Chapter 49: The Pride of Zenith

I woke up to the sensation of cool, calloused fingers tracing the scars on my chest.

Sunlight filtered through the heavy curtains of the Obsidian Bungalow.

Kaelith was propped up on one elbow, watching me with a softness I had never seen in her dark eyes before.

"You survived the night," she teased, a lazy smile resting on her lips.

"Barely," I grunted. I pulled her close for a deep, lingering kiss.

"How do the shadows feel today?"

"Like they finally have a purpose," she answered quietly, resting her head against my shoulder.

"I am yours, Grik. Whoever we fight next, they will not even see my blades coming."

"Good," I said, sitting up and reaching for my clothes.

"Because peace in a place like this never lasts long. We need to stay sharp."

We got ready quickly. I had just finished securing the brass plating of my Vanguard Arm when a heavy knock echoed from the front gates.

It was a Royal Envoy.

He bowed deeply, a sign of our new status as Honorary Knights, and informed me that Prime Minister Hardsteel required my presence immediately.

I left Kaelith in the courtyard to practice the first forms of her new Shadow-Weave Sword Technique and followed the envoy to the Iron Estate.

Hardsteel was waiting in his private office, looking over a sprawling map of the city.

"How is Elara breathing this morning, Prime Minister?" I asked as I stepped into the room.

Hardsteel looked up, the deep tension around his organic eye visibly melting away.

"Like a normal child. The color in her cheeks is something I thought I would never see again."

"The turbine is holding its internal pressure, then?" I verified.

"Perfectly, and the medics claim her lungs are actively healing with every passing hour. The turbine is doing wonders. I believe you have many innovative ideas which will be useful for this Kingdom and its people."

"I am glad to hear it, but you did not summon me at this hour just to share medical updates," I said, crossing my arms.

Hardsteel chuckled dryly.

"No, I did not. You fixed the air in the upper districts, Grik. But the lower sewers are still flooded with decades of toxic runoff and corrupted mana. The pollution has bred a massive nest of mutated beasts we call Slag-Crawlers right beneath the industrial sector."

"You want an exterminator," I noted.

"I want a surgical strike," Hardsteel corrected.

"If I send the state army down there, it will cause a city-wide panic and halt our factory production. You and your squad operate in the shadows. Clear out the nest off the books. I will pay you handsomely, and you can keep any core materials you harvest."

I smiled.

A hidden, hostile environment full of mutated beasts was exactly the crucible I needed to break past my Level 10 limit.

"Consider it done," I told him.

"And as for those innovative ideas you mentioned... what if I told you that in the near future, we will develop technology advanced enough to harness the very power of the Sun as our source of energy?"

I revealed just a glimpse of my plans to the Prime Minister.

I had only shown him the tip of the iceberg.

The reason I shared this was because of the love he had shown his daughter.

He had someone to protect, and he would go to any length for her.

My words shocked him a little, but he maintained a perfect poker face.

"I am looking forward to seeing how you pull that off."

---

High above the grime and soot of the mortal kingdoms, the Zenith Academy floated in a state of eternal, decadent twilight.

Valerius Thorne sat on a throne of sculpted ivory, swirling a goblet of blood-red wine.

The Incubus Lord was the picture of aristocratic perfection.

His pale skin was flawless, his dark wings were folded neatly behind his back, and his eyes glowed with a lazy, hypnotic violet light.

But today, the air in his opulent chambers was thick with suffocating tension.

Kneeling on the marble floor before him was a cloaked figure.

It was a liaison from the Assassination Union, and the man was trembling so violently his leather armor rattled.

"Repeat that," Valerius commanded. His voice was soft, like silk wrapping around a blade.

The liaison swallowed hard, keeping his eyes glued to the floor.

"The contract is suspended, Lord Thorne. We have lost all jurisdiction in the Kingdom of Iron and Steam. Prime Minister Hardsteel himself invoked absolute State Protection over the target. Our hunters have been ordered to stand down or face open war with the Forge."

Valerius stopped swirling his wine.

His grip on the crystal goblet tightened until his knuckles turned white.

