darkly. "I must admit, Valerian, your mind is as sharp as you say. I like your n."


    Aric was about to respond when Aszer raised a hand. "But I¡¯ve made a decision."


    The king¡¯s eyes gleamed with a dangerous light as he leaned closer to the prince. "You will apany us on these raids. I want to see your brilliant mind in action... and make sure you¡¯re asmitted to this cause as you im to be."


    "Your Grace, I do believe it¡¯s better if I remain in the shadows for now..." Aric opposed.


    "Nonsense," Aszer said, returning to his painting. "Worry not, your secrecy will not falter. You may cover your face if you wish."


    The king then raised his hand, gesturing for a few of the women to attend to the prince.


    One woman, with dark flowing hair, slipped beside him, gently brushing her fingers across his arm. Another pressed closer, her bare thigh grazing his, while a third ran her hands over his chest, tugging yfully at his shirt as if to undress him further.


    "Your Grace," Aric began, his voice even as he nced toward the king, "I see it far more strategic for me to remain here in the kingdom. My presence on the raids may draw unwanted attention from those who already know my identity."


    Aszer chuckled, his brush never stopping as he worked on his painting. "You underestimate the flexibility of your ns, Prince Valerian. You can be masked, hidden if you need. Your mind is too valuable to remain behind."


    One of the women whispered something into Aric¡¯s ear, her lips brushing his skin as her hand slowly traced the edge of his jaw. He ignored the distraction, shifting his focus solely on the king. "But, Your Grace, secrecy is essential¡ª"


    A blonde woman pressed against him from the other side, her hands trailing down his torso, unbuttoning his cloak slightly as her fingers ventured further down. Aric caught her hand and gently pushed her away, though his shirt remained rumpled from their touch.


    Aszer smirked, ncing over his shoulder at the scene unfolding. "Worry not, Valerian. This will only add to your legend. Besides, wouldn¡¯t it be more thrilling to be on the front lines, ensuring your brilliant strategies seed firsthand?"


    The prince¡¯s expression remained calm, but there was a flicker of something dark in his eyes.


    Realizing further resistance was futile, Aric exhaled softly. "Very well, Your Grace. I will apany the raids."


    The prince wanted to clench his fist but restrained himself. He turned back to Aszer with an unreadable expression. "When do we leave?"


    The king stayed quiet for a moment, contemting the prince¡¯s question. He knew a strategy like this couldn¡¯t be dyed for too long, so immediate action was likely their best option.


    "We leave three days from now. Meet us at the castle at dawn."


    With that, Aric stepped back, brushing off the hands still lingering on him, and calmly adjusted his cloak, pulling it back over his shoulders with quiet precision. The women around him giggled and whispered to each other as they watched him, their touch still lingering on his skin.


    Aric nodded respectfully, first to the women, then to the king. "Ladies. Your Grace."


    Without another word, he turned and exited the chamber.


    The king had yed a smart move, and perhaps for the first time since Aric had arrived in Byzeth, things were not going ording to n. Aric had intended to orchestrate the downfall of the Byzeth government while their forces were out fighting pointless battles, but Aszer was smart enough to drag him along.


    If he was on the battlefield, orchestrating anything would be far too difficult. All his ns would be severely crippled.


    Aric would have insisted on refusing to apany them, but he hade too far to make the king even slightly suspicious of his ambitions. The moment he was doubted, his n to thin the Byzeth forces would be easily figured out, and if the king decided against multiple raids, it would be problematic.


    "Aszer, you bastard."

 Chapter 56: Meeting

    The prince had made it back to Hitoshi¡¯s home.


    He stood in the living chamber. Around him, they all gathered¡ªSerina, Leria, n, Hitoshi, and even the carriage driver. The Rune Stone was also connected, allowing Borag, Twicher, and the Lord of Heidz to join the meeting remotely.


    Aric had called this meeting with everyone present because the current situation the king had ced him in meant that all his ns would have to work without his physical intervention. If that were the case, he needed to ensure he could delegate effectively and trust his team members to execute their parts.


    "I had a talk with Aszer two days ago... and tomorrow, the Byzeth Kingdom and its forces will begin multiple raids on Valeria... orchestrated by me."


    Hearing these words, everyone remained silent, but it was clear what was going through their minds. Was that not madness? How does one attack his own empire as an offensive against another?


    It might have seemed foolish on the surface, but there was nothing surface-level about Aric¡¯s ambition.


    "I know some of you are confused... Why would a Valerian prince lead a raid on his own kingdoms and empire? Well, that I won¡¯t exin. But do I look like a fool to any of you? And even if I ever acted like one, in the end, was I not vindicated? Was there not always a grander scheme?"


    The prince¡¯s eyes trailed over each person in the room, and although they remained silent, it was clear they agreed with him. Aric was not one to act foolishly.


    "Wait, I¡¯m sorry... Did you say Valerian prince?" Twicher¡¯s voice echoed from the Rune Stone.


    "Shut your mouth," Borag growled.


    "Listen," Aric¡¯s voice cut them off before they could continue. "I should have killed you all in that tavern at Ezra¡¯s Path, but I gave you a chance to be something more thanmon bandits. And I¡¯m giving you another now."


    Aric exhaled deeply as he walked closer to the firece. The mes danced gracefully, casting shadows on the stone walls.


    "I am a forgotten prince who seeks to take over a kingdom by attacking my own empire. If I fail, I will most certainly die¡ªwhether by Aszer¡¯s hand or for treason against Valeria. And you¡ª"


    He turned from the fire to look at them before continuing.


    "All of you will most likely die with me for my sins. However, if I seed¡ªif we do everything right¡ªthen you all will be loyal not just to a prince, but to the ruler of Byzeth, the most economically important kingdom to the empire. This victory will propel me to the forefront of the race for the crown."


    Aric slowly paced around the room.


    "Wealth, power, and glory... they will be nothingpared to the rewards of our victory."


    The prince stopped, looking each of them dead in the eyes.


    "So, I ask each one of you here, and I offer you a true choice: Will you rise or die with me, or will you leave and find your own path?"


    The room fell silent for a short moment before Borag and Twicher spoke through the Rune Stone.


    "We live to serve you, Your Highness," they proimed.


    Then Lerai followed, and n, and each of the others, saying the same phrase as they bowed their heads.


    "We live to serve you, Your Highness."


    Aric smiled¡ªa genuine one.


    "I am honored... and I will not fail you."


    He sighed as heposed himself, his tone returning to its usual stoicism.


    "Now, let¡¯s return to the matter at hand. I will not be here for a while, so you must follow my instructions carefully."


    Aric went on toy out his ns. He instructed the Lord of Heidz to work closely with Borag and his men. He would tell them who in Miredis was under his control so the bandits would leave them alone, while they wiped out all other authorities using information Hitoshi would provide.


    Once this was done, the lord would use his influence to rece those authorities with people loyal to him which would mean people loayal to the prince, increasing Aric¡¯s influence in Miredis to almost total control.


    While Miredis was being taken, Lerai would diligently work on new MPG weapons¡ªeither producing more of the current designs for Borag¡¯s men or creating new types. He would make the bandits as powerful as possible.


    n would begin training the bandits in using MPG, as he was currently the most skilled user.


    Finally, Serina would act as the cavalry. If anything were to ever go wrong or required a high-level intervention, she would step in. She would also ry updates and take advanced orders from Aric through a single Rune Stone.


    "I take it all of this is understood? Dismissed."


    Everyone nodded as they stood and dispersed, while those connected via the Rune Stone disconnected.


    This left Aric and Serina alone in the room.


    They stayed quiet for a while, simply staring at each other.


    "So... have you seeded?" Aric asked.


    "Yes, I entered the 9th circlest night," Serina replied.


    Aric nodded. "Well, congrattions... Now, for what I have taken, what is my sacrifice?"


    Serina looked deeply into his eyes.


    "You paid the price from the start¡ªyour life. It seems it was all ordained, even what you¡¯ve been given."


    "You speak to the Weaver of Bnce?"


    Serina nodded. "Yes."


    "Then how do I speak to the Weaver of Fate?"


    She shrugged. "I have no idea. Everything about you is an absurdity. Your path doesn¡¯t follow the usualws. You must understand it on your own."


    Serina tapped the chair beside her before standing.


    "Please,e sit."


    Aric walked over to the chair and sat down. Serina went behind him, cing her hands on the back of his neck.


    "Now that you¡¯ve broken through, how much more effective will this session be?" Aric asked.


    "Significantly more, especially since we¡¯ll be going all night."


    Aric nced at Serina, and she nced back. They bothughed.

 Chapter 57: The Smell of War

    The next morning at dawn.


    Aric had met up with Aszer at the castle some hours ago. From there, he and the king rode to the Miredis stretch. Aside from Ezra¡¯s Path, which ran through the heart of formidable kingdoms, Miredis also offered them a path to the kingdoms north of Valeria.


    This northern road passed through the outskirts of three of these northern kingdoms, and when goods were brought to these kingdoms, they were transported to other kingdoms through Ezra¡¯s Path. However, beyond these kingdoms was the Northern River.


    The Northern River flowed into the Stygian Sea, which was the body of water that demarcated Valeria and the Northrend Empire.


    The prince now stood, his face masked as his armor was being put on him, and around him was an army.


    Men, horses, and banners¡ªit reeked of war.


    Yet the prince stood unphased in the vast sea of soldiers, the Byzeth forces sprawling in all directions, close to a thousand men strong.


    The morning sun barely crept over the horizon, offering a pale glow on the glistening armor that was being fastened to his body. His own armor, gleaming metal with gold iys, reflected the rising light, making him appear like a figure out of legend.


    Around him, horses snorted and shifted, banners fluttered in the breeze, and the murmurs of soldiers mixed with the clinking of steel.


    The armor was heavy, but Aric bore the weight with ease that made its weight insignificant. Each piece was carefuly ced on him by the armorers, the breastte gleaming and etched with faint symbols of Valeria¡ªsymbols that now carried little meaning to him¡ªat least that is what he made them belive.


    He flexed his fingers, feeling the weight of the gauntlets, and listened to the sounds of the army preparing for battle. His eyes remained focused, mind sharp, though none could see the calcting thoughts behind the mask that concealed his face.


    Tension rose as King Aszer Hait approached, mounted on a magnificent ck warhorse draped in royal blue cloth adorned with the sigil of Byzeth. The king¡¯s armor was less ornate, more practical, yet imposing all the same. Aszer¡¯s eyes gleamed as he observed Aric, a faint smirk ying on his lips.


    "Do you like the armor, Valerian?" Aszer¡¯s voice cut through the noise, a subtle challenge in his tone.


    Aric nodded, his gaze steady. "I am thankful for it, your grace. It is... fitting."


    As the final piece of the armor was secured, Aric turned and mounted his own steed, a powerful ck stallion with muscles rippling beneath its dark hide.


    The horse was restless, its breath visible in the crisp morning air, but Aric¡¯s steady hand kept it calm. He was then handed a thin, razor-sharp sword, its polished de roaring light. Without hesitation, he mounted it onto his back, feeling the weight of the weapon resting between his shoulder des.


    Aszer watched the prince with an appraising eye. "Tell me, Valerian¡ªhow familiar are you with war?"


    Aric nced at the king, his expression unreadable beneath the mask. "I understand the concept," he said smoothly.


    "Strategy, formations, logistics." His voice remained neutral, but in truth, Aric had fought in more wars than he cared to count in his past life. Battles where blood flowed like rivers, where lives were snuffed out like candles in a storm. He knew war intimately¡ªperhaps better than anyone present.


    The king raised an eyebrow, sensing something unspoken in Aric¡¯s tone, but said nothing. Instead, he straightened on his horse and addressed the gathered army. His voice boomed across the ranks as he raised a hand,manding their attention.


    "Men of Byzeth!" Aszer called out. "This day marks the beginning of our strike against Valeria, a kingdom that has forgotten its northern borders and left its people vulnerable. But we shall remind them of our strength!" The soldiers roared in approval, raising their weapons in unison.


    ¡¯Forgotten? What bullshit¡¯ The prince thought


    Aszer gestured toward Aric. "This man¡ªyour general¡ªwill lead this raid among yourmanders. He shall be known only as ¡¯General.¡¯ His name is not to be spoken, and for those who know it, they shall never speak of it. His purpose here is singr: victory."


    The title, though simple, carried mystery. No one but Aszer, some guards and a few trusted council members knew the true identity of the masked figuremanding them.


    To the soldiers, Aric was simply the ¡¯General,¡¯ and the ambiguity suited Aric perfectly. His presence was meant to sow fear and uncertainty, both among the enemy and within the ranks.


    Aric remained silent as the king¡¯s words echoed through the crowd. Aszer then gave a sharp nod, signaling the beginning of their march. The banners lifted, the soldiers rallied, and the army began to move, the thunder of hooves and boots creating a deafening rumble that shook the earth beneath them.


    Their destination: the northern settlements of Valeria.


    A vulnerable cluster of towns that sat near the northern river, far from the heart of the empire, yet essential to its trade routes and defenses. Aric had carefully selected these locations to strike at¡ªoutskirts that, if left undefended, could cripple Valeria¡¯s influence in the region.


    These settlements were ripe for the taking, and the attack would send a clear message to the Valerian Empire.


    That was what the prince had made the king believe.


    Aszer, riding beside Aric, turned to him. "Your targets, Valerian. Do you truly believe the northern settlements will draw enough attention from the Empire?"


    Aric¡¯s gaze remained forward, calcting. "A strike from the north will rasie rm of the men of winter seeking to be appeased. It will cause amotion, but the hesitation we need aswell."


    The king seemed to consider this for a moment before nodding in agreement. "Very well. We strike as you say." He nced back at the marching soldiers, then at Aric. "But remember, Valerian¡ªthis is your test. Fail, and there will be consequences. Seed, and you may yet prove your worth."


    Aric¡¯s eyes narrowed beneath the mask. "I never fail."


    The storm of war wasing, and Aric was ready to unleash it.

 Chapter 58: Winter Has Come.

    The march began in the early morning, the army of Byzeth moving like a beast over thend, hundreds of feet trampling the dirt roads.


    The banners flew high above the mass of soldiers, each one emzoned with the royal crest of Byzeth, fluttering in the wind.


    The ng of armor, the snorting of horses, and the rhythmic march of boots filled the air, creating an almost hypnotic sound as they made their way north.


    On the first day, the weather was mild. The early autumn sun did only but warmed their backs, and thend stretched out in shades of brown and gold, thest remnants of summer hanging in the trees.


    The soldiers marched steadily, conserving their energy. Aric, mounted on his ck stallion, remained near the front, his armor gleaming under the sun.


    He was silent, observing everything, from the way the soldiers marched to how the supplies were distributed during the asional stops.


    As the day progressed, they moved through the outskirts of small viges and farnds. Peasants watched from a distance, their faces wary, knowing better than to interfere with a moving army. Aric¡¯s thoughts were far ahead, focused on the northern settlements and how the first strike would be delivered.


    By the evening, the temperature began to drop, and the soldiers set up camp in a field surrounded by sparse woods. Fires were lit, and tents erected as the men prepared for a cold night. Aric sat with Aszer and a few of the higher-ranking officers, reviewing maps and strategies by the firelight.


    They spoke in low tones, discussing their route and timing.


    "We push through tomorrow, avoiding the trade routes until we reach the northern forests," Aszer said, tracing a path on the map. "From there, it¡¯s another two days until we reach the border towns."


    Aric nodded, his eyes fixed on the map. "We¡¯ll need to increase the pace if we¡¯re to reach them before word spreads. The moment we breach the northern roads, we need to strike hard and fast."


    The fire crackled as Aszer agreed. "We march at dawn."


    --- Your journey continues at NovelBin.C?m


    On the second day, the weather shifted drastically.


    The warm autumn air had given way to a biting chill.


    As they moved further north, the trees became sparse, and the ground beneath them started to harden. By midday, the first signs of snow began to appear, light flurries that drifted down from the gray sky. The soldiers wrapped their cloaks tighter around them, their breath visible in the cold air.


    Aric rode in silence, his face obscured by the mask. His stallion¡¯s breath came out in thick clouds, and its hooves crunched against the thinyer of snow that had begun to cover the ground. Thendscape was bing more deste with each passing mile.


    The army trudged onward, the cold biting into their bones. Despite the difort, there were noints, only the grim determination of men on a mission.


    The march grew quieter as the day went on, the sound of boots against snow muffled by the nket that now covered the ground. The sky above was leaden, promising more snow toe.


    By nightfall, the snow was falling heavily, and the temperature had dropped to near freezing. The camp was set up more quickly this time, with soldiers eager to light fires and find warmth. Aric, however, seemed unaffected by the cold.


    He stood apart from the others, his breath steady as he gazed out at the nketedndscape.


    The silence of the night was eerie. Snow dampened all sound, and the wind howled through the trees like a distant wail. Aric remained vignt, knowing the harsh conditions would not slow their opposition if they caught wind of the raid.


    Aszer joined him at the edge of the camp, pulling his cloak tighter around his broad shoulders. "The cold will work to our advantage. The Valerians won¡¯t expect an attack in this weather," he said, his eyes scanning the snow-covered horizon.


    "Agreed," Aric replied, his voice low. "But the cold will also test the men. We need to reach the border towns by tomorrow night. A prolonged march in these conditions will weaken the troops."


    Aszer nodded. "We press on at first light."


    ---


    By the third day, thendscape had transformed into a frozen wilderness. Snowy thick on the ground, and the cold had be a constant, gnawing presence.


    The soldiers moved slower now, their breathsbored in the icy air.


    The horses struggled through the snow, their hooves sinking into the soft ground with each step. The wind had picked up, cutting through even the thickest cloaks.


    Aric remained at the front, his stallion snorting and stamping its hooves in the snow. The prince felt the cold biting through his armor, but he was no stranger to difort. His mind was focused on the task ahead¡ªthe northern settlements were within reach, and soon the real battle would begin.


    As they neared the northern outskirts of Valeria, the snow became deeper, and the trees thinned out until thendscape opened up into wide ins. The cold wind howled across the open fields, and in the distance, the faint outlines of the first settlement could be seen, smoke rising from the chimneys.


    Aric turned to Aszer, who had pulled his horse alongside him. "We¡¯re close," Aric said, his voice barely audible over the wind. "By nightfall, we will strike."


    Aszer grinned, his eyes gleaming with anticipation. "No, you will strike."


    "I¡¯m sorry?" Aric turned to Aszer.


    The king smiled more deviously "We do not need such arge army for a single settlement and garrison, you will lead 150 men to strike this settlement by night, I and the rest will match east and split to the other two settlements."


    "Understood" The prince nodded, the king had made another unconsulted decision, perhaps to y another of his games¡ªbut this worked in Aric¡¯s favour.


    "By the time this settlement is taken, you will be met by legionaries from the north"


    "Legionaries?" The prince asked a raised brow beneath his mask.


    "Yes, I have spoken with the men of winter like you advised, their men will join you here and you will make base as we prepare to take valeria."


    "I see" Aric nodded.


    "Let¡¯s move" Aszermanded.


    With that, the order was given, and the army pressed forward. Snow crunched beneath their feet as they advanced, their destination in sight.


    The northern settlements of Valeria would soon fall, and with it, Aric would be closer to sess.

 Chapter 59: The practicality of evil.

    As the rest of the army marched eastward with Aszer at its helm, Aric stood silently watching their departure, the wind biting at his exposed skin beneath his mask.


    The cold seemed to intensify as the king and the bulk of the forces disappeared into the horizon, leaving him with 150 soldiers in the deste, snow-covered ins.


    The settlement remained in the distance, it was faintly visible under the dusky sky.


    His soldiers, now under his solemand, began preparations. Weapons were sharpened, armor adjusted, and whispered conversations moved through the camp.


    Aric, quiet as always, observed them closely.


    These men did not know his name, only calling him "General,". They did not understand he was their enemy, nor did they realise they marched not for the rise of Byzeth but it¡¯s fall.


    It was always the same, even then he was just like them, sent to fight and die for a cause they barely understood.


    But, How else could a man¡¯s worth be decided?


    By nightfall, the settlement was barely visible through the thickening snowfall. The world around them was swallowed in darkness, the wind howling like a wild beast¡ªperfect cover for the attack.


    Aric gave the signal, and his forces moved as one¡ªas though they were a shadow creeping across the frozen ins.


    Their numbers, nearly double that of the garrison, gave them an overwhelming advantage, but Aric knew better than to be careless. Underestimating the Kirik soilders was utter foolishness, and their familiarity with the terrain could work against him.


    As they neared the settlement, Aric raised his hand to halt the men.


    He could feel it¡ªthe tension before the strike, the anticipation that licked through the air. His heart beat steadily, and a cold calm settled over him.


    There was no hesitation, no second-guessing. This was what he was born from.


    The attack began with a soft whistle¡ªa signal¡ªand the first volley of arrows flew through the night sky, raining down on the Kirik soldiers standing watch. The cries of rm followed almost instantly, but it was toote. Aric¡¯s forces were already upon them.


    "Push forward!" Aric¡¯s voice cut through the chaos as he drew his sword, it was a sleek weapon that gleamed under the barely reaching moonlight.


    The front line of Kirik soldiers met his men with resistance, but the sheer number and strength of Aric¡¯s forces quickly overwhelmed them.


    shes of steel rang out across the settlement as Byzeth soldiers, driven by the adrenaline of battle, stormed through the gates.


    Aric moved like a shadow even without using the shadow step arts, each strike calcted and lethal.


    His years of experience in his past life had made him a master of war, and it showed. His movements were fluid, precise, and devastating.


    He didn¡¯t need any grand techniques¡ªhis Ki-enhanced strength and speed he never possessed in his previous life,bined with his battle-hardened instincts, were enough. Each enemy that crossed his path fell swiftly, reduced to nothing more than bloodstains on the snow.


    The small ammout of mages and Ki cultivators among his ranks unleashed, mes erupting and bolts of energy crackling through the air, cutting down swathes of Kirik soldiers.


    The battlefield was hell, one made of magic, steel, and blood¡ªand Aric led this torment.


    The Kirik soldiers, outnumbered and outmatched, tried to mount a defense, but they were being systematically cut down.


    Aric¡¯s forces pressed forward relentlessly, giving no quarter. The snow beneath their feet was soon stained red, the bodies of the fallen littering the ground like broken dolls.


    As the battle raged on, Aric¡¯s cold, calcting eyes scanned the field. Every move was part of arger n, each strike a step toward a greater victory.


    He maneuvered his soldiers with precision, directing them like pieces on a board, exploiting every weakness in the Kirik defenses.


    Experience more tales on NovelBin.C?m


    It wasn¡¯t long before the tide turnedpletely in Aric¡¯s favor. The Kirik forces, reduced to nearly half their original numbers, began to falter. Some tried to retreat, only to be cut down by Aric¡¯s men. Others, realizing the futility of their situation, threw down their weapons and surrendered.


    The settlement was theirs, just like this night¡¯s victory was theirs.


    The air was choked with the metal ooze of blood and smoke as Aric¡¯s soldiers rounded up the surviving Kirik soldiers.


    The remaining garrison, a few dozen men, were forced to their knees in the snow, hands bound and heads bowed. Their leader, a grizzled veteran, stared defiantly at Aric as he was dragged forward, blood dripping from a wound on his forehead.


    The soldiers surrounding them grinned wickedly, knives drawn and pressed against the throats of the captives. One of Aric¡¯s captains approached him, bowing slightly.


    "General," he said, his voice eager. "Shall we ughter them?"


    Aric, still breathing steadily from the battle, gazed down at the kneeling soldiers, their faces pale with fear and exhaustion. He looked at them for a moment, as though considering it, before he shook his head.


    "No," he said coldly. "Not yet."


    The Kirik garrison leader, struggling against his bindings, raised his head, his voice hoarse but firm. "Spare them," he rasped. "Spare the people living in this settlement¡ªthey are not soilders. Leave them be."


    A dark chuckle escaped Aric¡¯s lips as he stepped forward, his shadow looming over the kneeling man. "You are right, I have no reason to kill them."


    The garrison leader¡¯s shoulders sagged in relief for a brief moment, but the gleam in Aric¡¯s eyes quickly turned that relief to dread.


    "But a message must be sent... Go into the settlement" Aricmanded, turning to his soldiers. "Bring them out. Burn their homes."


    The garrison leader¡¯s eyes widened in horror, and he screamed in protest, struggling violently against his captors. "No! You can¡¯t do this! They¡¯re innocent!"


    Aric met the man¡¯s desperate gaze, his voice a cold whisper. "Innocence is irrelevant in war."


    As the soldiers moved to carry out his orders, Aric turned away from the pleading cries of the garrison leader.


    The mes that would soon engulf the settlement reflected off his armor as he strode forward, his boots crunching on the crimson snow.


    ¡¯Empires are forged from blood and brutality, yes, I am not evil... Only practical¡¯ The prince thought.


    How easy it was for a man to delude himself.

 Chapter 60: A Dreadful Warmth

    The smell of war was always a bitter tang in the air.


    The scent of iron and fear lingered in the chill bite of the winter breeze, and the undercurrent of smoke only rose as fires began to re.


    By Aric¡¯smand, the Byzeth soldiers marched into the settlements, dragging families out of their homes before promptly setting the houses on fire. Men pleaded for their families, women pleaded for their children, and the little ones could only cry and scream, adding to the symphony of disaster as their homes crackled in the mes.


    The dark winter night was painted orange by the mes, and as Aric gazed at the chaos he wrought, his dark mask glowed gold from the fire reflected upon it.


    He could hear the screams of themunity and their pleas, but he remained indifferent, his heart and mind as cold as the winter chill that bit through the steel of his armor.


    At some point, one would consider that perhaps, in chasing his own goals, the prince had gone too far. Now, he had the blood of soldiers from a loyal empire¡¯s kingdom on his hands. Was his conquest over Byzeth worth a war with other kingdoms?


    Maybe not, but Aric¡¯s conquest would not stop at Byzeth alone.


    He looked down at his sword, a sturdy and swift de. The blood of the men he had killed that night still stained its silver steel.


    Aric had ughtered many men in war, perhaps too many to count, and many of them were good men, many with families they did not return to. However, when standing on the battleground, there were no good or bad men, only enemies and allies.


    And it was kill or be killed.


    That, in itself, was the brutality of war.


    Aric sighed, his breath cold as he began to move from where he stood, watching as almost the entirety of the settlement was now aze with mes, so much so that it lit up the night as though it was day.


    Those within the settlement were gathered outside the town, crying andforting themselves as they watched their homes burn to the ground in an unexpected raid from an army that flew the banner of a kingdom under their own empire.


    Aric walked before themunity of almost three hundred people. He climbed atop the tform his soldiers made from crates as all eyes turned to him.


    They did not need another look to know that this was the man¡ªthe one who had ordered the destruction of their home and ughtered their protectors. His face was masked; if not, they would have engraved it in their minds and sworn revenge. They did not know his name, or else they would have cursed it every second of their waking life.


    And his armor¡­ well, that only made them feel fear¡ªan imposing figure that challenged their audacity.


    Aric regarded them in silence, and no one could see it under his mask, but he felt pity.


    Regardless, he did what he needed to. Perhaps, if the Northern Legionaries were not about to arrive, he would not have touched their homes, but Aric had said it to the king, and his words were truth¡ªthe Northrenders needed action, to see raids andmunities burned.


    How would it have looked if they were to meet them and themunity they raided still lived happily and normally?


    He was merciful, not a fool¡ªand his mercy was the air they could still breathe.


    "I can only imagine the dread you all must feel," Aric began, all of them turning to him with teary eyes as he addressed themunity. "To watch your world crumble before your eyes, and be too powerless to oppose."


    "It isn¡¯t fair¡­ but life has never been such a thing," Aric sighed. "None of you will die, not by my de at least¡­ or that of my men. By morning, you all shall leave for the Kirik Kingdom. By foot, the journey should not take more than a day, and there are several towns along your way. When you reach this town, you may rest, eat, and warn them of our arrival.


    Let the civilians depart, and you all must head to the inner kingdom and ry what happened here."


    The crowd¡¯sments and cries had slowly begun to die down. Yes, their homes were still in mes, but they were all alive and promised not to be killed. If they went inward into Kirik, as long as they still had their lives, there was hope.


    And such a thing was a rarity in war.


    "Rest, and let the mes of your burning home offer you warmth¡­ you all embark on a long journey tomorrow."


    Aric walked off the tform, his men beginning to set up base at the previous garrison outpost as the fire raged on.


    ¡ª¡ª¡ª


    The prince took the former chamber of the previous garrison leader. He zipped therge tent behind him, ordering not to be disturbed. He walked to the middle, drawing his sword from his back, ncing at it a while beforeying it to the side of the small mattress.


    He sat on it, his armor nging as he did.


    ¡¯Status window¡¯


    ¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª-


    Name: Aric Valerian


    Title: Forgotten Prince, General


    Race: Human


    Level: Martial Knight (1) / Tier 1 Mage (Second Circle)


    Martial Mage Level: 2


    Health (HP): 90/90


    Stamina: 90/90


    Ki: 70/100 (Restricted)


    Mana (MP): 20/20


    Your adventure continues at NovelBin.C?m


    Attributes:


    - Strength: 54


    - Agility: 47


    - Endurance: 45


    - Intelligence: 6


    ¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª


    The difference was significant since he hadst checked. It seemed after Serina had broken through to the next circle, in thest session alone, she was able to heal him quite significantly. His health was now only 10 points away from a hundred, and so was his stamina.


    However, more importantly, his Ki was only thirty percent restricted, down from the original eighty percent restriction back at his estate. He had already noticed the difference¡ªhe was faster, stronger, and had dispatched enemy soldiers with an ease he had never experienced¡­ so much so that no martial skill was necessary.


    Finally, what intrigued him the most was the mage level. He had somehow advanced to the second circle without even doing anything, and as a result, his mana and martial mage level had increased.


    For Serina, she exined her advancement was determined through a system of sacrifice and reward, which made sense as she was tethered to the Weaver of Bnce.


    So for him, who was of the Weaver of Fate¡­ how did his advancement work?


    ¡¯And the subspace Serina was in¡­ how do I reach my own?¡¯

 Chapter 61: Legion

    Morning came, and usually this would have been announced to Aric by the chirping of birds in the sky, but there was no such thing. Here it was far too cold for birds to fly, and even the sunlight came in a pale, gloomy glow. There was barely any warmth in its rays.


    Aric had donned his armor again, and he went to the water reservoir that was ced within the tent. He dipped both hands in it before sshing his face with the freezing cold water. It was only then he realized the stains of blood on his hands, none of it his.


    It belonged to the men he had felled the previous night.


    He soaked his hands in the water and scrubbed to wash away the blood, as if washing their murders off his hands along with the crimson stains, but he knew better¡ªsuch a sin was one that would follow him all his life.


    He stood, looking at his face in the reflection of the water a while before he heard a call from outside the tent.


    "General!" one of the soldiers eximed. "The Northrenders¡¯ legionaries have arrived."


    "Understood," Aric replied, his eyes still fixated on his reflection in the water.


    He stretched his right hand to the table not far from him and grabbed his mask, then watched his reflection as he slowly covered his face with it.


    "Quite fitting, no?" the prince mumbled to himself.


    He let out a short sigh as he turned. He walked to the side of his bed where his swordy, picking it up and fastening it on his back before promptly walking out of the tent.


    "General!" both soldiers who guarded the tent saluted.


    "With me," Aric said calmly as he walked past them, both soldiers swiftly following behind him by hismand.


    Aric noticed the fire from the previous night had died down, and what was left of it was ash from homes that once sprawled across this settlement.


    "The settlers, have they departed?" the prince asked.


    "Yes, a few hours ago," one of the soldiers responded.


    "Good," Aric said, relieved. It would have been quite the issue if the Northrenders found them as they arrived.


    As Aric strode through the camp, the snow crunched beneath his boots, and the cold air bit at his exposed skin. His mask, now firmly in ce, hid the expression of contemtion that had been etched across his face moments before.


    He felt the weight of the sword on his back and the echo ofst night¡¯s events in his mind, but his thoughts quickly shifted as he spotted the approaching figures in the distance¡ªthe Northrenders.


    In a swift count he discerned they were about fifty of them, their silhouettes emerging through the pale mist that hung in the air.


    These were no ordinary soldiers. Born and bred in blood and winter, they carried themselves with an aura of lethal calm. Their armor was dark and formidable, a mixture of hide and metal, lined with thick furs to protect them from the biting cold.


    Their helmets, adorned with the bones of beasts, projected long shadows across their faces, making them seem almost otherworldly. Heavy gauntlets wrapped around their arms, and their boots¡ªthick and reinforced¡ªcrushed the snow as if it were nothing.


    They did not ride horses like the soldiers of Byzeth. Instead, theymanded creatures far more fearsome¡ªmassive beasts, twice the size of any warhorse, with thick, shaggy fur and gleaming red eyes.


    These creatures had curved horns, sharp enough to impale, and wed feet that left deep impressions in the snow. Their breaths came out in great clouds of steam, their snarls barely suppressed under the firm control of their riders.


    And at the head of the column, leading them, was a woman unlike any Aric had seen before.


    She was tall and striking, her presencemanding. Her skin was pale as snow, yet her aura radiated a terrifying strength. The sheer amount of Ki that flowed from her was nearly suffocating. Her long, flowing purple hair cascaded over her shoulders, contrasting against the dark furs and armor she wore.


    Her eyes were the same vivid violet as her hair, glowing faintly with power, their intensity making it hard to hold her gaze for long.


    Her armor was sleek but sturdy, fashioned from ckened steel that clung to her curvy frame, with fur trim around the cor and wrists. Her chest te, though form-fitting, bore the scars of countless battles, proof of her hardened life.


    A massive two-handed axe hung from her back, its de etched with runes, a weapon that seemed far toorge for her slender figure¡ªbut Aric knew better than to underestimate her. She exuded a sense of untenable power, and the cold around her seemed to bend to her will.


    As the Northrenders approached, the soldiers of Byzeth in the camp stiffened, their eyes widening at the sight of the terrifying warriors. The Ki flowing from the Northrender legionaries was choking, like an unbearable weight pressing down on the battlefield. These were more predators than they were soldiers.


    The woman at the front brought her beast to a halt a few feet away from Aric. Her piercing violet gaze met his, and for a moment, neither of them moved. She studied him, as though appraising his worth, her eyes narrowing behind the mist of her breath.


    "You must be the one they call ¡¯General,¡¯" she said, her voice deep andced with a certain seductive arrogance.


    Aric nodded, his voice steady behind his mask. "And you must be themander of this legion."


    A smirk curled her lips, and she swung down from her beast with a fluid grace that belied her size. As shended on the snow, the ground seemed to tremble slightly beneath her.


    "I am Yrsa," she said, her hand resting on the hilt of her axe. "Commander of the Winterborn. We¡¯vee as agreed."


    Aric inclined his head, observing her and the legion behind her. "Your timing is impable, Commander Yrsa."


    She chuckled, the sound low and dangerous. "It always is. Now tell me, ¡¯General,¡¯ what is it you n to do with this settlement? I trust the fires were not just for warmth?"


    Aric¡¯s eyes flickered toward the ashen remains of the settlement. "They were actually," he said coolly. "This is just the beginning however. Your legion will be instrumental in what¡¯s toe."


    Yrsa¡¯s smirk widened, and the air between them crackled with tension. "Good. The men of winter are eager for blood."


    Aric turned his gaze to the legionaries behind her, their eyes gleaming with the same hunger for battle. There was no fear in their eyes¡ªonly the readiness to unleash carnage.


    "Then they shall have it," Aric said, his voice dark andmanding. "We battle again soon. Yrsa, you and your men will be on the front line."


    "Exactly where we belong," she replied, her purple eyes gleaming with anticipation.


    Aric gave a curt nod. As he turned away, leading them deeper into the camp to prepare for the next phase of their conquest, he could feel the burden of her gaze still on him. He weed it.


    Blood would soon flow in excess.

 Chapter 62: When all is divided, what remains?

    Inside the war tent, there was a lingering tension, thick it was, mingling with the scent of burning oil from the dimly litnterns.


    At the center of the room, a map of the northern territories was spread across the dark wooden table, its edges weighed down by daggers, small stones, and empty mugs. Aric stood over it, his eyes tracing the lines of the settlements he had marked, his mask casting a cold shadow over his face.


    Across from him stood Yrsa, the Legionmander. Her imposing frame was wrapped in thick furs, her violet eyes gleaming with both curiosity and wariness. The weight of her two-handed axe seemed almost irrelevant against her slender form. Enjoy exclusive content from NovelBin.C?m


    Behind her, a handful of Northrender warriors stood, each of them radiating quiet, deadly confidence. Their presence brought clear intimidation, but beneath it was a sense of assurance¡ªperhaps more significant than slight¡ªthat at any moment, without hesitation, they were more than prepared for battle.


    "General," Yrsa¡¯s voice cut through the silence, carrying both suspicion and intrigue. "We¡¯ve seen your effort, and I¡¯m certain you summoned us for more than just a recount ofst night¡¯s victory. Speak inly. What is it you propose?"


    Aric¡¯s hand hovered over the map, his finger resting on the northernmost settlement that had just fallen under hismand the night before. The ash and blood still lingered in the snow outside, a testament to the ruthlessness of the Northrenders and the efficiency of his own soldiers.


    His gaze lifted to Yrsa, the fire of his unspoken ambitions flickering beneath the cold mask on his face.


    "The Valerian Empire is fractured," Aric began, his voice smooth and calcted. "Their northern settlements are weak, and their attention is scattered. The Byzeth King and I have ns to exploit this, but..." He trailed off, letting the word linger, knowing it would pique Yrsa¡¯s curiosity.


    Yrsa raised an eyebrow, leaning closer. "But?"


    "The Valerians will not fall without resistance. Their forces are spread thin, yes, but we need to ensure they have no time to regroup. That is where you and your warriorse in."


    She crossed her arms, her eyes narrowing. "And what exactly are you asking of us, General? If it¡¯s a venture we seek, we will make use of it."


    Aric smirked behind his mask, stepping closer to her side of the table, his voice lowering as if the n he was about to unveil was only the beginning of something far more sinister¡ªand it was. "I wholeheartedly trust your strength and your men, Yrsa. And strength is what we need now more than ever. I propose a series of rapid, devastating strikes on the remaining northern settlements."


    He pointed to several locations scattered along the map¡ªoutposts, small towns, and fortified garrisons, all within Valerian territory.


    "We strike them one by one. Hard, fast, and without mercy. But here¡¯s the key¡ªtheir positions are designed to protect the heart of the empire. By focusing our attacks on these settlements, we can drive the Valerians to panic, spreading their forces even thinner."


    Yrsa¡¯s expression shifted slightly, her eyes calcting. "You¡¯re suggesting we carve a path through the settlements to cripple Valeria¡¯s defenses?"


    "Exactly." Aric nodded, tapping one particr settlement. "The more they stretch themselves to protect these insignificant ces, the less able they are to guard the real prize. Once their forces are scattered and weakened, they¡¯ll have no choice but to fall back to protect their capital."


    "And what do we gain from this?" Yrsa asked, though she clearly already understood the advantage.


    Aric let out a low chuckle. "Glory. Blood. The spoils of war. And, of course, when the timees to sack their capital, you and your legions will be the ones to lead the charge. It will be your name they whisper in fear.


    You will be the hammer that crushes the Valerian Empire."


    Yrsa¡¯s lips curled into a smile. "A tempting offer, General. But you know we Northrenders do not fight for glory alone."


    Aric knew this wasing. He had prepared for it.


    "And you won¡¯t. Once the northern territories fall, the Byzeth King will grant you dominion over the northernmostnds¡ªthe ces where winter reigns for endless days. Is this not soothing to you, Commander? You will have the freedom to rule it as you see fit, and your people, as well as your empire, will possess morend to rule beyond the northern sea.


    The Northrend Empire will have more than just respect. You¡¯ll have power andnd¡ªsomething that will surely leave the Draken... confused, annoyed even."


    She paused for a long moment, her gaze flickering between Aric and the map. He could see the thoughts hidden behind her violet eyes.


    He needed her to believe this was all for the conquest of Valeria, and that Byzeth¡¯s rebellion was the true key to her people¡¯s resurgence. In truth, it was Byzeth¡¯s throne he had his sights on¡ªbut Yrsa and her legion didn¡¯t need to know that¡ªnot until it was far toote.


    Yrsa turned to the warriors behind her. A silent exchange passed between them before she looked back at Aric, her decision clear. "Very well, General. We will strike as you say. The settlements will burn, and the Valerians will bleed."


    "Good," Aric said, a dark satisfaction creeping into his voice. "The faster we move, the greater the panic we cause. Once they¡¯re scattered, we¡¯ll have a clear path to their heart. They won¡¯t stand a chance."


    As Yrsa and her legionaries left the tent, Aric lingered by the map. His fingers traced over the Byzeth Kingdom, a dark smirk hidden beneath his mask. The Northrenders would now serve his true purpose. An empire of terrifyingly formidable strength would now do his bidding.


    The chaos they would sow among the settlements would weaken not only the Valerian defenses but also Byzeth¡¯s, leaving Aszer¡¯s forces vulnerable for the day Aric would strike.


    In the end, he could feel the cold touch of that iron throne, and he was now closer than ever. His road to conquering Byzeth was clear, and along it would be a trail of blood¡ªbut that was irrelevant.

 Chapter 63: Progress at Byzeth

    Over a weekter.


    Aric stood in his tent and had made sure to dismiss the soldiers standing guard outside. Now, he stood alone, staring at the rune stone on the table, waiting for Serina to connect as they had agreed. She would inform him about the current status of things back in Byzeth.


    Suddenly, as he watched and waited, the rune stone began to glow and sh a blue light.


    "Yes," he called out, confirming if Serina was on the other end.


    "Your Highness," the mage called back.


    "Serina, good," Aric muttered, stepping closer. "So, what¡¯s the situation?"


    "The lord and bandits worked incredibly fast. Lerai was also swift in making more MPGs, and around 70 percent of the bandits now possess a pair. As a result of their current strength, they were able topletely take the stretch of Miredis in just five days."


    Aric received the confirmation, but he already knew. A few days ago, he had gotten quite the surprising system notification:


    [You now have full control over the Miredis stretch.]


    He was surprised, although he had emphasized the need for them to work swiftly, they had all gotten the job done faster than he initially projected.


    "That¡¯s good to hear. How are Borag and his men doing concerning the other thing?" Aric asked.


    "As well as you would expect bandits to. Even better now that they¡¯ve be more formidable. Thirty percent of all goods being transported have been stolen and handed over to the lord of Heidz.


    Traders areining and refusing to continue transporting goods unless the royal army intervenes, but as you know, they aren¡¯t around, and what was left of them were quickly dispatched by the bandits when confronted."


    "Excellent," Aric nodded with a smile. "And what of the goods going to the Northrenders?"


    "Of the thirty percent of goods seized by the bandits, most were meant for the Northrenders. Currently, half of the already-paid goods being transported to the north have been seized. The rest was followed by around thirty bandits, who will attack the receiving northern traders.


    They were also given the activation rune for if they are cornered, which will override and multiply their MPG strength by a hundredfold," Serina exined.


    "It seems Lerai did well," Aric grinned.


    "I don¡¯t know much about MPG or how Lerai makes them, but I¡¯m certain that amount of strength can¡¯t be forced out of mana crystals. Is that really meant to multiply strength a hundredfold?"


    "No," the prince shook his head. "When it¡¯s activated, it blows them all up. I can¡¯t have loose ends."


    "I guess that¡¯s smart¡­" Serina muttered. "At this point, the bandits could raid the capital and take the throne with ease. There will be no resistance. Why wait?"


    Aric shook his head.


    "No, there are two reasons we can¡¯t do that: First, if we take Byzeth while its army is out fighting useless wars, when they return, we¡¯ll be easily defeated. I must ensure all who are loyal to Aszer die here, along with him. Secondly, although it might seem there will be no resistance, there is a formidable group guarding the throne."


    "There is?" Serina asked, intrigued.


    "Yes, they call themselves the Lotus 14, mages of extreme power. From what I was told, they could be stronger than you¡ªall fourteen of them. They are a squad of women loyal to the Byzeth throne and hence its king. I met them once before, and although I didn¡¯t know who they were at the time, I could feel they were dangerous. If you raid the castle now, you will all die swiftly."


    "Tch, that sounds quite problematic. How do you n to handle it?" Serina asked.


    "They are loyal to the throne and the king who sits on it. If I hand them the head of Aszer and take the throne, they will serve me. No altercation needed."


    "Ah, then it seems everything is still advancing well?" Serinamented.


    "It seems so," Aric agreed.


    Explore hidden tales at NovelBin.C?m


    "Well¡­" Serina muttered.


    "What?" Aric asked, slightly panicked.


    "Old man Hitoshi said he got information that news of the Byzeth raid has reached imperial ears. Some say the imperial squad, led by the First Prince, should have soone and leveled Byzeth, but the emperor insists they don¡¯t take such action. Instead, some men have been sent to the north."


    Aric sighed in relief.


    "That is great information. Make sure to connect again as nned," Aric instructed.


    "Understood, Your Highness," Serina said, disconnecting from the stone as the rune stopped shing.


    Aric took a deep breath and exhaled again, a slight smile tugging at the edge of his lips.


    "I guess I am grateful to you this time as well, Father¡­for believing in me."


    The emperor had bought Aric more time, but regardless, he still didn¡¯t have much of it. He would need to finish things as soon as possible.


