Shadow Weaver: Sole Heir Of The Night-Chapter 190: Untitled

"Hmm, quite the view..."

Standing atop the highest tower connected to the massive castle, Zeke muttered under his breath as the cold wind brushed past his face. Below him, Windhelm stretched endlessly, roofs glazed in silver frost, streets lined with banners that fluttered like proud war trophies. The entire city shimmered beneath a pale sun, frozen yet alive.

Just yesterday they had clawed their way out of the suffocating dark of the under dark, where corruption clung to every breath and shadows felt alive. The memory of that damp, whispering abyss still lingered in his chest.

And today?

They stood within the most magnificent castle in the Ice Kingdom, surrounded by marble towers and crystalline bridges that reflected the sky like mirrors carved from glaciers.

"I know right? These rich people are too extravagant."

Enzo stood beside him, arms folded as he squinted at the sprawling courtyards below. Servants moved like ants across polished stone, guards in gleaming armor stood at every entrance, and fountains carved from ice sculptures shimmered without melting.

He clicked his tongue quietly.

As a slum rat who once counted copper coins before daring to buy bread, he could not help himself. He was already converting the castle into time units in his head.

How many lifetimes of labor would it take to build this?

How many starving children could have eaten from the gold lining just one banquet hall?

It was a staggering amount.

"Hehe, they are, aren’t they?" Zeke mocked lightly, though his eyes remained sharp.

He noticed Raven and Leon approaching from the far end of the terrace, their noble attire flowing with practiced elegance. The fabric alone probably cost more than entire districts back home.

Raven walked with the calm confidence of someone who had grown up under chandeliers instead of broken rooftops. Leon followed beside him, posture straight, expression measured.

These two were not strangers to royal halls and political smiles.

After all, they were royalty themselves.

"You guys should behave yourself today. The other competitors will be arriving soon." Raven’s voice was steady, almost gentle, but there was weight beneath it.

This was not just another hunt.

The Hunter Games were far more than blood and spectacle. They were the silent battlefield where alliances were forged, grudges were settled, and futures were decided.

Whichever faction claimed victory would tilt the balance of power for years to come.

And whoever won personally would earn more than cheers.

They would gain the favor of the High God.

They would command the loyalty of the royal guard in matters where words failed and steel spoke.

"Just keep your head down. You don’t need to say much," Leon added calmly as they turned and walked toward the grand hall.

His tone was casual, but his eyes lingered on Zeke and Enzo a moment longer.

Inside, the massive doors creaked open, revealing a chamber large enough to swallow a village whole. Pillars of carved ice reached toward a domed ceiling painted with ancient battles and divine figures.

The air smelled faintly of incense and cold stone.

Two groups had already formed on opposite sides of the room.

One side wore deep blue cloaks stitched with silver insignias, their expressions proud and unyielding.

The other stood in dark crimson, eyes sharp, whispers low and calculating.

When Zeke’s group entered, the murmurs shifted.

A third cluster began to form, separate yet impossible to ignore. 𝗳𝐫𝚎𝗲𝚠𝚎𝗯𝕟𝐨𝘃𝚎𝗹.𝗰𝗼𝗺

For a brief moment, silence hung in the air like the pause before a blade left its sheath.

Zeke felt it then.

The weight of expectation.

The pressure of unseen eyes judging, measuring, waiting.

He inhaled slowly, the chill of the castle filling his lungs.

From crawling through corrupted tunnels to standing beneath painted gods in a palace of ice.

What a strange path this life had taken.

""Hmpf. Freedom Party."

From the group clad in deep crimson, a young man sneered openly at the sight of Raven and her cronies. His lips curled with undisguised contempt, his chin lifted just enough to make the insult deliberate. The others beside him did not stop him. If anything, their silence encouraged it.

They hated this group like nothing imaginable.

The Freedom Party had a reputation that traveled faster than their footsteps. Loud, reckless, unbound by the quiet etiquette that chained most nobles. They laughed when others whispered, acted when others debated, and left chaos in places that preferred order.

And worst of all, they had won the previous Hunter Games.

That single victory had elevated them from a troublesome faction to one of the most powerful forces in the kingdom. Favor from the High God, influence among the royal guard, and leverage in court.

