The journey back to Caelmont was quieter than before. The sky had taken on a copper hue, and as the sun sank, the horizon seed to burn. Every few minutes, the stone in my pocket would give a faint tremor, as if reminding it was alive or, worse, aware.
From horseback, I could already see the city in the distance. When the vineyards reappeared, I slowed my pace. The workers were long gone; only the darkening rows of vines remained, swaying softly in the wind.
"One step closer…" I repeated my own words, but this ti, they didn't feel like mine. They sounded borrowed.
I stopped my horse and placed a hand over my chest, where the stone rested. My heartbeat was slower, heavier than before, as if each pulse was synchronizing with the rhythm of the stone.
It was faint, but I could feel sothing spreading from the stone into my veins like invisible threads branching outward. I recognized the sensation. I had felt it once before, when I first obtained the technique of the Demon God.
A power not my own, trying to decide whether to consu —or obey .
I exhaled slowly. "Not this ti," I whispered. "You will serve ."
The whispers stopped. For now.
By the ti I returned to the manor, the torches were already lit. The guards opened the gate at once, and I entered the courtyard. The servants ca rushing, but I waved them away. With the kind of power I carried, I didn't want anyone near .
Once inside my room, I locked the door and drew the curtains. The only light ca from the moon. I removed my gloves, unbuttoned my coat, and took out the stone.
When it rested in my palm, a pale glow seeped through my fingers. The light within its veins pulsed like the steady breath of so living thing; asured, deliberate, and yet deeply nacing.
I placed it on the table. The mont it touched the wooden surface, the room filled with a faint hum, almost imperceptible.
This was The Heart of the Blue Swirl, as it was called in the novel, a relic said to amplify a person's techniques.
Of course, it had limits. It could only be used three tis, and only once per technique. Even so, it was imnsely valuable. Not superbly valuable.
Those among the Superior Ones would not hesitate to wage war for such an artifact.
For now, I would use it on my technique, **Dark Judgnt**.
I sat down slowly. My hands still tingled with the echo of its pulse. Taking a quiet, deep breath, I looked at the object before . No magical material I had ever seen looked so… alive. Its glow didn't flicker. It flowed, imitating the rhythm of a heartbeat.
If it worked as the legends claid, my techniques wouldn't just grow stronger; my control over them would deepen.
I placed my hand over the stone. It had grown warr.
"Dark Judgnt," I whispered.
The mont the na left my lips, the light within the stone flared. A sharp burn shot through my veins. It was so intense that my knees trembled.
Black mist rose from my fingertips, drifting around the room before returning into
as if the stone had asured my power, adjusted it, and handed it back.
It lasted less than a minute. Then the light faded, and silence returned.
The stone had dulled, as if it had poured its energy into .
I breathed in and out. Sothing inside had changed, but this ti, it wasn't an alien force pressing in. It was control emanating from within.
The dark aspect of the technique no longer opposed ; it obeyed.
I opened my palm.
A small black mark had appeared there like a seal. It ant one use was spent. Two remained.
I wasn't fooling myself; each use would deepen the stone's hold over . But I had no choice. This was no longer about survival.
In this world, everyone was a pawn in soone else's ga.
I could use it on others soday, but for now, I would keep it hidden.
The silence lingered a while longer. My breathing slowed, my heartbeat steadied. Yet the air still thrumd faintly with the stone's vibration, as though it had seeped into the walls.
I stood up. The mark in my palm still burned; not hot or cold, just present. The stone on the table looked lifeless now, but I knew it was drawing mana from the surroundings, preparing for reuse.
I locked it away carefully. I'd simply have to rember to take it when I left.
I drew the curtains aside. Caelmont's lights shimred in the distance.
I could already feel that I had unlocked the first ability of Dark Judgnt, but I wasn't yet ready to test it.
Hands clasped behind my back, I looked out over the cobbled streets. Even at this hour, the traders' lanterns glowed like veins of gold winding through the city.
I closed my eyes, listening to the current within . Mana pulsed through my veins in a new rhythm; cold, sharp, yet obedient.
It was as if the technique had finally whispered its true na to .
The Demon God's gift.
And the thought of him reminded : there were still powerful beings I had to kill.
