Chapter 1

The misty drizzle seeped through the dense canopy, mingling with the bone-chilling cold of the Forest of Shadows. If not for the faint glow of light orbs bobbing around me, the glade would have been ink-black. The air was heavy, oppressive, as though the forest itself held its breath.

But none of that mattered. I was still high on the taste of victory even if it was small. I had just slayed a Skulk, an elder Skulk at that. It would take an elite team of well coordination adventurers to normally hunt a shadow-spawn of this calibre but for me, it was just another walk in the park.

“My, oh my. The princeling actually slayed a lord of the forest,” came a mocking voice, shattering the fragile quiet.

Bertie, the chief of Twist Trunk Village, emerged from the shadows, his smug grin illuminated by torchlight from his torch. His gaudy but cheap clothing clung to him, damp from the drizzle. Behind him stood two shivering goons clutching torches too tightly, and further back, five figures in black armor loomed like harbingers of death.

“What are you... doing here?” I gasped, staggering back, every breath laboured. My voice cracked—deliberately so. “Where’s my team?”

 Of course, I was annoyed to put on this idiotic act, but the situation demanded for it.

Bertie offered a mocking bow, his grin widening. “No need to fret, my lord. They’re... resting. Permanently, I’d wager.” At that, his lackeys chuckled nervously, though the armored knights remained silent, their presence a weight in the clearing.

“What is the meaning of this, chief?” I asked with a flustered voice, but my irritation had probably seeped through my facade as Bertie face drew a scowl.

“Still arrogant, huh? I agree whole-heartedly that slaying a Skulk alone is a feat worthy of celebrating, but my prince, no one is going to celebrate.” Then his lips contorted into a cruel smirk. “Because no-one will know it,” he said while signalling with his hand.

The five knights stepped onto the light. They are covered in a black armour, from head to toe. And from a single glance I could say they were of the best quality, not something belongs to this forgotten corner of the kingdom.

And that’s exactly why we were here.

“How d-dare you!?” I shouted with confidence, and of course with a cracking voice. “To raise your sword against a prince! When my father, King Valen, hears of this, you’ll all hang!”

Bertie slightly flinched at that and eyed the knights, probably reassessing his hand, then smiled “Oh, prince, no one will hear anything. You drank too much, challenged a shadow-spawn to impress some tavern girl, and died a fool’s death. Tragic, really.”

Now he was again grinning from ear to ear, joined by his two companions while the knights surrounded me.

“How insolent!” I shouted while drawing my sword. “I swear on my name I will slay you, you wretched cur! Even it is the last thing I do!”

This made the chief visibly terrified. As I watched, he hid behind a tree, with his goons.

The cowardice of the traitor brought a fleeting smile to my lips, but the metallic scrape of unsheathing blades drew my focus back to the ring of dark knights that surrounded me. Their silhouettes—silent and foreboding—loomed like shadows cast by a dying flame. Despite my trust in my own skill, I knew these knights were not to be taken lightly.

I gripped the hilt of my blade, a flawless creation from the Royal Forge, and settled into my stance.

Breathe. In and out.

The knights closed in, their blackened armor catching faint glimmers of light, their formation tight, suffocating. They moved without wasted motion, a death march in perfect synchrony. Their silence was unnerving. No taunts, no battle cries—just the dull scrape of metal against metal, the whisper of steel slicing through the cold air.

The first knight struck. No hesitation. His blade hissed toward my neck, a flawless execution.

And then—

The world bent.

The downward arc of his sword slowed, the faint reflection of my face stretching across its polished surface. The other knights stood mid-motion, their weapons hovering in the still air, their lunges incomplete. Even the drifting embers from the torches nearby seemed caught in the moment, frozen like stars in a sky of absolute silence.

I moved.

A single step to the right, deliberate, measured. The sword’s edge drifted past, missing me by mere inches. I turned my body at just the right moment to let another strike scrape against my thigh—a shallow cut, bleeding just enough to sell the illusion.

The world snapped back into motion.

