V2. Chapter 34: — The Millstones of Fate |
The sky above the Capital was still shrouded in smoke.
Columns of black ash rose above the districts, buildings continued burning in places, and occasional mana explosions still erupted in certain areas. Even so, it was already clear to any warrior—the situation was stabilizing rapidly.
A little over an hour had passed since the uprising began.
And that had been enough time for the Empire to fully spring into action.
The Capital’s military had completely mobilized. Legion after legion occupied key streets, cutting off the beastfolk’s escape routes, while support mages quickly contained fires and aided the wounded. Most pockets of the uprising had already been suppressed, and the remaining beastfolk were gradually being surrounded.
Everything had changed even more after General Salazar’s arrival.
Without personally entering the battle, he had brought the chaos under control in a matter of minutes. His voice repeatedly echoed over the city, and the military responded to his orders almost instantly. It seemed as though the entire Capital had become a single mechanism.
But the atmosphere near the Imperial Palace still felt heavy.
The Archmagisters still stood before the open gates.
They kept glancing toward the Palace, unable to understand what would happen next, or why the Archmagisters had not rushed after him.
Archmagister Guro slowly wiped the blood from his face with his long sleeve and once again looked toward the dark passage leading into the depths of the Imperial Palace.
“In one regard, you were right after all, Sylvain…” the old man said heavily. “But the traitor in our ranks definitely does not belong to the Empire’s highest leadership.”
Sylvain stood a short distance away. His long snow-white hair swayed gently in the wind, while a thoughtful expression rested upon his handsome face.
Narrowing his eyes slightly, he slowly nodded.
“Reasonable,” the Archmagister said in his gentle voice. “Attempting to steal the Imperial Bloodline Source is already beyond madness.”
Behind the Archmagisters, one of the Elders swallowed nervously and finally could not hold back: “Honored Archmagisters…” he said tensely. “The enemy has broken into the Imperial Palace…”
But before the man could finish, Guro gave a hoarse cough, interrupting him: “Do not worry. An unexpected trap awaits the enemy inside.”
Despite the exhaustion and blood on his face, Guro’s voice sounded remarkably confident.
And it was precisely that confidence that eased some of the tension among the artisans.
But in the next moment, Al-Hakim unexpectedly changed the subject.
He slowly approached the unconscious Kael, who was currently being supported by Cornelius. For several seconds, his cold gaze studied the youth’s burns, blood, and exhausted mana channels.
“His name is Kael, correct?” Al-Hakim asked calmly.
Cornelius nodded almost immediately.
“That is correct, Archmagister.”
The old man adjusted his grip on the unconscious Kael and continued, his tone noticeably more serious, “Kael is a man of many talents. He has already managed to attract the interest of the Inscribers’ Guild and the Alchemists’ Guild. Moreover… Professor Dukhlas personally spoke very highly of him.”
And the moment the words “Alchemists’ Guild” were spoken, Guro’s floating eyes immediately turned toward Cornelius.
The old Archmagister was visibly interested.
However, in the very next moment, Cornelius calmly added, “But I have already recruited Kael into the Scholars’ Guild. He promised that it would become his primary field of study.”
Hearing this, Guro narrowed his eyes with mild displeasure.
Several of the floating eye-artifacts lazily turned toward Cornelius, as though the old man were currently considering whether he should poach the talented youth for himself.
“You moved quickly…” Guro grunted.
Cornelius merely coughed calmly into his fist.
“Promising young people should not be allowed to slip away, Archmagister.”
But at that moment, Al-Hakim unexpectedly smiled in satisfaction.
“To be honest…” he said calmly, shifting his gaze back to the unconscious Kael. “What pleases me far more is not his talent.”
For several seconds, the Archmagister remained silent, looking at the youth.
“This boy risked his life to warn us,” Al-Hakim continued slowly. “Moreover… he did so knowing full well the risks.”
For the first time in a very long while, genuine approval could be heard in his voice.
“Remarkable courage and selflessness.”
Sylvain quietly snorted, glancing sideways at the unconscious Kael.