Perhaps I could if I were careful. But there was still a long road ahead.
The Superior Ones could wait for now.
I moved away from the table and slipped my gloves back on. My thoughts cald.
_Not yet,_ I told myself. I'm not ready to wield this power fully. Everything has its ti._
I turned toward the door and noticed sothing strange. The door, though closed, had no guards nearby. It opened with surprising silence. And there, standing with her back to , was a woman with white hair, seemingly lost in quiet debate with herself.
I recognized Rebecca imdiately; her lavender scent, her full figure.
I said nothing, just watched. She was muttering softly.
"Is this too much…? What if he doesn't like it…? Maybe I should've gotten sothing else…"
Her voice then shifted slightly, as if another version of herself had taken over.
"Pull yourself together, Rebecca. He'll like it. Even if he doesn't, he'll never show it. He's too kind for that."
Then her gentler voice returned. "That's exactly what I'm afraid of. If he pretends to like it when he doesn't, that's worse than his saying so."
I stepped closer, my footsteps silent, until only a few paces separated us. She still hadn't noticed . Her pale hair shimred like silver in the candlelight. She was holding a small box carefully wrapped, yet creased as if it had been opened and closed many tis.
"Rebecca," I whispered.
She flinched, spinning around. Her eyes widened, lips parted, but no sound ca out. The box nearly slipped from her hands; I stepped forward and caught it.
Our fingers brushed. Her hands were as cold as ever, but this ti, I felt a faint tremor. She tried to avert her gaze, but couldn't. Through her silver lashes, her eyes t mine, filled with that familiar blend of courtesy and shyness.
"You sneak up like an assassin," she breathed, her tone carrying the faintest trace of reproach.
"And you talk to yourself like a lunatic," I replied with a small smile. "We're even."
Rebecca's lips twitched. She wanted to say sothing, but the words wouldn't co. She took the box from my hands, pressed it to her chest, and stepped back.
"Let's go inside. I'll give it to you there." She entered swiftly, not waiting for permission.
I followed her in, closing the door behind . Standing before her, I saw her glance away as she motioned to the box.
"This… is just a small token," she said, her voice thinner than usual. "For agreeing to co to the duchy."
"A thank-you gift? Or just an excuse to show affection?"
Unable to withstand my gaze, she lowered her eyes. Tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, she smiled faintly.
"Maybe both," she said. "You decide which."
Her usual calm, composed deanor had given way to a fragile nervousness. Rebecca rarely showed emotion; every mont of closeness with her required patience like trying to ignite a spark beneath ice.
"May I look?" I asked, waiting for her to hand the box.
She hesitated, then nodded.
I lifted the lid carefully. Inside was no jewel, no glowing artifact, just sothing simple yet crafted with care: a small notebook, wrapped in dark blue cloth. The cover was bound in leather, the corners slightly worn but freshly polished.
I stared at it for a mont. Rebecca said nothing, as if the silence itself would reveal the aning.
"This…" I murmured, tracing the silver-threaded embroidery on the cover. It read:
'The Whispers of the Wind.'
Rebecca bit her lip. "Don't make fun of it."
"Make fun of it?" I raised an eyebrow. "You ca up with the na?"
"Yes."
"And why?"
Reluctantly, but compelled, she took a deep breath.
"Because…" she said, looking away, "I'm not good at expressing my feelings. I know that. It's caused trouble before. I've been misunderstood, lost people I didn't want to lose because of it."
Her voice trembled slightly on the last words.
"In this notebook," she continued, running her fingers along the box's edge, "I've written the things I wanted to say… but couldn't. About us."
In that mont, I realized once more how lonely Rebecca truly was. Strong, yes, but beneath that strength lay a heart full of unspoken things.
"Rebecca," I said gently, "you don't need to say anything. Why go through the trouble?"
She lifted her head. For the first ti, her eyes t mine without a mask.
"Because," she said quietly, "I don't want to lose you just because I can't express myself."
____________
Unfortunately, I haven't published any new chapters for a long ti as I was out of town. I apologise for this. I did have the ti to write, but I lacked the motivation. I had the opportunity to write new chapters, but each ti I could only manage to write a few sentences. That's why I didn't write any new chapters until I returned ho.
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