    Everything was set up. Soon, word would reach the legion that the Byzeth Kingdom had begun to cheat them, harass their traders, and rob them. At that time, Aric would have already brought the legion to Aszer, who would question the king. Egos would sh, and eventually, they would battle.


    When the backing of the Northrenders is lost, added with the fact they have already picked a war with Valeria, all soldiers would know all hope was lost and that nothing awaited them but death.


    That is when Aric would strike, not as the general, but as the Imperial Prince of Valeria.


    He would promise these soldiers their lives would be spared by Valeria if they denounced the king, and he would promise the Northrenders a continued trade rtionship with Byzeth, with fairer prices and without Aszer¡¯s dishonesty, along with thend of the settlement they had already conquered.


    This was a deal the Northrenders would simply be unable to refuse, as they would prefer that over trading at the steep prices of the Draken Empire, their rivals.


    Aric couldn¡¯t stop himself fromughing maniacally as heid out his strategy.


    "Could this n be any more perfect?" heughed.

 Chapter 64: Warmth.

    As Aric¡¯sughter died down, he was interrupted by a soldier calling from outside the tent.


    "General," the man spoke with slight urgency, his breath visible in the cold night air. "Commander Yrsa has summoned you."


    Aric stood,posing himself. "I¡¯ll be there shortly."


    Pulling on his cloak over his nightware, he stepped outside into the biting wind.


    The moon was rather low in the sky, painting a faint, silver glow over the camp.


    Fires flickered in the distance, and the sounds of soldiers resting as they prepared for a long march filled the otherwise quiet night. Aric made his way across the camp, the cold gnawing at his skin, without his armor on, the cold seemed to prate far much easier.


    Upon reaching Yrsa¡¯s tent, he stood at the entrance for a moment before calling out, "Commander, may I enter?"


    A smooth voice answered from within. "Come in, Aric."


    He hesitated for a brief second. She had used his name, not his title.


    It was an unexpected shift, but he did not let his surprise show. Pushing the p aside, he stepped into the warmth of the tent. The heat from the withing the tent hit him instantly, a weed diffrence to the biting chill that was outside.


    His eyes quickly took in the sight before him. Yrsa was reclined in a tub of steaming water, her curvaceous body partially submerged. The waterpped gently around her thighs, and the upper swells of her breasts were visible above the surface. Her violet eyes sparkled with amusement as she caught Aric¡¯s nce.


    "We Northrenders often relish the cold," Yrsa remarked casually, her voiceced with a teasing edge. "But sometimes, a hot bath is... interesting." She stretched slightly, her wet skin gleaming in the warm light of the litnterns.


    Aric cleared his throat, forcing himself to meet her gaze and keep his expression neutral.


    "I see, Commander."


    "Yrsa," she corrected him. "I was already been informed by Aszer you know? He told me everything." Her eyes narrowed slightly as she studied him.


    Aric felt a flicker of rm, but he kept his calm. "Everything?"


    "Don¡¯t y coy with me, Aric," Yrsa said, her tone direct and unwavering. "I want to understand why you¡ªan imperial prince¡ªwould want to aid us in taking over your empire."


    Aric¡¯s mind raced. She wasn¡¯t a fool. He had always known Yrsa was sharp, but now, with her studying him so intently, he felt pressured by her curiosity and suspicion. Still, he couldn¡¯t reveal his full intentions.


    "Revenge," he said simply, keeping his expression cold. "My reasons are my own, Commander, but rest assured, it¡¯s revenge that drives me."


    Yrsa let the silence linger, her eyes probing his as if seeking the deeper truth behind his words. Aric did not flinch. After what felt like an eternity, she leaned futher back in the tub, her legs shifting with her eyes still on him.


    "Revenge, hmm?" She muttered thoughtfully, then stood from the water in one smooth, graceful motion. Water cascaded off her toned body, running in rivulets down her bare skin, glistening in the firelight.


    She made no effort to hide her nakedness, and Aric¡ªthough slightly taken aback¡ªdid not look away.


    She stepped out of the tub and reached for a towel, slowly and loosely wrapping it around herself, her eyes never leaving his. The silence between them was almost suffocating, it carried a tension that Aric couldn¡¯t help but think only him was weighed down by.


    "You¡¯re a bold one," Yrsa finally said with a small, approving smile as she sat back down, crossing one leg over the other. The movement revealed a long stretch of her thigh, but Aric¡¯s eyes remained steady, focused on her face.


    Aric allowed himself the faintest smirk. "I am."


    A moment passed before he shifted the conversation. "I¡¯ve received word," he began, stepping toward the map pinned on the far side of the tent. "The two other main settlements have fallen. While we took this settlement King Aszer had led an army to the other two himself, cutting through any resistance."


    Yrsa¡¯s eyes sharpened. "Good. The coward king might finall earn a more respectable title among us"


    Aric had said many things to convince the king, but it seemed most of his words were infact truth, the Northrenders had indeedbeled him a coward for thinking he could sit safely in a castle and have them fight his rebellion for him.


    "We¡¯ll head toward him soon," Aric continued, tracing a line across the map with his gloved hand. "On our way, we¡¯ll raid every nned garrison and settlement, just as we¡¯ve discussed. When we reach Aszer, we¡¯ll be ready to face the Valerian forces that are sure toe for us."


    Yrsa stood, moving to his side to examine the map. Her proximity was close enough for Aric to feel the heat radiating from her still-wet skin.


    "And when theye?" Yrsa asked, her eyes gleaming with battle hunger.


    "By then," Aric said, "the imperial city will be defenseless. The emperor is holding back his forces, but they can¡¯t dy forever. When they send their troops north, Valeria¡¯s heart will be exposed. That¡¯s when we strike."


    A slow smile spread across Yrsa¡¯s lips. "I like it. A bold n, indeed."


    "Bold is the only way forward," Aric replied, his voice calm but resolute.


    "When do we march?" she asked, her anticipation clear.


    "By morning tomorrow," Aric said, stepping back. "Prepare your men. We¡¯ll be ready."


    Yrsa nodded, her gaze lingering on him as he turned to leave. As he stepped back into the cold night, Aric could feel nothing but the satisfaction of his nsing together.


    Yrsa may have questioned his motives momentarily, but she would y her part in the grand scheme. Soon, Byzeth would fall, and the Northrenders would serve their purpose¡ªunknowingly aiding him in his true conquest. Explore more at NovelBin.C?m


    And when the time came, He would rise from the ashes and blood of what was once the rulers of Byzeth.

 Chapter 65: Northern Beasts

    The cold morning air stung Aric''s skin as he stepped out of his tent, now fully d in the gifted steel armor of a Byzeth general.


    The soldiers were already at work, dismantling the camp with practiced efficiency. The Northrender warriors moved in a way akin to shadows in the frostden dawn, silent but precise, preparing for the march ahead.


    Aric made his way toward his horse, a stallion as ck as night, though its temperament seemed to have soured.


    The cold had started to affect not only the soldiers but the animals as well. His horse snorted angrily, stamping its hooves in irritation as Aric tried to steady it. It bucked slightly, resisting his grip on the reins. He gritted his teeth, cursing under his breath as he tried to bring it under control.


    From the corner of his eye, he noticed Yrsa watching him, her piercing gaze like a burning me at his side. The Northrendermander, already armored in her furs and leathers, strode toward him with that same confident, predatory grace she always carried.


    "Horses are weak," she remarked, her tone filled with disdain. She crossed her arms over her chest, watching as Aric struggled with the stallion. "Have you ever ridden a Kriger?"


    Aric turned to her, eyeing the massive beasts that the Northrender legion had arrived with. They were far different from anything he''d ever seen in the southernnds. Standing taller than any warhorse, their fur was thick and shaggy, with muscr bodies and glowing eyes that seemed more attuned to the harshness of the far north.


    "Is that what those are?" he asked, nodding toward one of the creatures.


    Yrsa nodded, a smirk tugging at her lips. "Yes. Krigers. One of the many beasts that roam the far north. They''re far stronger than any horse, and the cold doesn''t affect them. They''re bred for endurance and war."


    She gave a low whistle, and one of the beasts trotted over, itsrge hooves crunching through the snow. Yrsa ran her hand along its neck, calming it effortlessly.


    "This one''s called Skadi," she said, the name rolling off her tongue with the reverence of someone who spoke thenguage the name belonged to. "Get on."


    Aric hesitated for a moment, eyeing the beast. Its sheer size and the wild look in its eyes gave him pause. "I think I''ll stick with my stallion," he said, but Yrsa shook her head.


    "Nonsense," she disagreed, her tone firm. "The stallion will die before the day''s end in this cold. You want to survive, don''t you?" Her violet eyes locked onto his, daring him.


    With a resigned sigh, Aric approached the Kriger. He took the reins, and with a small leap, he mounted the creature''s back.


    Immediately, he could feel the difference¡ªit wasn''t like riding a horse. The Kriger''s wild spirit was considerable beneath him, its muscles rippling as it shifted beneath his weight. He gripped the reins tightly, trying to direct it like he would any other mount, but the Kriger had no intention of obeying him.


    It reared back suddenly, letting out a roar-like growl as it bucked and jerked violently.


    "Whoa!" Aric tried to steady it, but the Kriger refused to be tamed. It bolted forward, nearly throwing him off, and he struggled to hold on as the beast surged through the camp, wild and unyielding. The Northrender soldiers erupted intoughter, their booming voices echoing through the frigid air.


    Yrsa stood by, arms crossed, watching with amusement as Aric fought to control the Kriger. After a moment, she let out a shortugh and gave another sharp whistle. Instantly, the Kriger stopped in its tracks, turning obediently back toward her. With a hand gesture, she calmed the creature, bringing it to a halt beside her.


    Aric let out a frustrated sigh, but before he could dismount, Yrsa was already moving. She climbed up onto the Kriger, seating herself in front of him. Her body was close, and Aric''s hands naturally fell to her waist as she took the reins from his grip.


    "You''re going about it all wrong," she said, not looking back at him but clearly enjoying his difort. "A Kriger is not a horse, and it won''t respond to the samemands. You have to be firm, but not rigid. Control it through its instincts, not against them."


    Her hands guided his, showing him the subtleties of handling the reins. The warmth of her body against his was an unexpected distraction, but Aric still did his upmost to focus on learning. The Kriger shifted beneath them again, but this time, it was calm, moving in sync with Yrsa''s subtle gestures.


    "See?" she said, ncing over her shoulder with a teasing smile. "Not so difficult once you begin to follow it''s rhythm"


    Aric nodded, regaining his confidence. "I''ll admit, it''s different. But I''ll manage."


    With that, Yrsa dismounted gracefully,nding in the snow with a soft thud. She made her way over to another Kriger, mounting her own beast in one fluid motion.


    The Byzeth soldiers had finished packing up their camp, and they now were all prepared to move. The dark, looming shapes of the Krigers dotted the snow-coveredndscape, their breath fogging the air as they awaited their riders.


    Aric, now in full control of his Kriger, gave a nod to Yrsa. She returned it with a smile, then looked over her troops.


    "March!" Yrsa called, her voice ringing out through the cold morning air. The legion began to move as one, the Krigers'' heavy footfalls echoing through the frozenndscape, while the still capable horses were rode by the Byzeth soldiers, and the incapacitated horses were left behind to die.


    Aric rode at the head of the column, the beast beneath him surging forward with surprising power. Each step the beast beneath him took only brought him ever slightly closer topleting his goal.


    He exhaled an icy chill beneath his mask but the cold didn''t bother him anymore.

 Chapter 66: Anybody home?

    They had reached.


    After a march of a few long hours through the biting cold, Aric and his army were now standing before a small outpost town.


    It was quite frankly a deste ce, east of the settlement Aric and his men had burned to the ground only days prior.


    The outpost was little more than a cluster of wooden structures, covered in frost, their roofs sagging under the weight of the snow atop them. The town, or what was left of it, looked abandoned.


    No smoke rose from the chimneys, no signs of life could be seen in the icy streets. Only silence greeted them¡ªa silence as chilling as the air.


    Aric''s eyes scanned the surroundings, his breath fogging the air in front of him.


    He dismounted from the Kriger with a sharp thud, his armored boots crunching through the ice-covered ground. Raising a hand, he signaled for his soldiers to halt. None were to follow him beyond this point.


    His orders were clear, and they watched silently as the prince ventured deeper into the heart of the outpost alone.


    His grip began to tighten on the hilt of the sword slung across his back, the weight of the steel carried his sharp readiness for any engagement.


    He had told the settlers to inform the towns as they traveled, so he expected the guarding soldier would have prepared for them.


    His steps were slow, deliberate, and cautious. He knew this silence was not natural, not just from desertion.


    No, this silence reeked of intent¡ªit felt as though danger was waiting just beyond his senses. If he had given the settlers fair warning of his arrival, it was only natural that they had waited, that they had anticipated him.


    And now, they would attack.


    As if on cue, three figures appeared from the shadows, surrounding him in an instant.


    Their movements were swift, deadly, as if ghosts emerging from the gloom. Mana red on their weapons, lighting up the icy air with elemental energy¡ªdes of fire, arcs of lightning, and swirling winds.


    With no hesitation, they attacked, their des slicing through the air with terrifying speed, descending on Aric from all sides.


    But the prince only grinned.


    Their des struck¡ªat least, they thought so. As their weapons sliced through him, his form dissipated into wisps of ck, and left behind nothing but cold air where he had once stood.


    It was a shadow. An afterimage.


    Aric reappeared several meters away, his back to them, standing as if he werepletely unfazed by the ambush. The Shadow step art made him move faster than their eyes could track, and they could only sh at nothing but illusions.


    Three new attackers, unfettered by theirrades'' initial failure, regrouped quickly. Their hands glowed with ki as they begun their next assault¡ªdes of me came to life, swirling toward him, cutting through the frozen air swiftly.


    But Aric didn''t move. He didn''t attempt to evade.


    The ki attacks collided against an invisible barrier that materialized in front of him, shimmering like ss. The mes, the energy, all of it evaporated upon contact, unable to pierce the wall of defense that Aric had effortlessly conjured.


    He turned his head slightly, his eyes narrowing as he regarded his attackers with cold indifference. "Is that all?" he asked, his voice calm butced with mockery. "I came with an army, after all. Don''t disappoint me."


    The three men hesitated, unsure of their next move. Their eyes darted around, searching for some unseen signal, some way to gain the upper hand. But Aric stood before them like an undefeatable enemy, unimpressed and unbothered.


    As he stood calmly, watching the three defeated ambushers retreat into the shadows, a sudden shift in the air caught his attention.


    His sharp gaze turned toward the alleys and rooftops of the outpost as more figures emerged¡ªtwenty men, all armed but strangelycking the telltale signs of ki or mana that the first attackers had.


    These were simple soldiers, footmen without any higher power.


    He sighed, drawing his de slowly from the scabbard on his back, the steel gleaming cold in the dim light.


    "What useless deaths you all will die here," Aric muttered under his breath, his voice carrying across the silent battlefield. His eyes hardened as he observed them. "I am not interested in such an easy massacre¡­ surrender now," he offered, his tone eerily calm.


    But none of them budged. Gritting their teeth, the soldiers gripped their weapons tighter¡ªswords, spears, axes¡ªeach taking deliberate steps toward him. Determination clear in their eyes, yet fear remained within them.


    Aric shook his head slightly, disappointed.


    "I asked the settlers to warn you," he said, his voice lower now as if addressing only them. "In hopes you might flee and avoid this. But I knew better. I knew you would act otherwise, would cling to some misguided sense of duty or pride or.... hope?"


    The soldiers continued their slow advance.


    "I even now give you a second chance," Aric added, raising his sword in front of him. His martial aura red slightly, pressing against them. "Yet you still choose death."


    The silence that followed was suffocating, as though the air itself had turned to stone.


    Aric''s grip on his sword tightened. "So, what more can I do than offer you to her gentle hands?"


    That was the final straw.


    With a loud battle cry, the twenty soldiers charged at him, their footsteps thunderous on the frozen ground, their weapons raised high as they closed the distance.


    Aric''s expression didn''t change. In one smooth motion, he moved, his sword shing in a wide arc. The first soldier, a man with an axe raised above his head, never got the chance to swing.


    Aric''s de cleaved through him, the steel singing through flesh and bone, cutting cleanly from his corbone down to his waist.


    Blood sprayed into the air, warm droplets freezing instantly as they sttered onto the ice.


    The other soldiers did well to not falter, rushing him from all sides. Aric''s movements were fluid, precise¡ªhe spun, the sword shing like lightning, cleaving through armor and flesh with terrifying efficiency.


    Another man fell, his legs cut from beneath him, crumpling to the ground in a bloody heap. Aric stepped over the body without a second thought, parrying the strike of a spear, before countering with a swift thrust through the man''s throat.


    There was no hesitation, no wasted movement¡ªthere never was with him, and this was vital.


    Everything he did was calcted, every swing of his sword designed to kill. The soldiers attacked in groups, hoping to overwhelm him with numbers, but they only met their deaths faster.


    A sword came down toward his head¡ªhe sidestepped, catching the de with his own and twisting. The attacker''s weapon flew from his hands, ttering uselessly to the ground, and Aric''s de followed, slicing through his stomach in a clean, brutal motion.


    The man dropped to his knees, clutching his intestines as they spilled onto the ice, his screams lost in the cold air.


    Another group charged from behind, but Aric was faster. Spinning on his heel, he swept his sword low, cutting through ankles and tendons, dropping two men instantly. As they fell, writhing in agony, he brought his sword down in a lethal arc, severing their heads from their bodies in a single, vicious strike.


    Blood soaked the frozen ground now, staining the snow a bright crimson. Aric moved through the chaos like death itself, leaving carnage alone.


    His armor gleamed with fresh blood, his breath fogging in the cold as his enemies fell one by one.


    The remaining soldiers faltered, fear now very clear in their eyes. But it was toote. Aric advanced, his sword dripping with the blood of theirrades.


    In the corner of his eye, the six original ki and mana-using ambushers reappeared, watching in horror as their footmeny in pools of crimson. Their faces twisted with rage as they charged at him, weapons crackling with energy, des alight with mana.


    Aric sighed, but it was a sigh devoid of warmth¡ªmore an exhale of indifference. He breathed softly, almost pitifully, as if this whole scene were beneath him. His fingers twitched as he raised his hand, not even bothering to lift his sword.


    The air around reacted first. A golden light began to swirl above his head, gathering into a blinding sphere. From that light, golden spears began to form¡ªone after the other until the sky above was filled with them, their sharp points gleaming in the pale blue of the winter sun.


    Multiple golden spears hung suspended in the air, poised like a promise of death. The six ambushers hesitated for the briefest moment, eyes widening in terror as they realized what was about to happen.


    They tried to muster their defenses, raising barriers of mana and ki, their weapons glowing even brighter as they braced for impact.


    But it was pointless.


    With a wave of Aric''s hand, the spears descended, raining down on them.


    Each spear found its mark with unerring precision, tearing through the magical shields as if they were paper, plunging into flesh, piercing bone.


    The warriors screamed as they were impaled, their bodies writhing in agony as the golden spears buried themselves deep into them. Blood sprayed into the frozen air, mixing with the already-stained snow as their lives were snuffed out one by one.


    It was over in seconds.


    The battlefield was silent once more, the bodies of the six warriors lying lifeless in the snow, their forms grotesquely skewered by the golden spears that slowly began to dissolve, fading back into the ether from which they came.


    Aric sighed, lowering his hand as if the whole affair had been nothing more than an inconvenience or an annoying task that had to bepleted. His expression remained unreadable, but there was a flicker of slight sadness in his eyes.


    He turned back to Yrsa and the rest of his army, who had been watching the disy in silence. His gaze was cold, uncaring.


    "That was disappointing," Aric said tly, wiping a speck of blood from his cheek with the back of his hand. He nced at the blood-soaked battlefield onest time before turning his back on it. "Let''s move to the next."


    Without waiting for a response, he mounted his Kriger once more, his army following in grim silence as they prepared to march toward their next conquest.

 Chapter 67: Left for cold to inhabit

    Aric and Yrsa rode side by side on their Krigers, the cold wind licking at whatever exposed skin it could, but neither seemed to notice.


    The beasts beneath them, powerful and steadfast, moved with something akin to mechanical precision over the frozenndscape. Their dark coats blended into the icy surroundings, only the frosty breath from their nostrils giving away their presence as they advanced.


    The silence was cold between them and was eventually broken by Yrsa.


    She turned her head slightly, her eyes locked on Aric''s unreadable face, scrutinizing him with quiet curiosity. "You know," she began, her voice low but clear over the howling wind, "I see something in the way you kill."


    Aric raised an eyebrow, but his gaze remained foward, not bothering to meet her eyes. "Oh?" he replied, his tone slight.


    "A hesitation. A flicker of regret, perhaps," she continued, a smirk ying on her lips.


    "Maybe for ughtering those of your empire? Men who, in another life, might have followed you, hailed you as their prince." Her words were probing, searching for something deeper beneath his cold exterior.


    Aric let the silence stretch for a moment, the rhythmic sound of their mounts'' hooves crunching through the snow filling the space between them.


    Then, without looking at her, he spoke, his voice firm and resolute.


    "I feel no such thing," he said, his tone as cold as the northern winds. "I do what needs to be done. Nothing more, nothing less."


    Yrsa watched him closely, her smirk fading slightly.


    She had seen many men lie in her time as a warrior, some better than others. But Aric was different. His mask was wless, hisposure felt nearly unshakable.


    Yet, even as he said the words, something in his eyes betrayed him.


    A swift sh, a shadow of emotion that she could almost¡ªalmost¡ªsee.


    But she let it go. She didn''t know him well enough to dissect his true intentions as well as she would want to, and Aric wasn''t a man to be prodded easily.


    What she didn''t know, however, was that Aric was lying.


    Not to her¡ªno, she wouldn''t matter in the grand scheme of things¡ªbut to himself. He had be a master of self-deception. Every death, every betrayal, every choice made in the name of revenge had chipped away at his conscience, but he had buried it deep.


    Too deep for anyone to see.


    He was no saint in his past life, but some could call him a good man¡­but now, the blood on his hands¡­for what purpose was it?


    They rode on in silence for a while longer until they approached the next town. From a distance, it looked small, a mere outpost town like the one they had just left behind. But as they neared, something felt off.


    It was empty.


    Completely deserted.


    No sound of life. It was as if the ce had been abandoned in a hurry¡ªjust like thest.


    Logically, his first thought was they had reacheed another ambush.


    Aric dismounted, his armor nking slightly as he hit the ground. He scanned the area, his eyes narrowing.


    "Deserted," Yrsa said as she too dismounted. "Or ambush¡­just like thest one."


    Aric nodded but didn''t reply immediately.


    After a while they got their answer, there was no ambush¡­just emptiness.


    He knew exactly why the town was empty.


    And it seemed like he had hoped, they dispersed rather than face a massacre. But he wasn''t about to reveal that to Yrsa. Instead, he turned away, examining the silent buildings with a faint frown.


    "Strange, don''t you think?" Yrsa continued, folding her arms across her chest. "First one, now this. It''s almost as if they knew we wereing."


    Aric nced at her briefly, his face unreadable. "Perhaps they''ve simply lost their will to fight," he said, his voice neutral. "They know they can''t stand against our forces."


    Yrsa didn''t seem convinced, but she shrugged and let the matter drop. "Maybe. Or maybe there''s something you''re not telling me, General." Her tone was light, but there was an edge of suspicion underneath.


    They remounted their Krigers and moved on.


    For hours, they passed through two more deserted outposts, each as empty and lifeless as the first. The silence of the abandoned towns weighed heavily on the soldiers, though none dared to voice their concerns aloud. Aric and Yrsa rode in silence, each lost in their own thoughts.


    Finally, after a long march, they arrived at thest garrison just before the second of the three northern kingdoms¡ªKurag, in its outskirts was the settlement where they would meet Aszer.


    Unlike the other outposts, this one was not deserted.


    As they crested a hill, the garrison came into view, and


    Aric''s eyes widened slightly at the sight before him. Hundreds of soldiers stood waiting, armed to the teeth, their weapons glinting in the pale light. Shields and spears were lined in perfect formation, banners pping in the cold breeze.


    Yrsa whistled lowly beside him, her eyes scanning the assembled army. "Well, well. Looks like they were expecting us."


    Aric''s hand instinctively went to the hilt of the sword strapped to his back. His eyes narrowed as he gauged the size of the force before them. It was a sizeable army, one that would put up a decent fight, but he had no intention of letting it stand in his way.


    He started to draw his de, but before he could unsheathe it, Yrsa ced a firm hand on his arm. "Hold, General," she said, her voicemanding but calm. "You''ve had all the fun up until now."


    Aric raised an eyebrow, looking at her with mild surprise. "You want me to sit this one out?" he asked, a hint of amusement in his voice.


    Yrsa''s lips curled into a wicked smile as she mounted her Kriger once again. "Yes, ill have our men end it swiftly," she said, her voice filled with confidence. She turned to her back, her voice booming across the ranks. "Prepare for battle! We have been offered blood!"


    The legion roared in response, the sound echoing across the frozen ins as they readied themselves for the charge.


    Aric watched as Yrsa rode to the front of the formation, her presencemanding and fierce. She had a natural gift for leading men into battle, her confidence infectious. The soldiers rallied behind her as she raised her Axe, her eyes gleaming with the thrill ofbat.


    They charged foward, and the prince sat back¡­perhaps relived he might go through this battle without more blood of his people on his hands.

 Chapter 68: The Bait

    Aric sat on the Kriger, its massive form snorting icy breaths into the frigid northern air as he watched the battle take ce below.


    His gaze glided through the field, taking in the sh of metal and the roaring war cries of his soldiers. In total, they had a hundred and ten men left.


    Fifty of them were Northrender legionaries, the other sixty were the remnants of his own forces¡ªwhat was once a proud Byzeth army of a hundred and fifty, now whittled down by the ruthless north.


    More than half had perished, not in battle, but at the hands of a more relentless killer¡ªthe cold.


    After their first engagement with the settlers, some had fallen to arrows and des, but many more to the biting freeze. Men from the warm south, unustomed to the unforgiving northern climate, had quickly found death.


    The cold scraped at their bones, and as their strength faded, so too did their will to survive. Horses bred for the southern ins had fallen ill, their breaths had be shallow as theyy helpless in the snow.


    Some men died in their sleep, unable to wake to another brutal morning, while others, shivering and delirious, were put out of their misery byrades who were no longer able to bear their pitiful groans.


    Aric had said nothing to his men about these deaths.


    What could he tell them? That they were weak? That they were undeserving to continue? That they didn''t have the strength to stand in the north?


    That was the truth, and sometimes even as brutal as it were the truth needed no sympathy.


    He sighed, his breath a frosty cloud in the air, his eyes narrowing as the battle reached its climax. Below, the enemy soldiers crumbled under the onught of Yrsa and her legion.


    Yrsa, in particr, was something else.


    The ways she moved, like a perfect warrior on the field of blood, herrge axe slicing through enemies with terrifying ease. The weight of her weapon seemed like nothing in her hands, as though it were made of air instead of iron and steel.


    Her martial prowess was undeniable, but it wasn''t just her strength that made her so terrifying.


    Like the legionaries at her side, she wielded ki at a deadly level¡­they were all beyond first rank martial knights like Aric.


    The prince watched as she gathered energy into her weapon, her body glowing faintly as she made a destructive swing. The axe cleaved through both steel and flesh, a violent slice of energy exploding from the strike, cutting through three soldiers at once.


    Their cries died in their throats as they fell, their bodies slumping to the blood-covered ground.


    Another group of soldiers attempted to nk her, but she expected it, spinning with the grace, her axe a blur of raging ki. She mmed it into the earth, sending a shockwave rippling outward, toppling the men before they could even raise their weapons.


    The force of the blow cracked the frozen ground beneath her feet, and the enemy soldiers were hurled back like rag dolls, their bodies broken at the moment of impact.


    It didn''t take long for the battle to end.


    The screams and shing steel slowly faded, reced by a perfect silence, the air consumed by the metallic scent of blood. The battlefield now littered with corpses, and the snow had turned crimson where the dead and dyingy.


    Aric''s men, the full Northrender legion, and what remained of his own army marched back from the field, their breaths heavy in the cold air.


    Yrsa walked ahead, her purple hair now streaked with blood and tangled messily around her head. She was drenched in it, her armor gleaming with dark crimson, yet she moved with the same dangerous grace, and now it unnerved the prince a bit.


    She tossed her heavy axe to Aric as she approached, the massive weapon spinning through the air.


    Aric caught it effortlessly, his grip steady, though he did not move to use it.


    His eyes remained on her, calm but curious. As Yrsa tied her bloodied hair into a tighter knot, she met his gaze, the barest hint of a grin tugging at the corner of her mouth.


    "You really enjoy this, don''t you?" Aric muttered, his voice low as he eyed her, amusement in his tone.


    She locked eyes with him, her lips curling into a full smirk now. "Yes," she replied without hesitation, her voice filled with a strange satisfaction. "Do you not?"


    Aric didn''t answer right away¡ªhe wasn''t certain himself, so he let the question hang in the cold air for a few moments. Her gaze remained locked on his grey eyes, betraying nothing. Finally, with a slight nod, he handed her axe back to her, his movements calm and deliberate.


    Yrsa took the weapon and slung it over her back with ease.


    She nced over her shoulder at the battlefield, the aftermath of the bloodshed, and then back at him.


    Her expression shifted slightly, bing more serious.


    "We just received word from the north via rune stone," she said, her tone suddenly cold, dangerous. "And before I kill you and ughter the rest of your army¡­ I want to understand."


    Aric''s gaze sharpened, but he remained still as she stepped closer, her eyes narrowing as if to study him more closely. "Did you really think your coward king could cheat us? That you could rob us, attack our people, and not pay with your lives?"


    Aric said nothing, his expression betraying nothing of the thoughts running through his mind. His hand rested on the hilt of his sword at his back, ready, but he made no move to draw it. Instead, he met her gaze, calm and unbothered by the clear threat in her words.


    Yrsa''s grip on her axe tightened, her knuckles turning white. "Answer me, prince," she demanded, her voiceced with venom.


    But Aric remained silent, his cold grey eyes locked on hers.


    "That¡­is not my doing, and I know nothing of it."


    The prince lied in the best way he knew how.

 Chapter 69: The language of warriors.

    The Byzeth soldiers, or what was left of them after the bloody battle, began to shift uneasily as they watched the tension build between Aric and Yrsa.


    They nced at each other, nervous, unsure of what was unfolding before them. Their faces were pale, cold, but the fear in their eyes had nothing to do with the biting northern wind. Meanwhile, the Northrender legionaries stood resolute, their bodies rigid and their eyes locked on the prince.


    They were always ready for battle, and today was no different. They wouldn''t hesitate to strike at a moment''s notice.


    Between Aric and Yrsa, a silence fell. It was scraping, heavy, filled with the kind of tension that could ignite the air. Yrsa''s eyes burned with fury, her body tense as her mind raced, weighing her next move.


    Aric knew the Northrenders would not tolerate any perceived betrayal or insult to them. He could lose his life in an instant if things went wrong, but that didn''t bother him.


    Yrsa''s hand moved, drawing her massive axe from her back. The Byzeth soldiers flinched, hands gripping their weapons as they prepared to defend Aric. Fear rippled through their ranks, but Aric raised an arm, stopping them.


    "Stay," he ordered, his voice cold and steady. The soldiers hesitated, then obeyed.


    Everything was going ording to n.


    He had anticipated this, had hoped that word of his "bandits" would reach Yrsa before they met with Aszer, the Byzeth King. He wanted her angry. He wanted her on edge. This confrontation was the oue he had meticulously crafted.


    Aric dismounted from his Kriger, never breaking eye contact with Yrsa as he slowly unsheathed his sword.


    The de gleamed coldly in the dim light of the dying sun, but instead of raising it to strike, he stabbed it into the snow between them. The cold metal stuck deep into the ground, standing like a sentinel between the two warriors.


    He paused, his breath misting in the frozen air, before removing the armor that covered his hands and arms. Piece by piece, the metal ttered into the snow, leaving him bare, vulnerable in a way most would never dare to be in front of a Northrender.


    He then reached into his inventory, though to the others it appeared as if he had conjured it out of thin air, and pulled a bandage, slowly wrapping his hands in preparation.


    "Knakara lek es ori kjini, ez?" he spoke, his voice calm but carrying a strange weight.


    Yrsa''s eyes widened, a flicker of surprise shing across her face as she heard him speak in her native tongue. His words meant, "You are a warrior of winter and blood, no?"


    "Kesi?" she responded, her voice hard but curious. "How?"


    Aric smiled faintly, the corners of his lips barely lifting as he continued in the Northrendernguage, his voice carrying over the cold wind.


    "Iki mano ofi u tez lor ajaj, ez humanit, ez ryorl, ezrega utb sa a kanakara lek onu isi olivuna oen on jino losruti ikagana."


    His words were a challenge, a deration: "I will speak with you, not as a human, not as a royal, nor even as a general, but as a warrior who recognizes another. And I shall do so in battle, with no weapons of men, but simply by the hands God has given me. And as you bleed, may my words be clearer to you."


    The mes of rage that had once zed in Yrsa''s eyes dissolved into something else. A smile broke across her face, slow and predatory. She unslung her axe and tossed it to the ground beside Aric''s sword.


    The heavy fur and armor on her chest followed, hitting the snow with a dull thud.


    The prince had issued a challenge, and Yrsa was nothing if not a warrior bound by the honor of such things.


    "Are you ready, prince?" she asked, her grin widening. "Where shall we fight?"


    But before she could finish her sentence, Aric moved.


    In a blur of motion, he closed the distance between them, his fist cutting through the air like a knife.


    His punch was fast, precise, his hand enveloped in a swirl of ki. But Yrsa was no ordinary opponent. With barely any effort, she caught his fist with one hand, her fingers curling around it like iron.


    "Come on now, prince," she said, her voice dark and teasing. "You''ve got me riled up, so don''t disappoint me."


    Aric leaned in, his face so close to hers that their cheeks brushed. His voice was a cold whisper in her ear. "Let''s do it on the field over there," he said softly, his breath warm against her skin. "Perhaps your blood may appease the souls of those you''ve ughtered on it."


    Before Yrsa could react, Aric''s other hand, also wrapped in ki, shot forward, mming into her torso with brutal force. It wasn''t just ki, though. The blow was infused with the faintest trace of mana, something she hadn''t expected.


    The impact sent her flying, her body hurtling through the air as she crashed into the field they had just fought on. She tumbled across the snow, her body leaving deep gouges in the crimson-stained ground, rolling over the corpses of the men she had ughtered.


    The legionaries and Byzeth soldiers stood frozen in ce, their eyes wide as they watched theirmanders sh. No one dared to intervene.


    Aric walked toward her, his steps slow, deliberate. His breath came in calm, measured exhales, misting in the cold.


    His eyes never left Yrsa as she pushed herself up from the blood-soaked snow, her lips curled in a fierce grin, despite the blood trickling from the corner of her mouth.


    She rose to her feet, rolling her shoulders as if shaking off the pain. "Good hit, prince," she said, her voice rough but approving. "I''ll give you that."


    Aric didn''t reply. His hands flexed, the bandages around them glowing faintly with the energy of his ki.


    They became two warriors on a battlefield, and everything else had fallen away.

 Chapter 70: Ally

    The sharp sound of fists connecting with flesh echoed across the bloodstained snow as Aric and Yrsa shed, their breaths forming misty clouds in the cold air. Aric''s eyes were narrowed, focused, as he dodged and weaved through Yrsa''s blows.


    His body moved with the precision of a seasoned martial artist, his footwork agile, fluid, each strike calcted. But for every punch hended, Yrsa retaliated with force tenfold. Her raw power was overwhelming, and each time her fist met his body, the impact rattled his bones, sending sharp jolts of pain through his limbs.


    "How dare your kingdom harm our people and trick us," Yrsa spat, her voice seething with rage as she swung her arm, her fist aimed at Aric''s ribs.


    Aric barely managed to block it, the force of the blow still driving him back several feet, his boots dragging through the snow. His arm trembled from the impact, but he grit his teeth, refusing to falter.


    "That is not my kingdom," Aric said, his voice strained but resolute. He shot forward, delivering a swift punch to Yrsa''s side, but she barely flinched.


    "Oh, you denounce them now?" Yrsa sneered, effortlessly catching his next strike with one hand. Her grip was like iron. "The very people you''ve gone to war with?"


    "I told you," Aric grunted as he struggled to free his hand, "I did this solely for my revenge."


    Yrsa''s eyes shed with fury. She twisted her hand, pulling Aric off bnce before mming her knee into his abdomen.


    Aric gasped, doubling over as the air was knocked from his lungs. He stumbled backward, blood spraying from his mouth, sttering across the already crimson-streaked snow.


    "And you expect me to believe you have nothing to do with this?" Yrsa''s voice wasced with disbelief as she advanced on him, her fists raised. "That you are innocent in all of this?"


    Aric wiped the blood from his mouth, his vision blurring for a moment. His body screamed in pain, every muscle aching from the blows he had taken. Still, he stood tall, defiant. "I can''t force you to believe me," he said, his voice softer now but no less determined.


    "But I urge you to use logic. You know I''m not of Byzeth. My alliance with them holds less significance than even yours. They are simply a means to an end¡ªa tool for my revenge against my empire. Nothing more."


    Yrsa paused for a moment, her brow furrowing as she weighed his words. But her hesitation was brief. With a snarl, she lunged at him, delivering a brutal uppercut that sent Aric sprawling to the ground. His back hit the snow with a dull thud, his breathing in ragged gasps.


    "If the king of Byzeth has truly wronged your people," Aric continued, struggling to push himself back to his feet, "then you may act as you please when you reach him. I''d wager it would be better if you killed him."


    Yrsa''s eyes narrowed dangerously. "What did you just say?"


    Aric coughed, spitting out more blood as he finally stood, his legs shaking beneath him. His vision swam, but he kept his gaze locked on her. "I received word from the empire," he said, each word a struggle to force out. "They''ve acted in ways we couldn''t predict. The imperial squad left the city. They''re heading for the settlement Aszer upies."


    For a moment, Yrsa hesitated, her fists lowering slightly as the weight of Aric''s words sank in. Her expression darkened, but it wasn''t directed at him this time.


    "You know about the imperial squad, don''t you?" Aric pressed, his voice hoarse. "Even the Northrenders have heard of them. If we encounter them, regardless of how many thousand men Byzeth has, or how strong you and your legion are¡­ we will all die. Every single one of us will be eradicated in mere minutes by just a single one of them. Now, imagine an entire squad."


    Yrsa''s punches became heavier, each one driving Aric closer and closer to the edge of his endurance. Blood now dripped freely from his nose and mouth, staining the snow beneath him as he struggled to remain upright. Despite the onught, he pushed on.


    "But this was your n, no?" Yrsa growled, frustration in her voice as she caught him with a hard right hook that sent him staggering. "They''ve sent their strongest defense out of the city. If we attack the imperial city now, we could take it!"


    Aric let out a bitterugh, though it cost him more blood. "Yes," he admitted, his voice low, "but how can we do that? Northrender reinforcements, if called, won''t travel to the south faster than the squad can return to the imperial city. And don''t underestimate the strength of the imperial army¡­ or my father."


    Yrsa''s gaze hardened. "So, you n to betray Aszer now that everything has gone to shit?"


    "No," Aric replied, his voice firm despite the pain wracking his body. "I nned to betray that coward from the start. But now I can do it faster. If he has indeed cheated and robbed your people, then isn''t it best we kill him? When I take his crown and his kingdom, I promise you fair trade with the north, lowered prices, and thend of the settlements we''ve taken. Just as I promised."


    He paused, his body swaying on the spot, his bloodied face contorting with pain, but his voice remained steady. "I will tell my empire that I killed him for his rebellion. Then we can regroup and attempt to take Valeria another day."


    Yrsa was silent for a moment, her breathsing heavy, her chest rising and falling as she regarded Aric.


    His entire face was covered in blood, which dripped steadily from a deep gash on his head. His vision was failing, and he could barely see through the crimson haze clouding his eyes. In contrast, Yrsa looked nearly untouched, her body barely bearing any signs of the fight.


    They stood there, staring at each other for what felt like an eternity, the battlefield eerily quiet around them.


    Then, in the Northrendernguage, Yrsa spoke. "I will trust you again, prince," she said, her voice low and dangerous, "but if that trust is broken, I will make you pray for death."


    Aric''s body finally gave in. Exhausted and wracked with pain, he fell back into the snow, his arms spread out at his sides as he stared up at the pale, gray sky above. His chest heaved with every ragged breath, and the cold snow beneath him soaked into his clothes, numbing the pain only slightly. But he was still alive. That was all that mattered.


    He watched as Yrsa turned to the soldiers, her voice booming across the battlefield. "Prepare to march," she ordered, her tonemanding, "we depart soon."


    As the soldiers prepared, Aric''s vision began to blur, the sounds around him growing distant. The crimson snow beneath him felt almostforting now as exhaustion pulled him deeper into unconsciousness.


    But even as the darkness closed in, a faint smile tugged at the corner of his lips.


    Everything was going ording to n.

 Chapter 71: Nine years before this

    The room felt too small.


    Aric sat curled on a thick velvet cushion, his tiny, frail body leaning against the stone wall. His legs dangled off the side of the seat, feet barely brushing the ground.


    The air was cool, the chill of a fading summer creeping through the cracks of the old pce walls, but Aric felt warmer than usual, a slight fever running beneath his skin.


    His caretaker, a  woman with a kind face, moved about the room. Normally, she hummed softly as she worked, always with a calmness that made the boy feel safe.


    But today, there was no humming. She fidgeted instead, her movements sharp and restless, her hands wringing a cloth that didn''t need wringing.


    Aric noticed how her eyes flickered toward the door every few moments, a tightness in her brow that hadn''t been there before.


    "Miss Edina," Aric''s voice was soft, barely louder than a whisper. He hated how weak it sounded, hated how every breath felt like it took more effort than it should. "Why are you so... worried?"


    She flinched at his words, her fingers halting for a moment before resuming their nervous dance. She turned to him, forcing a smile that didn''t quite reach her eyes.


    "Worried? No, no, young prince. I''m just tired, that''s all. It''s been a long day."


    Aric didn''t believe her. He had always been more observant than people gave him credit for. He might have been weak, his body fragile, but his mind was sharp. He could see the fear in her eyes, the way her hands trembled ever so slightly.


    "Where''s mother?" he asked, his small voice cracking just a little. "She hasn''te to see me." Chapter Explore:


    Edina''s face tightened. She turned away, busying herself with folding nkets that were already neatly stacked.


    "She''s¡­ she''s busy today. Very busy. Important matters with the court."


    It was a lie. Aric could hear it in the way her voice wavered, like she was speaking too quickly, trying to cover something up.


    His stomach twisted, a dread forming deep inside him. Something was wrong. He could feel it.


    "I want to see her."


    Edina didn''t turn around.


    "Not now, Aric. Maybeter."


    He sat there, staring at her back, his little fists clenching at the fabric of his cushion. It wasn''t fair. Why did everyone always keep him locked away? Why did they treat him like ss, as if he would shatter with the slightest touch? He was a prince, wasn''t he?


    He deserved to know what was happening. He deserved to see his mother.


    Edina made her way to the door, ncing back at him with that same strained smile. "I''ll be right back, alright? Stay here, be good. I''ll bring you some tea."


    The moment she left, the room felt suffocating.


    The silence pressed down on him, heavily. His heart pounded in his chest, a mixture of fear and frustration mixing in him. He couldn''t just sit here, waiting. He had to know what was going on.


    With more effort than it should have taken, Aric pushed himself off the cushion, his legs shaky beneath him.


    Every step he took felt like a battle, his body weak and unsteady, but his determination kept him moving. He slipped out the door, his small frame hidden in the shadows of the grand hallways, careful to avoid any passing servants or guards.


    The pce seemed darker than usual. The walls that usually brought warmth to the halls now felt suffocating, the flicker of torchlight creating long, eerie shadows across the stone floors.


    His breath came in shallow gasps, but he kept moving, following the faint sounds of voices¡ªloud and angrying from deeper within the pce.


    As he turned a corner, he saw the doors to the grand hall ahead, slightly ajar. The voices grew louder, more frantic.


    His heart raced, sweat breaking out across his skin.


    Something in him told him to turn back, that whatever was behind those doors wasn''t meant for him. But he couldn''t. He had to know.


    He crept closer, peeking through the small gap in the door, and his entire world shattered.


    His mother knelt on the floor, her regal gown torn and stained with blood. Her dark hair, usually so carefully arranged, was matted and hanging in clumps, her face swollen and bruised.


    There was blood everywhere¡ªon her skin, on the stone beneath her. And beside her, an executioner stood, his hands gripping the hilt of an enormous sword.


    Aric''s breath caught in his throat. He tried to scream, but no sound came. His legs locked, his body frozen in ce as his wide eyes took in the horrifying scene.


    In the crowd, courtiers and nobles sneered, their faces twisted in righteous fury. Their voices blurred together in a mix of hatred, calling for blood, calling for her death.


    Aric couldn''t make sense of it. How could they¡ªpeople who had once bowed before her¡ªnow demand her execution?


    Then he saw him¡ªhis father.


    The emperor.


    Sitting on his throne, watching. His face was stone, his eyes dark, but Aric saw something sh there, just for a moment.


    His father quickly wiped at his face, his fingers brushing away the moisture in his eyes before he stood and stormed out of the hall, his steps quick and immediate, his cloak trailing behind him like a shadow.


