"I saw the blood move," a boy whispered. "Like it was crawling."
"It’s just a high-rank beast," Rhun said too quickly. "A... a rogue predator. Mana corruption, maybe. These things... happen."
"But not like this," an elder said, her voice hollow.
Then—another scream.
***
After So Ti....
Knock. Knock. Knock.
Everyone in the council hall froze. Mothers clutched their children tighter. A blade was half-drawn.
Then—a voice. Muffled, polite, with an almost absurd cheer.
"Excuse ...? Hello? I’m here to help."
Several people stared at the door, wide-eyed.
One of the older n whispered,
"That’s... not what evil sounds like, is it?"
"Maybe it’s a clever evil," soone else muttered.
Another knock. "I promise I’m not a bandit. Just passing by, heard... a lot of screaming."
After a tense pause, soone dared to slide open the small viewing slot in the door.
Outside stood a boy. Perhaps nineteen. Impossibly handso.
Windswept black hair, high-collared academy robes, a calm smile like nothing in the world could touch him.
"Hi," he said pleasantly.
"Na’s Eiden Ravencourt. Rank 2 Magician, Royal Academy. Here’s my ID badge. Holographic seal included.
I, uh... don’t suppose soone could tell why the mountain is bleeding?"
Inside the hall: gasps.
Shuffling. A woman whispered like she was seeing a holy relic.
"Royal Academy... O my gods... a young master!"
"Let him in!"
The door was flung open, and Eiden stepped in with casual grace, giving a modest nod as if being sward by terrified commoners was a weekly occurrence.
"Thank you," he said. "Sorry to intrude."
Before he could even close the door—
The sound of hooves. Heavy. asured. Too many.
A hush fell over the already-frightened villagers.
The black carriage rolled into view, silver inlay curled across the doors in the unmistakable crest of House Drenlor.
Then, silence.
Boots struck the ground—one pair, then another.
Twenty in total.
Knight-magicians.
Clad in light armor etched with glyphs. Robes tucked beneath tal.
Rank 1s. A few Rank 2s. The real ones.
And then, last to descend—
....Aerik Drenlor.
Once the pride of House Drenlor. Now a fallen noble, dragged from the filth of prison and thrown into a blood-soaked mountain to die quietly.
He hadn’t forgotten.
Not the duel.
Not the laughter.
Not the way the crowd turned from cheering his na... to mocking it.
He had been humiliated.
His father locked him away days later.
"For reflection," he’d said. "For reform."
Now, a monster stirred on Mount Veilspire... and the sa father had sent him here.
Not with glory. Not with purpose.
But to be sacrificed.
Aerik stepped from the carriage, twenty knight-magicians behind him, and looked up at the mountain.
He recoiled.
The whole slope shimred dark red, like the stone itself bled. The stench reached even here—copper and rot, thick in the air.
He swallowed bile.
I’ll go up, survey, co back down. Nothing more.
He squared his shoulders and entered the village council hall.
Inside: fear. Panic.
Children sobbing, n whispering. A broken little hole of humanity on the edge of hell.
Good.
They would rember the na Drenlor again.
He strode forward with arrogance polished sharp by years of bitterness.
"Give a report," he snapped at the nearest villager.
But then—he paused.
He noticed soone seated off to the side. A boy.
His back to him.
Unmoving. Relaxed. Disrespectful.
Aerik’s jaw tightened. A peasant brat, maybe one of the self-proclaid mages who thought wearing Academy robes made them soone.
He stepped forward, fury rising. He would put this one in his place.
He reached out and grabbed the boy’s shoulder.
"You—"
The boy turned.
Aerik’s eyes widened.
This wasn’t just any mage passing through.
This was Eiden Ravencourt—the son of the Royal Academy’s headmaster.
A man whose na carried weight no one dared challenge.
Aerik swallowed hard.
Eiden smiled faintly, eyes calm and unreadable.
"Hello. I’m Eiden Ravencourt. I hope you rember my na."
Aerik repeated the na quietly to himself, his lips barely moving. He nodded stiffly. He understood Eiden didn’t want to reveal too much here—no titles, no privileges, no royal airs.
Eiden’s smile grew slightly sharper.
"So, you’re the reinforcent. Good. Let’s go."
Aerik wanted to scream.
He had only planned to glance at the mountain, gather information, and leave. But now, with this boy—the headmaster’s son—leading the way, he knew it wouldn’t be that simple.
He clenched his fists. The weight of his past failures pressed down hard, but there was no turning back.
"Lead the way," Aerik said through gritted teeth.
Eiden turned and strode toward the door.
Aerik followed, the heavy silence filled only by the distant screams from Mount Veilspire.
###
Kael was panting.
Sweat clung to his neck, blood soaked his boots, but he was still laughing—low, breathless, manic. The mountain reeked of death.
Drenched in it. A red mist hung in the air.
Yue hovered nearby, hovering just beyond the blood-slicked rocks, her expression tight with concern.
"You’re really losing it," she muttered, voice brittle. "Kael, look at yourself."
Kael turned his head slowly, eyes wide and glassy.
His hands were stained up to the elbows, his blade now more red than steel. And at his feet, still—still—the black stone pulsed, hungrily absorbing the spreading pool of beast blood like a sponge.
Yue’s voice cut sharper now.
"That’s enough! You’ve killed too many. This much blood—it’ll draw sothing. A higher-ranked beast. Or worse... a magician."
Kael blinked. Then turned and looked over the grotesque scene he’d created—piles of mangled beast corpses, their forms twisted and unrecognizable.
Slaughter. Gore. Guts steaming in the cold air.
He let out a breathless laugh. "Maybe I did get overboard."
He crouched beside the black egg, eyes narrowing.
"How much do you want, you bastard?"
The stone pulsed faster.
Still drinking. Still hungering.
The earth beneath it now soaked crimson, but the egg—the thing inside—had no intention of stopping.
Kael’s smile faded. Just a little.
Even he could feel it now.
Sothing awake.
And then... it stopped.
The blood no longer vanished beneath the egg.
Kael held his breath. Yue went rigid beside him.
Then—
Crack.
Reviews
All reviews (0)