Pain flared where the blade had kissed my flesh, sharp and immediate. I let out a gasp—a mix of surprise, agony, and carefully placed theatrics. A poisoned blade. Subtle, but I recognized the dull ache seeping into my bloodstream. Clever bastards.

Then came the onslaught.

Steel clashed in the air, each strike a relentless effort to cut me down. I ducked under a horizontal slash, pivoted to avoid a thrust aimed at my ribs, and deflected another aimed for my heart. Their strikes were methodical, precise, seeking to wear me down, to break the supposed novice in their midst.

I let them.

Every cut was intentional. A nick on my arm, a shallow wound on my ribs—enough to look convincing, but never enough to slow me down. I played my role well. A desperate, struggling prince.

Then I retaliated.

As the next sword came for me, I moved into its path—too close, too fast. The knight faltered, off balance, not expecting me to close the gap. My sword slammed against his breastplate, not to kill, but to send him staggering. A feint. A trap.

I lunged, my fingers wrapping around the edge of his helmet. Heat surged from my palm, metal glowing molten beneath my grasp. He locked up instantly, body twitching before going still. The air filled with the sickening scent of burned flesh, his form now a silent, lifeless husk encased in his own armor.

"One down," I muttered, wiping a trickle of blood from my brow. The warmth running down my forehead blurred my vision. "Four to go."

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A shrill voice echoed from the trees, taunting, demanding: "What are you waiting for?! Kill him already!"

The remaining knights hesitated—not out of fear, but calculation. Their eerie, soundless presence remained unshaken. Even the one I’d just reduced to a smoldering corpse had died without a scream.

They moved in.

Faster this time, abandoning the slow, methodical approach. I backpedaled, parrying where I could, twisting to avoid a cleaving strike that would have split me in two. I let them drive me back, stumbling, my body sagging with exhaustion—or at least, that’s what I wanted them to believe.

Then one overextended.

I ducked beneath his swing and barreled into him, using his own momentum against him. We crashed into the dirt, his weight momentarily pinning me—until I twisted and drove the pommel of my sword against his visor.

Once. Twice.

By the third strike, the metal bent inward.

By the sixth, the visor cracked.

By the tenth, his skull caved in.

Then pain exploded across my skull.

A boot connected with the side of my head, sending me rolling across the dirt. My vision blurred, ringing filled my ears, and before I could recover, another knight was on me.

A fist slammed into my face.

Another.

Another.

My world spun between bursts of darkness and pain, every blow hammering against bone, flesh, and will. My body screamed at me to move, to fight back, but the weight pressing me into the earth was suffocating.

Finally, the strikes stopped.

My arms were pinned down, a sharp blade pressing into my throat. My sword lay discarded, my dagger out of reach.

Above me, my faceless executioners stood still.

Perfect.

I continued to struggle against their restraints to keep up the show as Bertie again emerged from the forest.

“You gave me a little scare there, prince," Bertie stammered, his voice trembling despite the forced bravado.

He looked terror-stricken. His face was pale, beads of sweat trailing down his temples, and his hands fidgeted nervously at his sides. The two thugs standing behind him were in even worse shape, their wide eyes darting around like trapped animals, as if already imagining the executioner’s blade.

Their torches made my mind snapped into attention as the light orbs, which I conjured before, were still floating and illuminating the glade.

For a supposedly defeated man to hold several spells… anyone can see the problem with that, but no one had noticed it. Not yet, at least.

Need to finish this fast

“Unhand me, you wretches!” I screamed. “Bertie! You cretin! The k-kingdom wil-” I was interrupted by another punch to the face.

“How unsightly, prince Kaelan,” Bertie said. He had finally recovered a little colour on the face. “The rumours are true I guess... but then again, you slew a Skulk. Hmm.”

Shit. This is not good was what my mind screamed. It all would be moot if they noticed.

“You vermin! What evil are you concocting in that head of yours!?”

The eyes of the village chief gleamed, and I sighed internally relieved. The fool was itching to gloat.

“You royals! And all those pompous lords—you’ve never understood us, never cared to, and you never will!” Bertie ranted, his voice rising with unhinged fervour. “If you had, you wouldn’t find yourself grovelling under the boot of a Wraith knight!”