    Aric felt his knees buckle, his legs giving out beneath his frail form. He fell to the floor with a soft thud, his trembling fingers gripping the edge of the doorway as his life seemed to copse.


    His mother, as if sensing his presence, turned her head just enough to see him. Her swollen eyes softened, and she smiled¡ªa small, broken smile.


    The same smile she gave him when he was scared, when he was sick, when she held him close and whispered that everything would be alright.


    But it wasn''t alright. It would never be alright.


    The sword came down.


    Aric watched in silent horror as the de sliced through the air, through her neck. Blood sttered across the stone as her head fell, rolling a few feet away from her body.


    Her eyes, still open, still gazing at him, were thest thing he saw before everything blurred into a nightmare of red and ck.


    The crowd erupted into cheers, their voices a sickening roar in his ears.


    Aric wanted to scream, wanted to cry, wanted to do something, but all he could do was sit there, his small body shaking, his throat burning from the scream that never came.


    His vision darkened, and for a moment, he felt like he was drowning.


    "Prince!"


    "Prince!"


    "Prince!"


    Aric''s head shot up, heart pounding in his chest as his breathed in short gasps.


    For a moment, the echoes of the crowd''s cheers still rang in his ears, the sh of steel, his mother''s smile before the sword fell...


    But then, reality came.


    The cold bit at his skin, the smell of snow and blood filled his senses, and the rough movement beneath him reminded him that he was far from that ce, far from that past.


    He blinked against the harsh winter wind and looked around, disoriented.


    His eyes adjusted to the white expanse of the northernnds, where frost clung to the trees like ghosts.


    Around him, the world was quiet save for the soft crunch of snow beneath heavy hooves. The fur of a thick cloak was draped over his shoulders, and the warmth of a body leaned against his own.


    He quickly realized he was on horseback, no, a Kriger.


    His hand brushed against something soft and cold¡ªblood, but not his. His eyes trailed up to purple hair stained with red, twisted and tangled by the wind.


    He was leaning against Yrsa.


    "Where¡ª" Aric''s voice croaked, throat still raw from the fight and the dream.


    Yrsa shifted slightly, ncing back at him over her shoulder, her eyes gleaming with a mixture of amusement and something darker.


    She held up his mask, her gloved fingers turning it between them. The mask was smeared with blood, cracked at the edge where it had hit the ground.


    "Looking for this?" she asked, her voice low and casual, though there was an edge to it, a teasing grin tugging at her lips. "It fell while you were getting beat up."


    Aric blinked, then reached for the mask.


    His fingers trembled slightly, the lingering exhaustion making his movements slow. He took it from her without a word, staring at the bloodstained surface, the fractured lines running through it.


    "Might as well not put it on." Yrsa''s voice broke through his haze, herughter light but sharp. "You''re quite handsome, especially with blood on you."


    "Please... stop talking," Aric muttered, his voice a whisper, his head falling foward against her shoulder as his body gave in to the weight of his fatigue.


    Yrsaughed again, it wasn''t a cruelugh¡ªjust amused, as if the world and all its pain were nothing more than a fleeting joke to her.

 Chapter 72: Royalty.

    The northern winds whispered through the barren trees as the night settled around them, brushing the sky in shades of deep blue and silver. The world felt distant, consumed by winter''s stillness.


    The camp was quiet now, left for the asional crackle of the fire that zed between Aric and Yrsa. They had stopped just a few miles from the settlements outside Kurag, the kingdom where Aszer awaited them.


    The night was tense with the understanding of what was toe.


    Aric sat on a cold stone, his armor discarded for the moment, his mind far away. He stared into the mes, the orange and gold light dancing across his pale face, his thoughts fixed on whaty ahead.


    His body ached, not only from the brutal fight he had endured earlier but from the scar of every decision he had made since his rebirth.


    "We are close," Yrsa''s voice broke through the quiet, it was low¡­steady as she too stared into the fire. "We shall meet Aszer soon."


    Aric''s eyes flickered up to her, the light of the mes reflecting in their dark depths. He let out a slow breath, his chest tightening.


    "And he shall die swiftly after," Yrsa added, her voice holding no uncertainty.


    "Yes," Aric murmured, though his voice was softer, less sure. "But what if what you use him of was not his doing?"


    Yrsa''s gaze hardened, her eyes narrowing as she turned to look at him. "He is king. He is responsible for the actions of his people¡­ Does it matter even?" Her jaw clenched. "The Imperial Squad ising. He has to die, or we all die."


    Aric''s gaze fell back to the fire, his lips pressing into a thin line.


    Ysir had heard of the Imperial Squad¡ªwarriors so strong, so deadly, they could erase an entire army in the blink of an eye. Their arrival meant certain death, for Byzeth, for her, for anyone caught in the crossfire.


    "You say that as though it is an easy task," he said, his voice barely more audible than the mes crackle, as though the mes themselves could carry his words away. "Aszer is of the Martial King realm."


    Yrsa raised an eyebrow, her expression shifting ever so slightly as if mildly impressed.


    "Oh, so the coward king is not as much of a weakling as we took him after all."


    Aric stared at her, the flicker of surprise evident in his eyes.


    "You didn''t know his realm?" His voice rose slightly, disbelief creeping into his tone. "I don''t think you and your legion can take him down."


    Yrsa''s lips curled into a small, confident smile, one that didn''t reach her eyes. "We will. The Winterborne does not lose."


    "He''s of the Martial King realm," Aric repeated, a hint of fake frustration creeping into his voice, he was a good actor. Realistically still, the northmen''s pride was admirable, but it bordered on foolishness.


    "And? What do you expect we do then?"


    "Turn around¡­ abandon me," Aric said quietly, the words falling from his lips with a heavy weight. He nced up at her, his eyes meeting hers. "That''s the smart thing to do."


    They shared a moment of silence, the crackling of the fire the only sound between them.


    Yrsa didn''t move, her gaze fixed on him, searching for something in his eyes. Aric felt the pull of it, the unspoken understanding, the detrmiantion that hung between them like a sword.


    "But it''s not honorable, is it?" Yrsa finally said, her voice soft, but there was a steel edge beneath the words.


    Aric let out augh, though itcked any real humor. He shook his head, his silver hair falling into his eyes as he leaned back, exhaustion pulling at his limbs.


    "I guess we do our best to kill him then."


    Yrsa''s expression softened, and for a moment, the cold warrior he had known seemed to melt away. She stood, walking closer to where he sat, her heavy boots crunching softly against the frostbitten earth. Kneeling down before him, she reached for his arm, her touch surprisingly gentle as she rolled up his sleeve.


    Aric''s breath hitched, his body tensing. He watched her warily as she pulled out a small stone de, its edge gleaming faintly in the firelight. Before he could ask what she was doing, she pressed the de to his skin, slicing it open with a quick, precise motion.


    A sharp sting shot through him, and Aric grunted, his muscles tightening.


    Panic red for a brief moment, but then, almost as quickly, the pain began to fade. He watched in stunned silence as a soothing warmth spread from the wound, the edges of the cut glowing faintly as a strange liquid on the de seeped into his blood. His wounds from the fight with her, raw and aching moments ago, began to heal right before his eyes.


    Yrsa stood, watching him closely as he flexed his fingers, the pain dissipating, reced by an unexpected surge of energy. "If we fight him, you need to be at your best," she said simply, her tone matter-of-fact.


    Aric stared at his arm, still processing the sensation. He clenched his fist, feeling strength returning to him that he hadn''t felt in hours. He met Yrsa''s gaze, his expression unreadable for a moment.


    Then, with a slow, deliberate nod, he rolled his sleeve back down and stood.


    The fire between them still crackled, leaving shadows across the snow-covered ground, but the air was diffrent. They both knew what came next. No more words needed to be spoken.


    Aric donned his armor once more, the familiar weight of it grounding him, reminding him of what he needed to do. The mask, still stained with blood, fit perfectly over his face, hiding the man beneath as he became something else¡ªsomething more heartless.


    Together, they prepared to move again, the camp slowlying to life as the soldiers gathered their things, the quiet reced by the soft murmur of voices and the rustling of gear.


    The night had fully descended now, the stars twinkling above them in the vast northern sky, but there was no peace in their beauty.


    Only the promise of bloodshed and death.


    By the time they reached the settlement, it was the dead of night. The moon hung low in the sky, offering a pale light over thend. The camp ahead was eerily silent, the air thick with the scent of something dark, something wrong.


    As they approached, the first thing Aric noticed was the bodies.


    Corpses, littering the ground, their faces twisted in pain and terror. The soldiers who had once lived here were no more than broken remnants of flesh and blood, strewn about like discarded toys, but it wasn''t just the soldier¡ªcivilians to.


    Tortured captives hung limply from makeshift gallows, their eyes vacant, their skin marred with unspeakable wounds.


    Aric''s stomach churned from the smell, bile rising in his throat as he walked through the camp, his boots crunching on the snow that was now stained red.


    The silence was loud, broken only by the asional creak of wood or the distant howl of the wind. This looked no battlefield. This was a ughter.


    He nced over at Yrsa, but her face was as hard as ever, her eyes cold and focused. She didn''t flinch, didn''t waver. This was the world she knew, the world she had been born into.


    But for Aric, it was different, darker perhaps.


    The settlement was deathly quiet, the only sound the faint crackle of torches as Aric and Yrsa strode through the blood-soaked camp. The smell of blood and burning flesh lingered in the air, thick and suffocating.


    As they neared the heart of the settlement, the sound of movement echoed through the night. In the distance, shapes emerged from the shadows. Soldiers¡ªarmed and ready¡ªgathered in disciplined ranks, their armor glinting in the firelight.


    And at their center stood a figure, tall and proud, nked by his generals. Aszer Hait.


    Aszer stepped forward, his cloak of deep crimson trailing behind him like a pool of blood. His armor was polished, his hair pulled back tightly, his expression smug as his gaze fell upon Aric and Yrsa.


    His lips curled into a small, arrogant smile.


    He looked directly at Aric first, his eyes lingering on the blood-sttered mask that covered the prince''s face, then slowly shifting to his armor, the dents and scratches telling their own story.


    "You must have fought hard to reach me," Aszer remarked, his voice smooth and filled with false admiration. "I see you wear your battles well, General."


    Aric said nothing, his eyes cold behind the mask, he remained still, letting the silence between them linger.


    Aszer''s gaze drifted past him to Yrsa, and his smile widened, taking on an almost proud tone. He gestured with a sweep of his hand to the bloodied ground around them, the broken bodies of his enemies scattered like discarded trash.


    "And you, Lady Yrsa," he continued, his voice filled with a sick kind of pride. "Do you not like what I have done here? Do you not find it¡­ impressive?" His words hung in the air, thick with arrogance as if expecting her admiration.


    Yrsa''s expression remained stone-cold, her eyes hard as iron, unmoving as she stared back at him. She said nothing, her silence a sharper rebuke than any words she could have spoken.


    Aszer''s smile faltered for just a moment, but he quickly recovered, bowing deeply before her, his tone dripping with false courtesy.


    "It is a pleasure meeting you again, great princess," he said, the slight fear in his voice barely concealed. Chapter Explore:


    ''Princess??'' Aric thought, turning to Ysir with a raised brow.

 Chapter 73: They Will Sing No Songs About You

    The tension between them was heavy, the heat of the nearby fire doing little to warm the cold that hung in the air. Aszer''s face shifted, his proud smirk faltering as he noticed the weight in Yrsa''s gaze.


    "Could there be a problem?" Aszer asked, his voiceced with unease, though he tried to mask it behind his usual arrogance.


    Yrsa''s eyes didn''t leave him, the reflection of the fire flickering in their cold depths. "I have received word from the north," she began, her tone cutting. "Your soldiers, the soldiers of Byzeth, have been harassing and robbing our people. Our trade with you has been a scam¡ªa mockery of the agreements we made."


    Aszer blinked, his mouth opening in protest. "I know nothing of this," he said, his voice a touch too quick. "Surely if we sit down and talk¡ª"


    Yrsa cut him off mid-sentence, her voice sharp, unwavering. "You are the king of Byzeth. It was your job to know. Such disrespect, such an attack on my people, is a sin punishable only by death."


    For a moment, Aszer stiffened. His lips pressed together, his bravado visibly cracking.


    "What¡­ what are you saying?" His voice trembled, though he fought to maintainposure.


    A sigh escaped Aric, the sound barely audible over the murmurs of the soldiers gathered around them. He stepped forward, slowly, with the quiet authority of someone who understood the weight of the moment.


    The soldiers, around four hundred men now, turned their eyes to him, watching with uncertainty as the prince approached the center of the gathering. Aric stopped, his hand rising to his face as he slowly removed his bloodied mask.


    The wind was cold on his skin, the chill biting at the fresh wounds that had yet to heal. His gaze swept over the soldiers¡ªmen who had fought, bled, and lost, all under the banner of Byzeth.


    Chapter Stay:


    "Soldiers of Byzeth," he began, his voice steady yetced with a deep sorrow. "Some of you may know me, and some of you perhaps not¡­ but today, now, I speak to you not as your general, but as the prince of the very empire you have been raised to rebel against."


    The men shifted ufortably, their eyes locked on Aric as he continued.


    "You have been dwindled to below half the men you were when we first marched out of Byzeth. Most of you have lost someonerades, friends, brothers, and even sons." Aric''s voice tightened. "And for what? Only to take settlements outside kingdoms? But such is war. Victory is never certain, but death¡­ that is assured."


    A bitter chuckle escaped him, and he shook his head, his eyes hardening as he looked at the faces before him.


    "I understand why you picked up the sword you grip so tightly, why you donned that armor to fight under the banner of your king. For glory, no? For the chance to be remembered as warriors, men of honor."


    He paused, letting the silence stretch, his next words heavy with scorn.


    "You''re all fools. The lot of you. They will sing no songs about you. No stories told of your bravery. You will be just another corpse among a thousand others, left on the battlefield and forgotten, because that¡­ that is war."


    Aric turned, his eyesnding on a corpse lying in the dirt, its body mangled and lifeless. He kicked it once, the dull thud echoing through the silence. "Where is his glory, huh?" he kicked it again, harder this time, his voice rising in anger.


    "Where is his glory?"


    He kicked the body a third time, frustration pouring out of him. "What use is his honor now? ANSWER ME!" Aric''s voice cracked as he screamed, the rawness of his own past grief and anger flooding the space between them. The soldiers stood frozen, wide-eyed, not daring to move.


    After a moment, Aric stopped, his chest heaving. He stood still, staring at the corpse before him, his voice softening as heposed himself.


    "There is no glory in death. And no honor in loss. Such privilege is not reserved for foot soldiers like you. In war, there are only winners and losers, and everything else is bullshit."


    His words hung in the air as he turned back to the soldiers, their faces pale in the firelight.


    "Yes, when the people of your vige hear the news that you are another corpse on the battlefield, they will feel pity for you. ''Oh, what a great boy he was.'' ''He was a strong man.'' ''We will miss him.'' They''ll say these things, perhaps for a day, maybe a week, if they liked you."


    A bitter smile tugged at the corner of Aric''s lips. "But soon enough, they''ll return to their lives. And they will sing no songs about you. They will tell no story of your name."


    He turned to the soldiers once more, his voice growing colder.


    "And your wives¡­ they''ll break down when they hear the news. They''ll cry, they''ll mourn. But after weeks, maybe months, even they will move on. And the niced from down the street, the one who always helped her at the market, he''ll start keeping herpany, because she''s just a lonely widow now."


    Aric''s eyes burned with a fire that matched the mes of the torches around them. "And soon enough, he''ll have her bent over by your reading desk, gripping her hair tightly as she screams his name¡ªnot yours. And in that moment, she won''t speak of how much of a man of honor you were. She won''t care. And where will you be?"


    He pointed to the ground, his voice harsh.


    "A fucking corpse, rotting in the snow."


    The soldiers were silent, their faces pale, the weight of Aric''s words sinking in like a dagger to the chest.


    "The imperial squad arrives soon," Aric continued, his voice steady now, a cold resolve taking over. "And I am certain they need no introduction. The moment theye, we all die. And there is no glory or honor in that. So instead, I offer you the chance to fight for victory another day."


    Aric''s gaze swept across the men, his voice firm.


    "Denounce this rebellion. Denounce your foolish king who has led you to it. ept me as your ruler, and I will lead you back to your families, so you may fight another day¡ªa day when you actually stand a chance of victory. For that is the only way to honor and glory."


    Suddenly, Aszer rushed forward, fury zing in his eyes.


    "You dare betray me?"


    Before he could reach Aric, Yrsa stepped between them, her movements swift as a shadow. She blocked Aszer''s path, her hand resting calmly on the handle of her axe.


    Aric didn''t flinch, his eyes never leaving the soldiers.


    "Byzeth army, what say you? Would you rather die today, or live to fight again?"


    There was a moment of stillness, the weight of the decision hanging in the air. Aszer''s eyes darted around, panic creeping into his expression as he realized the gravity of the situation.


    Aric raised his voice, the intensity in his tone demanding an answer.


    "What say you?!"


    One by one, the soldiers dropped to a knee, their armor clinking softly as they bowed their heads.


    "We shall follow the prince," one voice called out, breaking the silence.


    Then, another voice echoed it. "We shall follow the prince."


    And soon, all four hundred men had knelt, their loyalty shifting in that moment, from a broken king to the one man who spoke the truth.

 Chapter 74: Clash

    Aszer''s eyes burned with fury as the weight of betrayal sank deep into his core. His chest heaved, and his ki swirled around him like a raging storm, making the air around him almost unbreathable. The ground trembled under his feet.


    "You''ve all chosen to betray me!" he roared, his voice filled with venom. "Then you will all die together!"


    His ki red brighter, rippling outward in a force so intense that the soldiers stumbled back, their breath caught in their throats. The pressure alone was enough to crush weaker men. In a sh, Aszer''s spear whipped forward, a trail of death following behind it as soldiers were sliced down where they stood, their bodies falling like leaves in autumn.


    The air filled with the sickening sound of steel piercing flesh, of screams cut short.


    "Fall back!" Aricmanded, his voice cutting through the chaos like a de.


    Chapter Explore:


    "Retreat!"


    Ysir, with her eyes sharp and narrowed, nced at her own soldiers.


    "Pull back! Now!" she ordered.


    There was hesitation, fear in the eyes of her legion, but hermand could not be ignored. Slowly, the soldiers withdrew, their eyes still wide as they stole nces at the towering figure of Aszer, who loomed like a god of war.


    Aszer''sughter echoed through the battlefield, cruel and mocking. "Do you even know who you stand before?" His gaze flickered between them. "Do you know the power I possess?"


    Aric unsheathed his de with a metallic hiss, the sound strangely calm in the tension.


    "He''s quite the yapper, don''t you think?" Aric quipped, a smirk touching his lips as his eyes shifted to Ysir.


    Ysir chuckled, gripping her massive axe tighter.


    "Quite."


    Aszer''s smile faded, his eyes shing dangerously.


    The fight began with a thunderous sh, like the gods themselves warring.


    Aric darted forward first, his movements a blur, a sh of silver as his de shed toward Aszer''s throat. But the King of Byzeth was faster, his spear spinning like a tempest, deflecting the strike with such force that it sent a shockwave through the air.


    Aric skidded back, but only for a heartbeat. His shadow steps carried him forward again, his figure flickering like a ghost, always in motion.


    Ysir followed with a war cry, her axe a monstrous thing, heavy yet swift, cleaving through the air as she swung it down in a deadly arc.


    The sheer force of her strike sent ripples through the ground, but Aszer sidestepped with unnerving grace, his spear a blur as he retaliated. Ysir barely managed to parry the blow, sparks flying from the sh of their weapons.


    Aszer''s spear shot forward, lightning-quick.


    Aric deflected it with the t of his de but winced under the force. He was outmatched in power, that much was clear, but he was not beaten.


    His swordsmanship was like a dance, every movement precise, every strike calcted. Aszer swung again, a vicious horizontal sh meant to cleave Aric in two, but Aric ducked under it and countered, his sword finding a gap in Aszer''s defense, slicing across his side.


    Aszer grunted, more in surprise than pain. Blood oozed from the wound, but it was shallow.


    "Impressive," he sneered, "for an ant."


    Before Aric could reply, Aszer''s spear came crashing down like a thunderbolt, and he barely had time to bring up his sword in defense. The impact rattled through his arms, nearly knocking him off his feet.


    He gritted his teeth, sliding back across the dirt, his muscles aching from the strain.


    Ysir roared, taking advantage of the momentary distraction, her axeing down with the full weight of her fury. The blow was titanic, her strength unmatched by most.


    Aszer raised his spear to block, but the force behind her strike sent him stumbling back, his boots grinding against the earth. Ysir pressed the attack, her axe a wind of destruction, each swing carrying the weight of a mountain.


    Aszer''s eyes gleamed with malice. His ki surged once again, his spear glowing with deadly energy. He lunged at Ysir with blinding speed, and she barely managed to twist her body, the spear grazing her armor but still drawing blood. She grimaced, but didn''t falter.


    With a primal scream, she lifted her axe high, and as she brought it down, the very air around them seemed to freeze. Her weapon gleamed with cold light, projecting a gigantic version of itself that roared through the battlefield, crashing toward Aszer like a wave of pure destruction.


    But Aszer stood his ground. With a roar of his own, his ki exploded outward, his spear meeting the axe''s projection in a sh that shook the earth. The force of the collision sent shockwaves in all directions, the ground cracking beneath their feet.


    Yet, in the next instant, Ysir was sent flying backward, her body crashing through a building with enough force to shatter stone. Shey still, blood trickling down her forehead.


    "crap!" Aric''s shout echoed in the silence that followed.


    But there was no time to tend to her. Aszer''s gaze fell on him, and with a single, swift movement, the King of Byzeth closed the distance between them.


    Aric barely managed to bring his sword up in time to block the spear aimed at his heart. But Aszer was relentless, his strikes like the fury of a storm. Each blow hammered down with the weight of a thousand men, and Aric was forced to give ground, step by step, until his back was pressed against the ruins of a wall.


    Desperation shed in Aric''s eyes, but he saw an opening, a momentarypse in Aszer''s defense. He seized it, darting to the side with shadow steps andshing out with his de, aiming for Aszer''s unguarded nk.


    But Aszer was quicker than expected. With a snarl, he twisted, catching Aric''s sword with the shaft of his spear. Before Aric could react, Aszer drove the spear forward, impaling Aric through the stomach.


    Pain exploded through Aric''s body as he was lifted off his feet, his vision blurring. His sword slipped from his grasp, ttering to the ground as his blood stained the spear''s tip.


    Aszer''s eyes glowed with savage triumph as he raised Aric higher, like a predator savoring its kill.


    "Your speech was fitting," he sneered, his voice dripping with venom. "You, too, will be just another corpse on this battlefield. A forgotten prince, destined to die a failure."


    Aric''s vision darkened, the world fading around him. The pain in his body dulled, reced by a cold, creeping numbness.


    And then, in the midst of the ckness, he heard it. The voice.


    The same one just before he died in his previous life.


    "Is this the fate you wanted?"


    Everything went silent.

 Chapter 75: Threads of fate.

    Aric''s world copsed into darkness, the pain in his body slipping into a dull, distant ache.


    Blood seeped from the wound, but it was no longer his concern. The voice had returned, as chilling as it was familiar, weaving its question into the silence that surrounded him.


    "Is this the fate you wanted?"


    In that instant, the battlefield disappeared.


    The shing of metal, the roar of ki attacks, the sneer of Aszer¡ªthey all dissolved as if swallowed by the void itself. Aric was suspended in nothingness, his mind barelyprehending the sudden shift.


    For a moment, he wondered if this was death''s cold embrace. But no, this felt different. Deeper. Older.


    He blinked, and when his eyes opened, the world had transformed.


    He stood in an endless space, not of earth or sky, but of something far stranger. Above him, threads¡ªcountless, infinite¡ªwove themselves through the air, each one stretching beyond sight, shimmering faintly, as though they were alive.


    They twitched and shifted, connecting everything in their delicate design. Beneath his feet, the ground was not solid but reflective, showing him glimpses¡ªshes of lives he had never lived, moments he had never chosen.


    "Where¡­?" Aric''s voice trailed off, confusion clouding his thoughts. This ce felt unreal, as if he stood at the edge of something primordial. Every step he took echoed without sound, each movement resonating with the gravity of a decision he was too afraid to make.


    He didn''t know how he had arrived here. One moment he was dying, skewered on Aszer''s spear, and the next¡­he was here, wherever ''here'' was.


    Then the voice returned, gentle but with a weight that seemed to press against the very air itself.


    "You tread where few dare to walk, Helot of Fate."


    Aric turned sharply, but no one stood behind him. The voice was noting from a direction¡ªit seemed to be woven into the space, emanating from everywhere and nowhere at once.


    "This ce... is yours," the voice continued, "A reflection of the unseen, the choices that bind the world, the unseen current that pulls at every life."


    He swallowed, his hand instinctively moving to where the spear had pierced his side.


    There was no wound. No blood. Only the lingering impression of pain.


    "Why am I here?" he asked, his voice echoing faintly against the void. His heart raced, though he tried to remain calm. He was not ready to trust the voice, not yet.


    "Because you were always meant to be," it replied simply.


    "You, Aric Valerian, are more than a pawn. Fate does not toy with you¡ªit has chosen you. But you have never fully understood what that means."


    The words settled into him, but Aric''s mind still raced.


    Fate? Chosen? So this was his sub-space, he clenched his teeth to find some semnce of control in this alien stretch.


    "You must be the weaver of fate then," he spat out. "I no longer want to y your games, I will make my own path."


    A soft, almost amused chuckle reverberated through the space.


    "Ah, but even your defiance is part of the weave. Every choice you make, every battle you fight, they are threads woven together. You believe you defy, but in truth, you spin the same loom that governs all."


    Aric''s eyes flickered upward to the glowing threads above him. They swayed gently, like leaves caught in a soft breeze.


    "So I''m bound? No matter what I do, I can''t escape?"


    There was a pause, a stillness that hummed with anticipation.


    "Fate is not chains, nor is it freedom. It is a path made of infinite possibilities¡ªyours to pull or sever, if you understand the cost. Every thread is a choice, every choice a ripple in the current. You, Aric, are not just another prince destined to die in obscurity. You are a weaver of these threads, more than any other. But such power¡­such knowledgees with an immeasurable burden."


    The words hung in the air, heavier now, as though they carried the weight of centuries.


    Aric''s breath caught in his throat. He stared at the shifting threads above him, the lives flickering beneath his feet. So many paths, so many possibilities, all stretching into an infinite horizon.


    The voice spoke again, quieter this time, as if offering something secret.


    "Your significance is beyond the battlefield, beyond your enemies, even beyond your desires. You hold the power to reshape destiny itself. But with every thread you pull, something else must be lost."


    Aric''s hands flexed at his sides. His mind swirled with the enormity of whaty before him. The weight of the choices he had made, and those yet toe, pressed down on him. Could he truly bear it?


    "And now," the voice whispered, its final words wrapping around him like a cloak of inevitability, "the question is not whether you will choose¡­ but whether you will learn to wield the consequences of your choices."


    Aric''s gaze hardened as he looked around the infinite space once more, threads of destiny beckoning like whispers in the dark.


    But he did not tremble. Not now.


    He took a step forward. His step. His choice.


    As Aric took his step, reality around him shifted, bending to his will¡ªor at least, a glimpse of it. He felt the weight of it pulling at him, like countless threads tugging from every direction. The ck void of his subspace rippled and shattered.


    Suddenly, he was back on the battlefield.


    Pain.


    Sharp, burning pain radiated from his abdomen, where the spear had impaled him. His hand trembled as he gripped the cold, bloodstained metal embedded in his flesh. With a grunt, he pulled, the weapon sliding out of him with a sickening sound¡ªAszer let him.


    Blood flowed freely from the wound, but there was no time to think. The spear was gripped tightly by the Byzeth king as Aric dropped to one knee, gasping for breath¡ªhe then swiftly distanced himself.


    Ysir was still struggling to get up.


    Across the field, he saw her¡ªfierce, relentless.


    She slowly rose from the rubble of the shattered building, her massive axe lifted high as she charged back toward Aszer. The ground trembled beneath her, each step fueled by fury and the will to win. Her battle cry echoed loudly.


    But Aszer was waiting.


    His eyes gleamed with a savage light as he watched Ysir approach, his spear spinning in his hand like a living thing. Aric''s vision swam, and he tried to push himself to his feet, but the wound slowed him.


    Blood soaked his armor, the strength he once had felt like a distant memory.


    "Ysir¡­" he whispered, his voice lost in the storm of battle.


    Ysir swung her axe with all the force she could muster, the sheer power behind it enough to crush a lesser man. But Aszer was no lesser man. He sidestepped her strike with ease, his movements fluid, almost graceful.


    And in that instant, with her momentum thrown off, he struck.


    His spear shed through the air, a blur of death.


    Aric watched helplessly as the de sliced cleanly through Ysir''s neck.


    Time seemed to slow. Her body stopped mid-swing, the axe falling from her hands, and then her head¡ªsevered, blood spraying through the air¡ªtumbled to the ground. Her body copsed momentster, a lifeless husk, her eyes still wide with determination.


    Aric''s heart pounded in his chest, a scream building in his throat, but no sound escaped him. His mind screamed No!, but his body betrayed him, too weak to move.


    Aszer turned, a smile of triumph twisting his lips as he stepped over Ysir''s corpse. His gaze fixed on Aric¡ªbloodied, struggling to stand. The battlefield around them had fallen into a haunting silence, the echoes of death hanging in the air.


    "You were always weak," Aszer sneered, his voice cold, detached. He walked toward Aric slowly, savoring the moment. "The forgotten prince. You should''ve known better than to stand against me."


    Aric''s fingers twitched, searching for his sword, but his body refused to obey. He was drowning in pain, his strength slipping away with every heartbeat. His vision blurred, dark spots clouding his sight. But even as the darkness closed in, he refused to look away from Aszer.


    The king raised his spear, the tip gleaming in the blood-soaked dusk. "And now you die," Aszer whispered.


    The spear came down.


    ---


    Aric blinked, gasping as the image shattered like ss, fragments of the battlefield splintering into nothingness. He was back in the void, standing in the same spot where he had taken his step.


    His heart still pounded in his chest, the pain of the spear wound vivid, the memory of Ysir''s death raw.


    But it wasn''t real. Not yet.


    "That¡­ was a fate," the voice whispered, gentle and ominous. "One of many. One that you could choose¡­ or change."


    Aric''s breath caught in his throat. He stared at the void, the pressure of what he had seen pressing down on him. His fingers curled into fists as the truth settled in his mind. The sacrifice, the cost¡ªit was all clear now. If he didn''t change the course, Ysir would die. He would die.


    His choices would decide. His hand was already on the thread.


    "Will you pull it?" the voice asked, softer now. "Or will you let it remain?"


    "You know what you must do, but can you do it¡­are you willing to?"


    Aric''s eyes narrowed. There was only one choice now.


    He would pull...he would cause destruction, no matter how terrifying the oue seemed.


    [Ki and Mana is Merging]

 Chapter 76: To Alter

    The cold, creeping numbness began to ebb, reced by something unfamiliar¡ªa pulse, a surge of warmth, but also chaos.


    It was as though the world around him shifted and buckled. His senses sharpened, but not with rity, but with something far more profound¡ªsomething wrong.


    The spear that had impaled him began to hiss, its structure trembling under an unseen force, and then, to Aszer''s astonishment, it disintegrated into nothing but dust, falling away from Aric''s broken body¡ªbut the king swiftly materialized another in his hands.


    Aric''s eyes snapped open.


    The battlefield around him felt off, as if it existed as a memory alone.


    His body, though torn and bloodied, flowed with what should have been an impossible energy¡ªmana and ki, blending, swirling, converging in ways that defied all natural order.


    He stood, power raging, bending with intensity.


    Aszer recoiled, momentarily caught off guard, his eyes narrowing in confusion. "What... is this?" he mumbled, his voice less certain than before.


    Aric didn''t answer. He didn''t need to.


    With a slow, deliberate breath, he extended his hands, palms facing out toward Aszer.


    The air between them roared violently, as though it were a storm about to break, and then in an instant, a sphere of energy formed around them, trapping both Aric and the king inside.


    The world outside the sphere seemed to flicker and slow.


    The crackle of mes, the panic of krigers¡ªeverything dulled, as though they had stepped into a separate reality. Inside this isted pocket, time no longer flowed as it should. It twisted and bent.


    Aric could see them¡ªthreads of light, hundreds, no, thousands of them. They flickered, danced, and intertwined around Aszer.


    Each thread represented a possibility, a future, a potential movement or strike Aszer might take. The threads pulsed in and out of focus, but Aric, with each breath, began to see them more clearly.


    Aszer, meanwhile, sensed the shift.


    His instincts red, but he could not understand the sudden change, nor the subtle, disorienting flickers that now appeared at the edges of his vision. Every time he moved, an afterimage of himself seemed to linger behind, like a shadow of the action he hadn''t yet taken.


    With a savage growl, heunched himself forward, spear outstretched in a deadly thrust aimed at Aric''s heart.


    But Aric already saw it.


    He saw not one thrust, but many¡ªeach a different variation of how Aszer could strike. A simple adjustment, a nudge of a thread, and Aszer''s spear veered slightly off-course, just enough for Aric to sidestep.


    Aszer''s eyes widened as his strike missed, the spear driving into the ground where Aric had been moments before.


    Aric''s lips curled into a faint smile, though the exertion of holding the sphere together was starting to weigh on him. The chaotic fusion of ki and mana wasn''t stable¡ªhe could feel his entire being be ripped apart, surged, desperate to break free of his control¡ªbut it was only though that this power was made possible.


    [Ki is dangerously low.]


    [Mana is dangerously low.]


    [Hp is dangerously low]


    He couldn''t stop now. Not yet.


    Aszer spun around with inhuman speed,unching another series of brutal attacks¡ªsweeps of his spear, lunges, shes. But each time, Aric was already moving. He saw every potential strike, every angle, every choice Aszer might make before it happened.


    He was no longer reacting; he was anticipating, influencing, pushing the battle in his favor.


    But even in this, Aszer''s raw power was undeniable. The force of his strikes caused the ground beneath them to shatter, and each time Aric dodged, he felt the sphere tremble, the instability growing. For every moment Aric manipted fate, reality pushed back.


    Aszer let out a roar of frustration, his eyes glowing with fury as he poured his strength into a massive overhead strike, his spear glowing with murderous intent. The very air around it screamed as it descended, a blow that would have obliterated anything in its path.


    Aric felt the pull of the future threads, saw the inevitable oue¡ªa direct hit, his body broken under the weight of Aszer''s power.


    No.


    With a surge of desperate energy, Aric altered the thread, twisting fate just enough to shift the spear''s trajectory. Aszer''s strike missed by mere inches, crashing into the ground with an explosion of debris and energy.


    But the act of altering that future came at a cost.


    The sphere flickered, the energy within it spiraling out of control. The ground beneath them rippled, fiery distortions warping the air as the ki and mana began to destabilize. Aric staggered, his vision blurring from the effort of holding it together.


    He could feel the bacsh of the chaotic energies¡ªpushing, pulling at him, threatening to tear him apart.


    "Argh!" Aric gritted his teeth, his muscles screaming under the strain.


    Aszer, despite his confusion at Aric''s strange ability, was not a man to be underestimated. He was a Martial King, and his experience ran deep. He recognized the signs of strain in Aric, and though his frustration simmered beneath the surface, he saw an opportunity.


    "You''re ying with powers beyond your reach," Aszer spat, his spear twirling in his grip as he prepared another assault. "You can''t control it. It''s going to kill you before you kill me."


    Aric''s breath came in ragged gasps, his body trembling from the immense toll. But even as his energy waned, even as the chaotic fusion threatened to consume him, he held onto one thing: the threads. The futures. He could see them, even now.


    With one final push, Aric concentrated on the flickering afterimages around Aszer. He didn''t need to fully control them¡ªjust enough to create an opening.


    As Aszer charged, Aric altered a single thread.


    The Martial King''s foot caught an invisible snag in the earth, just enough to throw off his momentum. His spear faltered, the strike losing its deadly precision for just a heartbeat.


    And in that heartbeat, Aric struck.


    His sword, forgotten until now, shed forward with blinding speed. It wasn''t a powerful strike¡ªit didn''t need to be. The tip of the de found its mark, slipping through the tiniest gap in Aszer''s defenses, stabbing into his arm.


    In that moment, aric poured the chaotic mix of energy into Aszer.

 Chapter 77: The Conqueror.

    With one final push, Aric concentrated on the flickering afterimages around Aszer. He didn''t need to fully control them¡ªjust enough to create an opening.


    As Aszer charged, Aric altered a single thread.


    The Martial King''s foot caught an invisible snag in the earth, just enough to throw off his momentum. His spear faltered, the strike losing its deadly precision for just a heartbeat.


    And in that heartbeat, Aric struck.


    His sword, forgotten until now, shed forward with blinding speed. It wasn''t a powerful strike¡ªit didn''t need to be. The tip of the de found its mark, slipping through the tiniest gap in Aszer''s defenses, stabbing into his arm.


    In that moment, aric poured the chaotic mix of energy into Aszer.


    The energy rushed from the sword into the king''s body like a flood breaching a dam, wild and uncontroble.


    Aszer''s spear, poised for another strike, suddenly shattered in his hands, crumbling like ash carried on the wind.


    He blinked, confused for only a second, before his lips twisted into a triumphant grin. With a grunt, he yanked Aric''s sword from his arm and tossed it aside,ughing as blood streamed down his arm.


    "Is this it?" he sneered, wiping blood from his chin. "Is this all you have, forgotten prince?"


    But as the seconds dragged on, Aszer''sughter began to wane. His smug grin faltered as he nced at the wound on his arm. The blood¡ªit wasn''t stopping. Instead, it poured freely, gushing in thick, dark streams.


    He pressed his hand against the wound, but no matter how hard he tried to stem the flow, the pain only deepened, gnawing at him from the inside.


    His ki¡ªthe source of his strength, his lifeblood¡ªbegan to tremble, then ripple like a wild animal trapped in a cage. He staggered, eyes wide, feeling the familiar power that once made him a king falter, unraveling at the seams.


    "What... what is this?"


    Aszer''s voice cracked with desperation as his body convulsed, his muscles twitching uncontrobly. And then, all at once, his ki erupted, the force of it tearing through him in a violent shockwave.


    He let out a guttural scream, doubling over as the surge ravaged his core, his very essence.


    When the storm subsided, Aszer copsed to his knees, gasping for air. His limbs trembled, but they were no longer his own.


    The strength he''d wielded for so long¡ªhis might, his power, his pride¡ªwas gone. His ki, once a raging river, was now a barren stream. He was empty.


    His cultivation had been crippled.


    He was... nothing.


    Aszer looked up, his breath ragged, his eyes wide with disbelief. Aric stood before him, bloodied, his body swaying on the brink of copse, but a smile tugged at the corner of his lips.


    It wasn''t a smile of joy or triumph¡ªit was a weary, broken thing, the smile of a man who had pushed himself to the edge of the abyss and returned.


    With slow, deliberate steps, Aric approached. His hands were shaking, his legs barely holding him up, but he moved forward, driven by something far deeper than strength. As he reached Aszer, he raised his hand and, with all the effort he could muster, he pped the king across the face.


    The force wasn''t great, but it was enough.


    Aszer toppled to the ground, his lip splitting open as he hit the dirt, blood spilling onto the cold earth. Hey there, stunned, eyes wide with disbelief, the world around him narrowing to a single point of confusion and fear.


    This wasn''t how it was supposed to be. He was a king, a ruler, he was like a god among men. How could this forgotten prince¡ªthe man who was to be nothing¡ªreduce him to this?


    Aric leaned over him, his breathing in shallow gasps, his voice barely above a whisper, but it wasced with finality.


    "This is your fate," he said, his eyes dark and hollow. "And sadly... it''s one you cannot change."


    Aszer scrambled backward, his hands shaking, his eyes wide with terror.


    "Wait¡ªplease!" he begged, his voice cracking as he crawled away from Aric. "I''ll give you anything! You may have Byzeth even!"


    But Aric''s gaze was cold. There was no room for mercy, not here, not now. With a final, staggering step, he raised his sword high above his head, the de trembling in his grip.


    Then, with a single, fluid motion, he brought it down.


    The de sliced cleanly through flesh and bone, severing Aszer''s head from his body.


    The king''s lifeless form slumped to the ground, blood pooling beneath it, while his head rolled a few feet away, eyes still open in shock.


    Aric stood over the corpse for a moment, his body swaying, his vision blurring. His sword slipped from his grip, ttering onto the blood-soaked earth beside him.


    He turned slowly, the battlefield stretched out before him, the soldiers and legionnaires standing frozen, watching from a far distance. Silence nketed the field¡ªno cheers, no shouts, just the quiet hum of disbelief.


    Ysir had risen from the rubble, her body battered and bruised, but she stood tall, her eyes locked on Aric with a mixture of awe and disbelief. She, too, couldn''t find words, her face reflecting the stunned silence of the army that had just witnessed the impossible.


    Aric nced at them all, the significance of what had just happened slowly sinking in.


    But as his eyes drifted upward, something else caught his attention.


    Snow.


    Soft, delicate kes were falling from the sky, drifting slowly down to the earth, covering the battlefield in a pale, silent nket.


    He stared at the sky, his mind distant, as a small, familiar *ding* echoed in his thoughts.


    [You have received a new title: The Conqueror.]


    Aric exhaled, a shaky, breathless sound, and then, with onest nce at the falling snow, his body gave way.


    He copsed to the ground, unconscious before he even hit the earth, his world fading into the quiet, cold embrace of the snow.


    This was his first main battle since his regression, and Aric Valerian, the forgotten prince¡­had won.

 Chapter 78: A king returns

    Aric''s eyes flickered open, the world graduallying into focus around him. The first sensation that greeted him was warmth¡ªunexpected and unfamiliar, the kind of warmth he hadn''t felt in many, many days.


    It wasn''t the pale, weak light that barely kissed the skin during the frigid marches through the northernnds. No, this sunlight was far brighter, harsher even, bathing his face in an almost startling heat that jarred him awake.


    He squinted, raising a hand to shield his eyes from the golden rays spilling across the horizon.


    The brightness made his head swim, disoriented by the stark contrast between the warmth and the biting chill he had endured for what felt like ages. For a moment, he wondered if he had died after all¡ªsumbing to the wound, the exhaustion, the battle.


    Perhaps this was hell, and he had been damned to wander through an eternity of suffocating heat.


    But as his vision cleared, he saw nothing resembling the mes of hell. Instead, he saw the setting sun, dipping low in the sky, casting shadows across thend, painting everything golden.


    The warmth wasn''t oppressive, not burning him alive¡ªit was the southern warmth, the kind that feltforting.


    His body ached, every muscle heavy and sore. He realized then that he wasn''t lying on the hard, cold ground but in a makeshift carrier, salvaged from the ruins of the settlement they had sacked.


    It swayed gently beneath him, fastened to the back of one of the Kriegers¡ªmassive beasts, all horns and muscle, that the Northrenders bred for war.


    He was being transported. Alive.


    "You slept for three days," came a voice from his right. "I thought you had slipped into aa."


    Aric turned his head slowly, the motion pulling at the stitches in his side. Ysir rode beside him, her figure straight andmanding on top of her Krieger. Her puprle hair was matted with dirt and dried blood, her face a canvas of scars and determination, but her eyes still held that sharpness he hade to expect from her.


    Around them marched her legion, the disciplined soldiers of the north. Alongside them, the Byzeth army moved aswell, uncertain but present.


    "I am alive," Aric said, more to himself than to Ysir. The words left to settle, both a statement and a question, as if speaking them aloud would solidify the truth in his own mind.


    "That you are," Ysir replied, a thin smile ying on her lips. "Surprisingly."


    Aric tried to sit up a little more in the carrier, but his body protested with sharp pangs of pain.


    "I killed him, didn''t I?"


    Ysir nodded, her tone neutral, as if discussing the weather. "You did. Though I''m still surprised you managed to suppress your ki so skillfully. I''ve never seen anything like it."


    Aric chuckled weakly, shaking his head.


    "I wasn''t suppressing anything. I''m barely in the Martial Knight realm."


    Ysir''s eyes narrowed in disbelief, her brows knitting together as she nced at him.


    "That''s impossible," she muttered under her breath, her mind clearly wrestling with what she''d witnessed on the battlefield.


    Aric didn''t respond. Instead, he just smiled, a small, tired smile that betrayed nothing. He let the silence stretch between them, watching as Ysir''s eyes flicked forward to the front of the convoy.


    There, among the lead riders, was a single horse, carrying a tall pole fastened to its side. From the top of the pole hung something macabre¡ªsomething that caught the dying light of the sun in a grotesque disy. It was the head of Aszer Hait, the fallen king of Byzeth, swinging gently by the hair with each step of the horse.


    Aric stared at the head for a long moment, his mind flying with memories of that final strike, the chaotic energy that had crippled Aszer, the way the man had begged for his life before the end.


    A small, almost imperceptible grin tugged at the corners of Aric''s lips.


    Ysir caught his gaze and followed it to the severed head.


    "We''re nearing the Miredist Stretch," she said quietly, her tone softer than usual. "If you are to be the new king of Byzeth, you should ride into your kingdom like one."


    Aric nodded, understanding the significance of her words.