“Or a complete lack of self-preservation instinct,” he remarked. “Though… that is fairly typical of young geniuses.”
But as soon as those words were spoken, a sharp whistle sounded above the Archmagisters’ heads.
In the next moment, a roar rolled over the Imperial Palace. The red dragon swept directly above the entrance, casting its shadow over the staircase. Then a small human silhouette suddenly leaped from its back.
A dull impact echoed from the landing, and the stone beneath the Archmagisters’ feet instantly cracked.
The Archmagisters immediately looked up.
Before them stood a lean man of about sixty, dressed in a long black robe and wide dark trousers. His dark-red hair, fading into gray at the tips, was carelessly swept back, while a small goatee made him look more like a weary scholar than a general.
Small round spectacles in a thin metal frame rested upon his hooked nose, emphasizing his sharp features. His left hand remained tucked into a pocket, while with his right he lazily dragged a black spear along the ground. Salazar looked so relaxed that it seemed as though he had returned from a casual stroll rather than a battlefield.
Yet the longer one looked at him, the more unsettling he became. Red eyes with reptilian pupils could be seen behind the glint of his lenses. And although Salazar was deliberately suppressing his aura, the very space around him felt heavy and tense.
“Greetings, General Salazar,” Al-Hakim exhaled heavily.
But Salazar did not even look at them. His gaze remained fixed directly upon the open gates of the Imperial Palace.
The man slowly straightened, and with a careless movement of his wrist, the spear’s tip scraped across the stone with a grating sound, leaving a deep furrow behind. Almost no intact sections remained on the shaft—it was covered from end to end in old nicks and scratches. Only then did his calm, raspy voice sound out, “The Emperor is going to be furious…”
At those words, Sylvain immediately inclined his head in a respectful bow.
“It seems to me…” the Archmagister said slowly in his gentle voice, “that all this activity by the Beast Patriarch was never truly meant to break through the front lines.”
Salazar merely clicked his tongue irritably in response.
He continued staring toward the open gates of the Palace, while the spear tip slowly scraped across the shattered stone of the staircase.
“I told the Emperor…” the General muttered. “For the past six months, those beasts have been acting far too strangely.”
He adjusted his glasses slightly with a finger.
“Too many minor attacks. Too many pointless provocations along the border. They were clearly preparing something.”
A heavy silence hung in the air for several seconds.
Then Salazar unexpectedly spoke again, without even turning toward the burning city:
“All the freshly spilled blood in the Capital must be collected. Since this tragedy has already occurred… it should at least bring some benefit to the Empire.”
Salazar clicked his tongue irritably once more.
It seemed that what had happened bothered him far more than he was letting on.
“Contact the City Magistrate,” the General said calmly. “Have them begin recording the casualties and calculating compensation for the families of the deceased.”
He adjusted his glasses again, glancing toward the nearest temple, and added, “And speak with the priests. Have them prepare a citywide period of mourning and a memorial service.”
But in the next moment, Salazar unexpectedly fell silent.
The General turned his head slightly toward the Archmagisters, and then a strange, almost unnatural smile appeared on his face.
“Please,” he added in a tone as though his previous words had not been orders, but a polite request.
Seraphina merely nodded respectfully in response.
“I will take care of it,” she replied shortly. “As for you…”
But she never finished.
At that very moment, all four Archmagisters and Salazar himself flinched slightly, and their expressions changed almost in unison.
Several Elders and Magisters behind them exchanged puzzled glances.
They had clearly noticed the simultaneous change in the Archmagisters’ and Salazar’s expressions, yet no one dared ask questions.
Almost immediately, however, Al-Hakim’s calm voice sounded out: “Let us deal with Mor’zak first.”
The Archmagister slowly closed his cracked grimoire and turned toward Salazar.
“Those under our care will carry out your orders,” he said calmly, shifting his gaze to the General. “You have no objections, General?”
Salazar merely gave a short nod.
He did not even glance toward the Elders and Magisters.
“See that everything is done quickly and efficiently,” the General commanded coldly. “All those affected must be fully compensated by the Empire.”
