Chapter 34: Blue Stone and the Invitation of Death

The Dark Sapphire Moon ruled the Oesterian sky. Gloomy blue light radiated palely, freezing the filthy snow expanse below into a hard ice sea. The winter wind roared ferally. The air carried sharp ice particles mixed with the scent of filthy copper from the mountain base.

Luka stood atop the limestone hill. His pitch-black cloak fluttered, slashed by the storm. The dark canopy hood covered his head, hiding the dull bandage wraps and the thick mask locking his lower half face. Behind his loose leather sleeve, his scaled red flesh throbbed constantly, radiating heat.

Before him, the three best Shadow Knight executioners knelt on the snow. Vance. Lysandra. Merrik. They remained silent, awaiting the apex predator's decree.

"Varan controls the wheat granaries and weapon factories," Luka's voice muffled roughly from behind his mask. "We do not come to his castle to crawl. We come to tear the neck of his arrogance."

Luka stepped forward. His boots crushed the ice. "We cut our way in. Silently. If any dogs block the path, kill."

The three Shadow Knights bowed their heads. An absolute agreement.

Luka twisted his body. He stepped piercing the storm, leading the way toward the western border and leaving his three executioners with the maid atop the hill.

Rhea did not immediately follow her master. The woman in the charcoal-gray wool dress stood firm challenging the wind. The black leather choker on her neck hid her pulse. Her pale gray eyes glared sharp toward the three mercenary assassins who had just stood up.

Rhea's pale hand reached into her dress folds. She pulled an object.

A small-sized stone. Its surface extremely rough. Dark blue in color radiating a lethal cold glow. The object delivered by the red-eyed crow a few nights ago.

Rhea snapped the stone into three fragments. Her motion precise. She offered the blue fragments before Vance, Lysandra, and Merrik.

"Swallow this," Rhea commanded. Her voice flowed low, cutting the storm's roar.

Vance stared at the fragment. His shark jaw creaked. His killer instinct smelled danger from the nail-sized object. Yet, the hierarchy was established. Defying the prince's maid equaled challenging death.

The giant man took one fragment. Lysandra and Merrik followed. They placed the rough stone on their tongues. Swallowing it by force.

One second. Two seconds.

Their body temperatures plummeted sharp. Not merely cold. A reason-breaking freezing chill deadened the blood flow in their veins.

Vance fell resting on one knee. The man gripped his chest. His jaw opened wide demanding oxygen. Lysandra coughed hard, holding her tensed neck. Merrik shut his eyes tight.

Inside their heads, the inner dimension Realm of Soul shook feral.

Soul energy in extremely massive amounts exploded. Flooding their soul spaces until overflowing. Their inner walls stretched taut enduring an illogical capacity. Raw power. Pure. Limitless.

Vance opened his eyes.

The giant man's irises blinked. Radiating an abnormal glowing red color for one full second. The exact same red color as The Red Ring above.

The three executioners froze. Their brains processed the horror that had just occurred.

They were Soul Eaters. They understood perfectly how this world worked. The Law of Erosion bound every power. If you swallowed a soul, you paid with sanity. You sacrificed memories. You rotted your body. That was an absolute non-negotiable law.

Yet, this blue stone fragment shattered that law.

Vance clenched his fist. His muscles dense with power. Devoid of pain. Lacking erased memories. Devoid of mental tremors tearing the nerves. They gained pure power lacking a single speck of sacrifice. A foreign energy laughing at human reason.

They stared at Rhea. Vance's jaw locked rigid, while Lysandra stepped her foot half a pace back unconsciously, failing to find an explanation for the natural-law-defying anomaly that had just swallowed them.

The corners of the maid's lips curved upward. A thin smile laden with lethal calculation.

"Use that gift well," Rhea whispered. "Your king is waiting."

Rhea twisted her body. Stepping graceful piercing the snow, catching up to Luka's black shadow in the distance. Leaving the three mercenary assassins still petrified, realizing they had just swallowed something not originating from this world.

___

The small group cleaved the western border.

In the distance, Varan's Castle towered cleaving the sky. Thick gray stone walls coated in sturdy Gothic ornaments. Its watchtowers tried stabbing the dark blue sky.

Luka halted his steps at the edge of the frozen ditch. He turned his head back.

"Merrik," Luka's voice was low.