    Slowly, he swung his legs over the side of the carrier, wincing as his feet touched the ground. His body protested, but he pushed through the pain, rising to stand on unsteady legs.


    One of Ysir''s soldiers approached, holding out a bundle of dark and gold steel¡ªhis armor. Aric took it with a grateful nod, fastening the pieces back onto his body, the familiar weight settling over his shoulders.


    The soldier then brought forth a stallion, ck as night, with eyes that glinted with the same feral intelligence as the Kriegers. Aric mounted the beast with difficulty, his muscles trembling with fatigue, but once he was seated in the saddle, he felt a renewed sense of strength.


    The pain in his body dulled, reced by a singr focus.


    Ysir watched him, her expression unreadable, but there was a glimmer of approval in her eyes. Without another word, she urged her Krieger forward, and the army followed.


    They rode together, Aric at the head of the procession, Ysir and her legion beside him, the Byzeth soldiers trailing behind.


    As they crossed the Miredis Stretch, the barren expanse that marked the border of the kingdom, thendscape slowly began to change. The harsh, northern winds had long givenway to the softer breezes of the south, and the dry, cracked earth was reced by fertile fields and rolling hills as they went passed the strech.


    The first vige they passed was small, nothing more than a collection of thatched huts and narrow dirt roads. But as the army approached, the vigers emerged from their homes, eyes wide with fear and confusion.


    They stared at the approaching force¡ªan army riding beasts they had never seen before, not bearing the g of their kingdom, but instead the severed head of their king.


    Whispers spread like wildfire through the crowd, hushed voices exchanging hurried words of disbelief.


    Peasants scrambled out of the way, mothers clutching their children, men standing frozen in shock as they watched the army march through their streets. Some bowed their heads in submission, others turned and fled into the fields, seeking safety in the shadows.


    And at the front of this terrible procession, leading the way with quiet determination, was Aric Valerian¡ªthe forgotten prince of Valeria.


    His presence was undeniable. His armor, now tarnished with blood and dust, gleamed in the fading light, and his face, though pale with exhaustion, held a steely resolve. His eyes were fixed on the road ahead, unyielding, as if the weight of the entire kingdom rested on his shoulders¡ªand perhaps it did.


    They passed through more viges, each one reacting the same. Shock. Fear. Awe. The peasants whispered Aric''s name as he rode by, their eyes lingering on the grisly trophy that hung above the army¡ªthe head of the king they once followed.


    The countryside blurred past as they continued toward the capital, the golden light of the setting sun offering long shadows across thend. But with each step, with each mile, Aric felt the pull of destiny tightening around him. This was his kingdom now, his conquest.


    Finally, as the capital loomed on the horizon, its walls towering against the evening sky, Aric straightened in his saddle. He could feel the weight of Ysir''s gaze on him, the eyes of the entire army watching his every move.


    This was it. His moment.


    And with a calm, steady breath, Aric rode forward, into the heart of Byzeth, a conqueror in every sense of the word.

 Chapter 79: What Does Rebellion Bring?

    The city of Byzeth erupted into chaos the moment Aric''s army marched through its gates. It had been only a whisper before, rumors in the dark¡ªAszer''s failed rebellion.


    But now, as the citizens of Byzeth watched a Valerian prince parade through their streets with the severed head of their king dangling from a pole, that whisper became a roar.


    Aric could feel the tension mounting in the air, intoxicating like the scent of blood before battle. The people''s faces twisted with uncertainty, fear, and desperation.


    What did this mean for their kingdom? For their lives?


    The streets teemed with bodies as word of Aric''s arrival spread like wildfire. People poured out of their homes, abandoning their shops and stalls, joining the swelling crowd that trailed behind the army.


    Some walked in silence, their faces ashen, while others whispered to one another in hushed tones, trying to make sense of the catastrophe that had befallen them.


    Aric''s name passed from mouth to mouth, growing louder, bing a chant, a song of dread.


    The capital was not ready for him. It was never ready.


    By the time they reached the towering gates of the castle, a massive crowd had gathered behind them. The peasants stood shoulder to shoulder with traders, nobles, and soldiers alike.


    Aric scanned the faces in the throng, catching glimpses of the councilmen who had served Aszer, the very same men who had stood by the king''s side during his rebellion.


    Their faces were masks of barely contained rage, eyes burning with hatred and betrayal as they saw their king''s head swinging grotesquely with each movement of the pole.


    But they dared not speak up, not here, not now.


    Aric dismounted from his horse slowly, his movements deliberate, as though he were already king. His armor clinked softly in the stillness that settled over the crowd as his feet touched the ground.


    The weight of every eye was on him, and he carried it with ease. He stepped forward, letting the air of authority wrap itself around him like a cloak.


    "Summon the nobles," Aricmanded, his voice steady and cold. "And bring the members of Aszer''s council before me at once."


    His words rippled through the castle guards, who scattered to carry out his orders without hesitation.


    No one questioned him. Not one soul.


    The minutes dragged on like the slow death of a man, but eventually, they came. One by one, the nobles, the council members, and the remaining court filed into the castle front.


    Some still wore the insignia of Byzeth''s power¡ªthe marks of privilege, wealth, and old bloodlines¡ªwhile others had stripped themselves of any indication of their ties to the fallen king.


    They stood in two distinct lines before Aric, some trembling, some defiant, but all under the shadow of the Valerian prince.


    Among them were rtives of the deceased king¡ªAszer''s sister, his cousins, inws. Their faces twisted with grief as they beheld the king''s head swaying in the air.


    It hung like a morbid trophy of conquest, a grim reminder of the consequences of treachery. Some broke into sobs, cries of despair echoing in the vaulted chamber, but Aric''s expression remained impassive, as though the wails of the mourning were nothing more than the wind against stone.


    He stepped forward, standing tall in front of the assembled nobility, and his eyes swept across them with cold, calcted precision.


    He took his time, savoring the moment. This was his kingdom now. He had no intention of letting them forget it.


    "Your king," Aric began, his voice carrying through the crowd, low and steady, "plotted rebellion against Valeria. He sought to throw off the yoke of his empire, to seize more power, more wealth."


    His eyes locked onto the faces of the council members.


    "Tell me, what did he... you all seek?"


    The question lingered in the air like the scent of death.


    One of the nobles, a man with thin, greying hair, stepped forward hesitantly, his voice barely above a whisper.


    "Now, we¡­ seek to keep our lives."


    Aric''s lips curled into a smile that never reached his eyes.


    "Wise words. You chose survival over loyalty to a doomed cause. And for that, I offer you a choice. Swear loyalty to me, here and now, and you might live."


    The councilmen, shaken and desperate, bowed swiftly, their heads dipping so low it was as if they tried to bury themselves in the ground.


    "We swear our loyalty, Prince Aric," they muttered, their voices trembling with the weight of fear.


    Aric inclined his head slightly.


    "Good. You have made a wise decision."


    He turned his attention from the groveling council to the crowd beyond the castle front, his gaze sweeping over the peasants and traders, themon folk who had gathered to witness the fall of a kingdom.


    They stood in the front courtyard, pressed against one another, watching with wide eyes.


    The tension thickening like a dam ready to break. His expression, cold and controlled, carried finality.


    His voice, though low at first, began to rise, resonating through the stone walls, reaching the ears of everyone gathered.


    "Rebellion," he began, "is a word that stirs the hearts of men. It carries with it a promise¡ªof freedom, of power, of a future free from the shackles of oppression. It whispers to the weak that they can rise, that they can overthrow those above them, that they can build something greater."


    His eyes drifted over the faces of the crowd, taking in the mixed expressions¡ªsome fearful, others hopeful, all hanging on his every word.


    "But the truth of rebellion," he continued, his voice growing firmer, "is far more cruel. For rebellion does not birth freedom¡ªit breeds chaos. It does not lead to power¡ªit invites ruin. It does not sow a brighter future¡ªit sets fire to the present until nothing remains but ash and bone."


    Some in the crowd shifted ufortably; others stood frozen, as if afraid to move, afraid to breathe.


    "Your king, Aszer," Aric said, his tone icy, "believed that rebellion would bring him greatness. He convinced himself, and many of you, that by breaking the chains of Valeria, he could be a ruler in his own right, that he could carve out an empire worthy of his ambition. But what did it bring him? What did it bring all of you?"


    He raised a hand, gesturing to the severed head of King Aszer, still swaying from the pole beside him. The gruesome sight drew murmurs from the crowd, some turning their eyes away in horror.


    "It brought him nothing but a headless corpse," Aric stated inly, the cold truth cutting through the air.


    "Rebellion does not make a man stronger¡ªit makes him desperate. See your fellow countrymen¡ªlost, confused, wondering what future awaits them. Is this what rebellion has given you?"


    A wave of silence followed, held by realization.


    Aric''s words gnawed at the fragile hopes of those who had once believed in the rebellion, and now they were left staring into the void of its aftermath.


    "No," Aric pressed on, his voice darkening with conviction, "rebellion gives nothing but suffering. It brings the sword, the me, the endless bloodshed. Your king sought to raise a banner of freedom, but what he raised was a funeral pyre for all of you."


    He took a step forward, his gaze locking with the nobles, the peasants, the soldiers¡ªnone were spared the intensity of his stare.


    His presence was suffocating,manding.


    There would be no mistaking his message.


    "Know this, and understand it," he said, his voice carrying the audacity of a king, "Rebellion is not strength. Rebellion is not courage. Rebellion is weakness, cloaked in the false promise of hope. It is the final act of the desperate, of those too blind to see the inevitable."


    Aric walked slowly to the edge of the tform where the nobles stood and raised his voice, his tone hardening as it reached the masses.


    "I will tell you what rebellion truly brings, it is the same thing it will bring to this council members."


    He let the silence stretch for a moment, letting the implications of his words settle in the hearts of those before him.


    The crowd leaned in, as though the air had be too thick to breathe, anticipation wing at their throats.


    "Death."

 Chapter 80: To be king.

    Aric walked slowly to the edge of the tform where the nobles stood and raised his voice, his tone hardening as it reached the masses.


    "I will tell you what rebellion truly brings, it is the aame thing it has brought to this council members."


    He let the silence stretch for a moment, letting the implications of his words settle in the hearts of those before him.


    The crowd leaned in, as though the air had be too thick to breathe, anticipation wing at their throats.


    "Death."


    The word dropped like a stone in still water, and the ripples were felt immediately. Gasps rippled through the crowd, and murmurs of shock began to rise.


    But Aric remained unfazed, his face cold, unmoved by their horror.


    "Bring them forward," hemanded, his voice as cold as steel.


    The Northrender Legionaries dragged the council members to the front¡ªeach Northrender cultivation far surpassed that of any council member¡ªthey could not struggle, their pleas swallowed by the roaring silence that followed.


    Aric looked at them without pity.


    Each face told the same story: desperation, fear, the terrible realization of impending death. They had once held power, once stood beside the king, believing themselves untouchable.


    Now, they were nothing more than prisoners, dragged to their execution in full view of the kingdom they had betrayed.


    Aric pointed to the northreneder legionary, now executioner standing at the base of the tform, a hulking figure with an axe that gleamed in the crimson light of the setting sun.


    The order was given without ceremony, swift and final.


    The first councilman¡ªLord Orin, a man whose name had once carried weight in Byzeth, was shoved to his knees before the block.


    His lips moved in a silent plea, eyes wide with terror. But no mercy woulde for him. The Northrender Legionary held him in ce, and with a sharp nod from Aric, the executioner raised his axe high.


    The crowd held its breath.


    The de came down, slicing through the air with a sickening finality. The sound of steel meeting flesh echoed like a distant cry, followed by the dull thud of the councilman''s head hitting the stone floor.


    Blood sprayed across the tform, pooling at the feet of the remaining council members.


    The crowd gasped as one, but no one looked away. They couldn''t. Horror gripped them, but so too did morbid fascination.


    The second councilman was next¡ªLiam Hove¡ªthe bearded count that had attempted to insult Aric at the king''s meeting, his body trembling violently as he was forced to his knees.


    His pleas were louder this time, his voice a desperate, broken wail. But Aric''s gaze remained fixed, cold and merciless, as the executioner stepped forward once more.


    The axe rose, gleaming red with the blood of the first.


    It fell, and again the sound of flesh being torn apart filled the air. The head rolled across the stone,ing to rest at the feet of thest remaining councilmen, their faces pale and drained of all hope.


    Aric turned his back to them, addressing the crowd now, as if their deaths were mere punctuation to therger lesson.


    "Their fate," he said, his voice carrying across the courtyard, "is the fate of all who think going against Valeria can bring them power. You saw their lives end here, not with glory, not with triumph¡ªbut with the axe. This is what rebellion truly brings."


    He gestured to the remaining council members, who stood trembling, waiting for their turn.


    "They will die, just as these two have died. Their blood will stain the stones of this castle, just as the blood of your king stains the history of Byzeth. There will be no heroes remembered from this rebellion, only traitors, and the consequences of their actions."


    The crowd stood in stunned silence, their gazes locked on the lifeless bodies lying on the tform, their blood still fresh and dark.


    Some of them gasped, others merely stared, their faces pale as death. The gravity of Aric''s words weighed heavily on their hearts.


    The executions continued, one after another, untill all council members were nothing but a headless corpse.


    Aric turned to the court, his gaze falling on the weeping rtives of Aszer.


    They clung to one another, their faces streaked with tears, their voices hoarse with grief. Aszer''s sister let out a wail, copsing to her knees as the full weight of her loss crushed her spirit.


    Aric''s expression softened, just slightly, as he approached them.


    "I understand your sorrow," he said quietly, his voice almost tender. "Your king, your brother, your family¡­ they are gone. And I sympathize with you."


    For a moment, hope flickered in their tear-stained eyes. But then Aric''s next words cut through the air like a de.


    "And so, to ease your suffering, you will join him."


    The cries of despair rose once more, louder and more desperate than before, but Aric''s heart was stone. He raised his hand, signaling the soldiers, and they moved forward, seizing the remaining members of Aszer''s family.


    "Hang them," Aric ordered, his voice devoid of emotion. "Let them swing from the walls of this castle, beside the head of their king."


    The soldiers dragged the wailing nobles away, their sobs lost in the cold efficiency of the moment. The crowd watched in horror, their faces pale, their hearts heavy with the weight of the bloodshed they had just witnessed.


    Aric stood tall, his gaze fixed on the castle walls where the executions would take ce. The head of Aszer would not hang alone. His entire line, his entire legacy, and anyone who would seek to avenge the king, would die with him.


    And as the sun began to set behind the castle, projecting long shadows over the kingdom of Byzeth, Aric Valerian turned to face his people.


    He had brought death. He had brought conquest.


    And now, Byzeth was his.


    The prince had be king.


    And that was his first step to bing emperor.


    [ M-Quest: Overthrowing a kingdom| has beenpleted ]

 Chapter 81: From Blood and Ash.

    The wind whispered through the streets of Byzeth, carrying with it the scent of death.


    Above the towering castle gates, Aszer''s head hung high on a pike, swaying slowly with each passing gust.


    His face, now a grotesque mask of horror, stared down at his once-kingdom, the vacant eyes locked in an eternal gaze over the city he had tried and failed to lift.


    Beside him, the bodies of his family and loyal nobles swayed in the breeze, their lifeless forms leaving shadows across the cobbled streets below. They hung like broken marites, their clothes stained dark with blood, their bodies twisted and limp in death''s final embrace.


    Below, the people distant and outside the castle watched in grim silence, their faces pale, some shocked, others cold.


    The rebellion had been crushed. The foolish dream of freedom from Valeria had been snuffed out. And now, they stood witnesses to the price paid for treason.


    There was no glory here, only the stench of defeat.


    ---


    Inside the castle, the air was marred with the scent of incense and oils. Women in loose, silken drapes moved around Aric, their hands deft and silent as they fastened the ceremonial garments around his body.


    Their presence was light, like whispers of wind, their expressions serene as they worked, knowing the importance of this day. These were the Lotus 14, the formidable and sacred women of the court, who also served in the moments of transition¡ªof death or ascension.


    Aric stood still, his face a mask ofposure, his thoughts elsewhere.


    The fabric they adorned him with was rich, the color of deep wine and embroidered with golden threads that twinkled in the flickering torchlight. Yet the weight of it was nothingpared to the thoughts thaty heavy in his mind.


    Behind him, at the door to the chamber, stood Ysir, her presence a sharp contrast to the delicate women around him.


    Her usual armor and furs were gone, reced by a simple tunic and leggings, though her posture betrayed the fierceness that still clung to her like a shadow.


    Her purple hair, usually streaked with blood from battles, fluttered freely in the gentle breeze that drifted in from the open windows.


    She had been a beast on the battlefield, leading her Winterbourne warriors with a savagery that even Aric had admired. Now, in the quiet of the dressing chamber, there was something softer about her, though the fire in her eyes remained undiminished.


    "We''ll be heading back north soon,"


    Ysir spoke, her voice low, but it carried through the room with the strength of a woman who had never needed to raise her voice to be heard.


    "I trust you will keep your word. The northernnds you''ve already conquered¡ªthey''re mine now, Aric."


    Aric nced at her reflection in the mirror before him, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.


    "Of course, Ysir. What kind of man would I be if I reneged on my promises?"


    Ysir nodded, but there was no doubt in her eyes¡ªonly the certainty of one who knew her worth and her power. She had risked much by siding with him, defying her father''s will, dragging her warriors into the fray at Aric''s side.


    It was a bold move, one that had paid off, and now the rewards were hers to im.


    Aric turned slightly, watching her from the corner of his eye.


    "Why leave so soon? You should stay for the coronation. It would be an honor to have the Winterbourne witness it."


    Ysir chuckled, though there was a tension beneath herughter.


    "I''ve defied my father long enough. There are duties of a Royal I have ignored. The longer I stay here, the more restless my people will grow, and we both know the trouble that follows unrest in the north." She paused, her eyes narrowing just slightly. "I trust you understand, Aric."


    Aricughed softly, turning fully now to face her.


    "I understand, Ysir. I have no doubt we''ll meet again."


    Ysir smirked, her expression softening just enough to show the flicker of affection beneath her tough exterior.


    "Oh, we will. I''ll make sure of it." She turned to leave, her steps light but firm, the sound of her boots barely a whisper against the stone floor.


    But before she could step out of the room, Aric called her name.


    "Ysir."


    She stopped and looked back at him, her eyes meeting his fully for the first time.


    "Thank you," he said, his voice softer than it had been all day, and for the first time in a long time, there was a bright genuine smile on his face.


    Ysir didn''t say a word, but she smiled back¡ªher eyes devoid of murderous intent, a rare thing from the Northrender warrior.


    With a nod, she turned and walked out, leaving Aric alone with the women who continued to prepare him for the ceremony ahead.


    ---


    The cathedral stretched above the city, its towering spires reaching into the heavens as if to brush against the very gods.


    Inside, the air burnt with reverence and anticipation, the scent of burning sage and incense filling the vast hall. The stone walls echoed with the soft murmurs of the clergy, dressed in their finest robes, their faces solemn as they prepared for the sacred rite.


    Aric stood at the center of it all, a lone figure amid the grand procession of Byzeth''s most devout.


    The priests moved around him in practiced rhythm, their voices rising and falling in ancient chants, their hands tracing symbols of the old faith in the air.


    Their eyes were downcast, never meeting Aric''s as they worked, for to look upon a man who had been touched by both death and victory was to risk seeing the face of the divine itself.


    The banners of Byzeth, once held in the grip of rebellion, now hung proudly in the cathedral, their colors vibrant against the grey stone of the church.


    The g bore the symbol of the new king, raised high above the altar for all to see. Outside, the streets were alive with celebration, the people of Byzeth singing and dancing in the square, their voices rising in joy as the new era dawned.


    But inside the cathedral, there was only silence. The kind of silence that weighed heavy on the soul, a silence filled with the presence of something greater than man.


    A high priest stepped forward, his robes brushing the floor as he approached Aric.


    In his hands, he held the crown of Byzeth¡ªa circlet of dark steel and gold, adorned with precious gems that caught the candlelight and glittered like the stars themselves. The priest lifted the crown high, chanting the ancient words of ascension, calling upon the gods to witness the birth of a new ruler.


    Aric bowed his head, and as the crown was ced upon him, a shiver ran through the crowd. It was not merely a coronation. It was the binding of fate, the sealing of destiny.


    When the final prayer was spoken, the cathedral erupted into apuse, the sound reverberating off the stone walls, filling the space with the thunderous approval of a kingdom reborn.


    The new g of Byzeth¡ªone with the insignia of Valeria, was raised to the heavens, and the people below cheered louder, their voices echoing through the capital.


    ---


    Later, Aric returned to the castle, his steps quiet but sure as he made his way to the throne room. Inside, the hall was filled with those he trusted¡ªhis court, his people.


    Serina, her delicate form draped in the deep blue robes of a healer, stood near the front, her eyes filled with quiet pride. Beside her was Lerai, his hands twitching with restless energy, already lost in thought about his next invention.


    Lord Heidz, Old Man Hitoshi, Borag, Twicher, n¡ªthey were all there, each one loyal, each one bound to him by the blood and deeds they had shared.


    The room fell silent as Aric entered.


    Every eye turned to him, every breath held as he walked toward the throne at the far end of the room. It was a throne made of steel and iron, cold and unyielding, a symbol of the strength it took to rule.


    Aric reached the throne, his hand trailing over the cool metal as he stood before it. His reflection shimmered in the dark steel, a ghost of the man he had once been, a whisper of the Forgotten Prince.


    But that man was no more. He had been reborn in fire and blood¡ªin blood and ash, and now, he was something far greater.


    With deliberate grace, Aric turned and sat atop the throne. The weight of it settled around him, the crown heavy on his brow, but his back remained straight, his eyes sharp.


    And as one, every person in the throne room dropped to their knee, heads bowed in reverence to their king.


    They say heavy is the head that wears the crown.


    But not for him. Not for the Forgotten¡ª


    No.


    Not for Aric Valerian, The Conqueror.

 Chapter 82: Loosely kept secret.

    Two Years has passed since the fall of the Byzeth king.


    The moon held low in the dark sky, offering silver light upon the roads of the Byzeth Kingdom.


    The wind carried the scent of the northern fields, and a man in a worn, dark cloak rode swiftly upon a horse, its hooves thundering against the earth.


    His face was obscured, a hood shadowing his features, but his intent was clear¡ªthere was no hesitation in his pace, no falter in his gaze as he urged his steed onward through the winding paths, past the small towns and provinces of Byzeth.


    He pressed onward through the night, his silhouette became a fleeting after image across viges that slumbered beneath the stars.


    Fields transformed to cobblestone streets as he approached the capital, the proud structures of the city rising before him, tall and imposing. He did not slow as he rode through the gates, past the watchful eyes of guards stationed along the path.


    His destination stily ahead¡ªthe castle, its spires piercing the night sky like jagged teeth.


    The guards at the castle gates, their armor not of ordinary make, stopped him atst. They were d in iron and steel, yes, but something more: strange devices adorned their arms and chests, runes etched into metal tes, glowing faintly with the light of mana crystals embedded in the mechanisms.


    Magic danced around them like a silent aplice.


    "Halt," one of themmanded, his voice cold.


    "State your purpose."


    The man raised his head, his voice steady.


    "I bring an urgent message for the king."


    The guard scoffed, ncing at hispanion.


    "No one just rides into the castle and demands an audience with the king. Who are you?"


    "I am a messenger," the cloaked man replied calmly, "and my message is for the king''s eyes only."


    A tense silence passed between them, the guards exchanging looks. Finally, one of them nodded and turned toward the castle doors. "Wait here," he said, disappearing inside to inform whoever would decide the messenger''s fate.


    When the doors swung open again, the cloaked man was ushered inside, the tension rose as the guards led him through long stone hallways, lit by the flicker of torchlight.


    The man said nothing, his face still hidden beneath his hood as they finally arrived at a balcony overlooking the night-shrouded city.


    There, waiting for him, stood Serina.


    Her eyes, sharp and calcting, assessed him the moment he stepped into her presence. She wore a flowing robe, her long dark hair swept to one side as she faced him, the faintest hint of curiosity in her gaze.


    "And what message do you carry?" she asked, her voice smooth but tinged with authority.


    The man hesitated briefly.


    "I cannot say. The message is for the king."


    Serina''s eyes narrowed.


    "And yet, here you are standing before me. You might as well deliver it now."


    For a moment, the man remained silent, as if weighing his options. Then, with a sigh, he reached into his cloak and produced a letter, handing it over with some reluctance.


    Serina took it, her eyes scanning the parchment as the wind stirred around them. The further she read, the more her expression hardened. Her fingers tightened around the letter, a slow tension building beneath her calm exterior.


    "Do you understand the gravity of this usation?" she asked, her voice low, dangerous. "Treason is not a charge made lightly, especially against a royal. You risk your life bringing this."


    The man''s hooded face dipped slightly. "I am only a carrier, bearing word from the Draken Imperiality. The king should not shoot the messenger."


    Serina''s eyes narrowed as she regarded him.


    "He''s shot men for less."


    She waved a hand toward the guards.


    "Take him to a chamber. He is not to leave until I say so."


    The guards moved swiftly, taking the cloaked man by the arms and leading him away. Serina watched him go before turning, the letter still clenched in her hand, and walked deeper into the castle.


    The doors to a secluded courtyard swung open at her approach. The guards at the entrance nodded to her, allowing her through without a word.


    She entered the quiet space, the moonlight painting shadows on the stone path that led to the center where arge, round, steaming tub stood. The scent of herbs and hot water filled the air.


    There, reclining in the bath, his head tilted back, was Aric.


    His eyes were closed, his chiseled form rxed as the steam rose around him, the night''s cool breeze barely touching him. He gazed up at the moon, his mind far from the troubles of the kingdom for the moment.


    Serina stepped forward, the soft rustle of her robe the only sound as she approached. She stood beside the tub, holding the letter out to him.


    "We have a matter of significance," she said.


    Aric opened his eyeszily, taking the letter from her hand. He read in silence, his brow furrowing as his eyes moved across the page. When he finished, he exhaled a long breath and handed it back to her.


    "How certain are you of its authenticity?" he asked, his voice calm but edged with the weight of what the letter contained.


    Serina''s eyes flickered. "The man who brought it bore the mark of the me crusaders. The mark of dragons."


    Aric''s gaze lingered on her, a moment of contemtion passing between them.


    Then, without another word, he stood from the bath. The water cascaded off his body in rivulets, steam rising from his skin as he stepped out onto the stone floor, his muscr frame bathed in the pale light of the moon.


    Serina moved softly, picking up his robe from a nearby chair and walking to his side. With practiced ease, she slid the robe over his shoulders, the soft fabric clinging to his damp skin.


    Her fingers brushed against him briefly before she stepped back.


    "Call a meeting of the council," Aric said quietly, fastening the robe around his waist. "It seems the time for my return to the Imperial City hase."


    Serina nodded, her eyes unreadable as she turned to leave, the letter still clutched in her hand. As she disappeared into the shadows, Aric remained where he stood, gazing out at the moonlit sky once more.


    The time hase for a greater step.

 Chapter 83: Debate of the Senate.

    The Imperial City of Valeria.


    The Sacred building¡ªthe Imperial Court of the Senate.


    The Senate Hall was vast and grand, its stone pirs lined with torches that flickered softly, causing dancing darks across the room.


    Men of power were gathered here, their expressions guarded, their postures tense. At the center of it all, seated on a high throne of gold and velvet, was Emperor Xavier Valerian, his face unreadable as he listened to the proceedings before him.


    The Speaker stood in the middle of the room, his voice the only sound that broke the quiet.


    "We all know why we are here," he began, his tone calm but firm. "Word hase from Byzeth that the Fourth Prince shall make his return to the capital soon¡­ and we must decide how to approach this event."


    A murmur rippled through the assembly, and then a man rose swiftly from his seat, his face twisted with disdain.


    He was one of the Senate lords¡ªknown to be tied with the third prince, a man of noble birth and proud standing, dressed in the finest silk and brocade, the symbol of his house drawn upon his chest like a badge of honor.


    "And this is why we have called the Senate to convene?" the lord spat, his voice dripping with contempt.


    "Simply for the return of the fourth prince? A bedridden child of no importance? This meeting is a waste of our time and an insult to His Majesty the Emperor, as well as the other princes!"


    The man''s words echoed in the chamber, but the emperor did not react. He sat there, unmoving, his gaze fixed upon the proceedings as though he were merely an observer to a game he had no part in.


    The Speaker, unfazed by the outburst, took a step forward.


    "You emphasize the title of the prince as though it lessens the significance of his arrival." His voice was calm, measured, but beneath it was a quiet, simmering intensity. "Do you not know the man you speak of? Do the whispers of the streets not reach your luxurious manor? Have you not heard the name they call him?"


    The lord''s scowl deepened, but he said nothing. The Speaker pressed on, his words like steel in the air.


    "They call him the Conqueror. The man who overtook a kingdom without an army. He rode into Byzeth as a single man, and within a month, the head of its rebellious king dangled from the gates of the castle¡ªalong with the bodies of his council and nobles."


    The room fell silent, and the Speaker''s words hung in the air. The bitter lord''s face twitched with anger, but he did not interrupt.


    Others shifted in their seats, exchanging nces. The tale was well-known, but to hear it spoken so inly within these walls¡ªwithin the seat of power¡ªfelt different.


    It felt real.


    "Are your political ties so thick that you cannot see the immeasurable significance of this?" the Speaker asked, his gaze hard and unyielding.


    Another man, seated across the room, scoffed loudly and stood. He was older, his face lined with the years of privilege and wealth that marked him as one of the untouchables.


    "Oh, please!" he barked. "He was a bedridden prince before he left! He could barely walk on his own, and you expect us to believe that he ughtered Aszer, a man of the Martial King Realm, and subjugated his army to the point where they bent the knee to him?" He waved a dismissive hand. "What nonsense!"


    "They saw it, Karis," another voice cut in, this time from a younger man seated near the Speaker.


    "Thousands watched the Fourth Prince march into Byzeth with the king''s severed head in his grasp, and the Byzeth army under hismand."


    A ripple of murmurs spread through the room, though most fell silent as a new voice entered the fray.


    "And along with him was the Northrender Princess and her legion, no?" This time it was Darius, the thrid prince, his tone casual, though the smile on his lips barely concealed the anger that boiled within him.


    "It makes far more sense that they were responsible for the king''s demise, does it not?" he continued.


    The room grew still again, as if all were waiting to see how the Speaker would respond. But it was not the Speaker who answered. It was the emperor.


    "Is that not more impressive in itself?" Emperor Xavier''s voice was deep andmanding. His presence filled the room the moment he spoke. "We all know who the Northrenders are. And if Aric can lead their princess to war for his own ambition, then I find that far more of an achievement."


    A silence fell, the heaviness of the emperor''s words hanging. Darius''s smile faltered, the fury beneath it flickering, but he said nothing in return. None dared to.


    A member of the Senate, older and more cautious, finally spoke up. "But he gave them ournd, Your Majesty," he said, his voice wavering slightly. "He gave them ournd."


    "Aszer gave them ournd," the emperor corrected, his voice sharp. "The prince merely allowed them to keep it, to avoid conflict. A war with the north is not something we desire at this moment. The men of winter sided with the Fourth over the King of Byzeth, and there is a reason for that."


    There was a pause, and the emperor''s gaze swept the room, locking onto each man present.


    "Perhaps Aric can bring our empire a true alliance with the Northrenders. If that happens, our strength will be unmatched."


    The room was quiet, the gravity of the emperor''s words sinking in. Even those who had doubted, those who had spoken out against Aric''s return, found themselves considering the possibilities.


    An alliance with the Northrend Empire? It was unthinkable. And yet¡­ the Fourth Prince had achieved the impossible before.


    Xavier stood from his throne, and immediately the room followed suit. Every man present, from prince to senator, rose in respect for their emperor. His presence wasmanding, regal, and as he stood, the whole chamber choked with tension.


    "My son has done a great deed for our empire," Xavier said, his voice clear, authoritative. "And when he returns, he shall be weed¡ªnot just as a prince, but as the new king of Byzeth and the victorious warlord he is. We will be further informed of the situation with his presence."


    He paused, his eyes sweeping over the assembly one final time. "That will be all on this matter."


    "As the emperor decrees," came the collective murmur of the Senate, each man bowing deeply.


    Xavier turned, his cloak flowing behind him like a shadow, and began his exit from the court. The Imperial Guard moved to nk him as he made his way toward the grand doors of the Senate Hall.


    And as he walked, none saw it¡ªnone but those closest to him¡ªbut a small, satisfied smile yed on his lips. For while the court may have debated and doubted, Xavier had always known.


    Aric was more.


    And his return would change everything.

 Chapter 84: Does he bleed?

    Aric rode into the Imperial City, his horse''s hooves cking steadily on the cobblestone streets. Behind him, his men and the court trailed at a distance, though they were scarcely visible.


    He had chosen to ride alone, as was tradition for a prince returning from war. The wind tugged at his cloak, sending it billowing like a ck g behind him, but the city itself remained eerily still.


    Not a single sound escaped from the towering walls of the grand city, not a single soul appeared on the streets. Only the rhythmic beat of his horse''s hooves against the stone filled the silence.


    Aric understood this silence¡ªit was tradition.


    He had seen it before, witnessed the empty streets that greeted warlords upon their return. It was not out of fear or indifference that the people stayed hidden. It was out of reverence. The victorious must walk alone before he is greeted by his people.


    Alone, so that the weight of his victories and the blood of his enemies might settle upon him, and the city itself might acknowledge his triumph.


    He rode further, and in the distance, the great Colosseum of Valeria rose like some titan above the rooftops. The towering structure, a masterpiece of imperial architecture, stood as proof to the strength of Valeria.


    Its high walls were carved with the stories of past victories, its stones stained with the blood of diators, kings, and soldiers alike. As Aric drew closer, the immense doors of the Colosseum came into view.


    When he reached the colosseum''s towering entrance, two imperial guards guards stood on either side of the doors. As he dismounted, their fists struck their chests in perfect unison, saluting the returning prince.


    Aric''s boots hit the ground with a solid thud as he swept his cloak over his shoulder, the wind catching its edges and sending it fluttering. Without a word, he strode past the guards and through the massive doors, entering the heart of the colosseum.


    Inside, it felt as though the entire city had been poured into the stands.


    The arena was packed from wall to wall. On one side sat the emperor, Xavier Valerian, nked by his sons and other members of the royal family, their faces masks of regalposure.


    Across from them sat the nobles of Valeria, draped in rich silks and furs, their eyes gleaming with intrigue and ambition. The Senate had its own ce, a solid block of power and politics, while themon folk, though separated, filled their own section, watching with the same intensity as the highest lords.


    Yet there was no sound. Not a murmur, not a whisper.


    Only silence as Aric entered the colosseum''s vast arena, his steps slow and intentional, echoing in the oppressive quiet. With each stride, it felt as if the gaze of a thousand eyes pressed down upon him, and yet he held, his gaze steady.


    His presence wasmanding¡ªlike chaos gathering just before it broke.


    In the center of the arena stood a golden bowl, mounted on a pir. mes danced within it, flickering in the faint breeze that swirled through the colosseum. To its side was a simple knife, gleaming in the midday sun.


    Two armored men stood not far from the pir, their faces hidden behind their helmets, watching Aric''s every move.


    Aric came to a stop before the bowl, pausing as he cast his gaze over the gathered masses. Thousands of eyes bore into him, but he remained still, absorbing the moment, his hand hovering just above the me.


    He knew what was required of him. This was not merely tradition¡ªit was a rite, a ritual that bound Valerian blood to the me of its empire.


    Aric reached for the knife thaty beside the golden bowl. The cold steel gleamed in the light, its edge sharp enough to cleave flesh with ease. Without hesitation, Aric wrapped his hand around the de and pulled.


    The knife slid through his palm, cutting deep into his flesh. Blood, dark and crimson, flowed freely from his hand, dripping into the me below. But the me did not flicker, did not falter. It burned with the same intensity, as if daring the blood to quench it.


    One of the armored men stepped forward, his movements mechanical, like a puppet following a well-practiced routine. He grasped Aric''s hand, turning it over to examine the wound. The blood still flowed freely, but the me remained untouched.


    The second armored figure, the general of the Imperial Guard, stepped forward and bellowed with a voice that boomed across the Colosseum.


    "Does he bleed?" he asked, his voice loud enough to shake the stones.


    "Yes, General," the man inspecting Aric''s hand replied.


    "Does he bleed?" the general asked again, louder this time, his voice a thunderp in the stillness.


    "Yes, General!" came the reply, more urgent.


    "DOES HE BLEED?" the general roared, his words tearing through the air like a war cry.


    "YES, GENERAL!"


    The general turned to the crowd, his voice rising to a fever pitch.


    "Then why have his enemies failed to draw his blood?!"


    The silence shattered. The crowd erupted in a roar, the sound deafening as thousands of voices screamed in unison. Feet stomped against the stone floor, creating a thunderous beat that echoed through the Colosseum like the drums of war. The air was burning with energy, the kind that precedes a storm, wild and uncontroble.


    Aric raised his hand, still dripping with blood, and at once, the noise ceased. The crowd fell silent again, anticipation gripping their throats as they awaited his words.


    Aric''s voice, calm butced with power, cut through the quiet like a de.


    "I bleed," he began, his tone steady but filled with the significance of his return. "I bleed, just like any man. Just like the soldiers who fight on the frontlines, just like themoners who toil in the fields, just like every soul within this empire."


    He paused, letting the words sink in. His eyes scanned the crowd, meeting the gazes of nobles andmoners alike.


    "But no enemy," he continued, his voice rising, "no foreign army, no pretender king, no godless rebel has ever drawn my blood. Not in Byzeth. Not on the battlefield. Not before, and not now."


    The words struck like a hammer, each onending with the force of a soldier''s de. The crowd was still, hanging on his every word.


    "I am Valerian," Aric said, his voice growing louder, more fervent. "And the blood of Valeria runs through these veins¡ªblood that has built empires, blood that has torn down kingdoms, blood that even the gods themselves fear to spill!"


    The crowd stirred in their seats, the tension rising like the tide before storm came.


    "Valeria stands," Aric shouted, his voice a roar now, filled with the fury of a thousand battles fought in a previous life.


    "We stand unchallenged, undefeated! Not by men, not by armies, and not even by the gods above! The strength of Valeria is eternal, forged in the fires of war and bound by the blood of its people. It is a strength that no de can pierce, no me can burn, and no power in this world or the next can destroy!"


    The crowd began to shake, chills gripping their skin, their energy rising with his words.


    "We are Valerians!" Aric cried, his voice carrying through the air like a rion call.


    "We do not bow! We do not bleed for lesser! We are the conquerors of kingdoms, the masters of fate, and the rulers of this world! Our enemies fear us, our allies know better than otherwise, and the gods themselves tremble when they hear our name!"


    He raised his bloody hand high, the crimson dripping down his arm and onto the stones beneath him.


    "We are Valerians," he repeated, softer now, but no less powerful. "And no enemy, no matter how strong, can draw the blood of a pure Valerian."


    The crowd erupted again, louder than before, their roars shaking the very foundations of the Colosseum. Feet stomped, hands pped, and voices screamed his name.


    "Aric! Aric! Aric!"


    This was the ritual, performed for royalty who had returned from leading a sessful war. It wasn''t that Aric, or any who partook in this rite, had never bled in battle. Blood was the inevitable price of war. But this ritual was tradition.


    It was a disy, a powerful message not only to the citizens of Valeria but to any foreign eyes that might witness it. It dered that no matter the battles fought, no matter the wounds sustained, Valeria''s strength remained unfazed, its rulers untouchable, their blood sacred and invible.


    As the chant of his name echoed through the Colosseum, a horn red, cutting through the noise. The sound of the Imperial horn was unmistakable, a rion call that signified the beginning of the games.


    A voice rang out above the din, clear and powerful.


    "In celebration of the fourth prince''s return, let the games begin!"


    The Colosseum erupted into cheers once more, the energy now unleashed, wild and unstoppable.


    Now, they would see blood and death¡­what better a celebration than that?

 Chapter 85: Those about to die.

    The Imperial Games.


    A spectacle of blood and steel, of triumph and defeat, where the roar of the crowd fed the ferocity of men.


    It was a celebration held biannually or in honor of a special asion, and today, the colosseum filled with eager faces, packed to the brim as the people gathered for the games held in Aric''s honor.


    The anticipation they felt was off scaale, energy that raged through the audience as they awaited the carnage toe¡ªwhether chariot racing, beast fights, or the deadly dance of diators, the Games never failed to satisfy the bloodthirsty.


    Far below the rising stands, preparations were underway.


    In the shadows beneath the arena, ves hurried to release the beasts from their cages, and diators made their final prayers to gods they no longer believed in.


    Above them, the nobility was seated in luxury, observing with detached amusement as the stage was set for the entertainment. Aric''s court and council, too, had been escorted to their reserved ces, the finest seats in the colosseum where they would witness the bloodshed that was toe.


    But before Aric could take his seat, he made his way to greet his father, the emperor, and his brothers who sat beside him.


    He strode across the stone floor, his cloak billowing behind. His footsteps echoed, drawing the eyes of those present. Every eye watched him, and as he approached the royal dais, he could sense the unease settling into his brothers'' bones.


    Their stiff postures and forced smiles betrayed them. For so long, they had thought him to be nothing, the useless fourth prince, weak and incapable ofprehendin or acheiving power.


    Now, they stared at him, faces tight with difort, as if seeing for the first time the truth they could no longer deny¡ªhe was no longer the worthless boy they once believed him to be.


    He saw it in their eyes. Fear.


    Not the fear of violence or immediate danger, but something worse¡ªthe fear of what he could be.


    They didn''t speak it aloud, but he knew they understood. Aric, once the lesser prince, was no longer not worth an utterance. He was a threat now. A real contender in the race for the crown. Though he still had a long way to go to im the support his brothers had spent years cultivating, the ground beneath their feet had begun to shift. And they knew it.


    He greeted them with a smile, the kind that barely touched his lips.


    His father, the emperor, regarded him with the cold, unreadable expression he had worn for years, as if Aric were still the sickly child he had neglected¡ªthe emeperor never showed emotion, not publicly atleast. There seemed no love lost between them.


    The formal greetings passed quickly, without any words of true substance exchanged. He could feel their tense demeanors, their scrutiny, as his brothers tried to understand just what kind of man he had be since his depature.


    But he offered them nothing.


    After the brief exchange, he left them behind and took his ce in the imperial box, overlooking the vast colosseum. His eyes swept over the arena, filled with the restless energy of a crowd waiting for crimson to spill.


    A series of vibrant disys opened the Games, entertainers performing acrobatics, dancers moving with the rhythm of drums, and a parade of soldiers marching in perfect formation. But it was not these disys the crowd hade for. No, they wanted the real thing.


    They wanted violence. And they would have it.


    The first diators were brought out, two men of starkly contrasting stature, but both with the same fateid before them. Their armor was meager¡ªbarely enough to protect them from the sharp des that would soon taste their blood.


    They wielded long machetes, the weight of the steel sagging in their grip, and they wore expressions that only spoke grim eptance. They knew that for one of them, the sun would set for thest time today.


    The crowd hushed as they entered the center of the colosseum.


    The men stopped before the imperial box, their heads held high, their muscles taut with the fear that gripped them. Together, in unison, they cried out to the emperor and the royal family, their voices hoarse but loud enough to carry across the stands.


    "Heil, Emperor! We who are about to die... salute you!"


    Their fists mmed into their chests in salute, a gesture of submission to their fate. The emperor''s cold nod was the only acknowledgment of their impending death, a silent decree that the battle shouldmence.


    Then, the voice of the Games Master echoed across the colosseum, a boomingmand that shot through the air like an arrow.


    "diators¡­ ready to die?!"


    It was a question and amand.


    The tension tightened, coiling around the throats of the spectators. The two men took their positions, spreading their feet in the dust, gripping their weapons as though they were the only things keeping them tethered to life.


    Their knuckles whitened as their breaths came shallow. The crowd leaned in, waiting.


    The Games Master paused, drawing out the anticipation, savoring the moment before the violence erupted.


    "Fight!"


    The word was a spark that set the arena aze with noise. The crowd roared, a wave of sound that crashed against the stone walls of the colosseum. And the diators sprang into action.


    The first man lunged, his de swinging in a wildly aimed at the other''s neck. His opponent ducked, the wind of the strike ruffling his hair as he narrowly avoided death. Dust kicked up around their feet as they circled each other, their breaths ragged, their eyes locked in a deadly dance.


    For a moment, it was only the sound of steel meeting steel, the ng of machetes echoing in the arena like the tolling of a bell.


    These diators could be either of many things¡ªves, prisoners or simply and unlucky man whose mother watched from the stands and prayed to whatever god hears her pleas that death takes the child of another, rather than her own son.


    It was this brutal and ruthless reality of the situation, that made it all the more thrilling.

 Chapter 86: Those who die.

    The first blownded on flesh¡ªan arm sliced open, blood spilling onto the ground in thick, red rivulets. The crowd erupted in cheers, as though they had waited their whole lives to see that first drop of blood.


    But there was no pause.


    The second man retaliated with a sh of his own, his de biting deep into his opponent''s thigh. The man stumbled, a cry of pain tearing from his throat as he fell to one knee. Blood poured freely now, staining the dust beneath them. The crowd roared louder, chanting for death.


    They wanted more.


    The wounded man, struggling to rise, was given no mercy. His opponent moved in for the kill, driving his de through the air in a final, vicious strike aimed at his throat.