I tried to laugh but it came as coughs. It seemed I had gotten injured after all.

“Don’t bother Kaelan, it’s all going to end. I will soon put you out of your misery.”

I clenched my teeth, forcing out a sharp, derisive laugh. "How utterly naive. Do you honestly believe a ragtag group of bandits can stand against the king and the might of the kingdom?" I sneered, watching his face twist in anger. "You wouldn't last a single day once the Imperial Army is dispatched. And when they learn you killed me—oh, trust me, they will—you’ll curse the day you drew breath."

"You wish, prince!" Bertie spat, his voice rising into a shrill, unhinged giggle. "You think I'd be stupid enough to challenge the king without reason? No, no! I've seen it. I've seen IT." His voice dropped to a whisper; his eyes wide with feverish intensity. "The power. The POWER!" His laugh turned maniacal.

His madness was palpable, his pupils darting around wildly. "It was beautiful," he muttered, voice trembling, almost reverent. "The most exquisite thing I’ve ever seen. They danced around me. I could feel their whispers in my bones. But when I reached for them—" His eyes flicked to his hands as if recalling the touch, "they slipped away. Like smoke."

Okay… Another nutjob.

His grin twisted into something grotesque, the mania now consuming him entirely. "But they didn’t listen to me. Not yet." His breath quickened. "But you—" He jabbed a shaking finger at me, "You’re different. Your blood will summon them. They’ll see me. They’ll hear me." His laugh cracked, a sob cutting through it, but his eyes burned with a fervor beyond human comprehension. "I’ll be one of them, prince. Then... no one will laugh at me again."

We are back on the track. Little bit more and I can be finally done with all of this.

“Die! Die, you rotten slab of meat! They will summon a spirit for me! MY own spirit from the outerplanes—”

"Farewell, prince," said the same cold voice, the blade at my neck pressing forward, its sharp tip poised to end everything.

But it didn’t find its mark. The sword shattered in a burst of sparks, the remnants falling harmlessly to the ground.

The hand that had wielded it now hung uselessly in the air, as my rescuer stepped forward.

"I had my doubts," a voice drawled from the shadows. "But you really succeeded."

"Though," another voice chimed in, "I’m more surprised you actually let them hit you!"

"He almost slipped a couple of times," came a third, "but... he held on, I suppose."

“Well, I’m just glad someone else now knows that playing the victim isn’t as fun as it sounds,” another voice snickered.

“People, can we just get this over with?” came a fifth, an impatient sigh. "I wanna go hooome!"

"Finally!" a new voice added, tinged with glee. "We have some names!"

One by one, cloaked figures emerged from the shadows, stepping onto the glade with a kind of eerie synchrony—my teammates.

“AAaargh!” Bertie screamed, stumbling back. His face twisted in a mix of disbelief and panic. "H-How are y-y-you here?!" His breath came in ragged gasps. "The potion… How… Wha…" His eyes darted to the fallen sword, the shattered fragments catching the faint light.

He looked like a man losing his grip on reality. The smell of his fear was thick in the air, pungent with the scent of sweat and something else—something darker.

"The p-poison…" he whispered, his voice cracking. "It was supposed to be deadly..." His gaze shifted to the two goons beside him, who were similarly frozen, mouths hanging open in disbelief.

"The master wizard said it could kill an army…" Bertie’s voice faltered, his words barely coherent now.

Vyk, who had stepped forward with a knowing smirk, casually wiped his hands on his cloak. "That was rat poison, and diluted at that," he said, his tone almost bored.

Bertie’s eyes went wide, his lips trembling as if he couldn’t quite process the absurdity of the situation. The two goons stood motionless, their expressions a mix of horror and confusion.

Even the remaining knights of Wraiths seemed stunned—silent, their gaze shifting from one another to the cloaked figures emerging from the mist.

“Finally,” I muttered, rising to my feet. The job was done. I could finally end this charade.

Two of the remaining knights stepped back cautiously, eyes narrowed, while the third struggled to stem the bleeding from a grievous wound. The three remaining thugs hesitated, inching toward the forest with wary glances over their shoulders.

