It shocked him very much when one of the soldiers drew his sword and severed his telekinetic grip on the prince, and his mana dispersed like air from a popped balloon. Shaden had never experienced that before—but he didn't lose momentum. He'd expected resistance.
What he hadn't expected was how skilled the soldiers were. They were the Royal Guard, the top of the country, and even among them, masters existed. Just by how well their mana was being utilized in their bodies, Shaden immediately knew how formidable his opponents would be.
"You dare cast your spells on me? Kill him!" roared Prince Salahin, stretching his hand towards him. "Kill them all. They've repaid mercy with treason!"
One of the soldiers didn't waste a second to swing his blade towards Shaya, and Shaden immediately cast a thick barrier around her, stopping the weapon—but not for long. It began to crack and flicker, and Shaden knew he had to save everyone before he continued.
Had he acted too impulsively? He could have simply hidden himself and Teval and run away.
No. To save the man without the prince's wrath spreading to the Jakhar Kishaks instead, he had to do this. He had to show them enough force to let them know that they weren't to be triffled with.
Shaden abruptly pulled Shaya and Teval back, and they yelled as they landed behind him, falling on their feet. Shaya’s eyes were as wide as saucers, and Teval looked like he wanted to scream.
“Stop! Let me die!” Teval cried, falling to his knees. Shaya was holding her arms, a small tremor going through her body. She seemed lost for words.
The room was in a panic, and all of the people who’d come to see the trial moved back from the soldiers; Eshel forcefully pulled Keyga along with her and reunited with her sister while Shaden remained at the front to face the soldiers.
“You’re out of your mind!” Eshel shouted, clenching her sister’s arm. “Why would you attack him? Why would you do such a thing?”
“They were going to kill him!” Shaden shouted back, forming a thick barrier of mana around the people.
“Only I would have died,” Teval cried, “but now the whole family is condemned.”
He was trying to save him, and they were blaming him for it. Maybe it was because he wasn’t used to their culture or because he didn’t know the severity of the situation, but he believed that what he was doing was right. He had the power, and he would use it. This was a first for him, and he didn’t want to leave the city with more regrets.
He would settle things peacefully. First, he’d knock out the guards and then restrain the prince so they could chat. Then things would work out.
Five soldiers left, and the one that had been knocked out was already getting to his feet, his power returning. Their swords were drawn, and a dangerous rhythm of mana reverberated through the blades of their weapons. Sword aura. Shaden had begun learning it once, but he hadn’t really practiced it much. Now, it was just a fond memory he had.
Shaden sent his mana hands flying towards the soldiers, and when each one of them was struck down—his magic dissipating every single time—he knew simple telekinesis wouldn’t bring him victory. Each of the soldiers had a good sense of mana; they were unlike any other he’d fought seriously before.
He doubled—no, tripled the density of the hands and tried to swat them away as they charged towards them, and he knew he’d have to increase his output by at least ten times if he were to match their blades. Each strike cut off his connection with his magic, causing it to turn into harmless puffs of mana. He’d go all out on them. And then they’d—
Shaden flinched when something sliced through the barrier around him and cut into his cheek, causing him to jump backwards while the soldiers continued to press on. One of them had swung their sword in the air. Shaden had never seen an air blade before.
He quickly healed the wound and surrounded himself with the thickest barrier he’d ever conjured, stopping all six swords that were aimed at his neck, shoulders, stomach, and legs. But even with all of the power the barrier was consuming, something was seeping in.
What kind of aura is this? It was unraveling every thread of magic he’d created.
He raised his arms to shield himself when one of the swords suddenly burst through—the one aimed at his neck. Shaden cried out in panic when the additional shield he’d cast between them was immediately broken and the blade rushed to his neck—
He felt the cold edge dig into his skin.
At that instant, something black entered his vision. It was a familiar feeling. It was a part of himself, and it existed to protect him.
The soldiers leapt back as Shaden’s body was enveloped by darkness. It didn’t feel like a conscious action, but a reflex by which the shadow manifested. It was gentle, soft, sturdy—Shaden knew it would not be broken by the soldiers’ swords.