    And then, with a swift, brutal motion, it was over.


    The de found its mark. The defeated diator fell to the ground, the life leaving his body in an instant, his blood pooling in the dust beneath him.


    The arena erupted in thunderous apuse, the crowd roaring in approval, their bloodlust momentarily sated. The victor, still gripping his bloodied de, raised it high in the air, saluting the emperor once more.


    He, too, knew that this victory was fleeting¡ªthat his time woulde, perhaps sooner than he expected. But for now, he stood as a survivor, even if only for a little while longer.


    Aric watched the from his seat, his expression unreadable.


    The excitement only rose as the next round of diators was brought forth. But this time, the fighters were not ordinary men¡ªthey were cultivators. Their presence sent a ripple of excitement through the crowd, who murmured in anticipation of the more skilledbat that was about to begin.


    Aric sat in silence, his sharp, gray eyes watching every movement from his seat in the imperial box. His brothers, however, had begun to exchange words, their voices carrying just enough for him to hear.


    "I''ve never liked this bloodsport," Darius, the third prince, muttered, his expression clouded with difort as he nced at the arena below. He was always the princely one, ever the image of diplomacy and kindness¡ªit was but a charade, although a perfectly executed one.


    "It''s senseless, this disy of ughter. If I had my way, we would see proper battles¡ªbetween trained warriors, not men tossed into the arena for the entertainment of the masses."


    Valen, the first prince, chuckled darkly beside him, a smirk curling on his lips.


    "Oh? Then why not send your own guard down, Darius? Surely you''d find it more to your taste to see your men in action?"


    Darius smiled, but there was an edge to it, as though the first prince''s teasing hadn''t quite hit the mark he intended.


    "It wouldn''t be fair to the diators, brother. My guards are seasoned. It would be a sure defeat." He leaned back, his posture casual, though his words carried a subtle boast. "They''ve been trained in the finest arts of swordsmanship, and their ki control is impable. Sending them down would be like feedingmbs to wolves."


    Valen''s eyes gleamed with amusement as he took a sip of his wine. "Ah, I see. So what you truly want is a more professional fight, yes? Perhaps a friendly bout between our guards would be more¡­satisfying? You know how well-trained my men are, Darius. I''d be happy to oblige."


    Darius shifted slightly, his expression growing more cautious.


    "I know better than to pit my guards against yours, Valen. Yourpany is formidable¡ªthere would be little sport in that for anyone. Perhaps," he continued, his eyes flicking toward Aric, "if the guards of someone like our brother Aric were involved, then¡­ well, that would be just as unfair as with the weak diators."


    At this, Aric''s eyes narrowed slightly.


    He had been silent throughout the conversation, simply observing the exchange. His brothers had always been quick with their words, sparring with veiled insults and hidden meanings. And in expected fashion Darius had crossed a line.


    Without turning his head, Aric spoke, his voice a calm, cutting de in the midst of their banter.


    "Then call upon your guard, Darius. I''ll call upon mine."


    Darius''s smile faltered. He opened his mouth as if to dismiss the suggestion, but Aric''s gaze fixed him in ce. "No, no, brother. You need not take my words seriously," Darius said, his tone light, though there was an unmistakable edge of unease.


    "It was merely¡ª"


    "I insist." Aric''s words were quick, his tone leaving no room for argument. "Allow me to indulge your provocation."


    Darius blinked, visibly taken aback by his directness. His lips pressed, irritation flickering across his face. Yet, he couldn''t back down. Not without losing face. With a huff, he waved his hand, signaling to a guard not far behind him, not his best, not an imperial guard¡ªbut formidable still.


    "Very well then," Darius muttered, his voice tight. "Zarot! Come."


    The guard, a massive man with muscles that bulged beneath his armor, strode forward. He seamed a seasoned fighter, his every movement oozing strength and confidence. Hisrge sword hung at his side, its de nearly as tall as a man.


    Aric did not hesitate. He nced to his side, where n stood, captain of the men of no fate. n, everly equipped with Lerai''stest designs of MPG, stepped forward, the metallic sheen of his armor catching the light, though the MPG enhancements had been so well integrated into the design that most could not tell it apart from any other finely crafted armor.


    Darius raised an eyebrow, his eyes narrowed as he saw n approach. "This boy?" he said with intruige. "You chose him? The boy I found in the streets and sent to your estate? He has no ki, no formal training. Do you mean to insult me with this joke?"


    Aric''s gaze, cold and unblinking, settled on his brother. The intensity in his gray eyes was enough to silence the arena itself, as though a chill had swept through the stands. "Does it look like I jest?" he asked, his voice quiet, but the deadly seriousness in his tone made Darius''s expression falter.


    Darius clenched his jaw, ncing at n again, then back at Aric.


    "Very well," Darius said, voice clipped. He turned to Zarot, the hulking warrior at his side, and his lips twisted into a cold smile. "Leave him half dead," he whispered, loud enough for only his guard to hear.


    The two guards descended into the colosseum, stepping onto the sandy arena floor to the cheers of the crowd. The master of the games, informed on the duel, raised his arms to silence the onlookers.


    "Ladies and gentlemen!" he called out. "A special battle between the guards of the royal princes! Representing the third prince, Zarot the Unbreakable! And representing the fourth prince, n of the House Arkhan!"


    The crowd roared in approval, eager to see a sh between royalty''s finest.


    Zarot stepped forward, his massive frame a shadow over the smaller, leaner n. His sword, an enormous de that seemed impossible for any normal man to wield, rested easily in his hand.


    He swung it through the air, testing its weight as if it were no heavier than a twig. His movements were deceptively graceful, belying the sheer power he carried.


    n, for his part, stood calm, his armor gleaming under the sun. He held no visible weapon, but his stance was firm, his posture unshaken. He nced up at Zarot, his eyes devoid of fear.


    The master of the games raised his hand once more.


    "Let the battle¡­ BEGIN!"


    Zarot moved first, a blur of motion that seemed impossible for a man his size. He closed the distance between them in an instant, his enormous sword cleaving through the air with terrifying speed. The de came down with such force that the very ground beneath them seemed to shake. Dust and sand exploded into the air, obscuring their forms.


    For a moment, the crowd gasped, their breath held as they waited for the dust to settle, expecting to see n''s lifeless body cut in two. Darius leaned forward, a satisfied smile already ying on his lips.


    But as the dust cleared, what the audience saw instead made their eyes widen in disbelief.


    n stood, unharmed, his hand gripped tightly at the edge of Zarot''s massive de, holding it still as though it were nothing more than the steel it was. The de trembled in his grip, but he did not flinch. His eyes, sharp and cold, locked onto Zarot''s.


    The colosseum fell in stunned silence.


    "He had barely said ''go,''" n said, his voice steady, almost casual. "Aren''t you a bit too eager to die?"


    A murmur of shock rippled through the crowd, and the smile on Darius''s face faded into a frown.


    Above them, in the royal box, Aric''s expression could still not be read.

 Chapter 87: Leader of The faithless men

    n''s grip tightened around Zarot''s massive de, his fingers curling with deliberate precision as though he were handling something other than a weapon meant to cleave him in two. His expression remained calm, eerily so.


    His eyes, reflecting the harsh sunlight, bore into Zarot''s in an unsettling way¡ªlike a trained soldier looking down at his enemy before he offers death, except it was n''s hand around the sword, he was the one who stood before a murderous attack, not the other way around.


    The crowd, who moments ago had cheered for blood, now fell into a hush.


    Their eyes darted from Zarot''s hulking figure, still frozen in disbelief, to the leaner form of n, whose hand held Zarot''s monstrous sword still. The silence of the colosseum was unnerving, hanging like a cloud, they all anticipated the next move.


    Zarot growled, wrenching his sword back with all the brute strength his body could muster, but n released the de with a casual flick of his wrist. Zarot staggered back, the weight of his own weapon nearly throwing him off bnce.


    "A boy from the streets," Darius had once thought "An orphan with no lineage, no ki, no mana¡ªhe''ll serve as a perfect guard for the fourth prince. A fitting joke."


    How wrong Darius was.


    n''s life had been far from the velvet cushions of royal halls. The streets of the imperial city had been his home¡ªcold, unforgiving, a ce where a boy like him had two choices: starve or fight.


    By the age of ten, n had already learned how to fend off the thieves and cutthroats that preyed on the helpless. His fists were his only defense, his resolve his only shield.


    He was picked from the streets one day, not for his skill but because the city guard needed bodies¡ªwarm bodies to train and mold into foot soldiers, expendable pawns to stand in the background while real warriors imed glory.


    It didn''t matter to n then. He had a ce to sleep, food to eat.


    He trained harder than anyone else, fought until his knuckles bled and his vision blurred. But no amount of effort could change the fact that he had no ki, no mana flowing through his veins. While the lucky ones with ki or mana were sent to the Imperial Guard Academy, n remained behind, discarded, forgotten in that shabby corner of the empire.


    He would''ve remained there too, a nameless guard among many, if not for a twist of fate.


    The day n was summoned to serve one of the princes felt like destiny pulling him from the gutter. He, among others called, thought to be assigned to one of the revered sons of Xavier¡ªPrince Valen or even Darius. Instead, he was sent to the estate of Aric, the forgotten fourth prince, the one whispered about in court circles with derision and mockery.


    The other guards grumbled and cursed their lot, but not n. He had sworn his loyalty to the fourth prince the moment he saw him, weak and bedridden though Aric had been.


    And now, yearster, n was no longer the street rat he once was. He stood before the royal audience, bearing the armor that Aric and Lerai had painstakingly developed for him. Armor that oozed faintly with hidden power, enhanced by the B-rank mana crystal embedded deep within its core.


    A mana crystal so potent, its acquisition alone had cost millions in gold and the blood of few. But it was worth it. Every part of n''s armor¡ªhis speed, his strength, his defense¡ªhad been iprehensibly enhanced. He was more than just a guard now; he was something the world were not yet capable of understanding.


    Zarot, towering before him, swung his great sword again.


    The de cleaved through the air with a thunderous roar, but n sidestepped effortlessly, his movements too quick for the eye to track. The crowd gasped. They could feel the immense ki radiating from Zarot, could see the brute force behind each swing, but n''s evasion was unnerving¡ªsilent, fluid, and with a precision that made Zarot''s attacks look clumsy inparison.


    The next moment, n struck.


    He moved faster than Zarot could react, his fist connecting with the giant''s side. The sound of the impact reverberated through the arena, sharp and unforgiving. Zarot grunted in pain, the flesh of his side tearing as blood sprayed out in a fine mist.


    It looked as though n had not just punched him; his blow had sliced like a razor.


    n stepped back, his eyes calcting, watching as Zarot struggled to maintain his footing. The crowd murmured in confusion. How could this be? Zarot was a man feared by many, his strength bolstered by ki, yet n¡ªwho exuded no such energy¡ªwas cutting him down as if he were nothing.


    Above, in the royal box, Darius''s face had darkened. His knuckles turned white as he clenched the arms of his chair, his earlier bravado evaporating in the heat of n''s dominance.


    His jaws clenched, anger burning in his narrowed eyes.


    "You were always too hasty, brother," Valen said quietly, though his voice carried enough weight to make Darius flinch. His eyes, cold and emotionless, remained fixed on the arena below.


    "Now look at the mess you''ve created."


    Darius didn''t reply, his gaze locked on the spectacle unfolding before him.


    Zarot roared in frustration, raising his sword once more. He lunged at n with reckless fury, his ki ring to dangerous levels, the force of his strike enough to shatter stone.


    But n moved again, faster this time. He ducked beneath Zarot''s swing, his body blurring with speed enhanced by the MPG armor. As Zarot''s sword mmed into the ground, raising a cloud of dust, n shot forward.


    His fist connected with Zarot''s jaw, the impact sending a ripple of shock through the colosseum. Zarot''s massive form wavered, his grip on the sword loosening as his body staggered. Blood spurted from his mouth, and he crumbled to one knee.


    "Leave him half dead," Darius had said. But now, it was Zarot who was left broken and bleeding, while n stood over him like an inevitable loss.


    n''s voice cut through the heavy silence that followed.


    "You''re not done yet. Shall we continue?"


    Zarot growled, blood dripping from his split lip as he mbered back to his feet, his sword dragging through the dust. His ki surged again, brighter, fiercer, like a wild me barely contained within his massive frame.


    His muscles bulged as the energy coursed through him, veins standing out across his arms and neck like cords of tension ready to snap. His eyes were bloodshot, filled with fury and desperation, but also a growing sense of dread.


    He raised his sword and mmed it into the ground, sending a shockwave that rippled through the arena.


    "Oh?" n muttered, intrigued.

 Chapter 88: No Backbone

    The dust swirled around him, drawn into a vortex of his ki. The very air crackled with the violent sh of energies as Zarot channeled everything he had left into one final technique.


    "Wrath of the Colossus!" he bellowed, his voice hoarse, filled with a mixture of pain and anger.


    The ground beneath n''s feet trembled as massive pirs of earth erupted from the arena floor, shooting toward him like the ws of a great beast. Each pir was imbued with Zarot''s ki, making them shriek with an eerie, destructive energy.


    The crowd gasped, recoiling as they felt the intense power radiating from Zarot''s attack. Even the hardened warriors in the stands shifted uneasily, recognizing the sheer force behind the move.


    But n didn''t flinch.


    He stood still, watching the pirs rush toward him with the same deadpan, unamused expression he''d worn since the beginning of the battle. To the audience, it seemed like madness. Zarot''s technique was enough to crush bones, to bury a man alive beneath the weight of the earth itself. And yet, n didn''t even raise a hand in defense.


    The pirs collided, the force of the impact sending a deafening crack through the colosseum. Dust exploded into the air, and for a moment, all that was visible was a towering wall of earth, as though the arena itself had swallowed n whole.


    Zarot, panting, stood with his chest heaving, his sword still embedded in the ground. His face twisted into a smile, blood staining his teeth. He had done it. He had crushed that arrogant whelp.


    The crowd murmured in shock, some even rising from their seats to get a better view, their faces a mixture of disbelief and awe.


    But then, the dust began to settle.


    There, standing in the very center of the wreckage, was n, unharmed¡ªa sword materialized in his grip somehow, only for it to be swiftly seethed behind him. His armor gleamed, untouched by the dirt and rubble that had surrounded him. The pirs that should have crushed him were now nothing more than shattered debris scattered at his feet¡ªcut through thoroughly.


    Zarot''s smile faded, reced by an expression of horror.


    "Impossible¡­"


    n''s gaze remained steady, unblinking, as he looked at Zarot with the same calm, unbothered eyes.


    "That''s it?" n''s voice was cold, almost bored.


    "That''s the ''Wrath of the Colossus?'' you screamed out so loudly I was expecting something¡­ more."


    Zarot let out a strangled growl, gripping his sword tighter, though his hands were trembling now. He couldn''t understand it. How? How was this man standing? He had poured every ounce of his ki into that technique, yet n looked as though he hadn''t even broken a sweat.


    n took a step forward, slow and menacing. Zarot flinched.


    "I''d allow you a chance to yield," n said, his tone dry. "But something tells me you''re too proud for that."


    Zarot snarled, swinging his sword wildly, desperation overtaking his senses. But his movements were sluggish now, his ki waning as exhaustion set in. Each swing was slower than thest, and n dodged them effortlessly, as though he were merely dancing around a clumsy child.


    Zarot roared again, swinging his sword with everything he had left. The de cleaved through the air, but n wasn''t there. He appeared behind Zarot in a sh, his speed almost too fast toprehend.


    "And now you''re too tired to even think straight," n muttered.


    Zarot, battered and beaten, could barely stand, his breathing in ragged gasps. His previously proud stance, the boastful confidence he wore like armor, had crumbled beneath the weight of his defeat.


    n closed little distance between them, eyes cold, calcting. There was no mercy in them¡ªonly the promise of what came next. He reached Zarot, who raised his sword in a feeble attempt to defend himself, but it was too slow, too weak.


    n didn''t even nce at it. He clenched his fist and drove it into Zarot''s torso with devastating force.


    The impact sent a shockwave rippling through the arena. A low, guttural sound escaped Zarot''s throat as the air was violently expelled from his lungs. His massive form was sent flying, a blur of motion as his body hurtled toward the colosseum wall.


    When he hit, the stone shattered beneath him, splintering into jagged fragments. Spiderweb cracks raced across the surface, as though the entire structure might copse from the sheer force of hisnding.


    Zarot slumped against the broken wall, blood dribbling from the corner of his mouth. His body was twisted, bones shattered, barely recognizable as the towering warrior who had entered the arena.


    He tried to push himself up, his arms trembling, but his strength failed him. The crowd held its breath, the silence in the colosseum oppressive, waiting for what came next.


    n''s shadow loomed over Zarot, his figure an unrelenting thing as he approached. He bent down, his fingers curling around Zarot''s throat, lifting him with ease as though he weighed nothing at all. Zarot''s bloodshot eyes blinked in pain, his lips quivering as he whispered, barely audible over the sound of his ownbored breathing.


    "I¡­ yield..." he muttered, the words gurgling through the blood in his throat.


    n''s grip tightened slightly, and he leaned in closer.


    "I did say I would allow you to yield," he said, his voice a low murmur, almost gentle. He nced upward to the imperial box, locking eyes with Aric, the one he served. Aric gave a slight nod, the signal as subtle as it was unmistakable.


    n''s expression didn''t change as he turned back to Zarot.


    "I lied."


    With a sudden, brutal motion, n''s hand shot forward, his fingers plunging into Zarot''s throat. The sickening squelch of flesh tearing filled the air as n''s hand burrowed deeper, his fingers wrapping around the base of Zarot''s spine. For a heartbeat, time seemed to freeze.


    Then, with a single, merciless pull, n ripped Zarot''s spine clean from his body, the sickening sound of bones snapping and flesh tearing echoing across the colosseum. Blood sprayed, a crimson arc painting the stone behind them as Zarot''s body went limp, his eyes still wide with shock and horror.


    n let the bloodied mass of bones dangle for a moment, his face expressionless as he looked at what was left of Zarot. Then, without a word, he let the spine fall to the ground with a heavy thud, followed by Zarot''s lifeless corpse crumpling into the dirt.


    For a moment, there was only silence.


    The crowd¡ªnobles, peasants, senators¡ªeveryone sat in stunned disbelief, as though they couldn''t quiteprehend what they had just witnessed. n stood still, the blood of his opponent sttered across his armor, unmoving, uncaring.


    Then, like a dam breaking, the crowd erupted.


    Their bloodlust finally sated, they roared with violent, primal cheers, their voices rising to the heavens in a mix of savage approval. They screamed n''s name, praising the brutality, the sheer spectacle of the execution they had witnessed.


    But n? He stood in the middle of it all, his expression unchanged, as though he hadn''t just torn a man''s life from him in the most savage way possible. His eyes flickered back to Aric once more, a silent acknowledgment of the task fulfilled.


    And then, as the cheers thundered on, he turned and walked away, leaving the corpse of Zarot to bleed into the earth.

 Chapter 89: A new battle.

    Darius could barely contain his rage. His hands clenched into fists so tight his knuckles were bone white, and his jaw was set with barely concealed fury. The nobles around him, once loud with chatter, had been left in silence.


    Their expressions ranged from shock to disbelief, eyes wide, mouths slightly parted as they took in the scene unfolding before them.


    Zarot, a guard of the third prince¡ªa powerful warrior in his own right¡ªhad just been killed in front of them all, brutally, by a guard of the fourth. The execution had not just been savage, it had been deliberate, a calcted act meant to send a message.


    Aric had always been the less intentional, quiet forgotten one, the one no one paid much mind to, but now¡ªnow things had changed. That was what unsettled them the most.


    This wasn''t just disrespect to Darius. It was a deration. Aric was no longer willing to be ignored, no longer willing to sit in the shadows.


    But it wasn''t just the brazenness of the execution that disturbed them. There was something far more unnerving beneath it. Zarot had been a seasoned warrior, a man who wielded ki like it were his greatest weapon, and perhaps it was. His power had been unmistakable, and yet n¡ªAric''s guard¡ªhad utterly destroyed him.


    And throughout the entire fight¡ªfrom the start ns''s disy to the very end of it, there had been something missing.


    There was no ki.


    The martials among the nobles whispered amongst themselves, their voices low, trembling with a mixture of shock and curiosity. They had all felt it¡ªor rather, hadn''t felt it. n had shown no signs of ki.


    The possibility of ki suppression was always there, but such tricks only worked on the weak, the untrained. No one could suppress their ki to the point of fooling the emperor, the first prince, or even the imperial guards¡ªall who had also noticed this fact.


    Yet n had moved with the precision of a seasoned martial artist, had crushed Zarot with the strength of someone far beyond a normal man, and had done it all without the telltale signature of power.


    If n had no ki¡­ if he truly had no magic¡­ then what manner of warrior was he?


    Darius seethed in silence, his eyes burning holes into Aric, but it was Ss, the second prince, who broke the tension. His red hair was tied neatly behind him, and his face was an unreadable mask, eyes betraying nothing. He leaned slightly toward Aric, his voice low, but loud enough for those nearby to hear.


    "Don''t you think your man went a bit overboard?" Ss asked, his lips curling into the faintest smile.


    Aric turned his gaze toward his older brother, his expression as calm and calcted as always. "That''s how he''s trained¡­to kill," he replied, voice smooth, almost conversational.


    "A battle is not won until the enemy is dead."


    Ss said nothing, only smiled a little wider, his eyes flicking briefly back to the colosseum below where the next round of games was beginning. Captured beasts from the north¡ªvicious creatures bred in the harsh, cold northern forest¡ªwere led into the arena, their massive forms thrashing against their chains.


    The crowd''s attention shifted, and for a moment, the tension seemed to dissipate.


    But there was no missing the quiet presence of the emperor, ever watching, ever silent. His gaze had never wavered, and his expression had not changed. Even as the wild northern beasts were released into the pit, their handlers barely escaping the jaws of the massive creatures, the emperor remained still.


    His eyes flicked briefly to his sons, noting their moves, their strategies, and their tactical tugs of war.


    The games continued into the night. The colosseum was alive with the sound of roars¡ªboth from the beasts and the crowd. Men fought for honor and glory, blood staining the sands as they battled against the savage creatures.


    The northern beasts were no ordinary animals; they were ferocious, with thick fur that resisted swords and ws sharp enough to tear through armor. The crowd watched with bated breath as warriors fought them, some winning, some falling to the dirt, their bodies ripped apart in a gruesome disy.


    Each fight was more brutal than thest, but none held the same gravity as the earlier spectacle. Aric''s name had been whispered in the streets before, but now it was spoken openly, boldly.


    His return had been marked with blood, and though it had stirred fear, it had also solidified his presence. He was no longer the sickly prince. He had drawn blood, made a statement, and now the people were watching.


    But that alone wasn''t enough.


    He had won a single battle against Byzeth, but his brothers had numerous achievements as well, Crown prince Valen for example had won countless.


    At the age of thirteen, Valen had led men against the elven empire during their siege on Lusan and had triumphed. It had been victory after victory since then. Aric still had a long way to go before anyone saw him as a true contender for the throne. The people might whisper about his sudden rise, but they hadn''t forgotten the brilliance of the crown prince or Ss and Darius.


    Aric knew this.


    He understood that one fight, one victory, didn''t mean the tide had shifted in his favor. But tonight had been aboutying the foundation. A seed had been nted, and now he would let it grow.


    As the final cheers of the night rang out, and thest of the blood games came to a close, Aric stood from his seat in the imperial box. He gave a formal bow to his brothers and to the emperor, offering his thanks before turning to leave. His steps were calm, measured, even as his mind churned with thoughts of the future.


    Xavier, the emperor, said nothing, only nodded slightly as Aric left. But as Aric passed by Darius, the third prince pulled him close, his breath hot against Aric''s ear as he whispered, "I''ve left a surprise for you."


    Aric barely blinked, only giving a small sigh as Darius smirked and turned away, heading toward his own estate.


    Without another word, Aric and his house exited the colosseum, the long night of blood and spectacle behind them. They boarded the carriages that would take them back to his estate, and as they rode through the streets of the imerial city, Aric''s mind wandered.


    The estate had been left in the care of two trusted guards¡ªMeholt and Zahai¡ªtwo years ago when Aric had left for Byzeth. He hadn''t seen them since. But as the carriages pulled up to the gates of his estate, it all looked diffrent.


    The grounds were pristine. The grass was trimmed to perfection, and the flowers were in full bloom, their vibrant colors illuminated by the soft glow of thenterns. The once-shabby manor, which had fallen into disrepair, now stood tall and gleaming as though it had been rebuilt from the ground up.


    n was the first to step out, his eyes scanning the area with subtle precision. He walked ahead of the others, searching for Meholt and Zahai. There was no sign of them.


    The carriages rolled to a stop at the entrance, and Aric stepped out aswell, his eyes narrowing as he took in the sight of his estate. It had been transformed¡ªjust like he had requested, a payment of five million gold was made for that very purpose afterall, but something about it felt wrong.


    Too perfect. Too¡­ staged.


    n reached the door first, his hand resting on the handle for a moment before he pushed it open. The door creaked slightly as it swung inward, revealing the foyer bathed in soft candlelight.


    The interior was spotless, every inch polished and shining as though the entire manor had been scrubbed clean.


    But as n stepped inside, his gaze immediately went to the staircase at the far end of the room.


    Hanging from the railing, their bodies swaying gently in the still air, were Meholt and Zahai.


    Their lifeless forms were suspended by thick ropes, their faces twisted in expressions of pain and terror. Blood dripped slowly from their wounds, pooling on the floor below them. The estate guards who had served Aric had been turned into nothing but broken, bloodied corpses, left as a grotesque disy in the heart of Aric''s home.


    The air was filled with the stench of death, the silence in the room so heavy it was suffocating.


    n''s hand dropped to his side, his expression unchanged, but his eyes darkened. Aric stood behind him, his gaze locked on the bodies of his fallen men, his face unreadable as the reality of the scene set in.


    Darius''s "surprise" had been left hanging for him to find.


    Aric was prepared, ready for this even. The payment of blood could only be more blood and he understood this, he did not return to the imperial city for no reason, he came prepared for the battle, not the one fought in war with swords and bows, but of politics and blood.

 Chapter 90: The silver Dawn.

    The air in the foyer was thick, clinging to their skin as they all stared, each man, guard, and servant rooted to the spot.


    The lifeless bodies of Meholt and Zahai hung from the upper staircase railing, their faces drawn and dark in death, shadows pulling across the hollowed skin beneath their eyes.


    n, the unreadable face of Aric''s guard, clenched his jaw, his hand gripping his sword hilt as though it were the only thing holding him steady.


    The silence stretched, each person looking to the prince, awaiting hismand.


    Aric, his gaze not faltering, looked up at the bodies of his men and felt a cold  settle in his chest. For a long moment, he didn''t move, only the barely-there flicker of his eyelids betraying his slight shock, his own grief.


    Then, with a swift breath, he turned toward n, a look sharp enough to carve stone.


    "Bring them down," hemanded, his voice low, yet biting.


    n nodded, a simple motion, and gestured to the guards who had traveled with them. They moved quickly, with hands respectful but efficient, carefully lowering the bodies.


    There was a quiet reverence in their movements, an understanding, perhaps a respect for their death¡ªmaybe a Sacrifice it was, one that assured many more deaths toe in order to appease theirs.


    Aric turned, his eyes steady, his voice as unbreakable as reinforced steel, and addressed the entourage that had followed him back to the estate.


    "Return to your quarters," he said, motioning to the weary soldiers and members of his house.


    "Rest and make yourselvesfortable. Usen"¡ªhe nodded toward a middle-aged woman with a calm presence, her face carved by years of service and loyalty¡ª"handle the allocation of chambers."


    Usen inclined her head, a quiet understanding passing between them, her movements as brisk as her voice.


    "Of course, your grace. Follow me, everyone." Her tone cut through the solemn quiet as she directed them with confidence, her gaze lingering only briefly on the dark, lifeless figures nowid gently against the foyer floor.


    Once they began to disperse, Aric turned toward a select few who had remained behind, those who constituted his council and closest advisors.


    "The rest of you¡ªfollow me to the study." His voice was smooth, his expression unbroken as he led them away from the scene, his steps with purpose.


    ---


    Inside the study, warm candle bright was all that offered illumination across the room. Rich carvings adorned the walls, and shelves filled with many books and scrolls lined the perimeter.


    Each seat in the room was upied, the council gathering with a stressful and tense air as they settled into their ces around the grand oak table.


    There was Lerai, now known among them as but a quiet inventor whose mind held more secrets than one could imagine; Borag, a once bandit now general with a stoic face and sharp gaze; Serina, a mage most know better than utter the name of, her fingers trailed faint sparks of magic even when at rest; n, always nearby, a silent tandem of loyalty; Old Man Hitoshi, a gray-robed strategist, information dealer and spy whose wisdom was a tale carried on through decades; and finally, Mandel, a young man whose watchful eyes missed nothing¡ªa new addition he was.


    Aric took his seat at the head, his face illuminated by the low me of a nearbymp. His fingers were still as he looked over the council, his eyes passing over each face, reading the mixture of loyalty, unease, and determination that bound them all together.


    "We came to the capital to eliminate the second prince... With the letter we received we may begin to sever any im he has to the throne," Aric began, his voice clear, yet carrying a cold edge, "but I believe leaving Darius unchecked could prove just as dangerous."


    His gaze shifted to Old Man Hitoshi. "What do we know about Darius''s supporters? Speak freely. I want to know every detail."


    The old man leaned forward, his fingers tracing the edge of a parchment map on the table before him. He nodded slowly, gathering his thoughts as the room fell into silence.


    "Darius has always held sway over those who believe in change, who see a new path for the empire," Hitoshi began, his voice steady and measured.


    "They call themselves the Silver Dawn. They''re not just nobles¡ªsome are schrs, merchants, even men of faith. They see Darius as the pioneer of a new order, one where power may flow not just from the throne, but from those deemed worthy by merit."


    "Merit?" Borag scoffed, crossing his arms. "They speak of merit while lining their pockets with stolen wealth."


    The Irony of a bandit saying that was not lost on Mandel who concealed hisughter with a subtle smile.


    Hitoshi however, nodded in grim agreement.


    "Indeed. The Silver Dawn hides its corruption under a guise of righteousness. At their head is Count Lysander Drakov, a man as cunning as he is ambitious. His territories border the empire''s east, where our brightest schrs and most skilled mages are trained. Drakov has used his influence over these academies to push Darius as the noble''s prince, a reformer."


    "And House Drakov isn''t alone in this," Hitoshi continued, his gaze falling on each of them. "House Taelor backs them as well¡ªbureaucrats who have advised the empire for generations, but they yearn for a decentralization of power, seeking more influence over imperial matters. They see Darius as their means to achieve it."


    Serina''s lips pressed together, her expression still a nk canvas.


    "And House Vane?" she asked, her voice barely more than a whisper.


    "Merchants," Hitoshi answered, almost with disdain.


    "They see opportunity in Darius, hoping he will loosen the emperor''s grip onmerce. If they could, they''d turn the empire into a free-for-all trade route, untethered by imperial oversight."


    Aric''s fingers drummed against the table as he listened, a faint tug at his lips. The Silver Dawn painted itself as a faction of idealists, yet it was built on a foundation of selfish ambitions and hidden avarice.


    Still, they were dangerous; they promised not just an ally, but the allure of a new empire, a dream that would tempt many of the discontented.


    "And as if that wasn''t enough, the treasury is nearly empty," Hitoshi continued, the frustration clear in his voice.


    "The funds meant to keep the empire defenses strong have been drained by embezzlement. Those nobles use it to enrich themselves while the empire''snds grow poorer, the people more desperate."


    A grim silence fell over the room. Mandel, usually quiet, leaned forward.


    "And the Church?" he asked, a hint of scorn in his voice. "Where do they stand?"


    "The Church of the Holy me," Hitoshi replied, his tone bitter, "they once were indeed right in iming to be the empire''s moral backbone, but now they''re little more than a puppet. They ept bribes from noble houses, issuing decrees in exchange for coin, even turning a blind eye to treason when it serves their interests. They speak of peace, but they secretly fund war."


    Aric leaned back, the shadows ying across his face, casting his features into a sharp, unreadable mask.


    "So, Darius has built his power on corruption and illusions," he mused. "The Silver Dawn poses as a vision of hope, but in truth, they''re all wolves cloaked in righteousness¡ªall actors, just like he is. Darius would tear this empire apart piece by piece if it would secure him a crown...and he would smile innocently while doing it"


    n nodded in agreement, his expression as severe as ever.


    "If we don''t act swiftly, he will bring ruin not just to the Imperial city, but even the empire itself."


    "But to strike at Darius is to strike at an illusion that the nobles crave¡ªa future of wealth and power with no higher order," Serina murmured thoughtfully.


    "And illusions are difficult to kill."


    Aric''s gaze sharpened, his lips curling into a knowing smile.


    "Then we will begin by revealing the illusion for what it is. We''ll shine a light into the shadows he hides behind and let his allies see the truth of their beloved prince..."


    "And for the stubborn ones, the unbelievers?" Mandel muttered.


    Aric stayed silent a moment, weighing his words before speaking.


    "We will have them meet God, what better way to make a man believe."


    Lerai, who had been silent throughout, finally spoke, his eyes flickering with superiority that belied his quiet demeanor.


    "I''ll prepare what''s needed," he said. "Let me know how you wish to proceed."


    Aric nodded, each n solidifying in his mind, a calcted vengeance brewing behind his gaze.


    "For now, let''s take stock of what allies we have in this city and who we can trust. Darius may have made a Web just like, but every web has its weak threads, and Hitoshi it''s your job to find it."


    The old man nodded.


    The rest of the council followed, each one carrying the a crystal understanding of whaty ahead.

 Chapter 91: House Vane

    Moonlight dripped into Gerald''s room like liquid silver, it painted shadows across the luxirious furnishings.


    The soft, decadent sheets left twisted and discarded at the edge of the bed. The room, luxurious with artworks and artifacts from distantnds, felt alive with muted sounds¡ªbreaths, whispers, the rhythmic shuffling of skin against skin.


    A woman''s moans filled the chamber, soft gasps and throaty sighs escaping her parted lips as Gerald held her close.


    His hand gripped her wrist, fingers trailing over her skin as he drew her arm behind her back, pressing her forward, bent over the bed, her body exposed in the moonlight''s caress. Their movements, uncensored and raw, blended with the rustle of sheets and the creak of wood, the room steeped in the heat and sweat of their union.


    Gerald''s breaths were deep, ragged, and each thrust drew out a soft cry from her lips, her body arching into him as though trying to close every distance¡ªtrying to feel him as deeply inside her as she could.


    But then, the heavy door swung open.


    "Out," came the sharp,manding voice.


    Lady Mire Vane, in all her poised elegance, stood in the doorway, eyes narrowed, lips pressed. In a sh, the woman scrambled to grab a sheet, draping herself in the thin cloth that did little to hide her naked form, but she wasted no time.


    She hurried past Lady Mire, clutching the fabric to her chest, her cheeks flushed as she avoided the woman''s steely gaze.


    Gerald watched, a smirk on his lips as he turned, slipping on a pair of loose shorts, his muscles glistening faintly with a sheen of sweat. His expression was anything but apologetic, and he let out a soft chuckle as he leaned against the bedpost, folding his arms.


    "Aunt Mire," he drawled, the remnants of his pleasure still evident in hiszy grin. "To what do I owe this¡­te visit?"


    Lady Mire stepped into the room, closing the door behind her with a soft but deliberate click. Her dark hair, coiled elegantly at the nape of her neck, reflected a hint of silver in the moonlight.


    Her presence was as severe as it was refined, clothed in a midnight-ck gown that hugged her figure and glittered with fine embroidery in the silver of the moon. She moved gracefully, her gaze sharp as ever, assessing Gerald with a look that could peel backyers.


    She seemed more sculpted in marble than flesh¡ªher beauty as bewitching to a man as her body, every feature carefully controlled, each motion measured.


    "Have you noticed what''s happening around us?"


    Her voice was low and steady, but there was an edge beneath her calm tone¡ªa slight urgency that sliced through the room.


    Gerald shrugged, arching a brow.


    "Is this about the fourth prince? You can''t be serious, Aunt Mire. Aric? The ''sick Prince''¡ªhe''s hardly a threat to anyone."


    Her mouth tightened. She moved to the window, gazing out over the grounds as if to gather her thoughts, the silence between them pregnant with a weight only years of secrets could carry.


    She turned to him then, her gaze piercing.


    "No one thought he could stay out of his bed for more than an hour, much less roam about the imperial city as he has. But he''s done that," she replied, her voice soft yet biting, each word as though a warning.


    She continued.


    "No one thought he''d be capable of traveling to Byzeth alone¡ªByzeth, Gerald¡ªin his condition, mind you. But he did that as well. And not a single soul could have believed he''d go to war against a kingdom, quell a rebellion, and sever the head of a king who should surpass him infinitely in strength¡­ but he did that too."


    Gerald''s smile faded, reced by a contemtive frown as he pushed off the bedpost.


    His eyes narrowed, a faint glint of intrigue slipping into his gaze.


    "So he has spirit, perhaps even luck. What of it?"


    "What of it?" Mire echoed, her voice a low hiss.


    She approached him, her eyes fierce, and he was suddenly reminded that his aunt''s strength did not lie solely in her charm and guile.


    "Gerald, your father and I and all that came before us have spent years cultivating our alliances, establishing House Vane as the empire''s gateway to wealth, opportunity, and influence. We''ve built this house brick by brick, made it indispensable to the empire''s survival. Do you really want to risk that by underestimating a rising threat?"


    He scoffed, running a hand through his dark hair.


    "Rising threat? You speak as if he''s capable of toppling us. The boy has no influence, no allies beyond a few stragglers. He''s a passing storm at best, one that will eventually lose its power."


    Mire''s lips curled into a tight smile, but it was without warmth.


    "That''s what everyone thought¡ªuntil he proved them wrong. And now, there''s a banquet tomorrow to wee him back to Valeria. A celebration of his supposed ''victory'' over Byzeth. The emperor is rewarding him, showering him with honors that were never his to im. Tell me, Gerald¡­ does that seem like a passing storm to you?"


    Gerald''s gaze dropped to the floor, brow furrowed. House Vane had spent years amassing quiet control over trade and guilds, bringing gold into Valeria and into their coffers alike, but power was fickle, as fleeting as smoke.


    He nced back up at his aunt, a spark of calction flickering in his eyes.


    "And what would you have me do?" he asked, his voice barely audible, tinged with an edge of reluctant curiosity.


    Mire studied him, as though gauging whether he could be trusted with her n. Finally, she let out a slow, measured breath.


    "Observe him tomorrow. Seek hispany, perhaps, see where his ambitions lie. But Gerald," she added, leaning closer, her gaze sharp as ss, "do not underestimate him. He may be only one man, but he''s shown he can shift the tide if he so wishes. We cannot afford to ignore someone with such potential¡ªsomeone the emperor himself seems willing to embrace as a rising star."


    The thought unsettled Gerald, and he turned to the window, casting his gaze out over the moonlit estate. Rydell Hall, the heart of House Vane, rose strong and unyielding against the night sky, it was the best telling their wealth and influence.


    But in the distance, beyond the estate''s borders,y the broader empire¡ªa ce where whispers of change seemed to linger, threatening the stability they had so carefully crafted.


    "You''re worried he''ll threaten the bnce we''ve built," he murmured, half to himself, fingers drumming against the windowsill.


    Mire''s voice was calm but unyielding.


    "I''m saying he already has. And if he can bring down a kingdom, who''s to say he won''t bring down a house?"


    For a moment, they stood in silence, their reflections ghostly in the window''s ss. Gerald felt the weight of his aunt''s words, the subtle pressure to act, to see this prince not as a weakling, but as a dangerous opponent¡ªa man who had wed his way out of obscurity and left a trail of blood behind him.


    Finally, he turned to face her, a new resolve settling in his eyes.


    "Tomorrow night, then," he said, voice steady. "I''ll find a way to meet him, test the waters. But Aunt Mire," he added, a sly grin curling at his lips, "don''t expect me to bend the knee to the sickly prince. House Vane may bow to no one, but we do know how to y the game."


    Mire''s lips curved into a faint smile, approval glinting in her eyes.


    "Good. Just remember, Gerald, that in this game, fortunes can change with a single move. Keep your wits about you."


    As she left, closing the door quietly behind her, Gerald stood alone in the dim light, the words lingering in the air. The moon had shifted in the sky, leaving shadows that danced along the walls, tracing patterns as intricate and shifting as the politics that governed Valeria.


    Tomorrow, he would meet this prince. And whether Aric Valerian was a mere upstart or a genuine threat, Gerald intended to find out.

 Chapter 92: Banquet Of Snakes.

    The grand banquet hall glittered under the shine of chandeliers strung with crystal and polished like stars captured in ss, while noblemen and women filled the floor, their silks and velvets whispering of wealth, secrets, and deadly ambition.


    The scent of rare wines and spices hung around, mingling withughter a bit too sharp and smiles a tad too wide. Tonight, the court of Valeria had gathered to wee home the forgotten prince.


    Aric stepped inside, his figure dark against thevish light, cutting through the decadence with a presence that silenced the room in a heartbeat.


    His expression was nk, eyes cold as tempered steel, and at his side stood Serina¡ªa shadow of loyalty, her gaze sharp and wary as she matched his every step.


    This was a hall of lions dressed asmbs, predators dressed in embroidery and jewels. But here was Aric, the man who knew war and death, resurrected by his own resilience.


    This court, this glittering assemge, was just a spectacle now; he had no intentions of being a yer in their games.


    Yet, to them, he was a curiosity¡ªa returning shadow, the prince they thought too weak to leave his sickbed.


    Whispers coiled around the room like vipers, nobles with raised goblets and half-hidden nces, reassessing him, calcting, fearful. No one had expected Aric to survive, much less to rise.


    Across the room, the factions stood clustered, separate yet intertwined like a poisonous web, each reflecting their allegiance and ambition.


    At the far end, Duke Garamond Rothval of the Iron Circle watched, the glint of pride and arrogance in his gaze as he leaned close to his son-inw, Valen Valerian.


    House Rothval, with its iron grip on the empire¡¯s military strength, waited like a beast in a cage, loyal to Valen with a brutality honed in battle and bloodshed.


    Near him, Lady Elyra Brienne of the Shadow League, her gaze sly and calcting, sipped her wine with a kind ofnguid venom that belied her faction¡¯s secretive power over the empire¡¯s food supplies.


    They whispered among themselves, masters of subterfuge and espionage, securing Ss¡¯s im through subtle sabotage rather than strength.


    Aric¡¯s gaze moved to the other end, where the Silver Dawn¡¯s Count Lysander Drakov stood with his fellow reformists.


    His voice was an undertone, passionate yet ambitious, the mark of a noble who thought himself above the old guard. The Silver Dawn imed a faction of progress, of positive change¡ªbut most knew better than to trust their promises.


    With them stood Gerald Vane, he was known for his rather indulgent lifestyle, slick tongue and ambition disguised as refinement. House Vane saw itself as pioneers, merchants at heart but courtiers in attire, whispering for reform only because it served their pockets and influence.


    And in the shadows, the Ashen Covenant.


    Only a few nobles dared speak of them, but their eyes flickered with interest as they watched Aric, like moths drawn to a deadly me.


    Viscount Kael Draylen, head of the once-great House Draylen, nodded faintly in Aric¡¯s direction¡ªa silent salute from one who had tasted the empire¡¯s betrayal and carried the hunger for vengeance.


    As Aric moved through the room, nobles of the Iron Circle eyed him with thinly veiled disdain, as if his very presence was an offense to their prince¡¯s ordained right to rule.


    But he met each gaze with an indifference that cut deeper than any scorn, and each ncing sneer faltered under the weight of his quiet wrath. Here was not a boy but a prince returned, an ruthless king in the guise of amb, a man whose silence was more terrifying than any threat.


    Aric¡¯s attention was drawn to a figure gliding toward him¡ªGerald Vane, his expression schooled into practiced grace, his smile sharp yet harmless. With a slight bow, he spoke, voice slick with a charm that only barely masked his ambition.


    "Prince Aric," Gerald purred, "It¡¯s a pleasure to see you well. I had feared the¡­perils of the battlefield might have left you unscathed in body but not in spirit."


    Aric raised an eyebrow, a ghost of a smile ying at his lips.


    "I assure you, Lord Vane, I am quite whole."


    "Indeed, a miraculous recovery." Gerald¡¯s voice dipped,ced with a curiosity as thin as ss. "Rumors do tend to spin tales, do they not? And yours¡­ah, they whisper of feats that seem almost¡­well, mythic."


    Aric¡¯s gaze narrowed, a flicker of ice under the surface. "Rumors are the veins of court, are they not?" he replied smoothly. "Yet I find they tend to reflect more about those who whisper them than those they concern."


    A flicker of annoyance passed over Gerald¡¯s face, quickly masked. He had intended to draw Aric into idle talk, to confirm the secrets he¡¯d heard only whispers of. But Aric¡¯s cold gaze suggested he had already glimpsed Gerald¡¯s intentions and found them unworthy.


    The nobles nearby, sensing the tension, leaned closer, silent observers of a game that had transformed into something darker, something edged with unseen knives.


    Gerald was not one to be outmaneuvered so easily, not in his own court. With a carefully constructed smile, he continued, pressing gently but with an edge of steel.