With those words, he headed toward the entrance of the Imperial Palace, dragging the long black spear behind him. The tip scraped across the shattered stone of the staircase with a grating sound, leaving a deep furrow.
“At the memorial service, I will personally offer my apologies to all the citizens,” Salazar added with complete seriousness. “And every soldier who failed to detect the preparations for the slave revolt will be severely punished.”
The Archmagisters gave no response and silently followed Salazar toward the open gates of the Imperial Palace.
But in the next moment, they once again flinched almost imperceptibly, then nearly simultaneously turned their heads toward the unconscious Kael.
Al-Hakim narrowed his eyes slightly before unexpectedly turning around and striding toward the youth. Crouching beside him, he calmly slipped his arms beneath Kael’s back and knees, preparing to lift him.
Cornelius immediately blinked in confusion.
“Archmagister… what are you…”
“It seems his condition has worsened slightly,” Al-Hakim interrupted calmly. “I will personally take care of him.”
That sounded somewhat strange.
Especially now, when Mor’zak was still inside the Imperial Palace. Several Elders exchanged involuntary glances, clearly unable to understand why Al-Hakim had suddenly decided to personally take charge of some Academy student.
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But the confusion was almost immediately interrupted by Guro’s irritated voice, “Stop sitting around doing nothing. You were given a clear task.”
The Archmagister’s words instantly brought everyone back to their senses.
The Elders and Magisters quickly split into groups while simultaneously lighting paper communication talismans. One mana light after another flared into existence in the air as the artisans began contacting the City Magistrate, the Temples, and the medical units.
Movement resumed around the ruined staircase.
But now it was no longer the chaos of battle—it was the heavy, methodical work of the Empire, striving to suppress the consequences of the catastrophe as quickly as possible.
The Archmagisters, meanwhile, did not stop.
The moment they entered the Imperial Palace, the enormous doors behind them began to close slowly. A heavy rumble sounded, and then the doors slammed shut with a deafening crash, completely cutting off the noise of the burning Capital.
Only then did Seraphina finally shift her gaze to Kael.
For the first time in a long while, genuine confusion appeared on her face.
“Why is the Shadow of the Throne interested in this boy at all?” she asked, bewildered.
Even Sylvain narrowed his eyes slightly.
Guro unexpectedly gave a quiet snort, then looked at Al-Hakim with a trace of envy.
“You should reward Elder Cornelius,” the old man said. “He recruited a very promising youngster for your Guild…”
✦ ✦ ✦
And at that very moment, deep within the Imperial Palace, inside the vault of the Imperial Bloodline Source, almost absolute silence reigned.
In the middle of the enormous underground hall stood a man clad in long black robes.
His head was completely concealed beneath a hood, and only an angular golden mask glimmered in the dim crimson light.
The gigantic bony spine still hung above him.
Dozens of massive vertebrae slowly emitted dense red mist, while enormous black chains continued suspending the ancient artifact in the air. The crimson mana within the chamber was so dense that the air itself seemed viscous.
But now the spine was not the only thing bound in chains.
Directly before the man, suspended above the ground, hung Mor’zak.
Golden chains pierced straight through his body.
They seemed to emerge directly from the old beastman’s bones—from his shoulders, spine, ribs, and even his skull. It looked as though the chains were not merely restraining him, but had literally grown into his body, permanently binding flesh, bone, and soul together.
The other ends of the chains extended toward small magic circles suspended in the air around Mor’zak. The runes within them rotated slowly, and Mor’zak himself looked horrifying.
Half of his body was covered in deep wounds and burns, while his jade hand lay far off to one side, covered in cracks.
Letting out a heavy rasp, Mor’zak slowly raised his head.
For the first time in a very long while, his cloudy eyes held not rage, but genuine disbelief.
“Why…” he rasped in the beastfolk’s tongue. “Why is a monster like you here?”
He suddenly coughed, spitting a thick clot of blood onto the stone, and the golden chains embedded within his body immediately tightened, forcing the beastman to bare his teeth in pain.
“If you are on the Empire’s side…” Mor’zak continued heavily. “Why have you still not driven us from the Human Dimension?”