“Demon! He is an agent of darkness that goes against the sun!” the prince roared, and Shaden spotted something like an amulet appearing from his robes. “Eliminate him. Leave no one alive!”
Shaden immediately intercepted a soldier who had leaped for the people behind him, but multiple blades of air whizzed through the air as they thundered on the barrier, and Shaden felt it shatter. While cursing himself for not thinking of it sooner, he immediately spread his shadow over the people just as another volley of blades struck it—but this time, they were the ones that dissipated.
He’d never tested out the shadow much. It was all he had now. For some reason, he didn’t think that he would lose, despite his inexperience in combat.
Lytha had taught him to sneak around, not fight face-to-face. What combat he’d learned was unarmed or with a dagger against similarly armed opponents, and for the rest, he’d simply have to make himself disappear and take them out one by one.
But today, his mind was incredibly clear, and he had no desire to sneak about. A memory from the corner of his mind reminded him about how being drunk on power was sure to make him underestimate his enemies, but all he had was power. Today, he wanted to be at the center.
Today, he would let them—make them know of who he was. A bad idea, but he felt like he could take on the world.
“You will stop, or you will die,” he said, and his voice echoed through the room. The prince’s face reddened even more, and veins popped up on his forehead.
“Take this criminal to his grave!” the prince roared, and patterns of light began surrounding him, forming into circles—a spell, and a large one considering the mana Shaden was feeling building up in the prince’s amulet.
Shaden instinctively blocked a blade aimed at his back—he didn’t need to look as his shadow swung the weapon around, throwing it across the room along with the soldier who was holding it. He landed skillfully on his feet, and when he looked up, his eyes were burning with resolve. All of their eyes were boiling with determination, and one even had a smile glued onto his lips.
Was this fun to them? Was killing fun for them?
“I don’t want to kill you!” Shaden shouted, and his shadow expanded from his body like thick smoke. “Drop your weapons. I just want to talk.”
All of the soldiers jumped back when an inferno rained down on him, covering his vision with orange and red flames. Shaden winced as a tongue of fire managed to seep through his shadow and touch his face, and he felt his skin throb while the heat blazed around him, lasting so long that he thought he would suffocate.
Anti-magic spells. He’d learn them someday. He regretted not learning about anti-magic spells during his time at the Library. He’d been too focused on his Junior’s Advancement to care.
When he undid his shadow, the walls around him were glowing with heat, and he choked on the burning air. It seared the insides of his lungs, and tears came to his eyes as he struggled to breathe.
The people inside. Sensing them with his mana, he knew that they’d already left through the door. While he was glad that they were out of harm’s reach, it irked him that they would run off without him. What had happened to the sacrifice and being there for him?
He didn’t know why he was so irritated. But wiping the tears from his eyes, coughing up blood and mucus from his lungs, feeling bits of flesh mixed within, something boiled within him. He clenched his fist and grit his teeth as his injuries began to heal. His face tingled as new skin replaced the cooked, and he could see properly again.
Shaden hated pain. While circulating helped him control his mind, he hated the pain with everything he had. Feeling his lungs being cooked was something he’d never wanted to experience—something he’d never forget.
He screamed violently, and the soldiers watched in disbelief as he stepped forward on the glowing stone towards them. Shaden laughed weakly as his shadow responded in turn, becoming long tendrils of darkness.
“Ha—haha. You know, this world was meant to be fun,” he muttered to no one in particular.
“How? How did you live!” the prince yelled, looking fearless as before. “But expect no mercy. You have gone too far.”
Shaden had expected him to cower in fear or awe, but the man was stubborn. And in the distance, he felt large sources of power approach. They’d be here in less than a minute.
This was proving to be so much more difficult than he’d expected. Would it be easier if he simply killed everyone?
Shaden sighed deeply. He was getting sick of this.
He sent a giant wave of mana over the soldiers, hoping that they’d faint like the man he’d fought in the underground arena. But they stood firm, and while their mana retracted into them, it was still strong, unflinching to his touch.