    "Surely, a man of such¡­determination must have ambitions of his own. I wonder," he said softly, voice dripping with false intrigue, "if those ambitions align with our empire¡¯s well-being¡­or perhaps with something more personal."


    The advance was clear, a subtle jab wrapped in silk, meant to intruige, but also to unsettle.


    But Aric merely tilted his head, eyes like dark storms. He leaned in, his voice a whisper that seemed to fill the space between them, cold and unwavering.


    "Fools with ambitions," he replied, "are much like shadows, Lord Vane. They may follow, cling at whatever seems profitable, but in the darkness, they are revealed for what they are...absolutely nothing."


    Gerald¡¯s mask cracked, his irritation slipping through like a crack in stone. The tension between them rose, drawing the eyes of more nobles as the room fell into hushed anticipation.


    "Are you implying something, Your Highness?"


    Gerald¡¯s tone was no longer velvet but steel, a challenge in his gaze.


    Aric¡¯s voice was soft, almost a murmur, but each word held the weight of an unspoken threat.


    "Merely that you should tread carefully, Lord Vane. For there are shadows in this empire far darker than ambition. And not all of them¡­aremanded by fools."


    A silence fell, thick and tense, until Gerald¡¯s expression twisted, his pride ring as he took a step forward, his voice raised.


    "You overstep, Fourth Prince," he snarled, voice sharp enough to slice the air. "You think your rank entitles you to¡ª"


    Aric¡¯s gaze did not waver, nor did his voice rise. Instead, he met Gerald¡¯s outburst with a terrifying calm, each word a de poised just above the nobleman¡¯s throat.


    "Is today truly the day you wish to die, Lord Vane?"


    A chill swept through the hall, the murmurs of the nobles ceasing in an instant as a collective breath was held. Gerald paled, his voice faltering, for he saw the steel behind Aric¡¯s words, the promise of death lurking beneath his calm exterior.


    "You¡­you cannot simply¡­" Gerald stammered, his confidence draining under the weight of Aric¡¯s gaze. "You wouldn¡¯t dare¡­"


    "Try me." Aric¡¯s voice was a whisper, but it carried through the hall like thunder, unyielding, deadly. "I implore you, Lord Vane. Test your courage and let¡¯s see how long your words keep you alive."


    Gerald¡¯s face twisted in fury, his pride shattered as he felt Aric¡¯s challenge press down upon him. But the eyes of the court were on him, the whispers and snickers of his peers ringing in his ears.


    Slowly, reluctantly, he lowered his gaze, a begrudging apology slipping from his lips like poison.


    "My¡­apologies, Your Highness," he said, each word thick with resentment.


    Aric raised a hand, stopping him mid-turn, unsatisfied by the excuse of an apology.


    "And where, exactly, do you think you¡¯re going?"


    Gerald froze, a flicker of fear passing over his face as he realized his mistake. He turned back, facing the prince with a trembling facade ofposure.


    Aric¡¯s gaze was merciless, his lips curling in a faint, chilling smile.


    "If you hunger for death so eagerly, Lord Vane," he said, voice low, "then you should have simply asked. But perhaps¡­your pride would prefer you grovel a bit longer?"


    Gerald clenched his fists, his jaw tight as he forced himself to bow deeply, his words dripping with humiliation.


    "Forgive me¡­Your Highness."


    Aric held him there for a moment longer, his gaze unrelenting before he finally turned away, dismissing him with a flick of his hand.


    The nobles watched in stunned silence, the power in that dismissal echoing through the hall like the strike of a bell.


    And every lord anddy, from the Iron Circle to the Ashen Covenant, could see it inly: the fourth Prince was a threat¡ªand perhaps he always was.

 Chapter 93: One must understand thy enemies.

    Under the dim candlelight, Gerald clenched his jaw as his aunt led him to the shadowed edge of the banquet hall. Theughter and murmurs from the hall faded as they stepped away from the crowds, leaving him alone with her simmering silence.


    Then, with a sudden snap, her palm met his cheek. The p left a sting that throbbed, each heartbeat fueling his fury as he red at her, refusing to look away.


    "What were you thinking?" she seethed, her voice low, fierce, full of barely contained rage.


    "Do you realize the gravity of what you did? Disrespecting the prince¡­ do you know what they call that?" Her gaze was a de, cutting into him with each word. "L¨¨se-majest¨¦. Are you so eager to throw away your life, Gerald?"


    Holding his cheek, Gerald narrowed his eyes.


    "The fourth prince was goading me. I could see it in his face, feel it in his words." He shook his head, voice thick with defiance. "I told you, I won¡¯t kneel to him. Not to him."


    A thin, cold frown twisted her lips. "But you just did," she said, voice dripping venom.


    Her words cut deeper than any p, and he had no response, no quick retort. She continued, pressing her advantage.


    "What you¡¯ve done is worse than any insult. You¡¯ve made yourself a fool in front of the entire court¡ªapologizing publicly, bowing like a whipped dog. You¡¯ve put us in a corner, one I now have to w us out of." Her stare pinned him, disappointment radiating from her in waves. "I gave you one simple task, Gerald. Just one. But it seems the only thing you¡¯re capable of is cavorting with women."


    He wanted to argue, to spit words back at her, but there was a truth in her words he couldn¡¯t ignore. Shame prickled at him, mingling with anger.


    "I¡­ I apologize," he muttered, the words rough as gravel.


    She scoffed, dismissing his apology with a flick of her wrist.


    "What good is that to me now? You¡¯ve created a mess, and now I¡¯m left to clean it." Without waiting for his response, she spun on her heel, leaving him standing there, cheeks still flushed, fists clenched in anger.


    Her gaze swept the hall until she found Aric, standing apart with a ss of wine in hand, the fourth prince exuding a calm, distant presence even amidst the predatory gazes.


    He was speaking with a handful of low standing nobles who, with a mere wave from her, quickly excused themselves, leaving Aric alone as she approached.


    Aric looked at her, one eyebrow lifting in wry amusement.


    "It seems House Vane has sent someone more capable this time," he remarked, his voice smooth, his tone light, though she sensed the steel underneath.


    She softened her expression and bowed her head slightly, as if to acknowledge her nephew¡¯s blunder.


    "My prince, forgive Gerald¡¯s insolence. He is¡­ headstrong, but his loyalty to the royal family is unwavering. I assure you, there won¡¯t be a repeat of tonight¡¯s embarrassment."


    Aric waved a hand dismissively. "It¡¯s forgotten," he said, though his eyes gleamed with something more. "And your dress," he added, his gaze sweeping over her in brief appraisal, "is exquisite, Lady Vane."


    A faint smile curved her lips as she lowered hershes.


    "You¡¯re too kind, Your Highness."


    She took a calcted breath, letting it show just enough to draw his attention. This was her arena, one she had mastered long before Gerald could even pronounce the word ¡¯politics.¡¯


    "Though if I may ask," she murmured, sidling closer with a graceful tilt of her head, "is it true that you returned from Byzeth unscathed, that you personally saw to the rebellion¡¯s end?"


    His eyes glinted with something unreadable, but he simply nodded.


    "One could say I took care of the matter, yes."


    "Such prowess," she whispered, admiration thick in her voice. "The fourth prince, a warrior and conqueror¡­ our empire needs strength like yours. Someone bold, with a vision."


    Aric studied her with the faintest smile on his lips, his gaze unreadable.


    "Bold words. I didn¡¯t realize House Vane was so interested in my¡­ ambitions."


    Sheughed softly, a sound like silk sliding through the air.


    "Ambitions?" She tilted her head, letting her fingers graze lightly over his sleeve. "Every man should have ambitions, don¡¯t you think? And yet, here we are, with you so close to something you were once distant from. It¡¯s only natural to wonder¡­ what the prince¡¯s dreams truly are."


    Aric paused, his gaze sharpening.


    "Dreams can be dangerous. Especially when they¡¯re scrutinized so closely by others."


    She held his gaze, unflinching, though her heart quickened under his scrutiny.


    "We simply wonder," she said, leaning closer, her voice a soft purr, "if those dreams will lead you to greatness¡­ or perhaps put you at odds with those who hold power now."


    There was a beat of silence as Aric took a slow sip of his wine, his gaze never leaving hers.


    "Perhaps it¡¯s not my dreams you should worry about," he murmured, lowering his ss. "But rather, your own. Tell me, what is House Vane¡¯s end game? You seem¡­ unusually interested in me, Lady Vane. Are you so uncertain of Darius?"


    Her smile froze for a fraction of a second, but she recovered swiftly, letting out a light, musicalugh. "Uncertain? My prince, we aremitted to Darius¡¯s vision. But as with any endeavor of great importance, it pays to understand all yers."


    Aric¡¯s eyes narrowed, his smile fading into a look of faint amusement.


    "So you¡¯re telling me," he said quietly, "that all this"¡ªhis hand gestured vaguely to the space between them, her flirtation, her probing questions¡ª"is just a courtesy?"


    "A courtesy to a man we acknowledge," she replied smoothly, raising her chin slightly. "Surely, you understand our position. House Vane seeks stability, progress¡­ and yes, we wish to know where you stand. Not in opposition, but perhaps¡­ as an ally."


    Aric regarded her for a long, silent moment, and her heart pounded as his gaze bored into hers, as if peeling away each word, each nuance, leaving only raw intent beneath.


    "I think you and your nephew misunderstand me, Lady Vane," he said atst, his tone calm butced with an edge of steel. "I am not a pawn to be moved, nor a prize to be won. If you¡¯re looking for an ally, it would do you well to be forthright in your dealings. And if not¡­" His gaze hardened, his voice dropping to a cold murmur.


    "I¡¯d suggest you keep a closer eye on your nephew¡¯s conduct, lest he forget himself again."


    Lady Vane swallowed, the heat of Aric¡¯s words chilling her resolve. Yet she offered a graceful, shallow bow.


    "Of course, Your Highness. We only wish to avoid misunderstandings¡­ and to remain¡­ friends."


    Aric¡¯s smile returned, but his eyes remained cold.


    "Then I suggest we leave it at that, Lady Vane. I might have a proposition for you soon, however, if your ns are to subdue me under the canopy of Darius, then you all might aswell hang yourselves before I do it for you."


    The Prince, with nothing but a cold nod¡ªwalked away.

 Chapter 94: Pride.

    The banquet hall buzzed with soft whispers and the quiet clinking of goblets.


    Nobles shifted in their seats, fine silks and embroidered robes rustling as they spoke in voices just loud enough to be heard by those beside them, but low enough to avoid prying ears. They spoke of the princes, their futures, their triumphs and tensions.


    But, here and there, in the quietest corners, behind jeweled fans and silk-gloved hands, a different topic slipped between the lips of only the most daring: the emperor''s rumored illness.


    "Do you think he¡ª?" one noble muttered, his words half-lost in the dimness.


    "Hush," hispanion warned, ncing around with a sh of fear. Heads turned away quickly, eyes darting to each other with guarded suspicion, for even the mere hint of sickness in the emperor was enough to lose one''s standing¡ªor worse.


    Yet beneath the murmur of conversation and the delicate mask of courtly civility, there was a slight tension, as if everyone was aware of some unspoken truth, afraid that with one careless word, the wrong person might overhear.


    As the night drew on, Aric finally took his leave of the main hall.


    He moved through the dim corridors and shadowed passages until he arrived at a secluded room lit with only the soft glow of sconces along the walls. Inside, his father, Emperor Xavier, sat at the head of a polished table surrounded by a handful of senators.


    Their faces, hardened and weathered by years of court life, barely moved as he entered, yet their eyes followed his every step.


    Aric sat quietly, only ncing once toward the emperor, whose face, though impassive, held the weight of a man bearing a hidden burden. The conversation turned swiftly to Aric''s conquest of Byzeth, the rebels crushed, and the once-defiant king, Aszer, now lying lifeless by Aric''s hand.


    The emperor''s voice was measured, noting Aric''s sess with quiet approval. Yet even as they spoke of Aric''s achievements, the opposing senators shifted uneasily in their seats, and it was not long before one spoke up.


    "Of course, Prince Aric''s mission in Byzeth was¡­ well-executed," one senator remarked, his tone thinly veiled, "but it''s hardly as if he did so alone. We all heared Ysir, the Northrender princess, and her legion yed a¡­ critical role."


    It was a notion already dismissed by the emperor, but it was all they had.


    Another senator nodded, leaning forward with an expression of feigned admiration.


    "Indeed. Without the might of the Northrenders¡­ well, such an endeavor might not have ended in victory."


    Aric met their gazes evenly, refusing to let the barbnd.


    "You think?" he began, his voice calm as still water, "but I was the one to sever the head of Aszer myself." His eyes glittered coldly as he added, "Even the Byzeth king''s own men could attest to this fact."


    The senators murmured, shifting ufortably, the confidence in their jabs waning as Aric continued, his voice low, his words deliberate.


    "Tell me, if you believe that Ysir and her Northrender legion had such a strong interest in aiding me, why then? Why would they, out the blue, want to aid me against a rebellious king?"


    The senators exchanged uneasy nces. One cleared his throat, but no one could summon an answer. The room fell silent, save for the faint crackling of the torches, the tension thickening like mist.


    Aric leaned back, letting the silence stretch.


    "I wonder," he said atst, his gaze unyielding, "if any among you actually knew Aszer''s true n." He paused, watching the flickers of shock cross their faces, relishing the unsettled looks that spread like wildfire.


    "He had courted the Northrenders, formed alliances that could have thrown our empire into a war of a scale you sit here blissfully unaware of. Had his ambitionse to fruition, the men of winter would have poured into Valeria, and the little games of politics you are all so obsessed with would have be irellevant."


    The senators shifted, eyes widening as the gravity of his words sank in. Their mouths opened as if to respond, but no sound came. They simply stared, as if seeing him for the first time, unable to reconcile the prince they''d dismissed as weak with the man who had ended a rebellion before it could reach their gates.


    One senator finally cleared his throat, an edge of disbelief clinging to his words.


    "But¡­ without the strength of ki¡­ How did you alone prevent this? How did you secure the Northrender princess''s loyalty and¡­ kill the Byzeth king?"


    Aricughed, a sound that echoed through the room, sharp and unrestrained, each beat ofughter seeming to echo off the walls and dig deeper into the senators'' pride.


    "Why should I tell you?" he replied, his voice suddenly cold. "What have any of you done to earn that knowledge?"


    The senators flushed, the silence filling with unspoken anger, their hands curling into fists, jaws clenched with rage. But before the tension could erupt, Emperor Xavier''s voice sliced through the air.


    "That''s enough. All of you¡ªleave."


    The senators straightened, unwilling to meet Aric''s eyes as they filed out, expressions taut, shoulders stiff. One by one, they disappeared into the corridor, leaving only the emperor and his son in the quiet, the moment falling over them.


    The door shut, sealing them in a silence soplete that Aric could hear the steady pulse of his own heartbeat, the slow rustle of his father''s robes as the emperor rose from his seat. Instinctively, Aric stood as well, the motion swift and precise, born of years of training and discipline.


    Xavier approached him slowly, his face shadowed in the dim light, unreadable. He stopped before Aric, his gaze lingering, searching, as though trying to piece together fragments of a puzzle.


    Then, in a movement as unexpected as it was gentle, Xavier reached out, his hand resting on Aric''s shoulder, before slipping around the back of his neck, pulling him into an embrace. His voice was low, softer than Aric had ever heard it, yet his words carried a depth that settled into the marrow of Aric''s bones.


    "I know how difficult it must have been," Xavier whispered, his voice rough yet warm. "I am proud of you."


    For a moment, Aric was frozen, his breath catching as the words echoed in his mind, each one peeling awayyers of hardened resolve. Pride¡ªhis father was proud. A surge of emotions rose within him, powerful and untamed, and he clenched his fists, his nails pressing into his palms as he fought to keep hisposure.


    Yet in that moment, the years of steely resolve, of calcted indifference, wavered.


    His father''s embrace, this brief show of affection, cracked through the armor he had so carefully built. His hardened gaze, the brutal mask of a warrior, faltered. The familiar coldness in his eyes softened, and for the first time, a flicker of something raw and vulnerable glistened in his pupils, bright as burning steel.


    And as he closed his eyes, he felt a warmth that had been foreign to him all his life, a warmth that made his heart ache even as it healed.


    For beneath the prince''s cold precision, beneath the strategist''s cunning, was a son who, for the first time he could remember, was held not as a warrior, not as a pawn¡ªnor a king he fought so hard to be, but simply as a son.


    A son who made his father proud.

 Chapter 95: You are not good men.

    Xavier held Aric close for a moment longer, the silence between them weighted, heavy with years of things unsaid. Finally, he let go, stepping back slowly, his hand lingering on Aric''s shoulder.


    In the brief gap before Xavier pulled awaypletely, Aric''s expression shifted, sealing back into the stoic mask he wore so well. The flicker of vulnerability was gone, buried under a cold calm, his face impassive, unreadable.


    Xavier noticed, his brow lifting slightly. He gave Aric''s shoulder a final squeeze, a small, wry smile twisting his lips.


    "You''ll make a fine emperor," he murmured, the words carrying a gravity that left no room for doubt.


    He turned, taking a few steps towards a table at the edge of the room. His hand passed over the carved wood, fingers tracing a dusty artifact resting atop it, a small relic of dark stone with intricate markings worn from time. He picked it up, turning it over thoughtfully, the stone''s dark surface gleaming dully in themplight.


    Without looking at Aric, he spoke again.


    "But to be emperor¡­" he paused, his gaze distant, "takes more than simply having the strength or skill to be a good one."


    Aric followed him, his footsteps soft, his eyes sharp.


    "And what does it take, then?" he asked, his voice low, restrained.


    Xavier turned, his eyes holding a glint of something unfathomable, as though he were peering through Aric, through the walls of the room, seeing a path only he could perceive.


    "That," he said, his voice like a stone dropped into a still pond, "is something you''ll need to find out on your own."


    Aric''s jaw tightened, but he said nothing. He waited, a tense quiet filling the space between them.


    Xavier continued, his words deliberate.


    "The steps one man takes to sess can lead another straight into ruin. Each of you, you and your brothers, have your own paths to follow. You may wish for the same destination, but the roads¡­some may demand blood, others betrayal. These choices, the roads you carve with your own hands¡ªthat''s what makes you worthy, or¡­" He trailed off, a faint sadness in his eyes.


    "...unworthy."


    Silence settled thickly between them, like a shroud. Aric''s gaze didn''t waver, but something shifted in his stance, a thought half-formed flickering behind his eyes. After a long pause, he spoke, his voice so quiet it was barely audible.


    "Do you¡­do you think I can do it?" His words were simple, yet they bore the weight of a thousand doubts. "Be emperor?"


    Xavier stared at him, his eyes never leaving his son''s face, and for a moment, the mask of the emperor fell away, leaving a father who looked at his son with an intensity that bore into Aric''s very soul.


    "Yes."


    A breath of relief ghosted past Aric''s lips, though he caught himself before his expression could betray him. He chuckled, a hint of bitterness in the sound.


    "Did you tell my brothers that too?"


    Xavier''s expression didn''t change. "Yes."


    Aric stiffened, a flicker of annoyance shing across his face. "So, what is it?" he asked, his voice edged with frustration. "What do we all have that makes us¡­worthy of this throne?"


    Xavier turned back to the artifact in his hand, tracing its jagged edges with his thumb, his gaze distant.


    "The ruthless desperation of a man hungry for power."


    His words fell like stones into the silence.


    "Each of you, every one of my sons¡­has that desire, that gnawing, unyielding hunger." He raised his gaze to Aric''s, his face hard, eyes cold and calcting. "None of you are good men¡ªand that''s exactly what makes you all capable of ruling."


    A faint chill ran down Aric''s spine, though he fought to keep hisposure intact. The emperor''s gaze was unyielding, his words heavy with conviction.


    "To rule Valeria, you cannot afford the weaknesses of goodness orpassion. This throne demands something else¡ªa willingness to be both judge and executioner, to wield mercy as sparingly as a de. It requires a pragmatic kind of evil."


    He set the artifact back on the table and turned fully to face his son, his expression sharp and assessing.


    "But you," he said quietly, his gaze darkening, "you surprise me, boy."


    Aric said nothing, but a muscle in his jaw twitched as he held his father''s gaze, refusing to falter.


    Xavier''s eyes narrowed, a glint of something darker lurking beneath their surface.


    "Leading an army to raid and ughter your own people. These were Valerian garissons and outposts, people who owe allegiance to this empire. And yet you marched against them¡­your actions speak of a boldness, a willingness to betray just to attain your goal¡­that I did not expect. So tell me, honestly¡­" He leaned closer, his tone low.


    "Is it the truth?"


    Aric clenched his fists, his knuckles turning white, his breath slow and steady as he forced himself to meet the emperor''s gaze, the silence stretching like a de''s edge between them. Finally, after a long moment, he nodded.


    "Yes."


    Xavier''s face remained expressionless, though a faint crease appeared between his brows. "Then," he said, his voice low and ominous, "I should kill you where you stand. That is the punishment for treason, after all."


    A chill shot through Aric''s veins, but he forced himself to stay calm, to remain steady, even as the emperor''s words made his chest tighten, his breath catching in his throat. For a moment, he felt the crushing weight of his father''s authority and ki, the sheer power that radiated from him, like standing in the shadow of a mountain ready to copse.


    But then, just as quickly as the tension had risen, Xavier sighed, a faint weariness slipping into his expression, and he shook his head, almost to himself.


    "I should have done a great many things," he murmured, his voice trailing off, like an exhale, a sigh of regret.


    The words hung, a quiet confession, weighted with years of choices and regrets, of roads taken and sacrifices made, each one leading them here, to this room, to this moment.

 Chapter 96: Power is fickle

    Silence settled in the chamber, an almost touchable thing between father and son, broken only by the crackling of the torches lining the walls and the soft, wavering flicker of candlelight.


    Shadows fluttered over the cold stone floors, stretching out like ghosts from another time as Aric watched Xavier, the emperor''s gaze distant, weighed down by something deeper, older than either of them.


    After a long pause, Xavier finally spoke, his voice low, almost contemtive.


    "Most would think to be emperor is to hold absolute power, tomand with a single word, to bend many kingdoms to one''s will, to do as one wishes without consequence." He paused, a slight frown tracing his features, the faintest shadow of doubt flickering behind his eyes. "To some extent, perhaps, it is."


    He nced at Aric, his eyes sharp, assessing.


    "But as you well know, the Valerian crown was not always ours to bear. Once, a dissatisfied empire brought down the most powerful ruler of thisnd¡ªthe fourteenth emperor, a man like all other emperors, hailed as invincible, in, his throne seized by our forefathers, along with the name Valerian. All-powerful, they called him, yet his crown was taken¡­ as simple as that."


    Xavier looked down at his hands, the ghost of a smile crossing his lips, though there was no humor in it.


    "It sometimes only takes a single, powerless man to end the reign of an emperor. A single, insignificant voice in a sea of obedience.


    One low-ranking noble whispers his discontent, and that whisper finds another¡­ and another, until it ripples through the court, spreading like rot, until every gaze in the hall turns, fixed on every w, every weakness¡­ all the emperor''s shorings, whether those of the past or those yet toe."


    He paused, his voice barely above his breath.


    "It isn''t enough to topple him outright, no. But it is enough to make the court take notice. To make the people start to see."


    The quiet stretched, the heaviness of his words sinking deep. Aric''s gaze stayed steady, but his fingers curled into fists at his sides.


    Xavier continued, his tone grim.


    "Assassinating an emperor¡ªno easy feat. But when enough people wish for it, well, boy, it bes only a matter of time."


    He turned, stepping toward the table and picking up the ancient relic once more, its weight familiar in his hand. The rough, carved edges pressed into his skin as he spoke, his voice growing harder.


    "But beyond the threat of assassins and rebels, an empire can crumble if it is not kept in order. Valeria is vast, with many forces that must work together¡ªnoble houses, guilds, councils. Even if a few fall out of line, the empire may survive. But if enough turn away, if too many withdraw their support¡­"


    He looked up, his gaze sharp as a de.


    "Valeria would fall."


    Xavier turned back to Aric, the artifact resting in his hands. "So, you see, though it may appear I wield absolute power, even I must bend a knee, knowing when to yield, when to bow my head for the sake of the empire."


    Aric''s face remained impassive, but his voice, when he finally spoke, held a cold edge, masking the sadness beneath.


    "Was allowing the death of my mother one of those¡­ bends of the knee?"


    The emperor''s gaze faltered, and a long, heavy silence followed. When he spoke, his words were slow, each one weighted, as if he chose them with the utmost care.


    "It feels an insult to her memory to say this," he admitted, his voice strained. "But I would be lying if I imed it was not."


    Aric''s jaw clenched, his eyes hardening. He didn''t respond, the air between them choked with unspoken anger, grief. Xavier looked away, perhaps waiting, perhaps hoping for Aric to say something, anything. But Aric''s silence was as unyielding as stone.


    Finally, Xavier spoke again, his tone more insistent, as if needing to exin, to justify, though he knew it would never be enough.


    "I couldn''t pardon attempted regicide," he said, his voice tight, the words barely passing his lips.


    "She would never try to kill you," Aric shot back, the words spilling out before he could restrain them, his voice trembling with a rage barely contained.


    Xavier''s gaze hardened, his toneced with an authority that dared Aric to question him. "I know she wouldn''t have." He stepped closer, his eyes fierce. "The only thing your mother loved more than I¡­was you. She would have never harmed me."


    Aric stood motionless, but his chest rose and fell in heavy, restrained breaths. Xavier''s expression softened slightly as he spoke, his voice quieter, more pained.


    "But they fabricated so much evidence against her, twisted so many truths, that if I''d opposed the tribunal''s decision, it would have seemed as though I''d pardoned her out of weakness, as though I favored her over justice. I even forced the tribunal''s hand, pushed for a judgment of prison, hoping she might at least be given life¡­ but the court objected, calling for her blood."


    His jaw tightened, his voice hard with bitterness. "I knew they opposed her as queen, but I never imagined they would go so far."


    The emperor''s hands clenched into fists, the rage visible now, clear as day. His face, which had betrayed such raw emotion a moment before, returned to its usual hard, imcableposure. But the anger remained, holding beneath the surface, as though a single word, a single wrong move, might unleash the fury of an emperor long denied his justice.


    He stood before Aric, staring into his son''s eyes with a fierce intensity, as if searching for something¡ªunderstanding, perhaps, or forgiveness.


    "I shouldn''t involve myself in the struggle between you and your brothers," he said, his voice low, measured. "And yet I gave you a chance to take Byzeth, to conquer, to carve your own ce. I dyed the army''s march, giving you time to finish your conquest."


    Aric held his breath, his heart pounding as he felt the weight of his father''s words, the trust he had reluctantly assumed was there, confirmed now.


    Xavier''s gaze never wavered, his expression unflinching.


    "And now I''ll forget your act of treason¡ªwipe it from memory as if it never happened. But in return, I ask one thing."


    He moved closer, cing a hand at the back of Aric''s neck, drawing him in with a rare, unguarded look, one that held the full press of a father''s grief, a husband''s regret, an emperor''s impossible choice.


    "Find those who plotted against your mother," he murmured, his voice barely more than a breath.


    "And make them pay."


    The words hung, a promise carved in the silence.

 Chapter 97: Without question.

    As Aric looked his father in the eyes, his expression hardened, every word measured and cutting.


    "You need not ask this of me," he said, his voice quiet, but his intent loud, "but rest assured, they will pay with their lives and more." His gaze was as fixed as iron, the promise filling the room like a silent echo.


    Xavier''s eyes lingered on his son, the lines on his face deepening in the torchlight as if carrying unspoken regrets. Though the emperor''s face remained firm, there was a glimmer¡ªperhaps relief, perhaps something else entirely¡ªthat faded as quickly as it had appeared.


    After a moment, Xavier finally nodded, as if that single gesture carried all the words a father and son might never say aloud.


    "It is nesary," he began, his voice low but steady. "Soon, you shall meet with the Senate and rify our official stance with the Northrenders. If need be I will make it known that whatever has happened is... in line with the empire''s ambitions. As for Byzeth¡­" Xavier''s voice dropped, his gaze narrowing as he continued, "No need to share any unnecessary details with the Senate.


    What you have done, how you achieved it¡ªthat can stay between us."


    Aric bowed, dipping his head in genuine respect, though his face betrayed no hint of emotion.


    "Thank you, father, for your¡­ clemency." Without another word, he turned and exited, feeling the lingering gaze of his father at his back, knowing their shared understanding was, at best, a brittle truce.


    The night had drawn on, shadows lengthening in the halls as Aric made his way back to the banquet hall. His steps echoed through the silence, filling the darkened corridors with the sound of his purposeful stride.


    As he re-entered the banquet hall, the chatter of the nobles faded to a murmur. He felt their nces, some subtle, others piercing, as they tried to gauge what might have been said behind closed doors. It was as though he''d stepped into a den of jackals, each one sizing up the potential threat in their midst.


    Almost on cue, Serina appeared at his side, her movements as fluid and unassuming as a shadow, and they made for the hall''s exit together. As they neared the doors, Aric turned once more, offering a sweeping gaze over the assembled nobles.


    "I extend my sincere appreciation to those of you who deemed this event worthy of your time. Pressing matters demand my attention, but I do hope you enjoy the rest of your evening." He offered a slight incline of his head before turning away, leaving behind a hall of nodding heads and whispered conversations.


    As they made their way down the grand pce hallways, torch lights made shadows on the floors. The Imperial Pce guards nked them on either side, moving silently as if even their breath was subject to the quiet intensity of Aric''s presence.


    "So?" he murmured without turning his head, his voice almost inaudible.


    "Most do not support you," Serina replied smoothly, her voice soft but pointed, each word precisely chosen.


    Aric gave a low chuckle, more a release of breath than genuine amusement.


    "Expected as much," he replied.


    She continued, her tone sharp as ss. "Some see you as an inconvenience, too unremarkable to threaten their established schemes. But others¡­ they''re more ufortable. Your sudden rise has them wary."


    Aric nodded thoughtfully, the corner of his mouth curving into a subtle, knowing smile. While he had exchanged pleasantries and banter with veiled meaning, Serina had worked through the crowd, each interaction calcted, drawing out their intentions, observing every twitch and turn of phrase, and separating allies from foes.


    "Report the full details to Hitoshi," he said, his wordsced with purpose.


    "Well¡­ any allies?"


    Serina''s gaze flicked to him, her eyes gleaming with a hint of intrigue.


    "More than expected, though they hide in shadow. The Ashen Covenant they call themselves" Her voice dropped as she continued, and with each word, her tone lessened.


    "There''s Viscount Kael Draylen. He leads them. A few disillusioned nobles, each one watching the empire with growing distaste. They''re a quiet lot, but they see your ascension as inevitable."


    Aric listened closely, every name sinking in like water on parched earth. Draylen. A former power in the capital, who''d lost everything after being branded a traitor. Now, they backed him in secret, driven by the same thirst for vengeance that burned within him.


    "And there''s House Vallis," Serina continued. "The family of healers and alchemists. They''re intrigued by your¡­ miraculous rise. They see your restored strength as a sign, an omen even, that the empire''s power may shift."


    "Hmm," Aric murmured, filing the information away. If they could be brought into his fold openly, their skills would prove invaluable.


    "And finally, House Sylmaris," Serina added, her voice dropping to a near whisper. "A minor family, but they excel in diplomacy and espionage. They could be your eyes and ears in the court when the timees. Their connections run deep, yet they remain unseen¡ªunderestimated even. They could be crucial in the long run."


    Aric''s eyes gleamed with satisfaction. Each house, each individual, was a stepping stone toward his goal, a part of a growing web that would hold the empire itself in its grip.


    As they reached the pce steps, a ck, polished carriage waited, its glossy finish absorbing the faint moonlight. The guards moved to open the doors, and Aric and Serina climbed in, settling into the velvet-cushioned seats.


    The door closed with a low thud, sealing them in, and the air felt full with anticipation.


    For a moment, there was only silence, the soft creak of the carriage as it shifted under their weight, and the distant murmur of the pce fading as they prepared to depart. Aric exhaled, a controlled release of tension, and with a flick of his wrist, a small dagger materialized in his hand.


    He turned it over thoughtfully, watching the glint of the de as it caught a sliver of moonlight through the carriage window.


    "Are they ready?" he asked, his voice a steady, cold whisper.


    Serina nodded, her expression unwavering. "They await us in position."

 Chapter 98: Delicacy of wealth

    The knife gleamed under the barely luminescent light fixed carefully inside the carriage, and Aric turned it between his fingers before a flick of his wrist made it disappear as smoothly as it hade.


    He leaned back against the soft leather seat, a slight smile tugging at his lips, but Serina was quick to pull him from his thoughts.


    "What''s the next move?"


    Her voice was calm, unshook, her gaze resting squarely on him as if already understanding part of his answer.


    Aric''s eyes drifted toward the window, watching the lights of the imperial pce fade behind them.


    "We stay with the n," he murmured, his tone low but resolute. "My second brother¡­ he''ll need to be taken care of quickly. But Darius¡ªI n to make him understand a relevant type of despair."


    Serina nodded slowly, her eyes narrowing with thought as she loosened the ties of her dress.


    She slipped her arms out, revealing bare shoulders and then tugged it down, leaving only a dark wrap around her chest, noticeablyrge when uncovered. Without pause or hesitation, she reached into apartment under the seat and pulled out a fitted ck top that was sleek and tight made to hug her skin and increase mobility, she was efficient and silent as she changed.


    Aric asionally looked away, keeping his gaze steady and casual despite her half-dressed state, and she didn''t miss a beat.


    "House Vane," she said, drawing his attention back. "They were¡­ curiously close to you tonight. I noticed them observing even after the confrontations, cozying up far more than I''d expect."


    Aric let out a quietugh,ced with a mix of humor and cunning.


    "Yes, they were. But it''s not because they''ve lost faith in Darius; they''re just cautious. House Vane knows that any unchecked threat¡ªeven one as subtle as my own return¡ªcould disrupt their position."


    "So what do you n to do with them?" she asked, sliding her arms into the sleeves of the fitted top. She pulled it down and smoothed it out over her torso, her movements calm as if they were simply discussing the weather.


    Aric shrugged, eyes glinting with a thoughtfulness that masked much more.


    "For now, nothing. But I''d be wasting a rare opportunity to ignore them."


    Serina''s gaze sharpened.


    "How so?"


    He took a breath, leaning back as he exined.


    "House Vane''s roots run deeper than most people know. Theye from Eryndor¡ªa port city that connects Valeria''s trade with the Sn Empire and the elven territories." His tone turned amused, almost reverent. "The family began with Derek Vane, amon-born merchant. A nobody who saw a gap in the system, found a foothold with the lesser guilds, and rose by empowering them againstrger, corrupt guilds that worked under the noble houses'' control."


    Her eyebrows lifted with intrigue.


    "And now, they''ve somehow managed to be a part of the imperial nobility. That must have taken more than just¡­ charm."


    Aric nodded, lips twisting into a smile.


    "More than charm, yes. The empire needed funding, and Derek Vane was clever enough to offer a sizable ''loan'' to the treasury in exchange for a title. The irony? The loan was never fully repaid." He nced at her, eyes dancing with mirth. "They''ve built an empire within the empire."


    Serina, adjusting the top over her chest, arched a brow. "And now they control¡­?"


    "Forty percent of Valeria''s import and export business," Aric replied smoothly. "The rest of the kingdoms within Valeria control only about twenty percent. And as for the remaining forty," he paused, letting a knowing smile tug at his lips, "that''s us. Or rather, Byzeth. Every trade from the Northrend relies solely on Byzeth, a fact no one in Valeria is aware of."


    Serina paused mid-movement, her eyes flicking toward him with sudden understanding.


    "So what does this offer us, with House Vane?"


    "A possible alliance," he said softly. "If they realize the enormity of business in the north that Byzeth manages, they''ll be quick to grasp the opportunity. Profit drives them¡ªmore than loyalty to Darius. It''s in their blood to follow the flow of gold. When they see a chance to join forces with a tradework as vast as ours, they''ll find it difficult to stay bound to Darius."


    Serina crossed her arms, her tone skeptical.


    "And if, by chance, their loyalty to him does surpass their desire for wealth?"


    Aric''s smile turned cold.


    "Then Byzeth will not just hold forty percent of the trade. It will control eighty."


    Atst, Serina was fully dressed, her clothes practical for stealthy infiltration, her top clinging to her form, highlighting her chest provocatively as she smoothed her dark hair up, lifting her arms to twist it into a tight knot at the back of her head.


    Her gaze caught his, a glimmer of humor shing across her face as she noticed his lingering nce at her chest.


    "Focus, your highness," she said, her voice lightly teasing.


    Aric grinned, his expression unrepentant.


    "That''s proving difficult."


    She chuckled, swinging open the carriage door and stepping out into the quiet night air. Aric followed close behind, nodding to the driver, who understood the silent cue and continued forward, leaving them near the mansion of House Brienne.


    As they stepped out onto the street, the faint scent of burning torches drifted on the breeze, mingling with the cool night air.


    Two men emerged from the darkness nearby, Borag and mandel materializing before them like shadows born from a sh of light


    "Is everyone ready?" Aric''s voice was quiet but sharp, filled with a controlled intensity.


    Borag nodded, his expression grim yet resolute. "We are prepared."


    Aric''s gaze swept over them, he sighed as a flicker of decisive resolve settled in his expression. The light from the moon carved a sharp gleam across his face as he straightened, setting his shoulders back looking to the estate.


    "Then we move," he murmured, a wicked straightness ying at the edge of his mouth.


    "Let''s pay my brother''s fianc¨¦e a visit."

 Chapter 99: Infiltration

    In Valeria, ambition greatly inserted itself into the fabric of noble families, alliances were precious currency.


    A mere handshake or whispered agreement was never enough; bonds required irond certainty, something that could not be dissolved by changing loyalties or shifting tides of power.


    Among the most certain of alliances was marriage. Such unions tethered entire houses to the fortunes of a prince, sealing the fates of families under the weight of names, oaths, and legacies.


    Marriage bound the first prince to Valeria''s mightiest military house, a coalition that stood as unshakeable and weakness free as the mountains beyond the empire''s borders.


    For House Brienne, one of Valeria''s oldest and most prestigious families, the union of their only daughter, Lisellie, to a royal was a calcted y. In her hands, she held both their family''s honor and a key to the empire''s future.


    And while many in the empire whispered of love''s role in these unions, reality was often far from romantic. More often than not, such matches were forged from necessity, obligation, and ruthless practicality.


    Yet, weather or not it was love had be nothing more than an afterthought to Aric. What he sought tonight was for a result inevitabile regardless of what drove the union between Ss and Lisellie.


    His purpose was simple, singr¡ªan act that would bring either disgrace to Ss or leave him shattered with heartbreak. Either oue, he knew, would set his ns in motion with a severe push.


    He moved his gaze to his aplice. Serina, her eyes narrowing with focus, pulled her cor up until it concealed her mouth and nose, stopping just below her eyes.


    The dark fabric masked her features, making her seem like a darkness with purpose. Beside her, Mandel and Borag mirrored her movements, their own masks raised to conceal the lower halves of their faces, erasing any hint of humanity from their expressions.


    Their eyes were sharp, cold, unreadable. Aric watched them for a moment before he, too, conjured a mask, letting it form in his hand before lifting it over his face. With it, he became just as nk, swiftly they all were but figures cloaked in mystery, his true intentions were now like his identity obscured beneath a woodenyer of secrecy.


    A slight flick of his wrist was all he needed to signal the group of three forward. In an instant, they dissolved into motion, their figures blurring as they sped toward the heart of the Brienne estate, their bodies melded to the darkness as though born from it.


    Swift and soundless, they moved past the manor''s outer walls, slipping through gaps in the patrols with practiced ease. Shadows stretching long across the grounds hid them as they advanced, their forms barely visible even in the moonlight.


    The first guard they encountered was young, his face bearing the faint traces of youthful optimism, unaware that death was only just a breath away.


    Borag moved forward, his steps ghostly on the cobbled stone. Without hesitation, he struck, his de a gleam in the night as it slid across the guard''s throat. A faint gurgle, the soft spray of blood, and then the guard slumped to the ground, lifeless. Borag withdrew, as silent as he hade, the only evidence of his presence the crimson pooling at the guard''s feet.


    Aric''s team moved like experienced hunter wolves in the shadows, their eyes sharp and unyielding as they surveyed each step, each guard, and each corner with careful precision.


    Serina became as though she were a dancer in the perfect veil of night , her movements terrifyingly precise and graceful as she approached her targets.


    Another guard rounded a corner, his eyes scanning the night, but before he could shout, Serina was upon him, her knife tracing a swift arc across his throat. His eyes widened, surprise frozen in his final expression, and then he crumpled into her arms.


    With a deft motion, she lowered him to the ground, his body settling without a sound. In another breath, she was gone, blending back into the shadows as though she had never been.


    Aric advanced, his own movements mirroring an image of something long past, a figure that faded and reappeared with every step. His footfalls made no noise; his breathing was barely perceptible.


    He melded perfectly with the silence, his presence almost unreal. Every step he took carried him closer to the heart of House Brienne, a ce filled with power, wealth, opulence, and yet none of it would protect them from the chaos he was prepared to bring.


    They continued through swiftly, their progress marked by silent deaths and bodies left in the shadows. Most of the guards they encountered were stronger and better trained than those sent to serve Aric by Darius.


    Although they were still Estate guards and far from the level of the empires best, they were still sentries but skilled warriors, each one an embodiment of House Brienne''s strength.


    But Aric and hispanions were something better entirely¡ªshadows with deadly intent, ghosts that moved without a sound. Each guard fell swiftly, their throats shed before they could raise an rm. The path behind them was littered with bodies, each one told to their skill and purpose.


    As they ventured deeper, the manor''s walls rose tall, adorned with carvings and paintings that was proof of the House''s long history. Portraits of past lords anddies looked down with stony gazes, unaware of the violence staining their family''s home in blood.


    The grandeur of the hallways was marred by the faint scent of blood, the thick, metallic tang hanging in the air like a silent warning.


    Borag moved ahead, his senses sharp as he scanned the hallway. Two guards stood at the far end, their postures tense, eyes flicking toward every shadow.


    Aric signaled, and Borag slipped forward, his steps soundless as he approached. One of the guards turned, but Borag was faster. His knife plunged into the guard''s throat, and with a swift motion, he twisted the de, ending the guard''s life in an instant.


    Before the second guard could react, Serina was upon him, her de shing in the dim light as it found its mark. The guard''s eyes widened, his mouth opening in a silent scream as he sank to the ground.


    They moved on, their pace relentless. Each kill brought them closer to their goal, a single room at the end of a corridor¡ªthe quarters of Lady Lisellie Brienne.


    Aric could feel his heartbeat steady, his grip tightening around the hilt of his de. He knew the stakes, understood the consequences of his actions. Yet, in that moment, he felt no hesitation, only a cold determination that pushed him forward.


    They reached the final hallway, and Aric held up a hand, signaling hispanions to halt. Ahead of them, two guards stood vignt, their postures alert, their gazes scanning the darkness with an intensity born of experience.


    Aric moved forward, his body slipping into the shadows, his form almost invisible in the dim light. He became a type of darkness, his presence undetectable as he approached. With a swift motion, he struck, his de slicing through the air and finding its mark.


    The guard''s eyes widened in shock, his hand reaching for his throat as blood seeped between his fingers. Before he could fall, Aric caught him, lowering him silently to the ground.


    The second guard turned, his eyes narrowing as he sensed something amiss. But before he could react, Serina was there, her de finding its mark with deadly precision. The guard''s body slumped to the floor, his life extinguished in a heartbeat.


    Aric gestured to hispanions, and together they advanced, their movements synchronized, their steps soundless. They reached the door, its surface polished and adorned. Aric ced his hand on the handle, his grip firm as he prepared to enter. He took a deep breath, his mind focused, his purpose clear.


    With a slow, deliberate motion, he pushed the door open, his eyes scanning the room beyond. The chamber was dimly lit, a single candle casting a soft glow across the space.


    At the far end of the room, Lady Lisellie Brienney asleep, her form shrouded in shadows. Her breathing was steady, her face serene, unaware of the danger lurking just beyond her unconsciousness.


    Aric stepped forward, his movements silent as he approached. His hand tightened around the hilt of his knife, his gaze fixed on his target.


    He felt a surge of adrenaline, a thrill that coursed through his veins as he prepared to strike. This was the culmination of his n, a moment he had been waiting for. And yet, as he stood there, poised to act, he felt a flicker of hesitation.


    But the hesitation was fleeting, a mere whisper in the back of his mind. He pushed it aside, his resolve hardening as he raised the de. This was not a moment for doubt or mercy.

 Chapter 100 Summoned Protection

    Aric''s grip tightened around the knife as he stood over Lady Lisellie Brienne, her chest rising and falling in the shallow rhythm of sleep. For a moment, he let himself feel the sharp thrill of what this act could set in motion, the first stone in andslide of well-nned destruction.


    But then her eyes flew open, catching the dim candlelight, and a small, triumphant smile crept onto her lips.


    "You shouldn''t have hesitated¡­bastard," she whispered, her voice as venomous as the glint in her eyes.


    Before he could react, her fingers unfurled, revealing a crushed mana crystal, its shattered fragments shimmering with a faint, otherworldly glow. Aric''s instincts red, but it was toote.


    The air pulsed, pressing down on him like the weight of a thousand boulders. His chest tightened, his pulse raced, and he felt the oppressive, unmistakable presence of a powerful ki¡ªa bloodlust so intense it seemed to fill every corner of the room, like smoke that clung to his skin.