“Miri, round them up,” I commanded, keeping my gaze locked on the two knights crouching, ready to lunge.

"Aye, aye, captain!" Miri called back, her voice light, though there was a glint of determination in her eyes. She saluted clumsily before flashing a grin at the wounded knight. "Sorry, hun, but not tonight."

The air seemed to tremble as Miri’s called forth the magic of the earth. With a violent shudder, vines erupted from the ground beneath her feet, twisting and writhing like serpents eager to constrict their prey. The stony earth cracked and groaned, unable to resist the pull of her magic.

The vines slithered toward the thugs and the shrieking chief, ensnaring them in an instant, their desperate struggles only feeding the power of the encroaching tendrils. Then, with a low hum, the vines wrapped themselves around the injured knight. They coiled tighter, forming a cage of living wood and magic. The cage was too small to allow any movement from the knight, his body trapped in a suffocating prison. But as the vines took hold, the air around the cage shimmered with a faint, ethereal light, as if the magic itself was imbued with a sense of purpose. The glow pulsed gently, like a heartbeat of the world itself, sealing the knight’s fate.

I didn’t spare a second glance, though. I was focused on the two knights in front of me. But just as I took a step forward, a small explosion erupted in the distance. A crackling burst of fire magic ripped through the air, followed by a guttural cry. One of the thugs had used fire magic to scorch his bindings, setting himself free. The other thugs, too, were starting to show signs of stirring.

Miri hadn’t used her anti-mana vines on the others, like she had with the knight. Without that, the thug had been able to channel mana, slipping through her magical grasp.

“You never know...” I muttered under my breath. “Vyk, go.”

“On it, sir,” came the swift reply, and the shadows around us seemed to shift, coalescing into the form of the assassin as he melted into the darkness, leaving no trace of his presence.

“Hmm. I wonder how I missed him,” Selene mused aloud, her voice tinged with both curiosity and concern.

“Whatever,” I said, giving a casual shrug, though my mind was already calculating. “We’ll know soon enough.”

I felt the shift in the air before the sword strike even came. The knight behind me aimed a blow at my unguarded back, but I tilted my head slightly, just enough to let the blade miss by a hair's breadth. The air buzzed with the tension of the strike, but it was nothing more than a near miss.

Without hesitation, I grabbed the sword by its blade. I twisted my wrist, sending a surge of heat through the blade. It screamed in protest as the metal softened, glowing red-hot before it melted like wax in the grip of my power.

The molten metal sizzled as it dripped onto the ground, and I couldn't help but smile.

Interesting.

The sting from the molten metal should not have been there. I hadn’t expected to feel the heat so intensely—it was almost as if the blade had reacted to my own power in some way. It was a small thing, but it made me pause, a flicker of curiosity igniting in my chest. There was something more at work here than just simple steel.

“Fucking freak,” muttered Lyrik, which pulled me back from my thoughts.

Our priest, Aleric, voiced his concern as I willed my sword to return to my hand. "It would be better if we could capture those two as well. Killing them feels like a waste."

"Priest Aleric, they’re already as good as dead," Selene interjected before I could respond, her tone clipped and final.

I let her words settle for a moment, then commanded the world to halt. Time obeyed, freezing in silent reverence. Every breath hung in midair, and every fragment of light shimmered, suspended in place.

Moving through the unnatural stillness, I strode to the knight gripping his weapon and placed my blade at his throat. With calculated precision, I drove it through. His body remained frozen in the moment of death, as though unaware of its finality.

I turned my attention to the second knight. A pulse of raw energy erupted from my palm, obliterating him in a blinding flash. When the world resumed its flow, his remains scattered across the glade, lifeless and still.

"They only sought to drag us into their death throes," I muttered, watching the first knight’s body crumple to the ground.

Turning to Selene, I gave a curt nod. "Tell the crew to clear the glade and collect the Skulk."

Then I turned to Bertie, whose wild eyes darted around, searching for an escape that didn’t exist.

"Let’s go," I said, my voice low and unyielding. A faint smirk tugged at my lips. "We have some catching up to do."