Quality over quantity. Shaden couldn’t believe he was losing right now, even with all of the power at his disposal. He’d neglected his training, and it had become a thorn in his side.
He could do the same and turn them all into barbeque with fire. Or he could freeze them. He could bring the building down on them. Killing them would be so easy, but the thought of taking a life was still too much for him.
He still had one last weapon.
Shaden’s shadow shot towards each of the soldiers, and the moment their blades moved to deflect it, the tendrils wrapped themselves around the swords, slithering up their arms in an instant. Only two were caught, and the rest abandoned their weapons to raise their fists. Even the ones who were caught were squirming around, attempting to escape. There were only six, but it took all the concentration he had to fight them all at once.
It would be okay, right? He could heal them later. It took him a second to muster the courage.
The two soldiers screamed when their limbs were crushed by the tendrils, and Shaden dropped them on the floor like lifeless potato sacks. As formidable as they were, it would be impossible to move with arms and legs that looked like something that would be displayed at a butcher’s shop. Shaden cringed at the damage, but he couldn’t back out now.
One of the remaining soldiers yelled something—a name—and Shaden took the man by the legs, crushing them both. He didn’t bother with the arms this time.
Now the prince was looking more disturbed, but he still wasn’t terrified. Shaden didn’t know how the man could hold his ground so fearlessly when he appeared so weak.
Reinforcements were arriving soon. He had to do this quickly.
His tendrils turned into a tsunami of black, and they covered the remaining soldiers before they could react. Shaden felt them inside, and one by one, he crushed their legs, gently placing them next to their comrades where they squirmed and groaned horribly. Shaden could bear to look at them. He swore to himself that he’d heal them as soon as he got the chance.
Had he gone too far? They were only following orders. He hated pain, yet he was inflicting it on others. Hypocritical, but they had been the ones who had attacked first. He tossed his thoughts aside as he stepped towards the prince.
The prince didn’t waver as his body was lifted up and brought closer to Shaden. He held his head high, and for the first time in Shaden’s life, he had the urge to bash another person’s face in. How haughty could someone be?
“Do you not realize the situation?” Shaden said, staring into the man’s eyes. “Take back your order, and I will heal your soldiers and spare you. If you don’t—”
“Kill me, and I will join the gods,” Prince Salahin spat, and the saliva slid down Shaden’s cheek.
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Shaden wiped it off. “Do you want to die?”
“I’ve done enough down here,” the man grinned, looking like a madman. “The nation’s curse shall befall you.”
“Listen—”
“They will hunt you down to the ends of the earth!” The prince was laughing now. “They will slay your family, bring down your tents, and feast on your livestock. Such is the price for touching me, one of royal birth.”
“How deluded can you be?”
“Run now, run! If you do not kill me, your days will be numbered. Even with my death, you will live in fear of the sword! The Jakhar Kishaks will be outcasts; they will be wiped from the face of the earth. I, Salahin, Second Prince of Nafar, decree it.”
It would be so easy to crush his skull.
Shaden raised a hand and gripped the prince’s head. The man closed his eyes.
If he eliminated all the witnesses, then the Jakhar Kishaks would become innocent.
Shaden took in a deep breath. Would he be able to do it?
He prepared himself for the crunch.
It would only take a second.
Suddenly, his mana faded into nothing, and the prince dropped to the floor. Shaden jerked his head around to see who had interfered, but no one was there. He looked at his hand.
The shadow had covered it, absorbing the mana from it. He willed it to retract, but it refused to.
“Why?” Shaden said. “Why did you interfere?”
The shadow didn’t reply. When Shaden willed it to move, it slid back into his body, acting as if nothing had happened.
Did it have a will of its own?
His grandfather had told him about the dagger’s whispers, but not this. Shaden looked over his body, but nothing was amiss with it. Only the prince before him coughed violently from the pressure Shaden had exerted on his throat.
“Finish—me—off!” he rasped. “You’ve already killed my wyvern. You can kill me.”