    The air around him roared, and from the shadows, a figure stepped forward¡ªa soldier d in dark armor, his eyes fixed upon Aric with an unwavering stare that dripped with silent menace.


    The presence alone was enough to make even seasoned warriors tremble, and Aric recognized it instantly: a bloodlusted Imperial Guard.


    In Valeria, the Imperial Guard was one of three military orders, each a pir of the empire''s unshakable power.


    The Imperial Army, strong and disciplined, swore loyalty to protect and defend the empire''s borders. The Imperial Squad, a covert group hidden from most, carried out the emperor''s hidden designs in secrecy and shadows. And then there was the Imperial Guard, charged solely with the protection of the emperor himself.


    Their strength, though not the greatest among the three, was a force even the strongest noble houses could not wield. Thew ensured it; these soldiers served only the imperial family, a precaution designed to concentrate power solely under the emperor''s hand.


    No house, no lord, no noble couldy im to the guard''s loyalty.


    Yet there was the figure, standing in Lady Lisellie''s chamber, his mere presence defying every restriction set byw. Aric was calm, He understood the situation clearly. Lady Lisellie Brienne wasn''t simply the daughter of a noble house; she was engaged to Prince Ss.


    And with that engagement came privileges, rare gifts that others could only imagine possessing.


    "Speak your name quickly," came the guard''s voice, a low growl that was as thick as the presence he radiated. "So I may take your life at once."


    The guard''s tone held no emotion, just a weight that could onlye from one who had seen countless battles, one who was trained to dispatch life without pause or remorse. The shadows cast by the candlelight made his face appear hollow and unfeeling, as though he were merely a tool crafted for one purpose: to carry out orders, nothing more.


    Aric took in his stance, the calm in his eyes, the steady, lethal energy that seemed to roll off of him. He had expected this, after all. It was all within his calctions.


    Aric''s voice remained steady, his face a nk mask, as he regarded the guard. He knew, from past experience and courtly knowlege, that Imperial Guards would never hide themselves within a noble''s estate.


    Since such protection was reserved solely for royals or the emperor himself. No imperial guard would be stationed here, not even for the daughter of a house like Brienne. But Lady Lisellie was different. By her engagement to Ss, she held more than a title; she held a tether to the imperial family.


    What truly bound her to Prince Ss wasn''t just the promise of marriage, but rather, a unique privilege given by those in power. Such a privilege granted her protection in ways that no other noble could im. The broken crystal in her hand told Aric that much.


    That crystal wasn''t simply a trinket, not a mere bauble to keep her safe. It was one of the highest forms of protection a royal could bestow. It served as a tethered link, a bond to the imperial family''s guards. At the moment of its shattering, it had used its magic in summoning an imperial guard to her side, even from miles away.


    He eyed the shards in her palm, the faint glow now fading from them.


    The magic was rare, its value far more than most could afford. A single mana crystal capable of such teleportation magic would cost a fortune, no less than three hundred million gold coins¡ªa price so high it was reserved only for those deemed indispensable.


    Such a price, such a protection, given to a mere noble, was telling. Ss hadn''t offered her a union merely for power or advantage; he had paid a king''s ransom to ensure her safety. His loyalty to her, it seemed, went deeper than Aric had expected.


    For a moment, bitterness twisted in Aric''s chest.


    His thoughts returned to his past life, to the image he had once held of his brothers. Find exclusive stories on empire


    ''First Darius, and now you, Ss. I had idolized you all, held you all on pedestals of strength and wisdom. But to think you were all foolish enough to create such weaknesses.''


    The Imperial Guard took a step forward, his movements slow, deliberate, each footfall carrying the weight of death with it. The air seemed to thicken even more, pressing down on Aric''s chest as though daring him to speak, to answer the guard''s demand.


    But Aric''s mind was clear, his eyes narrowing as he studied the guard''s stance, the tension in his body, the way his fingers hovered near his de.


    Behind the guard, Lady Lisellie watched him, her expression smug, triumphant, as though she had already won. In her eyes, Aric saw a gleam of satisfaction, a belief that she had outyed him, that her shattered crystal had sealed his fate.


    But she didn''t understand, couldn''t understand. This was only a step in a muchrger game, a moment he had anticipated, even hoped for.

 Chapter 101 The Fall of a House

    The air seemed to thicken even more, pressing down on Aric''s chest as though daring him to speak, to answer the guard''s demand.


    But Aric''s mind was clear, his eyes narrowing as he studied the guard''s stance, the tension in his body, the way his fingers hovered near his de.


    Behind the guard, Lady Lisellie watched him, her expression smug, triumphant, as though she had already won. In her eyes, Aric saw a gleam of satisfaction, a belief that she had outyed him, that her shattered crystal had sealed his fate.


    But she didn''t understand, couldn''t understand. This was only a step in a muchrger game, a moment he had anticipated, even hoped for.


    The Imperial Guard''s boot struck the floor, heavy and unyielding, inching toward Aric like thest steps before a drop-off, promising death with any flicker of resistance. His hand wrapped tighter around the hilt of his sword, a quiet but potent threat.


    The guard''s silence filled the room with more menace than words ever could. Aric could feel the air growing tense, thick with the scent of iron from the broken crystal. The guard''s face remained a stoic mask, yet his intention was clear in the piercing stillness: one wrong move, and his de would slice through flesh without hesitation.


    Aric held his ground, his heartbeat calm, unfazed. If it came to a battle, Aric knew he held the upper hand¡ªhe wasn''t alone. Serina and Borag, hispanions, would ensure the guard''s defeat if it came to that.


    But Aric needed no drawn des. This wasn''t the time for a fight. Not yet.


    One word, one truth was all he needed. He could say who he was, that he was Prince Aric Valerian, and the guard''s duty would shift in an instant. As byw, loyalty to the imperial family came first, even above the life of any other noble.


    With that single word, the guard would be bound to stand by and watch without intervention, even if Aric decided to kill Liselle. He could torture and harm her through the night, and the guard would simply bear witness, duty holding his tongue and action in silence.


    However to simply reveal himself to the guard would be far more problems than its worth, the guard could not harm Aric, but he could report his identity to Ss which would be quite problematic.


    A solution however, had already been conjured since the start. He let his fingers drift through the air, slipping out the small dagger he''d toyed with in the carriage from nothing. Its polished edge caught the dim light, and as he raised it, a glint of silver shed across the etched crest on the de''s handle¡ªa symbol of royalty, unmistakable to any servant of the empire.


    Recognition flickered in the guard''s eyes, and his grip faltered. He bowed his head, a silent acknowledgment of Aric''s position, of the blood that marked his lineage as untouchable.


    The tension drained from the guard''s stance, reced by deference as he took a step back, shoulders dropping into a submissive pose.


    A faint smile crept onto Aric''s lips, hidden beneath the shadow of his mask. He turned, letting his gaze settle on Liselle. Her face twisted in confusion as she struggled to process what was happening. But as realization dawned, fear widened her eyes, and her voice split the silence.


    "No¡­ what are you doing? Stop him!" Her words were frantic, filled with dread.


    Aric was unmoved. He stepped forward, seizing her wrists, wrenching her from the bed with a brutal grip. Her body flinched against his hold, her feeble attempts at resistance only spurring him to press harder. He lifted her arms, pinning her wrists against the cold wall above her head. She squirmed, her breaths quick and panicked, but his grasp remained firm, unyielding.


    In a voice that carried no warmth, twisted into a distorted, gravelly pitch to ensure it was unrecognisable, he murmured, "You''re lucky Ss loves you¡­ but he is unlucky that he does."


    Her eyes zed with rage, but a tremor of fear made her re falter.


    Her voice choked in her throat, unable to form a response as he held her there, his gaze unfeeling. In one swift motion, he produced a small sheet of parchment from his inventory and pressed it against her open palm, pinning it to the wall along with her hand.


    The royal dagger shed once more as he drove it through her palm, puncturing both paper and flesh, binding her hand to the wall in a single, swift motion. Her scream was raw and guttural, piercing the silence as blood oozed from her hand, trailing down her wrist and dripping onto her face, crowning her in a horrific halo of crimson.


    Aric watched, expressionless, as the blood pooled and stained her hair and skin, a reminder of her fate..one he knew and often contemted a long while. Her chest heaved with sobs of agony, her strength slipping away as the pain consumed her.


    Aric turned to the guard, his voice cold and sharp.


    "Inform the second prince of what has happened here. And no one is to enter this room until he arrives." Themand was clear.


    The guard''s response was immediate. He nodded, his figure blurring in a swift movement as he disappeared, carrying Aric''s orders like the whisper of a ghost.


    Aric turned and left the room without another nce at Liselle, her broken form slumped against the wall, blood staining her hands and wrists as her breathing grew shallow. Outside, Serina and Borag awaited him, their expressions steady butced with grim satisfaction.


    Aric paused, taking in their presence.


    "Is it done?" he asked, his tone low, but the words cut through the night air like the edge of a de.


    Experience more tales on empire


    Borag nodded, his voice gruff.


    "All in the main estate of House Brielle¡­ have been ughtered."


    A hint of satisfaction flickered in Aric''s eyes. He gave a short, approving nod. "Good job," he replied, his words simple yet heavy with meaning.


    They slipped into the darkness, their steps soundless, leaving the Brielle estate cloaked in the stillness of death.


    The Novel will be updated first on this website. Come back and


    continue reading tomorrow, everyone!

 Chapter 102 Who did it?

    By dawn, the Imperial City had awoken to whispered horrors.


    The news crackled through the city like dry leaves on fire, setting both noble courts and the narrow, winding streets aze with rumors. House Breinne, a name spoken with reverence and power, had been nearly eradicated overnight.


    More than half its bloodliney dead, scattered like leaves after heavy rain. And the Lady Liselle, once poised to wed the empire''s second prince, had barely clung to life through the assault.


    Her wounds were severe, and the hushed questions surrounding her health only fueled the fire. Uncertainty hung over her fate, leaving the imperial city restless, teeming with spection.


    The courts were quick to birth rumors, feeding upon each one like starving wolves.


    Who could havemitted such a brutal act? House Breinne had no known enemies¡ªor so they thought. Some whispered about rivals in business, others spected foreign spies, but the idea that crept through nearly every mind, yet dared not speak itself aloud, was the possibility of the imperial family''s own hand in the massacre.


    Could this be a signal of the impending war for the throne?


    People murmured in awe and fear. None of the princes were ounted for at the time of the ughter. Of them all, Ss, second prince and would-be groom, would have been the likeliest candidate to sow such destruction.


    His brutality was no secret; he had carved it into his legend, a legacy of bloodied steel and unflinching wrath. But with him being the victim, suspicion drifted next to Valen and Aric. Valen, the eldest, bore the harsh reputation of a prince who left no task unfinished.


    He was pragmatic, ruthless¡ªa man willing to destroy what he could not control.


    Yet there were whispers of the fourth prince, too, though many found it difficult to picture Aric, the forgotten prince, as capable of such a feat. He had subdued the kingdom of Byzeth, yes, but even then it felt inadequate to paint him capable of such brtality.


    Few could reconcile that image of him with one who might unleash chaos upon the heart of a noble house. And so, minds twisted themselves in circles, reasoning and wondering, with a chilling realization that perhaps none of the princes were beyond such deeds.


    By the time these rumors had settled like dust across the city, Aric stood in his courtyard, sparring under the cold morning light.


    The sh of steel rang out sharp and fierce, filling the courtyard with the sound of practiced violence.


    Mandel stood opposite him, his stance grounded and powerful. The sun caught his dark skin, casting a faint gleam off the sweat tracing his brow. His curls, short and brown, clung to his head, and his light blue eyes were clear, precise, trained on Aric''s every movement.


    Mandel''s hand was strong on the hilt of his de, yet Aric noticed a restraint in each strike. Mandel held back, as if his full strength remained coiled within, waiting. He swung with precision, yes, but every blow stopped just short of true power.


    His light blue eyes met Aric''s, steady and calcting, as if weighing him with every pass of their swords.


    Aric shifted his stance, nting his feet firmly into the ground, his grip tightening around the hilt. His sword arm moved like a viper¡ªsharp, unpredictable, yet calcted. With each strike, he bore the mark of a man who had seen battle, who had worn blood on his skin and carried death in his hands.


    He parried Mandel''s attacks with an almost graceful ease, his movements fluid but with a darkness lurking in their precision.


    The duel stretched on, each taking the other''s measure. Mandel''s de shed, meeting Aric''s with a resounding ng, but the restraint in his strikes grew more evident with each pass.


    Aric''s gaze narrowed, his annoyance ring as he registered how much more Mandel held back. That hesitation, that careful distance, grated against him, the restraint although nesary felt a taunt in itself.


    Without warning, Aricunched forward, his sword cutting through the air with deadly intent. Mandel dodged, stepping back, his face unreadable. But Aric didn''t relent. He pressed forward, forcing Mandel to retreat with every strike, every calcted thrust.


    Then, in one swift movement, Aric lunged. His sword pierced through Mandel''s guard, driving straight into his torso. Mandel staggered, the de buried in his flesh, his hand clutching the hilt.


    A faint wince crossed his face, but he made no sound. Blood began to seep from the wound, staining his tunic, but he remained upright, his gaze steady on Aric even as he fell to his knees.


    The courtyard fell silent.


    Aric let go of the de, watching as Mandel dropped, the weight of the sword still in his body pulling him to the ground. Blood spread beneath him, dark and vivid against the pale stones, the life force spilling from his wound like a silent usation. But Mandel''s eyes didn''t waver. There was a fire there, even in pain.


    Before Aric could move, shouts echoed from beyond the courtyard walls.


    "Aric! Aric, get out here now!"


    The voice, sharp and furious, cut through the stillness, bearing unmistakable authority. It was Ss.


    Aric raised an eyebrow, an amused glint shing in his eyes. Ss was here already. Earlier than he had anticipated, but not unwee.


    With a smirk, he nced down at Mandel''s fallen form and gave him a rough nudge with his boot.


    "Get up, Mandel. You''re not done yet."


    Mandel''s hand reached up, wrapping around the hilt of the de embedded in his chest. He grimaced, but without a word, he pulled the sword free, his face hardening against the pain. The de slipped from his flesh with a sickening sound as he smiled, he rose to his feet, steady despite the blood trickling down his torso.


    Aric''s lips curved into a menacing grin, his voice a low murmur.


    "My brother is here to greet us."


    The words held a thrill of dark anticipation, the promise of yet another game, another mask, to wear in the face of his rival.

 Chapter 103 Checkmate

    Aric walked into the foyer of his estate, the air tense.


    His gaze fell on Ss, who stood at the center of the room, his face twisted in rage, nostrils ring like an animal just barely restrained. Behind him were three men¡ªGuards, no doubt¡ªeach of them hardened, with cold eyes that never drifted from Aric.


    Ss''s presence, fuming and aggressive, made the room feel tighter, the walls seeming to close in around them.


    In the corner of the foyer, as if unaware of the storm gathering just a few feet away, sat old man Hitoshi and Serina. The two were engrossed in a chess match, seated on either side of a small round table, their faces inches from the board.


    Hitoshi''s bushy white brows were furrowed in concentration, his hand hovering over a pawn, while Serina''s youthful face mirrored his intensity. The game had entirely absorbed them¡ªthey hadn''t even acknowledged Ss''s entrance.


    If the air was sharp with conflict, they were blissfully ignorant, entangled in their private war over wooden pieces.


    Ss''s furious eyes followed Aric as he stepped forward, Mandel close behind him. Blood still spattered Mandel''s clothes, leaving a dark, uneasy trail on his tunic. The metallic scent clung to the room, sharp it was. Ss''s expression flickered with intruige, though he masked it quickly.


    "Brother," Aric began, a smooth edge to his voice, almost amused. "It''s always a pleasure when one of you drops by."


    Ss''s hands clenched as he fought to keep his tone steady.


    "Was it you, Aric? Did you kill them?" His voiceshed out, each word like a whip.


    Aric tilted his head slightly, feigning innocence as he replied,


    "Eh, I''m not quite certain what you mean."


    "Don''t y games with me, Aric," Ss snapped, his voice rising. The three men behind him shifted subtly, bracing for whatever mighte.


    Aric''s lips curved into a sly smile.


    "Games? I have no intention of ying games. I''ve killed a great many people in my time. You''d have to be a bit more specific brother¡ªperhaps jog my memory."


    Ss''s knuckles beached as he clenched his fists, barely containing his rage.


    "Do you think I won''t kill you for this? Are you truly so foolish? I thought you had changed, be smarter."


    Aric''s eyes gleamed with something dark, an unspoken challenge lingering in his gaze.


    "Oh, I know you would, Ss. In fact, I have no doubt you''d have already done it." He leaned in, his tone softening but growing sharper. "But here I am, still breathing."


    Ss''s face hardened, his jaw locked. Aric watched him carefully, noting the flicker of frustration that betrayed Ss''s thoughts. If Ss truly suspected him, why hadn''t he struck? Aric''s smile widened, satisfied by the answer he knew just as much as Ss did.


    "You know," he continued, voice almost yful, "I expected you to have brought ruin to the less known enemies of House Breinne by now¡ªHouse Varys, Ysmir, all of them¡ªyou''d have made a move already. And yet, they''re all still breathing aswell"


    Ss''s expression faltered, his mask slipping for just a fraction of a second. Aric''s gaze sharpened, and he leaned in further, savoring the moment.


    "Your hesitation, brother¡ªit tells me something. It tells me that maybe one of those suspects holds something you want." Aric''s voice lowered, and his eyes bore into Ss''s. "Or perhaps something that others want, and you need to ensure they never get it."


    Ss''s face flushed, an instant too slow to hide his reaction. His eyes shed with something beyond anger¡ªfear, maybe, or something close to it.


    "Oh?" Aric raised an eyebrow, and the look on his face was almost triumphant.


    Unable to contain himself any longer, Ss lunged, his hand outstretched to grab Aric''s neck. But in the next moment, his hand closed on empty air, his fingers grazing nothing but a shadow. Aric was already behind him, strolling past, entirely unruffled.


    "Come now, brother," Aric said casually, as though nothing had happened. "No need to get so¡­ touchy."


    He moved over to where Hitoshi and Serina sat, his eyesnding on the board. The game was intense and both yers were entirely oblivious to what had just urred behind them¡­or they were not, but did not show it.


    Ss''s was confused, his body still tense from the failed strike.


    ''How did he do that? He shouldn''t be faster than me¡­ and that energy¡ªwhat was it? It wasn''t ki, and it wasn''t mana. It was something else. Something¡­ worse.'' The second prince spoke internally.


    While Ss wrestled with his thoughts, Aric leaned over the table, studying the board. His eyes shifted from piece to piece, following each line of strategy with a small, knowing smile.


    "Ah," he remarked finally, "Serina, look¡ªyou''ve left your queen exposed. You''ve already lost."


    Aric spoke to Serina but his voice was loud enough for Ss to hear.


    Ss took a deep breath, his tone measured but simmering with fury. "Just tell me the truth, Aric. Did you do it?" His voice was low, menacing. "I swear by the gods, I won''t kill you."


    ''Of course you won''t, Ss,'' he thought. ''You''ll only torture me until you find out how I learned of your plot against the Emperor.''


    "Brother," he replied smoothly, "I did not. I gain nothing from such a pointless act of violence. I already have little support in court as it is, and wiping out nobles is no way to build alliances."


    Ss stared at him, searching his face, his expression twisting with doubt and suspicion. Finally, he dropped his hands, letting out a long, frustrated sigh, his shoulders sagging in defeat.


    He turned away, moving toward the door, but stopped short and nced back at Hitoshi and Serina, who were still seated. His face darkened, a sh of vindictive anger lighting up his features.


    "You two," he called, his voice cold. "You failed to acknowledge me when I entered. For such brazen disrespect, why shouldn''t I kill you both where you sit?"


    His ki red around him, spilling into the room like a wave of choking heat. Hitoshi and Serina froze, their eyes widened, their bodies stiff and motionless. Aric, meanwhile, only smiled, watching the scene unfold with detached amusement.


    "Well, yourpanions failed to acknowledge me aswell, brother," he drawled, his voice casual. "And I''d be more than delighted to see their heads roll for it."


    Ss''s face tightened, his fists clenched, but he said nothing. With a furious scowl, he spun on his heel, storming out of the foyer, his men trailing behind him like shadows.


    Hitoshi let out a long breath as the tension finally dissipated. He nced down at the chessboard, a small smile on his face as he moved his piece to take Serina''s king.


    "Checkmate," he murmured with quiet satisfaction.


    "Indeed it is," Aric said, a glint of something dark and triumphant in his eyes.

 Chapter 104 Sinner

    East of the imperial city of Valeria stood the Church of the Holy me, a towering building of stone and bronze that had witnessed centuries pass under its watch. Its spires climbed toward the sky like fingers reaching desperately to touch something beyond mortal grasp.


    Beaten by time, each block seemed stained with secrets, the cracks between them whispering prayers that had long since turned to dust.


    Darkened windows set in frames told stories of gods and saints through a wash of amber and cobalt light, painting bright colors across the carved marble floors.


    The heavy iron doors, scarred and dented from ages of hands pushing and pulling, creaked as the faithful entered. They did so in quiet reverence, heads bowed, robes brushing the floor as if in apology.


    Inside, one could only perceive the scent of incense, the smoky plumes curling toward the vaulted ceiling far above, where images of the gods gazed down. Bronzed statues of the divine lined the walls, their eyes, though sculpted, seemed to judge and watch every soul that dared to enter.


    Aric slipped in unnoticed, settling at the very back, away from the flickering candles and the muttering priests.


    He watched the worshipers, each kneeling at the pews, some with hands sped tightly, eyes shut in intense prayer. Others leaned forward, whispering wishes or perhaps confessions, their words lost in the cathedral''s cavernous echo.


    Aric sensed desperation in the air¡ªa quiet, trembling kind of hope, or perhaps fear, that shook through every bowed head.


    Around him, whispers filled the silence as people came to offer their hopes, their despairs, their sins to gods who hadn''t answered in lifetimes. Some prayed for forgiveness, some for fortune, others for loved ones lost or soon to be.


    The priests moved through the aisles like shades, draped in their robes, hands folded as they murmured words of encouragement or constion. For a moment, Aric''s gaze drifted to the bronze images of the gods mounted on the walls¡ªeach figure striking and powerful, but hollow now, faded remnants of a long-gone glory


    His eyes traced the bronze images of gods set in a semi-circle along the altar, each face holding its own expression: wisdom, wrath,passion, judgment. The light yed tricks on the statues, creating shadows that made it seem as if the gods themselves were watching the worshipers below, taking stock of each prayer, every whispered secret.


    Aric''s eyes lingered longest on the god Kanairo, whose bronze face wore a look of both fury and calm¡ªa god who took lives and protected them, who offered strength but demanded obedience.


    Aric imagined the god''s disdain for all those who now came begging, their empty hands held up in prayer.


    Lost in thought, Aric didn''t notice the priest until he was close. Stay tuned to empire


    The old man sat beside him without a word, his robes dragging slightly against the cold stone floor. They remained in silence, each watching the other worshipers with different eyes.


    Where the priest saw salvation, perhaps, Aric saw weakness.


    The priest finally broke the silence, his voice low but gentle.


    "Have you sinned, child?"


    Aric tilted his head slightly, a bitter expression ghosting across his face.


    "Yes," he said simply, as if the word itself carried more weight than he could bear to reveal.


    The priest nodded, his face softening as he gestured to Aric.


    "You may tell me your sins," he offered, "so that their burdens may be lifted from you. That is why we are here, after all."


    Aric let out a short, humorlessugh, his gaze distant. "My sins are too heavy," he replied, voice barely more than a murmur. "They''re¡­ burdens I must carry alone." His words fell t, as though he had already long epted this truth.


    There was no hesitation in his tone, only the quiet resignation of someone who had made his peace with damnation.


    The priest was silent for a long moment, perhaps choosing his words carefully, or perhaps weighing the depth of princes''s sorrow.


    Then he asked, "Will you at least stop sinning, my son?"


    Aric''s answer came without hesitation. He shook his head, his gaze never leaving the bronze gods before him.


    "No," he replied softly, almost tenderly. "I must sin many more times. My only hope is that the gods might forgive me in the end."


    The priest let out a small, unexpected chuckle, his shoulders shaking slightly with a humor that was bitter and knowing.


    "The gods?" he said, almost as if he were sharing a secret. "The gods no longer reside here, my son. All that remains is greed and pretense."


    Aric turned to look at the priest, studying the deep lines in his face, the weariness in his eyes. Here was a man who had seen much. In that moment, he felt the irony twist like a knife. This man, who had served faithfully, hade to know the hypocrisy of those who led them.


    "You know," Aric began, his tone light but cold, "sooner orter, you all will die." The words drifted out with a casual certainty, as though he were merely pointing out an inevitable truth, not delivering a threat.


    The priest''s smile grew faintly amused. He shook his head, a wry look on his face as he replied, "Let me guess¡ª" he paused, arching an eyebrow at Aric, "and you are the one who shall save us from our doom?" He shook his head, the tired smile never leaving his lips. "I have been a priest long enough to know that words are the most hollow of offerings."


    Aric''s expression changed, a shadow crossing his face. He looked at the priest with a strange intensity, his voice low and measured.


    "I may not be able to save you from your doom, priest," he murmured, leaning in close, "but I can most certainly quicken it."


    The priest did not flinch, though his eyes flickered with something unreadable¡ªa mix of resignation and perhaps, in the smallest sense, a glimmer of fear. He looked away, his gaze turning back toward the altar where the gods sat in their eternal silence.


    Around them, the murmurs of prayer continued, the soft sounds of people pleading for mercy, for love, for deliverance. The weight of so many whispered hopes filled the air, pressing in like a thick fog.


    Aric looked around, taking in the faces of those gathered¡ªa mixture of young and old, desperate and serene, each one of them clutching to something they believed was sacred, something they believed could save them.


    And yet, as he looked back at the priest, he saw the truth written inly on the old man''s face. There was no salvation here, only hollow rituals and empty promises. The gods had abandoned them long ago, leaving only statues and stories behind.


    "What do you offer, fourth prince?" The priest asked.


    Aric smiled.

 Chapter 105 Ashen Convenant

    The Cathedral still ticked with murmurs of whispered prayers and the soft shuffling of robes as Aric and the priest sat side by side. The priest, eyes keen beneath his humble hood, watched Aric for a moment before breaking the silence.


    "what is it you think you have to offer us?" he asked again, voice thick with both curiosity and skepticism.


    Aric''s reply was as calm as it was direct.


    "Wealth. More than any of you have ever known."


    The priest''s brows lifted, a faint smile ying at his lips, skepticism writ inly on his face.


    "The pockets of the fourth prince, deep as they may be, are hardly as vast as those of your brothers or other nobles. Why should I believe you could offer us anything more?"


    "Just tell me a price," Aric replied, unfazed.


    The priest chuckled, his eyes slipping from Aric to the bronze statues along the cathedral walls. "The church has be divided, boy," he said, voice dropping to a grave murmur.


    "The Council of Saints, as we call them¡ªeach of them backs a different power, each saint swayed by a different benefactor." He nced sidelong at Aric, almost pitying. "If you want even a single saint under your thumb, you''ll need to send a fortune."


    "I don''t want just one saint," Aric replied, his voice steady and clear. "I want all of them."


    The priest looked at him, then barked a short, humorlessugh. "That cost, Your Highness, would be immense. Beyond anything you could imagine."


    Aric''s gaze remained steady, unflinching. "I am aware," he said. "And it''s no problem for me."


    They locked eyes for a short moment, and something in Aric''s unwavering confidence seemed to chip away at the priest''s skepticism. With a slow nod, the priest conceded, his tone shifting to something more respectful.


    "Very well. I''ll arrange a meeting with the Council of Saints. Word will reach you soon, Prince."


    Aric nodded, stood, and left the quiet of the cathedral behind, his cloak swirling softly around him as he passed through the massive iron doors and out into the bustling streets of the imperial city.


    ---


    Aric moved through the city like a fugitive¡ªnow he was far too famous and could easily be spotted on such errands, his form was cloaked and inconspicuous among the crowds. The streets was busy around him¡ªthe merchants'' calls, the tter of hooves on cobblestone, and the hum of hundreds of voices.


    But as he walked, he began to feel a nagging sense of unease¡ªa pull at the edge of his awareness, a feeling that someone was watching him.


    His steps slowed, and he nced over his shoulder, careful not to appear obvious. There, among the crowded street, he caught the briefest glimpse of two figures slipping into the crowd as he turned. He couldn''t make out their faces, but their dark clothing marked them against the colorful hustle of city life.


    Aric kept walking, his pace calm, though his senses were now on extreme levels of aleart. He took an unexpected turn down a quieter side street, the bustling sounds of the main road fading behind him.


    He nced back again and saw one of the figures shadowing him at a distance. The other slipped into an alleyway parallel to his own, clearly intending to nk him.


    His jaw tightened.


    So, they were professionals, whoever they were. He walked on, veering left and right through the winding streets of the imperial city, moving through alleys and shadowed paths, testing his followers'' grit. Each time he checked, they were still there, patient and persistent.


    Aric continued his winding route, finally ducking into a small, secluded alley. He moved quickly, rounding a corner and slipping into the shadows. He stood silently, waiting, listening to his own measured breaths as he heard the faint, almost inaudible footsteps approaching.


    Just as they passed the corner, Aric stepped out, his presence dark and menacing, his cloak billowing faintly in the breeze that funneled through the narrow alley.


    The two men halted, momentarily taken aback. Aric fixed them with a cold gaze, his stance rxed but exuding an undeniable threat.


    "Before I begin dispatching you," he said, his voice low, each word sharp as steel, "I suggest you exin what made you think following me was anything but foolish."


    The two figures exchanged a nce before one of them stepped forward, hands raised in a show of peace. "We mean you no harm, Your Highness. We are men of the Ashen Covenant," he said. "Our leader, Viscount Kael, seeks an audience with you."


    The other man nodded, adding quickly, "We only wished to approach respectfully, Prince Aric. If you''ll allow us, we''ll escort you to him."


    Aric studied them, his eyes narrowing as he weighed their words. They appeared sincere, and the Ashen Covenant''s interest in him wasn''t entirely surprising; he knew they operated among the empire''s disillusioned nobles and officials, Serina had given him some details about them. After a moment of consideration, he nodded.


    "Lead the way."


    The men inclined their heads, then guided him through a different set of streets. They traveled away from the wealthier parts of the city, leaving behind the finely kept buildings and well-dressed citizens. The streets became narrower, the houses more worn. Stone walls were cracked, paint chipped, and many doors sagged on their hinges.


    They passed people who watched them with wary eyes, children running barefoot in the dirt, theirughter echoing in sharp contrast to the poverty around them.


    Finally, they arrived at a gated estate, or rather, what was left of it. The iron gates were rusted and askew, one of them lying crookedly on its hinge. Weeds grew through the cobblestone pathway that led up to the house¡ªa once grand mansion, now a shell of its former self.


    Ivy choked the walls, and the windows were either broken or smeared with years of grime. Aric took in the crumbling stone, the balconies that sagged under their own weight, and the roof where several tiles had long fallen away, leaving dark gaps like missing teeth.


    His escorts led him through the weed-choked path and up the cracked stone steps. Inside, the ruin was even more pronounced. The grand hall had high ceilings, with remnants of ornate moldings that had all but crumbled away. Experience exclusive tales on empire


    Faded paintings hung loosely from the walls, their images unrecognizable, mere shadows of whatever glory they once portrayed. The floor creaked beneath their footsteps, and the scent of damp and decay filled the air.


    They led him through dim corridors until they reached a pair of grand doors, one of which was missing entirely, revealing the shadowed room beyond. Stepping through, Aric found himself in what must have been a grand receiving hall at one time.


    The remains of a grand chandelier hung from the ceiling, now only a rusted frame with a few crystal shards clinging to it like barnacles.


    Seated at the far end of the room was a man dressed in fine, though worn, clothes. His dark hair was streaked with silver, and though his face was lined with age, his eyes sparkled with a shrewd intelligence.


    He rose as Aric entered, a smile spreading across his face, though it held an edge of something hard, like a dagger concealed beneath a velvet sheath.


    "Prince," he said, his voice rich and smooth, carrying across the room as though it were filled with an audience. "I''ve dreamed of this moment."


    Aric gave him a curt nod, his expression unreadable as he took in the man''s posture, his subtle gestures of respect, and the flicker of anticipation in his gaze. "Viscount Kael, I presume?"


    The man inclined his head, his smile deepening. "You presume correctly. Wee to my humble estate. Or rather, what remains of it."


    Aric''s gaze swept the decaying room around them. "I see the Covenant has been flourishing," he remarked, his toneced with irony.


    Kael chuckled, the sound low and dark. "Ah, yes, appearances can be misleading. We have our resources, though we choose to appear¡­ unassuming. Keeps the empire''s eyes from prying too deeply into our affairs."


    Aric gave a slight nod, the flicker of a smirk crossing his face as he folded his arms. "Then tell me, Viscount, what is it you want from me?"


    Kael''s smile faded slightly, his expression growing serious.


    "It''s not about what we want from you, Prince Aric. It''s what we can offer you¡ªalliances, resources, information." He paused, letting his words hang in the air, his gaze steady. "The Ashen Covenant is more than willing to stand behind a prince who shares our¡­ ambitions."


    Aric''s eyes met the viscount''s, a silent understanding passing between them. Here, in the shadowed ruin of a once-grand estate, he saw the glint of loyalty¡ªa loyalty forged not out of duty but of shared disdain, of mutual dissatisfaction with an empire that had failed them both.


    And though he said nothing, Aric knew that this, perhaps, was the support he had been searching for.

 Chapter 106 Shadows.

    Aric followed behind the viscount, his eyes scanning the ruined halls. Dust filled the air, catching the faint beams of moonlight that slipped through broken windows.


    The ce had once been grand¡ªits cracked walls and faded artworks were proof of that¡ªbut now, it stood abandoned, a shell of its former self.


    Yet, despite its decay, there was movement. People, their faces shadowed, walked quietly through the corridors. Whispered voices and the shuffle of feet echoed through the vast space.


    This manor, the home of House Draylen, now served as the base of operations for the Ashen Covenant. A forgotten ruin, housing the kind of power that didn''t need to be seen to be felt.


    "This ce," Kael said, his voice low as they walked deeper into the hall, "was once the heart of my family''s power. We ruled from here¡ªnned, negotiated, fought for our ce in the empire." His lips twisted in a bitter smile.


    "But that all changed when the empire turned on us. Treason, they called it. A charge fabricated by those who envied our influence. They stripped us of everything."


    Aric nced at him, remaining silent as they continued through the dimly lit corridors. The silence between them felt choking, filled with unspoken thoughts.


    "But from the ashes of this ce," Kael continued, "we built something new. Something greater than what we lost."


    Explore more adventures at empire


    As they stepped into what used to be a grand hall, now mostly empty and filled with the quiet bustle of shadowed figures, Kael gestured around him.


    "This is the heart of the Ashen Covenant. Our people work here, out of sight, away from the empire''s watchful eyes."


    Aric scanned the room. It wasn''t much¡ªscattered tables, old chairs, broken chandeliers hanging low¡ªbut there was something alive about it. The quiet huzz of nning, of unseen forces moving the pieces into ce.


    This was more than rebellion. It was a war, fought in whispers and shadows.


    Kael''s gaze flicked to a nearby alcove where a tall woman stood, her posture straight andposed. "Lady Syenna Vallis," Kael introduced, nodding in her direction.


    "Her family¡ªHouse Vallis¡ªhas always been known for their mastery of healing magic and alchemy. They''re the best in the empire. And they''ve chosen to back you."


    Syenna stepped forward, her sharp eyes meeting Aric''s. She gave a slight nod, her expression calm and measured.


    "Your Highness," she said, her voice steady, "we believe in bnce¡ªbetween science and magic, between action and restraint. The empire has lost that bnce. But you¡­ you can restore it."


    "House Vallis works quietly," Kael added. "They supply us with potions, elixirs, poisons¡­ whatever we need to keep this fight going. Their reputation as healers keeps them in the empire''s good graces, but make no mistake¡ªthey''ve chosen a side."


    Aric gave Syenna a nod, taking in her words. There was something about her¡ªcold, controlled, but undeniably skilled. She was useful, and that''s all that mattered.


    Kael motioned for them to move forward, leading Aric into another part of the manor. The once-grand ballroom was now a makeshift war room, filled with scattered maps and documents. Figures huddled around tables, speaking in hushed tones, their faces hidden by the flickering candlelight.


    "Here," Kael said, "is where the real work gets done. ns are made, alliances formed, and information is gathered." His eyes narrowed as he gestured toward a man seated at the far end of the room.


    "Lord Eliron Sylmaris. His family may not have muchnd or military power, but they control something far more valuable¡ªinformation."


    Eliron looked up, azy grin spreading across his face. "Your highness," he greeted casually, "I''ve been hearing your name more and more these days."


    Aric raised an eyebrow.


    "From whom?"


    Eliron chuckled, leaning back in his chair. "The nobles. The servants. The court. Everyone. They''re all talking about you, though most don''t know why just yet."


    "Eliron and his family have built awork of spies that reaches into every corner of the capital," Kael exined.


    "From the pce to the taverns, they hear everything. They''ve been keeping us one step ahead of the empire for years."


    Aric studied Eliron for a moment. He was a sharp man, clearly underestimated by those around him¡ªa useful quality. And in this game, knowing the right information was half the battle.


    They stopped in front of arge map pinned to the wall, marked with symbols and notes that covered the entire empire. Kael''s voice dropped as he gestured to the map.


    "These are the ces where we already have influence. But it''s not enough. If we''re going to seed, we need more."


    Aric looked at the map, his eyes tracing the lines of control. His mind turned, calcting the next steps.


    "What do you all need from me?" he asked, his voice calm but cold.


    Kael met his gaze, his expression hardening.


    "We need you to lead us. The Ashen Covenant has worked in the shadows, but we need more than whispers now. We need action."


    Aric''s jaw clenched. He had known from the beginning that it woulde, a day people who thought him nothing would see him as one who could sit on the Valerian throne, but now, standing in the middle of this ruined manor surrounded by secret supporters, the weight of it all felt heavier.


    These people were risking everything for him¡ªfor the vision of an empire they believed only he could bring about.


    "I will," Aric said after a long pause. His voice was quiet but firm. "But know this¡ªloyalty is earned, not given. If anyone within this" he gestured around "¡ªbetrays me, Death would seem a fine offeringpared to their fate."


    Kael smiled¡ªa sharp, cold smile that didn''t reach his eyes.


    "That''s exactly what we''ve been waiting to hear."


    The room fell quiet again, the soft hum of whispered conversations filling the space as Aric and Kael exchanged a final look.


    The Ashen Covenant had sworn their loyalty to him, but Aric knew better than to trust blindly. In the empire, loyalty was fickle, and power was something you took, not something you were given.


    And Aric had every intention of taking it...all of it.

 Chapter 107 Always from ash

    They all stepped further into the manor''s dimly lit chambers, the room shivered with unspoken ns.


    Viscount Kael Draylen led Aric down the narrow corridor, their footsteps muffled by the crumbling stone beneath them.


    Aric''s sharp eyes flicked over the makeshift base the Covenant had built within the fallen manor, noting the shadows that seemed to cling to every corner.


    Flickers of candlelight illuminated faces buried in scrolls, maps, and cryptic letters. This was no grand pce of power¡ªit was something much more dangerous.


    Kael nced back at him, his voice low and deliberate, the tone of a man who had learned long ago not to trust easily.


    "It''s time you understand what the Covenant''s been preparing. We''ve been patient, watching the others fight amongst themselves, while we''ve been working in silence."


    Aric folded his arms, giving a curt nod. Your next journey awaits at empire


    "Let''s hear it."


    Eliron, always quick with a word, leaned back, a sly grin tugging at the corner of his mouth.


    "You''re ying in a den of vipers, Your Highness. If you''re going to win the race for the throne, you''ll need more than just strength. You''ll need to turn the snakes against each other."


    Aric raised an eyebrow, motioning for him to continue.


    Eliron''s voice became more serious. "The Iron Circle, Silver Dawn, and the others¡ªthey all rely on the Imperial Court''s power. But the court''s nothing but a rotting corpse propped up by bloated egos. We''ve been... encouraging a little infighting. Whispers here, a scandal there. Soon enough, they''ll tear themselves apart."


    Aric''s lips twitched into a thin smile. He liked the sound of that¡ªbut he needed something more in line with his immediate ns.


    "And the Church?"


    Lady Syenna, silent until now, adjusted her cloak and leaned forward.


    "The Church of the Holy me is a hollow shell of what it once was. They preach purity, but they''ve long since sold their souls for coin. We''ve been gathering evidence¡ªletters, ledgers, secret bribes. When the time is right, we expose their hypocrisy. The people will lose faith in them. And when that happens, we will have the power to reshape it as we see fit."


    Her voice, always calm, had a cool edge that sent a ripple of approval through Aric. Syenna''s house might be known for their healing and potions, but there was venom in her words.


    Aric looked between them, his mind already calcting the possibilities.


    "You want to dismantle the empire''s foundation piece by piece. But where does that leave me? Taking the throne from a broken court is one thing. Holding onto it is another."


    Kael stepped closer, his shadow cast long in the flickering light.


    "That''s where our true strengthes in. This isn''t just about tearing down. We rebuild with loyalty, with those who are truly deserving of power. Merit, not birthright. You''ll have the full backing of the Ashen Covenant. Houses like Vallis and Sylmaris¡ªthey are small, but loyal. We elevate those who prove their worth. By the time you sit on that throne, the old guard will be gone, reced by those who owe everything to you."


    Aric narrowed his gaze, the weight of their words settling over him.


    "And what of therger houses? My brothers have more than just ambition¡ªthey have armies."


    Kael''s expression hardened. "For now. But that''s what we''ve been preparing for. We''ve been undermining their alliances, nting seeds of doubt in their ranks. Their power isn''t as absolute as it seems. And once the court copses, their resources will dry up."


    Eliron smirked, tapping his fingers on the table.


    "Besides, it''s not like you''ll be sitting around waiting for that to happen. You''ll make your own moves, y your own cards. The Ashen Covenant is just here to make sure your enemies are too busy cutting each other''s throats to stop you."


    Aric let the silence hang between them for a moment, studying their faces. There was a certain gleam in Kael''s eyes, a determination hardened by years of betrayal and bitterness. These people weren''t idealists¡ªthey were pragmatists, survivors. And that was exactly what he needed.


    "You''ve thought this through," Aric said quietly, his voice carrying a dangerous edge. "But this isn''t just about tearing down a few corrupt nobles. I want the whole damn empire restructured. The church, the court, the nobility¡ªI want it all rebuilt in my image."


    Kael''s grin was sharp, almost predatory. "That''s exactly what we''re offering."


    Syenna nodded. "And it begins with taking down the Church. Once their influence is gone, you can reshape the faith. Create something new, something loyal to you. The people will need a beacon after the old one is gone."


    Aric''s eyes flickered with thought. He imagined it¡ªa new empire, forged in fire, with him at the center of it all. But first, they would need to burn away the old.


    "And what of your... symbols?" Aric asked, his voice quiet but steady. "Your ideology."


    Kael nced at the others before answering, his voice low. "The Ashen Covenant isn''t just a name. We believe that for something new to rise, something old must be burned to the ground. Like the phoenix from the ashes. We''ve chosen you, Aric, because you''re the spark. You''re what''s going to ignite the fire that purifies this empire."


    Aric didn''t respond right away. Instead, he looked around the room¡ªthe faces of his loyal conspirators, the weight of their ambitions pressing in on him. He could feel the power building beneath the surface.


    "And if I fail?" Aric asked, testing their resolve.


    Kael''s smile didn''t falter.


    "Then we all fall. But I don''t think you will. We''ve been waiting too long for this moment. You won''t fall, because we won''t let you."


    The room fell into a heavy silence, their shared purpose binding them tighter than any oath.


    Aric straightened, the flicker of something dangerous lighting up his eyes. "Then we burn it all. But on my terms. Slowly, carefully. We make sure nothing rises from the ashes unless it answers to me."


    Kael''s nod was subtle but filled with understanding. "Agreed."


    "So we start by destroying the church?" Syenna asked.


    "No, we start by finding it"


    Aric''s eyes narrowed with a n.

 Chapter 108 Serina Marceli

    Ten years prior.


    Serina stood on the balcony of her mothers castle, the cool evening breeze ruffling her dark hair, brushing against her elegantly tailored robes. The world below bustled with life, but she felt detached, like a ghost watching over a vibrant artwork she could no longer touch.


    Theughter of children sang in the distance, mingling with the faint sounds of merchants closing their stalls, but none of it reached her heart.


    From her perch, she could see the towering spires of the Valerian Mage Academy piercing the sky¡ªit was just on the outskirts of Vahgra, the mage coalition settlement¡ªwhere her mother rules as leader.


    Serina turned away from the view, stepping back into the warmth of the room. The air felt clustered, filled with the scent of incense and swallowed words. She nced at the wall where portraits of her ancestors stared down, their expressions carved in stone yet somehow alive with expectations.


    They had fought hard to maintain their position, each face a reminder of the power and privilege that came with what she had.


    Yet, beneath the polished surface of her upbringing was a fractured reality. Her mother had always insisted on kindness andpassion¡ªts Serina hade to associate with weakness.