The man in the golden mask calmly looked up at him.
Not a single emotion showed in either his posture or his voice.
“I am on the Empire’s side?” he repeated evenly in flawless beastfolk’s language. “That interpretation distorts reality far too much.”
For several seconds, silence once again settled over the underground hall.
Red mist slowly drifted between the chains and columns, while the gigantic bony spine above them continued emitting its heavy crimson mana.
Then the masked man thoughtfully raised his gaze toward the Imperial Bloodline Source.
“The Human Dimension… just like your Beastfolk Dimension…” he said calmly. “They are merely pieces of a much larger game.”
The man in the golden mask fell silent in thought for several seconds.
Then he unexpectedly said, “I myself… am, in a sense, merely another piece on that board.”
For the first time, something akin to faint weariness slipped into his calm voice.
A moment later, an ironic chuckle came from beneath the mask.
“And no matter how much I might wish otherwise, I cannot directly interfere with the game,” the man continued calmly. “Otherwise, my ‘piece,’ along with the ‘pieces’ of my allies, would be discovered and destroyed very quickly.”
Mor’zak merely narrowed his eyes in response.
Despite his grievous wounds and the chains piercing his body, the wary vigilance of a predator still remained in the beastman’s cloudy gaze.
“If you’re truly so secretive…” Mor’zak rasped. “Then why not simply kill me?”
The man in the golden mask only laughed quietly.
“Do you think I’m an idiot?” he asked calmly.
Then the man slowly turned his head toward the captive beastman.
“Pieces of your stature almost always carry a Death-Sealing Spell,” he said evenly. “After all, it’s always pleasant to learn exactly who killed your General, and by what method.”
At those words, Mor’zak’s eyelids twitched almost imperceptibly.
Meanwhile, the masked man continued, “Unfortunately, I am not particularly skilled at removing such spells. Therefore, before your death, both you and your soul will be studied very carefully.”
Mor’zak’s face instantly twisted with rage.
He jerked forward sharply, causing the golden chains to tighten immediately. Several of the beastman’s bones cracked unpleasantly, and blood once again poured from his wounds.
But the masked man did not move so much as an inch.
“Blame only yourself and your Patriarch,” he said calmly.
Then he slowly raised a hand toward the gigantic spine floating above the hall.
“You could have stolen anything from the Imperial Palace… except this.”
The red mist churned heavily around the chains.
“In that case, you would have escaped without difficulty,” the man continued. “And most likely, you would never even have learned of my existence.”
Mor’zak was already about to snarl something furious in reply when the vault doors suddenly swung open, and five figures quickly entered.
And the moment the Archmagisters and Salazar saw what was happening, all of them almost simultaneously dropped to one knee.
“We greet you, Shadow of the Throne!”
The man in the golden mask merely nodded calmly.
“The events of today are the greatest failure of your generation,” he said evenly. “Had I not been here…”
But Salazar immediately lowered his head even further and spoke sternly, as though delivering a sentence upon himself, “We will accept any punishment!”
The Shadow of the Throne merely grunted quietly in response before shifting his gaze to the unconscious Kael in Al-Hakim’s arms.
“And if not for this boy…” he added calmly. “You would not even have realized that spies had infiltrated the Imperial Palace.”
A heavy silence immediately settled over the hall.
Al-Hakim lowered his head without hesitation.
“Truly, this brings shame upon us,” the Archmagister admitted calmly. “This youth is a future ward of the Scholars’ Guild. I will personally ensure that he is properly rewarded and that his deed is honored.”
“Bring him here,” the Shadow of the Throne said evenly. “You did a poor job providing first aid.”
With those words, the man in the golden mask made a slight gesture with his hand.
And in the next moment, Kael’s body gently rose into the air, slowly drifting toward him.
At that moment, Mor’zak, without taking his cloudy gaze off the floating Kael, unexpectedly rasped in the beastfolk’s language, “Had I known a monster like you was hiding here… I would have killed this boy first…”
Several of the Archmagisters immediately frowned, unable to understand what had been said.