“Why?” Shaden demanded. “Is the life of a mere wyvern worth more than a man’s?”
“A mere wyvern?!” Salahin croaked, struggling to get up. “Twenty years it has been my companion. It has eaten from my hand, slept with me, protected me, been a friend to me. You’ve killed a member of my family, and you refer to it as a mere wyvern?!”
The prince screamed—a long, painful wail. “I have suffered things worse than you. You are nothing.”
Shaden left the prince on the floor to take a look at the soldiers. They were breathing heavily, and their limbs had already been wrapped with cloth by the men with their arms still intact. When they saw him approaching, they tried to crawl away.
I shouldn’t have done this, Shaden groaned internally.
Green light filled the room as his magic engulfed the men, and their limbs began to swell back to their original proportions. Within seconds, they had all been healed, and they looked at each other with awe. When one of them got up with mana beginning to wrap his fists, another stopped him, and he lowered his guard. Shaden turned around and returned to the prince.
Now what? He’d subdued them, but the prince was more stubborn than anything. And the giant presence that had just arrived—
“What do we have here?” said a voice from the door.
The floor at the back still hadn’t cooled completely, but the man that entered walked on it without hesitation.
Something was different about the man. Shaden had already hidden himself when everyone had turned to look at the stranger, and he watched from a safe distance as the man strode in. A spotted beast’s hide had been fashioned as a robe strapped around his bronze body, and his dark hair was tied back in multiple locks. His face had been recently shaved, though it was clear where the hairs were.
When the man stood in front of Salahin, the prince looked like a child. The man crossed his arms and looked around, sniffing the air.
“Well? Is this another accident?” the man yawned, sitting down. “I was taking a good nap, but you had to call me here.”
“Damud,” the prince muttered. “Why is it that I always end up in these situations?”
“Move, now. I’m here. Go wait outside,” the man ordered, waving the soldiers off. The leader of the group saluted the man and they headed out, right past where Shaden was standing—who was thinking of what to do next. Things wouldn’t end well at this rate.
“The answer to your question, Your Majesty, is because you prove yourself useless in everything else,” the man snorted, sitting down next to the prince. “Tell me, who crossed you this time? I remember you had something going on with the Jakhar Kishaks.”
The prince didn’t reply. Instead, he fell on his back and looked at the ceiling.
“It was a strange boy, here moments ago,” he muttered.
“A strange boy? He made you use the amulet?”
The prince kept his mouth closed.
“So? Shall I hunt him down for you? After all, he killed your precious pet. I could handle the ones who were taking care of him as an addition. Royalty is not to be reckoned with.”
The large man nodded as if agreeing with himself.
“Do demons heal the injured?” Salahin sighed. “I want to stop. Rid me of this blood, and I will live as a farmer.”
“That is a dangerous statement, my prince.”
“My wyvern is dead, my lover was jailed, my honor is tainted. What more is left, what more must I endure?”
“I did not come here to listen to your complaints,” Damud growled. “Where is the boy, and where did he come from? Say their name—give the decree.”
“My decrees are always broken. They are words without weight.”
“Not when I listen to them. Say it, and they will be dealt with.”
“Sometimes I wonder why you care,” the prince spat. “Leave me be. Go finish your nap.”
Damud got up and yawned, then headed towards the door.
“Remember to refuel your amulet,” he reminded. “Don’t feel too down, my prince. Even weeds have their uses.”
And the prince was left alone in the room, staring at the ceiling for a long time. Making sure no one was around. Shaden emerged from his hiding place and walked up to the man, who turned his head to look at him after hearing his footsteps.
“They know me as a drinker and gambler, but information in the streets is seldom learned otherwise.” The prince stared at him. “Tell me, are you the cloaked fighter with a squeaky voice who defeated Sababa?”
“The guy in dreadlocks? Yeah.”
“He was searching for you. I wonder what will happen if I tell him who you are.”
“Please don’t do that.”
“Boy, finish me.”
Shaden blinked, and the prince waved his hand around his neck. “Make it quick and painless. I detest pain.”