Power wrapped in unpredictability.

"Keep your hands to yourself, and your comments tight lipped. We don’t need trouble."

Leon’s voice was low, but it carried the weight of someone accustomed to being obeyed. He did not look at the crimson group when he spoke, yet the message was clear.

The royals already had enough political tension woven into the royal guard. Alliances shifted like snow in a storm, and even a misplaced smile could be interpreted as betrayal.

But the Freedom Party did not belong to that web.

They were an independent force, bound loosely to the crown and tightly to their own ideals. They did not need to bow to every tradition or tiptoe around every rule. That freedom made them dangerous.

"Who’s that?" Enzo asked quietly, leaning closer to Raven while keeping his gaze on the young man whose eyes still burned with disdain.

Raven’s status within the kingdom was not small.

Very few people could look at her that way without consequence.

"He’s the son of Prince Longdan. One of my stepbrothers." Raven’s expression did not change as she spoke, though her voice cooled slightly.

The royal family tree was muddled beyond simple explanation. Branches overlapped, alliances were sealed through strategic marriages, and half siblings often felt more like rivals than kin.

The young man’s features carried the sharp arrogance of someone raised with constant reassurance of his own importance. His robes were embroidered with the dragon crest of Longdan’s lineage, thread shimmering faintly under the chandelier light.

Enzo let out a quiet whistle under his breath.

"So that’s family," he muttered.

Zeke watched the exchange without speaking. The tension between them was not the heated rage of strangers. It was colder. Sharper. The kind that grew over years of comparison, competition, and silent resentment at banquet tables.

Across the hall, the prince’s son did not look away.

His stare was a challenge.

Unfortunately, he wasn’t the only one who bore malice in this room.

At the far end of the hall, partially veiled by towering pillars of carved frost, another group sat in silence. They were draped in dark robes that swallowed the light, their figures stiff and unmoving. Strange layers of dark ice encased portions of their bodies, crawling along their shoulders and arms like frozen armor grown rather than forged.

The frost did not melt. It pulsed faintly, as if something beneath it breathed.

Their faces were hidden, but their presence pressed against the senses. Cold, heavy, watchful.

Zeke felt it immediately.

This was not simple political rivalry.

This was something else.

While Raven and the rest stood waiting, Minister Fin approached from one of the side corridors, his long coat sweeping against the polished floor. Beside him walked Marquee John, adorned in ceremonial robes lined with pale fur, his expression solemn and unreadable. Several other divine beings followed behind them, their auras restrained yet impossible to ignore.

The grand hall stretched endlessly beneath a domed ceiling of crystal glass. Chandeliers of enchanted ice hung above, casting fractured light across banners and polished armor. The murmur of nobles and competitors filled the space like a restless tide.

"All rise. The High God has descended."

A familiar voice rang out sharply.

Captain Vincent of the royal guard stepped forward, armor gleaming beneath the chandelier glow. His posture was rigid, his expression carved from discipline itself.

The room shifted instantly.

Conversations died. Breaths were held. Even the air felt thinner.

The massive doors behind the throne opened slowly, the sound echoing across the hall like distant thunder.

She walked in without haste.

The woman who entered did not radiate blinding light nor overwhelming spectacle. Yet every step she took seemed to silence the world further. Her presence alone bent the atmosphere, as though reality acknowledged her authority.

She reached the throne and sat.

She did not glance at the gathered nobles.

Did not acknowledge the princes.

Did not spare even a flicker of interest toward the competitors who would soon fight in her name.

To her, they were already beneath notice.

"Presiding over today will be the three princes of the kingdom, surnamed Long, Blizzard, and Tempest."

Vincent bowed deeply toward the High God before turning back to address the assembly, his voice steady despite the tension thick in the air.

Three figures stepped forward from elevated seats along the sides of the hall. Each bore distinct colors and crests, their expressions carrying pride sharpened by expectation.

The Hunter Games were never merely about survival.

They were a declaration.

A contest watched by gods, nobles, and enemies alike.

Zeke felt his pulse steady rather than race.

Across the hall, the robed figures in dark ice remained seated, unmoving. The prince’s son still watched Raven with quiet hostility. The divine beings stood like distant mountains.

Everything had aligned.

The Hunter Games were about to commence.