But the Shadow of the Throne, it seemed, understood the beastman perfectly.
“A reasonable desire,” he said calmly. “After all, this youth knows your secret tongue.”
However, in the next moment, the Shadow of the Throne narrowed his eyes slightly, while inwardly adding, “Though I myself do not understand how this boy knows it… If I had not personally seen the assessment of his soul… I would have assumed he was a Shard.”
At that moment, the Shadow of the Throne sharply waved his hand.
The clothing over Kael’s chest instantly tore apart, revealing skin covered in burns and bruises. The black traces of Aiden’s lightning still spread across his chest and shoulders, while some of his mana channels looked dangerously damaged.
Then the man raised his other hand.
A small crystal vial containing a pearlescent liquid immediately appeared in the air.
The moment the stopper vanished, the contents slowly flowed downward toward Kael. But the liquid did not spill onto his body. Instead, it hung in the air, gathering into a perfectly smooth sphere opposite the youth’s solar plexus.
The pearlescent mass slowly rotated, emitting a soft glow.
The Shadow of the Throne calmly touched the sphere with two fingers.
And in the next moment, the liquid abruptly spread into a thin layer over Kael’s body, rapidly beginning to cover his skin.
The Shadow of the Throne calmly watched as the pearlescent liquid flowed across Kael’s body.
The thin glowing layer gradually covered the youth’s chest, shoulders, and neck, while the black lightning burns visibly began healing before their eyes. The damaged skin slowly healed, and Kael’s breathing, which had previously been heavy and ragged, gradually became steadier.
“That’s better…” the Shadow of the Throne murmured quietly.
His gaze slowly moved upward.
But the moment it reached Kael’s neck, the man’s hand suddenly froze.
For just an instant.
Yet even that was enough for Salazar and the Archmagisters to immediately become alert.
The Shadow of the Throne himself seemed to go still for a brief moment, staring intently at something in the area of Kael’s neck.
But in the very next second, the man calmly looked away as though nothing had happened.
“Check Mor’zak for a Death-Sealing Spell,” he said evenly, addressing the Archmagisters. “Then begin rebuilding the Capital.”
The red mist drifted lazily around the golden chains.
“As for your punishment, we will consider it later.”
And with those words, the golden chains suddenly detached from the magic circles suspended in the air.
A heavy metallic clang rang out.
Mor’zak’s body dropped sharply downward, but before the beastman could hit the floor, the chains seemed to come alive. They instantly coiled around his arms, legs, chest, and neck, completely binding his body like gigantic serpents.
Mor’zak thrashed furiously, but the chains only bit deeper into his flesh in response.
General Salazar immediately sprang into motion.
He effortlessly picked up the barely alive beastman with one hand as though he weighed nothing at all, then respectfully bowed his head to the Shadow of the Throne.
“I will personally take care of everything,” the General said seriously, adjusting his glasses. “And once again, I offer my apologies.”
The Shadow of the Throne merely gave a brief nod.
Then his gaze calmly swept across the faces of the Archmagisters.
Seraphina, Sylvain, and even Guro now looked slightly puzzled. All of them kept involuntarily glancing at Kael, having clearly noticed the Shadow of the Throne’s strange reaction a few moments earlier.
But the man in the golden mask calmly said, “Al-Hakim, remain outside the doors. I will heal the boy a little more, and then you may take him.”
Al-Hakim immediately bowed his head.
“As you command.”
With those words, all five of them rose.
Salazar was the first to turn toward the exit, dragging the chain-bound Mor’zak behind him. Seraphina, Sylvain, and Guro quickly followed. Al-Hakim lingered for only a moment, casting one final glance at the unconscious Kael before silently leaving the vault as well.
The heavy doors slowly closed behind them, and near-absolute silence once again settled over the enormous underground hall.
For several more seconds, the Shadow of the Throne calmly looked at the floating Kael before him.
Then he slowly raised a hand and touched the pendant hanging around the youth’s neck.
At that very moment, the man in the golden mask abruptly froze.