“Not until you tell me the Jakhar Kishaks will be safe.”
“Who are you?” the prince asked. “Are you one of them?”
“No. Just a visitor,” Shaden replied. “They’re not responsible for anything.”
“Now I can see why.”
The prince weakly chuckled, then groaned, then became silent. His eyes were wide open, and he glared at the ceiling like it was his mortal enemy. Shaden was beginning to feel uncomfortable when the prince opened his mouth.
“I will take a gamble,” he said, keeping his eyes on the ceiling. “You say you are a visitor. Then you must know nothing of this country’s matters.”
“Not really,” Shaden agreed.
“My father, the King, is growing old. Someone will succeed him.”
“I don’t really like politics.”
“Then kill me or not kill me and see your loved ones perish.”
“I’m not going to help you become the king!” Shaden snapped. “You were trying to execute us because I spoke out.”
“That is the law.”
“No, it isn’t. You’re just—”
“Stop spouting nonsense and listen to me. I do not wish to be King.”
“Then?”
“I wish to escape.”
“Escape? You’re a prince. You have nothing to escape from.”
“Ah, only a boy could think so foolishly.”
Shaden scowled. The man rubbed him the wrong way. He was acting all haughty and powerful, and the next moment, he was acting like a depressed victim—Shaden didn’t buy it.
“Well, go on,” Shaden sighed. “What do you want?”
“You were described as a ‘miracle worker’,” the prince said, sitting up. “I will forget about everything if you can perform some miracles for me.”
“It’s like the first deal,” Shaden said.
“You should have been executed then, but my heart reached out for you,” the prince said. “Now I know that my kindness was wasted.”
“From what I’ve heard, you’re not kind.”
The prince waved his hand. “Go. I will send a messenger to the Jakhar Kishaks, and you will know that it is me. This is my final show of mercy that I will give you.”
“You call that mercy?”
“It will only be once this time.”
They looked at each other. The prince seemed normal for once.
“Once, and I’m done,” Shaden stated.
“Once, and your sins are forgiven,” Salahin agreed. “Go. I will rescind my decrees.”
“Do you always command people like that?” Shaden asked. The prince ignored him, so with an annoyed shrug, he left to search for everyone that had escaped.
⤙ ◯ ⤚
When he found the settlement, they were furiously packing their belongings, and a great number of servants were brandishing spears and swords around the area, looking out for potential enemies that might approach. The livestock was being moved, and though the sun was going down, the sky was brightly lit with torches. All of this was happening very quietly, though some noise was inevitable.
I suck at intimidation, Shaden thought, passing by the people. He’d expected everyone to cower at his power as they did in the stories. Maybe even prostrate themselves. But now he was stuck in another deal for the sake of the Jakhar Kishaks.
Shaya was watching over the whole process, and Shaden tapped on her shoulder, causing her to look back in surprise.
“Shaden!” she said, holding her hands together. “What happened?”
“Oh, not much,” Shaden told her. “It worked out. You don’t have to run anymore.”
“Explain everything.”
So he told her the rough gist of what had happened, and she listened intently, nodding. When he finished, she quickly called one of her servants to temporarily stop the evacuation and sent another to verify what Shaden had said. He felt a little annoyed at that, but he understood. He was still a child in their eyes, even with everything he’d shown. Or she was very cautious.
“You know, if you hadn’t sent Teval, this wouldn’t have happened,” Shaden said after things had calmed down. “Why?”
“I did not think you would be able to heal ten thousand people,” Shaya said. “Even with ten people each day, it would have taken you close to three years. We both know that would be disastrous to you.”
“And? What would Teval have changed?”
Shaya sighed and crossed her arms. “A life for a life. Such is the custom of Antafar. I was worried that they would mistreat you.”
“They didn’t. Just for me, you’d risk the life of someone you care about?”
“Yes.” Shaya looked at the ground. “That is how important you are.”
“You could have done it discreetly, then. Why couldn’t you hire someone else outside of the family? Then technically it wasn’t the Jakhar Kishaks that left the city.”