"State Protection," Valerius repeated slowly, letting the words roll off his tongue as if they tasted of ash.

"You are telling me that a mud-dwelling rat, a creature I used to test minor curses on, has secured absolute political immunity in a sovereign nation?"

"Yes, my Lord," the liaison whispered.

"Our scouts report he presented a revolutionary piece of technology to the Crown. He is currently being hailed as a genius."

The crystal goblet shattered in Valerius’s hand.

Red wine and blood dripped down his pale fingers, but he did not even blink.

His violet eyes flared with raw, unhinged psychic power.

The liaison screamed, clutching his head as the Incubus’s mind magic crushed his thoughts like a physical vice.

"Get out of my sight before I turn your brain to liquid," Valerius hissed.

The liaison scrambled backward, practically crawling out of the heavy oak doors.

As the doors clicked shut, a slow, mocking applause echoed from the shadows of the chamber.

"Bravo, little brother. A truly terrifying display of leadership. Torturing the messenger always solves the problem."

Valerius did not look up.

He pulled a silk handkerchief from his pocket and began wiping the glass from his bleeding hand.

"Shut up, Seraphina."

A tall, breathtakingly beautiful Succubus stepped into the light.

Lady Seraphina Thorne wore a dress of spun shadow and a smile that promised absolute ruin.

She was Valerius’s older sister, and she was the true apex predator of their bloodline.

"Father is losing his patience with you, Valerius," Seraphina purred, walking over to pour herself a glass of wine.

"The entire High Council is laughing at our family. You were supposed to be the rising star of the mind-mages. Instead, a Verdant Goblin broke your prized Death Knight, stole your favorite pet Shadow-Weaver, and is now playing politician in the Forge."

"It is a fluke," Valerius snapped, his composure finally cracking.

"He is an idiot. A brute! He did not invent any technology. That half-breed scholar, Nyssa, must have stolen a blueprint from the Arcane Spire and traded it to the Prime Minister. The goblin is just her pack mule."

Seraphina took a slow sip of her wine.

"Does it matter who did the math? The board has changed. You spent ten thousand gold to look like a fool."

"I will just double the bounty!" Valerius shouted, pacing across the marble floor.

"I will offer fifty thousand! I will hire the Faceless. I will hire a Wyrm! Someone will take the coin!"

"You really are blind, are you not?" Seraphina sighed, looking at him with genuine pity.

"If you send another assassin into the Iron Estate, the Kingdom of Iron and Steam will declare war on the Zenith Academy. Father will not allow you to jeopardize our neutral status over your wounded pride. If you break international law, Father will strip you of your title and cast you down to the lower tiers. You will be nothing."

Valerius stopped pacing.

A cold knot of genuine fear formed in his stomach.

In the Thorne family, failure was punished worse than death.

"Then what do you suggest, sister?" Valerius asked, his voice dripping with venom.

"Do I just let the rat live?"

"Of course not," Seraphina smiled, a cruel, fanged grin.

"But you cannot use a blade anymore. You must use a smile. The Kingdom of Iron and Steam is full of greedy, corrupt nobles who hate the Prime Minister. Hardsteel’s brother is the King, and the King loves gold more than he loves progress."

Valerius’s eyes narrowed as the strategy finally clicked in his arrogant mind.

"A diplomatic envoy," Valerius whispered.

"Exactly," Seraphina nodded.

"Send a sanctioned ambassador to the capital. Use our wealth to bribe the King’s advisors. Spread rumors that the goblin’s technology is tainted with demonic mana. Turn the public against them. Strip away his State Protection legally, and then let the angry mob tear him apart."

Valerius looked at his bleeding hand, a slow, wicked smile returning to his face.

Grik thought he had built a fortress, but political fortresses could be bought.

"Call my scribes," Valerius ordered.

"Draft an official letter of diplomacy to the Royal Court of Iron and Steam.

Tell them the Zenith Academy wishes to send a delegation to congratulate their new Honorary Knights."

He turned to look out the massive stained-glass window, staring down at the clouds below.

"Enjoy your little victory, Goblin," Valerius muttered to himself.

"I am going to take everything you have built, and I am going to make you beg me to kill you."