“The Soul-Veiling Amulet...” For the first time in a very long while, genuine disbelief sounded in his voice. “How did this thing even end up here…”
For several seconds, the hall fell completely silent.
Then a thin stream of mana slowly flowed from the Shadow of the Throne’s palm into Kael’s body.
It moved with incredible caution.
The man’s mana entered Kael’s body and traveled through his channels, organs, bones, and even his Mana Core, meticulously examining every detail. The Shadow of the Throne’s control was frighteningly precise.
Yet the longer the inspection continued, the deeper his frown became.
“No spiritual marks…” the man murmured quietly. “No traces of affiliation with secret organizations… Not even any residual contracts…”
His gaze slowly lowered to Kael’s Mana Core.
And at that moment, a hint of confusion appeared in the Shadow of the Throne’s voice for the first time.
“Moreover…” he said thoughtfully. “He truly is only a Channelweaver Mage…”
And the moment those words were spoken, a wild thought suddenly flashed through the Shadow of the Throne’s mind.
“No…” flashed through his mind. “That’s impossible…”
The Shadow of the Throne immediately touched the amulet, channeling a small amount of mana into it, and then very carefully removed it from Kael’s neck.
At the same moment, a small yellowed piece of parchment appeared in the man’s other hand—the Soul Definition Talisman.
The Shadow of the Throne did not hesitate.
He quickly pressed the talisman against Kael’s forehead and infused it with a bit of mana.
In the next instant, the inscriptions on the parchment immediately flared to life.
No eyes could be seen within the sockets of the golden mask.
But the moment the inscriptions on the Soul Definition Talisman began forming a complete pattern, a faint glimmer seemed to ignite within the mask.
The Shadow of the Throne simply froze, and his breathing stopped.
For a brief moment, the man seemed to forget how to breathe altogether. The entire underground hall sank into absolute silence, broken only by the hissing of ink upon the parchment.
Only after several seconds did the Shadow of the Throne slowly draw a deep breath, as though he had witnessed something impossible.
“A breath of Fate…” he murmured, barely audible. “Or an inconceivable coincidence?”
For several seconds, the man simply stared at the paper talisman.
Then he very carefully removed it from Kael’s forehead and just as cautiously returned the Soul-Veiling Amulet to his neck.
The moment the artifact touched the youth’s skin, the Shadow of the Throne immediately activated the amulet, restoring the concealment of Kael’s Soul Form.
The Shadow of the Throne felt his hand tremble slightly as emotions began threatening to overwhelm him.
At that very moment, he drew a deep breath and said to himself inwardly, “Do not harbor false hopes…”
It seemed as though the Shadow of the Throne had cast some sort of spell, for his emotions quickly faded, restoring his clarity of thought.
“The millstones of fate are far too cruel. Twice already, they have ground to dust those who might have changed something…”
With that thought, the Shadow of the Throne finally calmed himself.
He raised his hand once more, continuing to direct the healing elixir into Kael’s body, and then calmly said, “I do not know how you learned of the Soul-Veiling Amulet… But it is good that you at least understand the value of your own life and tried to protect it.”
It was impossible to see the Shadow of the Throne’s face or emotions beneath the golden mask, yet a strange solemnity had appeared in his voice.
“If this truly is your fate…” he said quietly, as though recalling something. “I do not think you have any idea what awaits you ahead.”
Meanwhile, the pearlescent liquid had almost completely absorbed into Kael’s body. Most of the burns had vanished, the youth’s breathing had fully steadied, and his damaged mana channels were gradually stabilizing.
The Shadow of the Throne slowly ran a hand through Kael’s hair.
The gesture looked almost fatherly, and somehow out of place for a man feared even by Generals and Archmagisters.
“You will have to become much stronger,” he continued calmly. “Far stronger than you can currently imagine.”
Lifting Kael into his arms and beginning to walk toward the exit of the hall, the Shadow of the Throne added quietly:
“Perhaps one day you will consider me cruel… But in the Human Dimension, there is only one viable path to power for you.”
His voice grew colder.
“If you cannot endure even that… then you would be better off quietly perishing here, on the fringes of the Mortal World…”