“They would run off with the treasure and cower in fear of the prince,” Shaya said. “You do not understand. We are in an invisible war with each other, always trying to gain influence and strip the influence of others away. I can trust Teval with my life. He will not and has not run in the face of death.”
She looked at him. “You have seen the walls and gates. Everything passing through is recorded, especially the people.”
“You don’t have anyone you can trust besides the people in the family?”
“No,” Shaya said in a low voice. “My father grows older, and rarely do people pay close attention to a woman’s words.”
There wasn’t any point in arguing anymore. Even Eshel had taken the outcome naturally as if it was common sense. This was what they believed, even if it didn’t make sense to him.
“Don’t do that anymore,” Shaden told her. “Don’t sacrifice things for me. I’m fine on my own.”
“But we have an obligation to serve,” she answered. “This is what we were taught since our birth. Your life over ours. And you will watch over us.”
“That’s—”
“Absurd. I think so too,” Shaya snorted. “But such is our custom. Such is the custom of all the other families. It is your responsibility to know and care.”
He didn’t want to. He wanted to be free.
“But not yet. You are still the Heir, not the Lord of Skotos.”
Shaya reached out her hand and placed it on Shaden’s cheek. He looked up to meet her eyes.
“Our hope lies in you, Shaden,” she whispered, “so hurry up and grow into a man.”
“Did you forget? I healed ten thousand people. I’m capable enough.”
“They must have treated you kindly.” Shaya smiled. “But I don’t think that can be possible in such a short amount of time.”
“You don’t know.”
“I happen to know much about your family, and healing wasn’t one of them,” she said. “It’s okay. I’m sure you did something wonderful.”
“You won’t believe me.”
“I know you are powerful, more than anyone here. But power is easy to delude. Get some rest, my little lord. You’ve done much already.”
Shaden walked back to his room, and decreasing his circulation let him know how exactly tired his body was. His flute box was where he’d left it, next to his clothes and other belongings.
He took his pouch off and put it aside while he quickly washed his body with water. Dirt and grime were separated from his skin, and he threw the waste outside of the window into the animal pens along with the water he’d used to clean himself. After brushing his teeth with cleansing magic, he realized that he hadn’t eaten dinner—but he didn’t care either way.
He lay inside of his bed and pulled the sheets over himself, stretching widely. He was finally home, and while many things had happened, they were safe for now. Things had worked out somehow.
Politics, customs, rules, laws, cultures, etiquettes—he’d never liked them, especially as Shaden. He’d never been good at them, and it had earned him an earful from Eilae for some time.
This wasn’t a dream at all. But he wished it was. Forcefully bringing about whatever he desired—how fun that would be.
It was a terrible thought, but sometimes, on days like this, he wondered what it would feel like if he engulfed the whole capital in fire or ice, to see the fear in people’s eyes as they begged for mercy.
Not that he would ever.
He shivered. He’d come too close to killing someone. If the shadow hadn’t stopped him…
“Thanks for that,” he muttered, looking at the sphere of darkness he’d conjured in his hand. It didn’t respond. When he let go of it, it seeped back into his body.
A dream that was reality. He’d been happy that the world was real, but more and more, he found himself wishing it was a dream again. No struggles, no pain, no consequences, no responsibilities. He could still feel the taste of cooked flesh in his mouth and the smell of raw tissue in his nose. He shivered.
Today he discovered that he sucked at intimidation and was hesitant even against enemies who’d tried to kill him. His judgment was bad, and he didn’t have enough resolve.
At least he hadn’t committed murder in the heat of the moment.
He turned in his bed. Why was it that he felt more accomplished as Demund than Shaden? His waking self had clear goals, but his dream self was like a cloud aimlessly moving with the currents.
He clenched his eyes shut. It had been much more enjoyable when he’d been traveling with Lytha and Eilae. Even his training with Lytha alone before had borne more fruit than now.
After he’d completed his final deal with the prince, he’d focus on learning the flute and bonding with Grak. That would make him feel much better.
Shaden was glad that the day was over.