Van Blaine and his soldiers walked amidst the rubble. Previously, during the second round of fighting for the second year students for the Warrior Games, the was a large rumbling of the stadium floor. Immediately, the winged king had suspected something was wrong. He couldn’t tell for sure, however, as the powerful students competing had displayed an impressive range of abilities. Multiple times, their techniques shook the very ground and made the arena tremble slightly. Still, the rumbling seemed random and much stronger than any mere second year at the academy could show, despite their higher cultivation ranks.
His suspicions were confirmed when he received word that the first-year contestants, including that half-elf boy he’d so graciously took under his wing, hadn’t returned from the prize room. Deciding to investigate further, he joined the second-year victors to the prize room. There, they found part of the room had caved in. After that, they began digging.Sure enough, they found a body.
Niazen J’sarko? he thought to himself in sheer shock as he saw the elf’s crushed body amidst the stone debris. At first, van Blaine was confused. His mind was rattled as to what in the abyss had happened. Why was one of his loyal vassals dead, and in the prize room of the academy the elf supervised of all places? The blasted elf was an Emerald. Who could’ve had the strength to kill him? Better yet, who could’ve had the strength to kill him and avoid my detection? He couldn’t have died from a mere accident, could he? His thoughts were cut off and he almost froze his guards on the spot in his fury as more of Niazen’s body began to be uncovered. There, attached to one of his shoulders, was another head. This one was ruined and stitched on like some abominable science experiment.
It wasn’t just the freakish degradation that the elf had done to himself, but with who’s head he’d used. Van Blaine’s eye widened and he subconsciously pulled down tighter on his odd conical helmet crown. He knew who’s head that was. It was one of the Mad Tyrant’s warriors, another one of those accursed mental mana users van Blaine had killed nearly twenty years ago. To think that the tyrant’s influence would go so far as to corrupt this elf so long after the king had killed him!
That still didn’t answer the question as to where was the boy and his team. With a growing anger, he ordered his guards continue searching. They found a second head to which they discovered was also a psion’s and had been cut off from Niazen’s other shoulder based off the crushed stump of odd flesh the dead elf had. At that moment, finding the first years was secondary to him having a long and painful conversation with the J’sarko clan. If Niazen had succumbed to this foul corrupted path, who knew how many more would be under his influence!
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The king clenched his fists as frost began to spread out on the ground from where he was standing, “I’m going to kill their whole clan…at least his boy and brother,” he muttered to himself. After he got a better control of his anger, he heard his guards had found something else. One hook blade, like the kind the half-elf used, with the inner edge lined with sharpened trollstone, was found wedged in between two large boulders. Sure, the blade was nicked and bent some, but its quality was undeniable.
This must’ve been what the boy had acquired from the prize room, he thought to himself. He was still left without answers. Van Blaine didn’t like not having all the answers. Where are the students? Or at least, where are their bodies? Why had Niazen, a soldier that I had promoted, become so corrupted? Are there more of these abominations like Niazen walking around my kingdom? Also, why had Niazen attacked the first years in the first place?
Fear gripped at the winged man’s heart. He quickly took off to find his wife. Despite her being a foreigner, both her beauty and sharp mind were unmatched in his experience compared to any other would-be bride he’d been offered. No one truly knew her power and capability, and she was a proven tactician who actually runs the entire military of the Kingdom second to himself. She also ran the covert enforcers of the kingdom, the policing division keeping peace and eliminating would be usurpers and troublemakers.
van Blaine furrowed his brow as he neared the door. It was faint, but it seemed like there was some strange hissing or whispering noise, like that of a dying mouse.
“Darling, what troubles you?” she asked after he opened the door, goblet of wine still in her hand.
The king cocked his head to the side. “Were you.. conversing with someone? I swear I heard you saying something.”
“Oh, just talking to myself, darling. You know how I get when I don’t have my strong husband around.” She cooed and gave him a wink.
“Oh, right.” He remembered that she was prone to self-talk, often waking to her animatedly talking on the balcony connected to their bed chambers. She’s an odd one, but the beautiful ones always are, he thought.
Van Blaine then was reminded of why he’d come to find his wife. “Xiomara, something isn’t right.” He proceeded to explain his findings. He watched her untroubled face begin to show increasing concern at his report until a scowl developed. As beautiful as his wife was, when she was unhappy, the looks she would give sent a chill up his spine. Her face would begin to almost contort into something monstrous when she was angry, the death mana she cultivated morphing her features temporarily. Good thing she won’t be mad at me this time, he thought as he continued his explanation.
“As you no doubt suspect, my dear, the evidence is irrefutable. It’s clear that the influence of that blasted Chromebane has reached far deeper than we feared. Round up the J’sarko clan, and summon The Inquisition. Alive or dead, I will have that boy and his team be found. Any possible remains of the Mad Tyrant mustn’t be allowed to exist,” van Blaine ordered.
A predatory smile grew on Xiomara’s face, “As you command, my king.”