    "To rule with kindness," her mother would often say, her voice soft yet firm, "is the greatest strength of all." Serina had clung to those words in her youth, believing them to be a guiding light. But now, as she prepared to face the reality of her mother''s teachings, she felt only bitterness.


    "Serina?" a voice called softly from the doorway. It was Ilyas, her servant, standing with a worried expression. His light brown hair fell into his eyes, obscuring his worried gaze. "You''ve been up here for hours. Are you alright?"


    "Do I look alright?" she snapped, surprising herself with the venom in her tone. She turned her back to him, staring out at the sunset once more.


    "I''m just... thinking."


    "Thinking?" Ilyas stepped closer, concern etched on his features. "About what? The academy? The uing exam?"


    "About my mother," she admitted, her voice dropping to a whisper. "And the expectations thate with being her daughter."


    Ilyas hesitated, choosing his words carefully.


    "She means well, Serina. She wants you to be¡ª"


    "Be what? A perfect image to take her ce?" Herughter was cold, slicing through the room like a dagger. "Do you think the world cares about her¡­us? She''s a puppet not a queen¡­and this castle is a cage? a fa?ade that shields us from truth."


    He stepped back, the shadows of her anger creeping into the space between them. "You''re not your mother," he said gently. "But there''s nothing wrong in being like her, she''s a great woman loved by all."


    "Really?" Serina turned to him, her eyes zing. "What if I don''t want to be loved by all? What if I want to be powerful? What if I want to be feared?"


    Ilyas opened his mouth to respond, but before he could utter a word, the door swung open, and her mother stepped in, her presencemanding the room. Lady Alina Marceli, with her golden hair cascading like sunlight and eyes that sparkled with an unsettling blend of warmth and authority, stood before them.


    Serina''s heart twisted painfully at the sight.


    "Serina," her mother began, the softness in her tone a mask for the underlying tension. "I''ve been looking for you. The council is gathering, and they wish to discuss your future. It''s time to show them the potential I know you possess."


    Serina felt a cold knot form in her stomach. "My future?" she echoed, a bitter taste on her tongue. "Or your future, Mother? Is this another chance for you to parade me before the Archmages, to show them how well you''ve raised a daughter who can heal and charm? You''re so obsessed with how they perceive us."


    "Enough," Lady Alina interjected, her voice like steel. "You are gifted, Serina, and I will not allow you to squander that gift on petty grievances. The world will not wait for you to catch up with your emotions."


    Serina red, her frustration boiling over. "You think you can control my life, don''t you? Just like you control everything else? You always preach kindness, yet you use your authority like a weapon, forcing me into a mold I don''t fit into!"


    Her mother''s expression shifted, a shadow flickering across her face.


    "This is not about me. This is about you. I have sacrificed everything to give you opportunities¡ª"


    "Opportunities that serve you!" Serina snapped back, the fire in her veins urging her to take a stand.


    "You don''t care about what I want. You care about how I reflect on you!"


    The air between them raged with tension, a chasm forming from years of unspoken resentment. Ilyas shifted ufortably, sensing the imminent storm. Lady Alina''s eyes narrowed, but there was a flicker of something deeper¡ªa hurt thaty beneath the surface.


    "Do not speak to me like that," her mother warned, her voice low and dangerous. "You will learn respect."


    Serina''s heart pounded, and her breath came in quick bursts. "Respect? From someone who has never treated me as anything but an extension of her own ambitions? I''m tired of pretending to be someone I''m not, Mother!"


    Lady Alina stepped closer, her demeanor shifting from stern to pleading.


    "Serina, listen to me. I am trying to protect you. The world outside these walls is not kind. You must be prepared to face it. You can''t heal what you don''t understand."


    "Understand? I understand perfectly! It''s your way that''s broken, and I won''t follow you into that darkness!" With each word, Serina felt herself breaking free from the chains of expectation, the weight of her mother''s influence shattering under her resolve.


    "I have always loved you, Serina!" Lady Alina''s voice cracked, revealing the emotional turmoil beneath herposed exterior. "I have given you everything¡ªeverything I didn''t have! And this is how you repay me?"


    "It''s not what I wanted!" Serina screamed, her voice echoing against the stone walls. "Your love is a cage!"


    The silence that followed was deafening, heavy with the consequences of her outburst. Lady Alina''s face paled, and for a moment, Serina thought she saw a flicker of fear in her mother''s eyes.


    "You don''t understand what you''re saying."


    "I understand more than you think," Serina shot back, her heart racing. "I understand that kindness can be a weapon, that love can blind us to the truth. And I''ve learned from the best¡ª"


    In a sudden rush of fury, the words slipped from her lips unbidden.


    "I learned from you, Mother! You taught me kindness, and now I see it for what it truly is¡ªa weakness!"


    "Enough!" Lady Alina thundered, and the air turned electric, crackling with unspent energy. "You will not speak to me this way. You have no idea the dangers that lurk beyond these walls."


    "Perhaps you''re the one who doesn''t understand." Serina''s voice trembled with anger and something else¡ªsomething darker. The shadow of her mother loomedrger than life, but Serina refused to cower. She had power, and she knew how to wield it.


    "You''ve protected me for too long, and now, you''ve blinded me with your false love."


    "False love?" Her mother''s voice was incredulous, rising to a pitch that reverberated through the room. "You are my daughter! I have sacrificed everything for you!"


    Serina felt a surge of rage, the familiar warmth of her magic bubbling just beneath her skin. She stepped forward, her fists clenched. "You think I need your sacrifice? I need freedom!"


    In that moment, the air shifted, charged with an unspeakable force. A flicker of magic sparked between them, a crackle of energy that felt both exhrating and terrifying. "You want freedom?" Lady Alina hissed, her eyes narrowing into slits.


    "Then let''s see how far you''re willing to go."


    Serina''s heart raced, and she felt the world tilt on its axis. "What do you mean?"


    Without warning, her mother lifted her hand, and Serina felt a surge of power wash over her¡ªa torrent of magic that threatened to consume her. But instead of fear, a dark exhration coursed through Serina, urging her to embrace the storm.


    "Show me!" Serina yelled, her voice echoing like a battle cry. "Show me my true strength!"


    With that, the room erupted into chaos. Magic shed against magic, the air filled with the scent of ozone and the sound of shattering ss. Serina channeled her power, the warmth of mana twisted into something more potent¡ªsomething dangerous.


    Explore stories at empire


    A blinding light erupted from her hands, illuminating the room in a brilliant sh.


    "Serina!" her mother''s voice broke through the noise, paning her tone. "Don''t do this! You''re stronger than this rage¡ªdont let


    her


    take you!"


    But Serina was already too far gone, the darkness swirling within her urging her to embrace the chaos. She unleashed her power, and in that moment of fury, she took a step forward.


    "This is my strength!"


    With a single, devastating surge of magic, she felt the world shift as she aimed her energy toward her mother. The light exploded into a brilliant inferno, consuming everything in its path including ilyas.


    Lady Alina''s scream echoed in Serina''s ears, a haunting sound that would forever be etched in her memory. Thest image she saw was her mother''s face¡ªshocked, betrayed, and filled with the realization of what her daughter had be.


    "Yes Darling, you have made the first sacrifice, and rewards will be given¡­I assure you this"


    Serina''s head swiveled for the source of the voice but she found nothing.


    "Who are you?" She muttered.


    "I am¡­bnce¡­and that power is the arcane weave."

 Chapter 109 Senate Report

    Aric stepped into the Senate House.


    The entire building reeked of tension, smoke thick and presssin down with expectation. Grand columns lined the hall, leaving streched shadows across the walls adorned with murals of past emperors and battles won.


    Rows of high-backed seats spiraled upward, each filled by the most influential nobles in the empire. At the very center, in an elevated chair, sat his father, Emperor Xavier Valerian, nked by his three sons¡ªValen, Ss, and Darius¡ªeach eyeing Aric with varying shades of curiosity, contempt, and veiled calction.


    As Aric advanced to the center of the hall, Duke Thadrian Varys, Speaker of the Senate, raised his hand to silence the murmurs that had rippled through the chamber. Thadrian was a neutral figure, wielding power not by force or favoritism, but by holding sway over the secrets of every senator present.


    His gaze, prating and careful, settled on Aric.


    "Aric Valerian, Fourth Prince of the Empire," Thadrian announced, his voice carrying an edge of formality that invited the Senate to listen carefully.


    "You stand before us today to ount for your conquest of Byzeth. Your father, our esteemed Emperor, and the council of nobles are eager to understand how this victory was achieved."


    Aric met his father''s eyes. The emperor''s face remained expressionless, unreadable, as if he were a statue rather than a man of flesh and blood. Beside him, Crown Prince Valen watched with an intensity that betrayed his interest, while Ss bore an unreadable, faintly annoyed expression¡ªand beneath was fear, he was on edge.


    Darius, for his part, maintained an air of distant curiosity.


    "Your conquest was unexpected, Aric," Valen said, breaking the silence. His voice was measured, the tone slightly challenging. "Byzeth is not known to be easily subdued, especially by a single man. Exin to us how you managed this... without imperial support."


    The room waited, hushed and expectant.


    Aric kept his posture rxed, his voice calm. "It was slightly difficult I must admit, brother," he said, holding Valen''s gaze, "but a mix of careful nning and the right timing allowed me entry. To begin with, I infiltrated King Aszer''s council, giving him the impression that I intended to betray Valeria."


    A ripple of disbelief passed over a few senators'' faces, but Aric ignored them.


    "He believed that he had gained an ally, someone within our own empire. It gave me ess to their inner workings¡ªinformation that would otherwise have been impossible to obtain."


    The room was silent, save for the faint sound of quills scratching as senators took notes. From the Iron Circle faction, Count Feris Draylon leaned forward, skepticism etched on his face.


    "A bold move," Count Draylon remarked, his toneced with doubt. "But infiltration alone doesn''t win wars."


    A small smirk formed at the corner of Aric''s lips, and he let the silence hang for a moment before answering.


    "Next, I subdued the Stretch of Miredis and seized their primary trade route with nothing but a group ofmon bandits," he said, his voice as calm as if he were discussing a matter of lessser significance.


    "We overtook the route gradually, exploiting weaknesses in their patrols and supply lines. By the time they realized what was happening, it was toote¡ªI had already sent Aszer and his army out on a pointless march. Byzeth''s trade was strangled in one swift, quiet move." Read exclusive content at empire


    Murmurs rose in the hall. Aric nced at the senators, some of whom were nodding with reluctant admiration. Others wore expressions of disbelief or anger, as if resenting that they hadn''t foreseen such tactics themselves.


    It was then that Valen leaned forward, his fingers steepled beneath his chin, his tone deceptively soft.


    "And what of your encounter with King Aszer?" Ss asked, his eyes gleaming with something dark. "It''s said you killed him with your bare hands, Aric. Tell us how our sickly little brother became capable of such a feat."


    Aric held Valen''s gaze, a glint of challenge in his own. He was well aware of the probing behind his question. But he kept his voice steady, unaffected.


    "Strength can be found in ces we often overlook, brother," he said smoothly. "King Aszer underestimated his enemy, and in the North, with the Northrenders by my side, his arrogance became his undoing."


    The question was expertly evaded.


    Valen''s expression didn''t waver, but there was a flicker of frustration in his eyes. He wasn''t getting the answer he wanted.


    "Convincing the Northrenders to turn on Byzeth was no small feat,"mented Marquis Arwin Valtair from the Shadow League, his gaze as sharp as a hawk''s. "How did you manage to persuade the Northrender legion to follow you?"


    Aric''s smirk widened slightly, the trace of mischief in his eyes unmistakable.


    "Charm," he replied simply, letting the word hang in the air.


    A ripple ofughter and scoffs ran through the Senate hall, though Aric knew the simplicity of his answer was calcted to leave them wanting more. He wouldn''t grant them the satisfaction of knowing the full truth, there was also the matter that he would be hung for treason if he told it to them.


    Countess Amisa Morren narrowed her eyes.


    "You expect us to believe that charm alone won you the loyalty of seasoned Northrend warriors?" she challenged.


    Aric''s gaze turned icy. "Believe what you will, Countess. But what matters is that Byzeth fell, as you know I had offered the northerners thends Aszer had already promised them, but I have not much else to tell you other than that. Aszer lost¡­simple, Byzeth loyalty once again belong to Valeria. I brought results, something all of you seem to have struggled with a while."


    At this, Duke Thadrian Varys raised his hand, his gaze thoughtful.


    "If it is true that you''ve imed Byzeth''s trade routes, Prince Aric, then I believe we all wish to understand the current state of affairs. How secure are these new trade channels? How do you n to sustain them?"


    Aric nced around, the weight of his achievement evident in his voice.


    "Byzeth''s trade channels are now fully under my control. I have positioned merchants in key areas and secured an alliance with the Northrenders. As we speak, the men of winter''s reliance on the Draken Empire has ceased. The Northrenders now look to Valeria as their primary trade partner."


    There was a stunned silence, and then a few shocked gasps.


    Baroness Leora Firael spoke, her voiceced with skepticism.


    "Are you suggesting that we now trade openly with the Northrenders?"


    Aric raised an eyebrow, a faint smirk ying on his lips. "We?"


    The single word was like a p, a reminder that this victory, this carefully made alliance, was his doing¡ªnot theirs.


    His brothers exchanged nces, and for a moment, Aric could see a flicker of something¡ªwas it envy, anger, or perhaps fear? Whatever it was, it vanished as quickly as it appeared.


    Emperor Xavier, who had been silent the entire time, finally leaned forward. His expression was unreadable, but his gaze held a weight that seemed to press upon Aric, as if testing him.


    "The empire has gained much from your¡­ unconventional methods, Aric," the emperor said, his voice slow, deliberate. "But the Northrenders are a vtile people, as you well know. If they turn on us, all that you have built coulde crashing down."


    Aric met his father''s gaze without flinching.


    "I have measures in ce, Father. The Northrenders see strength as a form of respect, and I have given them reason to respect Valeria. This alliance was not born of empty promises¡ªit was forged through conquest and blood."


    For a moment, silence filled the chamber, and then the emperor gave a slow, almost imperceptible nod.


    "That is good, soon we must discuss military alliance with them"


    Duke Thadrian Varys cleared his throat, breaking the tension.


    "Prince Aric, your achievements, regardless of how they were made, have shifted the bnce in our favor. The Senate will review your strategies in greater detail. However, we must discuss the specifics of this alliance and how to move foward in closed council."


    Aric inclined his head slightly, as if to say he''d expected nothing less.


    Before anyone could say more, Count Lysander Drakov of the Silver Dawn, one of the few in the room with reformist ideals, spoke up.


    "If Valeria is truly capable of such victories, then perhaps we should consider empowering other provinces with simr independence and resources. Prince Aric has shown what a driven individual can achieve without the empire''s interference."


    Valen scoffed, his eyes narrowing at Lysander.


    "Decentralizing power? We would be inviting chaos into our borders, Lysander. Valeria''s strengthes from its unity."


    Aric watched with amusement as the Senate began to splinter, each faction reasserting its ideals and loyalties, like vultures pecking at a fresh kill. He had disrupted the bnce in one move, and now they scrambled to reim their footing.


    As the session finally began to close, Duke Thadrian nced at Aric with a shadow of a smile. "Today, we have witnessed an unprecedented report, Prince Aric. Your conquest ismendable. But remember, not all will wee change, even one so evidently beneficial. This Senate has sharp ears¡ªand sharper des."


    Aric dipped his head in acknowledgment, catching the veiled warning.

 Chapter 110 Faith and Corruption

    The morning sun filtered through the tall windows of Aric''s estate, cool golden light fell and flooded along the hallway as he walked, his footsteps echoing softly against the marble floor.


    He carried a ss of water in his left hand, his thumb tapping gently against the cool surface as he approached arge oak door. His mind was sharp, contemtion having him. With a steady hand, he pushed the door open, entering the spacious study¡ªnow his war room, where the foundation of his ambitions were forged.


    Inside, two figures awaited him, standing around a broad table covered with scattered parchments, maps, and reports.


    Viscount Kael, sharp-eyed and wiry, held a small ledger in his hands, his gaze flicking between its pages and the reportsid out before him. Next to him stood Old Man Hitoshi, whose calm expression belied the steely intelligence behind his age-worn features.


    Both men straightened and offered a small bow.


    "Greetings, Your Highness," they said in unison, nodding as Aric crossed the room. Their eyes held a mix of respect and intrigue, as if they were about to deliver news that were significant.


    Aric returned a brief nod, acknowledging them with a wave of his right hand. He took a slow sip of his water, savoring the rity of the moment.


    "Gentlemen," he said, his voice steady but with an edge of curiosity, "what''s the situation?"


    As he pulled a chair from the table''s side and settled himselffortably, the men exchanged a nce. It was Hitoshi who spoke first, his voice soft butyered with meaning.


    "Your Highness, we are now of full understanding of the church''s situation," Hitoshi began.


    "As you know it has grown into an institution far removed from the ideals it once stood for. In its origin, the Church was to embody purity and protection. Their sacred ''Eternal me'' was supposed to be a source of wisdom, unity, and strength, binding the empire''s people to their leaders with a shared sense of purpose¡­you know the usual sentimental crap?"


    Aric''s fingers drummed against the table as he considered this.


    "And now?"


    Hitoshi''s mouth curled into a slight, almost bitter smile. Continue your adventure with empire


    "Now, it''s a tool, no more than that¡ªa weapon wielded by those who can pay for it. The sacred me has dimmed under the weight of greed."


    Kael nodded, his eyes narrowing as he added, "The hierarchy within the Church is carefully structured to maintain control and obedience, but not faith. The power is concentrated among three branches¡ªthe Council of Saints, the Inquisitors of the Sacred Light, and the Guardians of the me. Each has its own agenda and connections to different noble houses."


    Aric leaned forward, interested. "Go on."


    "The Council of Saints," Hitoshi continued, "isprised of high-ranking clergy who oversee doctrine and interpretation of their sacred texts. They''re influential among the nobility, blessing or condemning as suits the highest bidder. They preach morality, yet they bend it when the right payment is made. It''s no secret that they''ve blessed wars, marriages, and titles solely to curry favor with noble families."


    "And the Inquisitors?" Aric asked, his tone showing the faintest edge of disdain.


    Viscount Kael raised an eyebrow.


    "The Inquisitors of the Sacred Light are ostensibly the keepers of purity, rooting out heresy. Their leader, High Inquisitor Levos, is notorious for his corruption. His inquisitors are more feared than respected, and they''ve be a means of political sabotage. Give Levos arge enough bribe, and he''ll hunt down your rivals as heretics. He''s amassed a considerable fortune by selling ''absolutions'' and pardons for those sins."


    Aric''s gaze sharpened, a glint of interest shing in his eyes. "And the Guardians of the me?"


    Hitoshi and Kael exchanged a look. "They''re more than priests," Kael said.


    "The Guardians are a militaristic sect, warrior-monks sworn to protect the Church. But protection has shifted from spiritual relics to enforcing the Church''s will. They''re little more than enforcers for the Church''s more ambitious allies among the nobility."


    The young prince took another slow sip from his ss. "So, they''ve turned their sacred duties into political favors and armed mercenaries."


    Hitoshi nodded. "Indeed. They now justify wars, enforce oaths, and give blessings selectively, all to uphold the agendas of powerful houses. The Holy me has be the very thing it swore to eradicate¡ªcorrupt, self-serving, and utterly political."


    Aric leaned back, eyes narrowing thoughtfully. "And yet the people still see them as spiritual leaders?"


    Kael let out a dry chuckle. "To themoners, yes. The illusion remains strong, upheld by years of carefully controlled doctrines and disys of charity. But those who deal with the Church more closely know its true face."


    Aric''s lips curled, his thoughts evident in his expression. "And what of the specific connections to the noble houses? I want details."


    Viscount Kael began.


    "House Rothval¡ªstaunch supporters of Crown Prince Valen and the Iron Circle¡ªkeeps the Church afloat financially. Their generosity, in return, is rewarded with public blessings for Valen''s campaigns. These aren''t mere endorsements; they''re derations of ''holy wars,'' lending him a sense of divine favor."


    Hitoshi nodded, picking up from Kael. "House Vernia funds the Church''swork of informants, aligning itself with Prince Ss and his Shadow League. The Church convenientlybels his enemies as ''dangers to the faith,'' leaving Ss with a clear path. And House Drakov¡ªclose to Prince Darius¡ªsecretly funds the Church''s libraries, granting them ess to forbidden texts and artifacts under the pretense of research."


    "Indulgences and relics, too, have bemodities," Kael continued.


    "For the right price, High Priest Dorim absolves almost any sin, amassing wealth under the guise of spiritual authority. Nobles buy these indulgences freely, erasing their misdeeds while further enriching the Church. They even sell worthless relics as artifacts of the Eternal me, tricking themon people into funding their schemes."


    Aric''s expression darkened, a faint, cold smile forming on his lips. "The Church, it seems, is no stranger to irony. Preaching purity while profiting from sin."


    Hitoshi gave a solemn nod. "Quite so, Your Highness. They have also, for all their talk of peace, covertly funded war efforts. Under the pretense of safeguarding the empire, they provide warriors to noble houses. These ''Guardians of the me'' are actually mercenaries, and they''ve been used to sabotage political opponents and raid rival estates."


    Aric looked at the two men, eyes gleaming with quiet ambition. "And what would it take," he asked slowly, "to gain full control of the Church''s wealth and influence?"


    Hitoshi''s eyes sparkled with approval. "It''s simple, Your Highness: capitalize on their need for funds and loyalty. By leveraging our own wealth, we can offer loans, donations, and patronage¡ªsufficient to sway key figures within the Church."


    Kael leaned forward, his gaze sharp. "First, we''d need to focus on those in need. High Inquisitor Levos, for example, is deeply in debt to House Rothval. If we could relieve that debt, he''d be forced to abandon Valen''s cause. Dorim, too, has financial troubles despite his fortune. His indulgences have caused¡­ issues among his patrons, and he''s been forced to pay heavy reparations."


    "So," Aric murmured, "we buy them out¡ªpiece by piece."


    Kael nodded, eyes alight with satisfaction.


    "Precisely. Once we hold enough leverage, they''ll be loyal to you and the Ashen Covenant, forsaking the princes they once supported."


    "And what of their relics?" Aric''s gaze hardened, voice lowering. "If we can expose their so-called relics as frauds, we undermine their hold over the people. If they lose that illusion, their influence crumbles."


    Hitoshi''s smile widened, showing approval. "A wise move. If we expose their corruption, even themon folk may begin to turn away. A well-ced rumor, a few public revtions¡­ it wouldn''t take long."


    For a moment, Aric fell silent, his gaze drifting across the scattered papers on the table. He thought of the Church''s sermons, their words of humility and sacrifice, and how those very words had condemned the helpless while the powerful prospered.


    His mind swam with the vision of a future where he, not Valen or Ss or Darius, wielded that power over faith and politics.


    He looked up, his eyes burning with the fire of his resolve. "Then we will take it all," he dered, voice steady and cold. "We will seize the heart of this empire''s faith, bend it to our will. And when the time is right, the Holy me will burn as it once did¡ªbut this time, it will be my fire, and I will decide who is blessed and who is condemned."


    A slow smile spread across both Kael''s and Hitoshi''s faces. "As you will, Your Highness," they murmured, bowing their heads with newfound fervor.

 Chapter 111 Crumbling Truth

    Aric sat alone in his study, candle flickering shadows across the high walls ligting his face in a strange mixture of soft light and deep shade. His hand rested on an open ledger, and a slight, almost contemtive smile traced his lips as he read through the notes he had made.


    He had been preparing for this for days.


    The Church of the Holy me was no simple ce of worship; it was an iron fist hidden in the silken robes of righteousness, capable of influencing the masses and manipting the nobility with a mere word. But now, Aric had found the cracks, and he had every intention of digging until the Church fell.


    The door creaked open, and Viscount Kael entered first, followed by Old Man Hitoshi. They walked with purpose, Kael''s steps brisk, while Hitoshi moved with the steady pace of a man who''d seen centuries of strategies rise and fall.


    They both paused, bowing their heads briefly before Kael spoke.


    "Your Highness, the first emissary has returned with promising news. High Inquisitor Levos epted the ''gift''¡­ quite eagerly, in fact. He barely asked any questions, though I suspect he knows well enough not to."


    Aric nodded, leaning back in his chair. "Good. That man''s greed is his weakness. And what of High Priest Dorim?"


    "Dorim is¡­ cautious," Hitoshi replied, folding his hands. "He''s skeptical, but I suspect he''s too tempted to refuse entirely. The offer of debt relief is hard to resist for a man with his expensive habits."


    The prince chuckled, a low sound. "Good. I don''t need him to trust me, only to want what I''m offering."


    As he spoke, he gestured for them to take seats at the table, where a simple map of the cityy. He traced his finger over the borders surrounding the imperial city, lingering on symbols that marked prominent estates of families loyal to the Church.


    "Kael, I want rumors seeded in every corner of the nobility. Start with the lesser houses¡ªthe ones crushed by their debts to the Church. They''re desperate and disillusioned, eager to believe that the Council of Saints is more interested in silver than salvation."


    Kael''s lips twisted into a wry smile. "So, y on their bitterness?"


    "Precisely." Aric''s gaze sharpened, his eyes glinting with a mixture of cunning and satisfaction. "The nobility will believe what they already suspect. Show them glimpses of hidden indulgences, and let their imaginations do the rest."


    Hitoshi inclined his head. "It''s a wise strategy, Your Highness. Once rumors take root, they''ll grow into something the Church can''t silence without revealing its true nature."


    Aric pushed a goblet of wine towards Kael, offering a drink as a mark of his trust. "And if the Church tries to retaliate," he said softly, "we''ll make sure they stumble on their own sins. It won''t take much to show the public how much silver lines their holy robes."


    For a moment, the room fell silent. The three men sat there, each lost in their own thoughts, until finally Aric spoke again.


    "Tell me, what''s the next step with Dorim?"


    Hitoshi leaned forward. "Dorim values prestige almost as much as wealth. If we can tempt him with promises of greater influence, perhaps even a subtle endorsement from a prince, he may abandon his alliances with the others."


    Aric''s mouth twitched into a smile. "That would be valuable indeed. Set up a meeting¡ªnothing formal, just¡­ an exchange. Send him an anonymous invitation with a gift. Something ornate and costly, a token of our ''esteem.'' He''lle if his vanity is strong enough."


    Kael chuckled, shaking his head slightly. "For all their talk of purity, the leaders of the Church are nothing more than men with weak wills and hungry desires."


    Aric''s eyes darkened. "Their faith is a front," he said, a touch of disdain in his voice. "But it''s time that front crumbles."


    ---


    The following evening, under the cover of darkness, two cloaked men made their way through the streets of the city. One was a young servant, newly recruited from one of the lesser noble houses, and the other a quiet, gray-haired emissary hand-picked by Hitoshi for his discretion.


    They moved quickly, slipping between alleyways until they reached the rear entrance of the grand cathedral.


    A guard spotted them but, recognizing the mark on the letter the emissary held, let them pass with a barely-hidden smirk. News of the Church''s dealings with the nobility was an open secret among themoners, though few dared speak of it openly.


    The emissary waited in a small, dark antechamber, his eyes flickering around as he held the sealed letter close to his chest. He could feel the weight of the gold coin purse hidden beneath his cloak, a bribe meant for any inquisitive eyes that wandered too close.


    After several tense minutes, High Inquisitor Levos entered, his expression a mix of irritation and anticipation. Levos was a man of moderate height, his build heavy, his eyes small and calcting. His robes were adorned with a delicate embroidery of mes, meant to signify his high rank, though they looked almost gaudy in the dim light.


    "You brought this message?" Levos asked, his voice low and dismissive.


    The emissary handed over the letter, bowing slightly as he did. "A token of goodwill, Your Grace," he murmured, head still lowered.


    Levos broke the seal, his eyes darting across the message with growing interest. After a moment, he looked up, his irritation reced with a smug satisfaction. "Very well," he muttered, pocketing the coin purse without a second thought. "You may tell your benefactor that I am¡­ open to continued discussions."


    The emissary gave another bow, murmuring, "I shall convey your words faithfully." With that, he disappeared back into the night, his jobplete.


    ---


    Days passed, and subtle changes rippled through the city''s noble circles. Murmurs of the Church''s indulgent practices spread from estate to estate, whispered over private dinners and discussed behind closed doors.


    It was not long before the lower nobility began to mutter about the hypocrisy of the Holy me, resentful whispers that spread like smoke through the city.


    Aric observed these changes with cold satisfaction. Every time he met with Hitoshi and the Ashen covenant, the reports grew more promising. High Inquisitor Levos had already begun loosening his ties with House Rothval, avoiding their representatives with carefully crafted excuses.


    High Priest Dorim, meanwhile, seemed enthralled by the gifts and promises that arrived almost daily, his alliance with Aric tightening like a well-wound knot.


    One afternoon, as the sun began to sink and cast a warm, amber glow over the study, Aric gathered his intelligence unit leaders again. The room was tense with anticipation, each man waiting for his prince''s word.


    Find your next read at empire


    Hitoshi spoke first, his voice steady. "Your Highness, the rumors have started taking root. The lower nobility speak openly of the Church''s avarice, and even themoners are beginning to see the clergy as wealthy puppets rather than holy men."


    Aric''s gaze swept over his advisors, his satisfaction clear. "Good. This will unsettle the nobles who owe the Church their loyalty. If they see that faith alone no longer holds sway over the people, they''ll question the value of their allegiance."


    Kael leaned forward, his voice eager. "What is our next move, Your Highness?"


    Aric considered the question, his gaze growing hard. "We double down. Continue to spread whispers. Encourage the people to look upon the Church as corrupt, and ensure Levos and Dorim are rewarded well enough that they feel indebted to us."


    With a sharp nod, Hitoshi added, "The lower nobility will soon grow bold enough to question the Church''s decrees. They''re desperate to lift the burden of their debts."


    Aric let out a slow breath, a look of fierce satisfaction in his eyes. "We''re close, gentlemen. The Church is already showing its cracks. Now we press harder, until it falls into our hands."


    As the men left, Aric lingered by the window, gazing out at the city stretched beneath him. He could almost hear the faint cries of the people, their dissatisfaction growing louder with each passing day.


    With one hand pressed against the cold ss, Aric allowed himself a small smile.


    The Church had reigned with power and intimidation for too long. Now, he would see it be his greatest tool, its authority turned to serve his ambitions, its strength made into his de.

 Chapter 112 Holy Lies

    Aric waited in the shadowed corners of the meeting room¡­a ce he found himself more often than not rtly, his gaze fixed on the flickering mes that danced in the hearth.


    The silence was a deep one, broken only by the asional crackle of burning wood. Tonight, his study felt smaller, the walls pressing close with the weight of his n. He allowed the silence to grow until the quiet murmurs of his assembledpany took on a tense anticipation.


    Maxim Sylmaris, first son of Eliron and the heir to the Sylmaris house leaned against the wall near the firece, his arms crossed, eyes sharp as they glinted with curiosity. His rxed posture was a mask, as always.


    Maxim was too clever to betray a single thought, his face framed by a light smirk that was half invitation, half challenge. His coat, lined with discreet patches of green¡ªthe Sylmaris colors¡ªhinted at his noble birth, but his bearing was more of amon rogue than a noble lord.


    A perfect spy.


    Old Man Hitoshi stood across from him, his gaze distant and contemtive. His worn fingers traced patterns on his cane, a habit that surfaced only when he was calcting something.


    Then there was Serina, She sat with her arms folded, her steely eyes scanning the room, assessing everyone. Serina was known to most of his court now as Aric''s second-inmand, trusted beyond measure.


    Aric cleared his throat, drawing their attention back to him.


    "Tonight marks the first step in casting doubt on the Church''s so-called relics," Aric said, his voice smooth but carrying an edge. "The whispers say the true relics have been sold for wealth, and some say they never existed at all¡­either way all the chrch now posses are fakes," His eyes narrowed. "It''s time to let the people know this truth"


    Maxim raised an eyebrow, looking amused. "And how will we do that, Your Highness?"


    Aric''s gaze shifted to him, a flicker of amusement in his own eyes. "You''re a man of considerable charm, Maxim. I think you''ll enjoy this. I need your spies to investigate these relics, discreetly, of course. Once we have enough information, we''ll expose the truth publicly."


    Hitoshi tapped his cane thoughtfully. "The Church''s power lies heavily in the belief of the people. If we''re to break that belief, we must give them something undeniable in return. They''ll need to see for certain these relics are worthless trinkets with no holy value."


    Maxim nodded, a smile ying at his lips. "I know just the people for this task. Mywork reaches every tavern and inn in the capital; it won''t take much to nt rumors in ces where they''ll blossom." He paused, thoughtful. "Though, I wonder if it''s wise to strike so directly. The Iron Circle houses will certainly take note if we weaken the Church."


    Aric''s smile hardened. "That''s precisely the point. The Iron Circle holds most its power through military influence, but a considerable unmount of it prominence is through the Church, and when that influence is in question, so too is their authority. They''ll find themselves scrambling to regain control. And while they''re busy fighting their shadows, we''ll be advancing."


    Serina''s eyes glinted. "Then let''s get started. Lord Sylmaris, what''s your n for our first move?"


    Maxim straightened, his gaze keen. "First, we''ll need to inspect the relics. Quietly. Most cathedrals keep them under lock and key, disyed only on holy days. I know a few ways to get inside without causing a stir. Once we''ve examined them, we can find a way to¡­ reveal their worthlessness to the right people."


    ---


    Two nightster, Maxim, face disguised, led a small team toward the Grand Cathedral, cloaked in the guise of travelers seeking evening prayers. Serina apanied him, along with three of his trusted spies¡ªa wiry young man with sharp eyes, a middle-aged woman with a soft, motherly face, and a quietd who carried a pouch of tools meant for picking locks.


    The cathedral¡ªimposing towering arches and stained ss, each window painting muted colors across the cobblestone as candlelight flickered inside. Maxim paused just outside the massive iron doors, giving the group a sharp look.


    "Remember," he murmured, barely loud enough for them to hear. "We''re humble pilgrims seeking guidance. Keep your eyes low and your voices softer."


    They slipped inside, the scent of incense thick and cloying. The cathedral was sparsely popted, mostly with elderly worshippers kneeling in the pews, whispering fervent prayers. At the far end of the hall, a group of clergymen shuffled near the altar, their robes brushing the ground with a soft rustle.


    Maxim tilted his head, signaling for the others to follow. They moved slowly, their footsteps muffled as they walked along the rows of pews, edging closer to the altar where a small ss case held the Cathedral''s prized relic¡ªthe "Divine Chalice," said to have been touched by saints, with the power to heal the sick.


    It was a gilded cup, adorned with jewels and polished to a brilliant sheen, resting on a pedestal and guarded by two stern-looking priests.


    Maxim kept his expression mild, his voice soft as he murmured to the guard. "Forgive me, brother. We''re simple travelers from the north, but we''ve heard of the Divine Chalice''s healing powers and wished to see it."


    The priest looked them over with a critical eye, but Maxim''s practiced humility seemed to ease his suspicion. After a moment, the guard nodded, his voice low.


    "You may look, but keep your distance. Only the pure may approach the relic."


    Maxim inclined his head in feigned reverence, but as his gaze fell upon the chalice, he noted every detail. The jewels embedded in the chalice wererge but wed, their colors too bright to be genuine. The craftsmanship was passable, but itcked the intricacy expected of a true relic. It was, without doubt, an ornate forgery.


    He exchanged a brief nce with Serina, who nodded, her mouth a thin line of contempt as she gazed upon the supposed holy artifact. She caught his eye, and he gave a barely perceptible nod, signaling their departure.


    They slipped out of the cathedral as easily as they''d entered, and once they were back in the shadows of the alleyway, Serina let out a scoff.


    "That''s the holy relic?" she said, cocking her head. "A polished cup with cheap stones?"


    Maxim smirked. "It''s all about perception, miss. The Church tells the people it''s holy, and they believe it. But once we show them the truth¡­" He trailed off, the meaning clear.


    ---


    In the days that followed, whispers spread quietly through the capital. Maxim''s spies took their ces in crowded taverns, marketces, and even at the doors of smaller cathedrals, sharing the tale of the "Divine Chalice" and itsck of true power. They spoke of how the jewels were wed, how the craftsmanship was rough, and how the Church had used trickery to maintain control.


    The words were subtle at first, exchanged as if in confidence between strangers. But soon, the rumors spread, growing bolder as they reached the ears of more people.


    At one of the city''s busier taverns, a young woman dressed as a maid leaned over the bar, her voice just loud enough to catch the attention of those around her. "They say the chalice is nothing but ss and gold-ting. Imagine¡ªpraying to that."


    A grizzled guard beside her scoffed, shaking his head. "Bah, we''ve always known the Church is full of gold and silver, but if they''re lying about their relics too¡­"


    "Careful," murmured an older man nearby, ncing around nervously. "They''ll call it sphemy."


    Themon guard justughed, a rough sound that turned heads. "sphemy, eh? It''s only sphemy if they''re telling the truth. But I''d wager they''re just rich men in robes, hiding their greed behind holy words."


    The words caught like wildfire, and in the days that followed, the story grew. Tales of the "Divine Chalice" reached the lower nobility, some of whom owed the Church heavily. It wasn''t long before murmurs of discontent began spreading through those circles, too.


    ---


    Aric watched from the confines of his estate as word of the exposed relics drifted back to him, carried by his informants with quiet satisfaction. The Iron Circle, too, was beginning to feel the effects. Lords who had once been vocal supporters of the Church were starting to pull back, concerned about how closely their reputations were tied to an institution that was losing its credibility among the people.


    That evening, as thest embers of twilight faded from the sky, Aric met again with his inner circle. Maxim recounted the rumors spreading through the capital, his voice filled with smug amusement.


    "It''s working," he said, leaning back in his chair. "The people are beginning to question, and even some of the lower nobility are voicing their doubts."


    Serina grinned, her eyes gleaming. "The Church won''t be able to contain this. Not once it spreads beyond the capital."


    Hitoshi, quiet until now, gave a nod of approval. "And when themoners no longer trust the Church''s word, their influence will crumble."


    Aric allowed himself a small smile, a rare gesture of satisfaction. "This is only the beginning. Soon, the Church''s foundation will be as hollow as those relics, and when they''re weak enough¡­ we''ll be all they have left¡­and we will takeplete control"


    "Your highness, are you certain after bringing it down, we will still be able to restore the church''s respect and authority so it may be useful to us?" Maxim shared his concerns


    "Hmm¡­there is nothing enough money can''t fix"

 Chapter 113 Hollow Relics

    Members of the fourth''s court sat in the corner of his private chambers, the warm light from a single oilmp made faint shadows on the stone walls.


    The air smelled faintly of ink and parchment, mingled with the richer scent of wood smoke from the hearth. Around him, his trusted gathered as they seemed to do so much now. Serina stood by the window, one arm resting on the sill as she gazed out into the quiet evening streets of the capital.


    Hitoshi sat with his hands sped over the head of his cane, his expression pensive. Viscount Kael leaned against a nearby shelf, idly flipping through a book, though his eyes were unfocused.


    Aric tapped his fingers against the armrest of his chair, a soft rhythm that mirrored the cadence of his thoughts.


    "The people are talking," he said finally, his voice steady but low. "Rumors are one thing, but to truly shake the Church''s power, we need something tangible. Something they can see with their own eyes."


    Serina turned her gaze back to him, a faint smirk curling her lips. "You want a spectacle."


    "Precisely," Aric replied, his tone sharpening. "A public incident, but it must appear idental. A relic exposed for what it truly is. Themoners need proof that the Church''s foundation is bullshit, and we will provide that proof."


    Viscount Kael snapped the book shut, finally interested. "And how do we orchestrate such a spectacle without implicating ourselves? If this points back to you, the Church and the Iron Circle will descend like wolves."


    Aric''s smile was faint, but it carried a dangerous edge. "Leave that to me. The Church has nned a grand blessing for the uing Feast of Ascension. The streets will be packed withmoners eager to witness the unveiling of a new relic¡ªsome blessed de they im holds divine power. All we need is the right push."


    ---


    The n moved swiftly.


    In the days leading up to the feast, Serina and Kael coordinated with Maxim''s spies, ensuring the groundwork wasid. Word spread among the market stalls and taverns about the miraculous de that would be disyed at the event. The people, hungry for hope and desperate to believe in something greater than themselves,tched onto the story eagerly.


    On the day of the feast, Aric arrived early to the cathedral square, his cloak drawn close around him. He wore a in hood, blending seamlessly into the throngs ofmoners who packed the streets. Around him, vendors hawked roasted meats and sweet pastries, their voicespeting with the ng of distant church bells.


    The air shook with anticipation as families pressed closer to the grand dais where the relic was to be revealed.


    Serina stood near the eastern edge of the crowd, her sharp eyes scanning the square for any sign of trouble. She wore a simple dress, her usuallymanding presence subdued into something unassuming.


    Across the way, Viscount Kael lounged near a vendor''s stall, pretending to haggle over a trinket while keeping an eye on the proceedings. Hitoshi was nowhere in sight, his absence part of the n¡ªhis role wouldeter.


    At the center of the square, the Church officials had gathered in full regalia. Their robes were heavy with gold embroidery, catching the midday sun as they moved with practiced precision.


    High Inquisitor Levos stood beside the High Priest Dorim, their expressions solemn as they addressed the crowd. Behind them, the relic was hidden beneath a crimson cloth, draped over an ornate pedestal.


    Aric watched with quiet intensity as the ceremony began. High Priest Dorim''s voice boomed across the square, invoking the blessings of the gods as he extolled the virtues of the Church. The crowd listened raptly, their faces alight with awe and reverence.


    "Brothers and sisters," Dorim intoned, raising his hands theatrically. "Today, we unveil a relic of unparalleled holiness¡ªa de imbued with the divine strength of our ancestors. Let it stand as a beacon of faith in troubled times!"


    The crimson cloth was pulled away, revealing a gleaming sword that seemed almost too pristine, its hilt encrusted with jewels and its de etched with careful patterns. Gasps rippled through the crowd, followed by scattered cheers.


    Aric''s lips curled into a faint smile. It was time.


    ---


    The n hinged on a single moment. Among themoners gathered near the dais was a man whose pockets had been generously lined by Maxim''swork¡ªa disgruntled former craftsman whose debts to the Church had driven him to near ruin. He stood near the edge of the dais, his face lined with anger and desperation.


    As the High Priest continued his sermon, the man suddenly shouted, his voice cutting through the reverent hush.


    "Lies!" he bellowed, pointing a trembling finger at the de. "That sword is no relic¡ªit''s a fraud!"


    The crowd erupted into murmurs, some turning to shush the man while others leaned forward eagerly, their curiosity piqued. High Inquisitor Levos''s face darkened as he stepped forward, his voice cold. "Who dares to disrupt this sacred gathering?"


    The man stepped closer to the dais, his movements erratic but purposeful. "I was a smith once," he said, his voice cracking. "I know fine steel when I see it, and that de¡­ it''s no divine artifact. It''s a forgery¡ªcrafted to deceive!"


    Before the guards could move to silence him, the man surged forward and grabbed the sword from its pedestal. Gasps of shock echoed through the square as he raised it high, his hands trembling.


    "This is what you call holy?" he shouted. Then, with a swift motion, he brought the de down against the edge of the dais. The metal shattered on impact, the fragments scattering like shards of ss.


    A stunned silence fell over the crowd, broken only by the sound of the de''s pieces ttering to the ground.


    The man turned, his voice hoarse but defiant. "This is what they ask you to believe in¡ªfalse relics and empty promises!"


    The square descended into chaos. The crowd surged forward, their whispers turning to shouts of anger and disbelief. The Church officials scrambled to regain control, their voices drowned out by the rising tide of discontent.


    Aric watched from the shadows, his expression unreadable as he observed the unfolding spectacle. The people''s faith, already shaken by the rumors of false relics, now wavered under the weight of undeniable proof.


    Near the edge of the crowd, Serina met Aric''s gaze and gave a subtle nod before slipping away. Viscount Kael followed suit, disappearing into the throng with practiced ease.


    At the center of the dais, High Inquisitor Levos shouted for order, his face red with fury. "This is an attack on the Church!" he bellowed. "A sacrilege orchestrated by enemies of the faith!"


    But his words fell on deaf ears.


    The people were no longer listening.


    ---


    That evening, back in the safety of Aric''s chambers, the mood was one of quiet triumph. Serina stood by the hearth, a faint smile tugging at her lips as she recounted the day''s events. "The crowd''s reaction was better than we could have hoped. The Church won''t recover from this easily."


    Hitoshi nodded, his expression calm but satisfied. "The spectacle was perfectly timed. Even the Iron Circle must be feeling the strain now."


    Aric sat back in his chair, his hands steepled as he listened. His face betrayed no emotion, but there was a glint in his eyes¡ªa spark of calcted ambition. "The Church''s grip is weakening, but this is only the beginning. We must press forward while they''re vulnerable."


    Viscount Kael leaned against the wall, a ss of wine in hand. "And what of Valen? He won''t sit idly by while the Church falters. The Iron Circle will be desperate to hold onto their influence."


    Aric''s smile returned, faint but razor-sharp. "Let them scramble. The more desperate they be, the easier they are to manipte. Today, we showed the people that the Church is not infallible. Tomorrow, we''ll remind the Iron Circle of the same."


    The Novel will be updated first on this website. Come back and


    continue reading tomorrow, everyone!