I sat on the edge of my bed, the training sword across my lap, still dusty from earlier. The room was quiet, just the soft creak of wood and the fading light slipping through the window. My arms were sore, and my legs still felt heavy from all the footwork drills. But even tired, I couldn’t stop thinking about this morning—about how easily Cassie moved during our duel. She wasn’t flashy or loud about it, just... good. Really good. Way better than I expected. And way better than .
I wanted to catch up. Not because I felt embarrassed—okay, maybe a little, but because I didn’t want to be the guy she had to go easy on. I wanted to give her a real match next ti. Sothing she’d take seriously. She had trusted enough to show that side of her, and the least I could do was be soone who deserved to see it again.
I was contemplating all of it, standing in the middle of my room, when a voice, low and clear, cut through the quiet.
"Hey."
My head snapped towards the window. I imdiately recognized the voice. Herald. A familiar surge of dread and apprehension filled . He was here.
He sat on the window fra, his back resting casually against the sill, as if he were rely perched on a park bench. His black cloak, pulled tight around him, covered most of his facial appearance, but I could still discern his visible facial features, even though it was partially obscured by the shadows of his hood. The outdoor breeze, gentle in the manor, seed to billow his cloak inwards. He was clearly aura farming, as discreetly described in the novel
His head tilted slightly, his voice calm, yet laced with an undeniable edge of expectation. "Have you made your decision?"
I knew exactly what he was talking about. His demand that I beco his disciple, his hand in the war against the cult. My mind raced, trying to formulate a response, a way to decline without provoking his him. My initial plan was to tell him no, to explain that the risks outweighed the rewards, that I sought peace, not war. I wanted to throw him off guard, to buy myself ti.
"Decision about what?" I asked, framing ignorance, my voice as casual as I could make it.
Herald’s head snapped up, "Don’t play smart with , boy. I’m running out of patience." He spoke slowly and deliberately.
Then, with a fluid, almost casual movent, he unsheathed his sword. It was a broad blade, surprisingly wide and long, far too large for any normal person to wield with such ease. Its tal seed to absorb the light, its edge impossibly sharp. Seeing it upfront, knowing its potential, a single strike from that weapon would an the end of .
"Answer yes," Herald continued, his voice calm, yet utterly devoid of rcy, "and beco my disciple and my hand in the Academy. Or answer no, and I have to strike you here and now, even if it ans killing soone with an ability that may help finally beat the cult."
I wasn’t surprised by his ultimatum. Not truly. From his brutal display in the courtyard, his effortless slaughter of the guards, his casual beheading of Lord Sapphire – it was clear he was primal-minded. He would resort to violence rather than reason once things didn’t go his way. He was a force of nature, a being driven by an ancient vendetta, and he would eliminate any obstacle, any potential risk, without hesitation. My "special abilities" might be useful to him, but they wouldn’t save if I defied him.
"Why?" I asked, my voice barely a whisper, though I already knew the answer.
Herald’s lips curved into a grim, humorless smile. "Isn’t it obvious? You have seen my face. And now you know a little too much about . It would be too much of a risk to let you go without being my hand. A loose end, Kai Lorne, is an unacceptable liability."
My mind raced, a whirlwind of thoughts, calculations, and desperate plans. He was right. I was a loose end. He wouldn’t let walk away. My current situation was dire. I had zero Override Points. Completely vulnerable. I couldn’t activate ’Pause & Observe,’ couldn’t use ’Scene Override.’ I was clearly no match for him in a direct confrontation. He would kill without a second thought.
But then, the thought of Narrative Redaction flashed in my mind. My trump card. The power to literally erase soone from existence. It was out of reach now, yes, but it was there. It was a possibility. It was my ultimate escape clause.
A cold, calculating resolve settled over . I would agree. I would beco his disciple. I would go to the Academy. I would learn from him, gather information, and bide my ti. And then, when the mont was right, when I had accumulated enough Override Points, when I had increased ’Narrative Influence,’ I would use Narrative Redaction. I would erase Herald from existence.
He couldn’t live. His re existence was trouble. He was a magnet for danger, a walking, talking target for the cult, and soone like him would surely lead to my early death. He was too unpredictable, too ruthless, too powerful to be allowed to roam freely, dragging into his centuries-old war. He was a threat to my survival, a greater threat than even the cult itself, because he controlled my destiny. He was a ticking ti bomb, and I needed to defuse him. Permanently.
My face, which had been pale with fear, now settled into a mask of grim determination. I looked at Herald, eting his unwavering gaze.
"Very well," I said, my voice steady, devoid of any hint of fear or reluctance. "I will beco your disciple. I will be your hand in the Academy."
He nodded slowly, a faint, almost imperceptible smile touching his lips. "A wise choice, boy. You will not regret it."
"But before we begin, Master," I said, letting my tone carry a quiet reverence, "may I ask sothing minor? You called yourself the Herald of Eudenia—but surely that’s a title, not the man. What na did the world first give you?"
My eyes held his, steady but respectful. Not pressing. Not threatening. Just... curious. After all, nas have weight. And I needed his to erase him.
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