Without the need for further instruction, Merrik separated himself from the formation. The man ran, piercing the darkness and climbing a pile of hard snow atop a stone cliff facing straight toward the castle.

Merrik positioned his body. Beneath the Dark Sapphire Moon's light, his mutation worked. His left eye split itself, turning into three eyeballs of different sizes. Eyes adapted for the dark, refusing night blindness. His right hand crushed the air, mutating calcium from his own body to draw a giant bow and a long bone arrow.

From behind his mutated eyes, Merrik smiled stiffly. The Soul Energy inside his veins felt boiling, yet devoid of pain. The energy from that blue stone was extraordinary. He locked his gaze toward a giant glass window on the castle's second floor, awaiting the signal.

Inside Varan's castle, the front hall was pitch black.

Albert stood silent merging with the pillar's shadow. His face highly symmetrical and flat. His pale brown eyes darted fast sweeping the darkness. His thumb tapped his index finger in a constant rhythm. Calculating probabilities.

His trained ears caught an anomaly. This main corridor was too quiet. The sound of steel-plated shoe steps from the patrol soldiers in the west wing was no longer heard.

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His finger tapping stopped.

The target cut the route. The prince did not enter through the main door.

Albert turned his head toward the center of the hall. Toward Adler the wall of flesh standing petrified. The giant whose shoulders could block the room's pillar breathed extremely heavy, resembling the exhale of a broken chimney.

"They took the servant path," Albert hissed. His eyes shifted to Eric standing nervous holding a greatsword. "They head straight for Lord Varan's study. We move. Now."

The three elite knights rotated formation. Running leaving the failed hall trap, rushing up the marble stairs.

In the castle's west wing, Rhea took over the position in front of Luka.

As a former palace maid, Rhea knew the nobles' movements inside her brain. She knew every logistics route, every servant corridor, and every blind spot escaping the guard soldiers' sight.

The woman stepped firm toward a rotting oak door, hidden behind a pile of empty wine barrels. A special kitchen servant door.

Vance stepped forward. The giant man gripped the rusted iron hinges. He yanked them hard. The iron snapped lacking sound. The door opened.

They infiltrated inside.

Hot air immediately struck Luka's skin pores. Contrasting sharp with the ice storm outside. This castle was roasted by stone fireplaces in every corridor corner. Excessive luxury sacrificing the commoners' firewood.

Their boot steps were muffled by thick carpets. The limestone corridor lacked illumination.

Yet, the butcher instinct at Luka's solar plexus began thrashing responding to an anomaly.

These corridors were too quiet.

A castle belonging to a noble holding high-level logistics keys should be guarded by dozens of armored soldiers at every turn. Varan was a paranoid man. A man wearing excessive jewel rings to cover his fear. Yet, not a single clank of iron armor bounced off the corridor walls.

This ease sickened tactical reason. This was no defense gap. This was an invitation corridor. Varan had pulled his forces.

"Stop." Luka held Rhea's shoulder.

He shifted his body forward, taking over the frontmost position. Carved teakwood double doors stood firm at the end of the corridor. The noble's main study door.

Luka did not order Vance to breach. He did not order Lysandra to sneak in.

He stepped forward. His boots struck the floor on purpose. Producing a loud echoing footstep sound. He pushed both teakwood door leaves with his shoulder. The door leaves creaked rough. Opening wide.

Luka stepped inside the room.

Total darkness welcomed him.

The stone fireplace that usually blazed feral had been extinguished. The oil lamps on the walls turned off. This study bore an extremely hot temperature, suffocating from silk piles and human breaths, yet lacked a single speck of light.

Vance, Lysandra, and Rhea stepped inside behind him. Spreading forming a semi-circular defense formation.

In the middle of the pitch black, the sound of clapping cleaved the air.

Clap. Clap. Clap.

The clapping tempo was slow. Arrogant. Demeaning.

"I heard you killed Silas," Varan's voice echoed bouncing off the stone walls. His voice hoarse and filled with filthy satisfaction. "A highly magnificent achievement for a prince risen from the ashes."

The sound of metal scraping followed.

Dozens of torches on the room walls were lit in unison by servants hiding behind curtains. Orange fire exploded. Its light struck Luka's corneas. He did not blink. His eyes immediately processed the death positions around him.

The trap had been set neat.

The exit door behind them was immediately blocked by a row of Varan's armored forces. Their spears lowered, forming a seamless iron wall.

In the center of the room, Varan sat casual leaning in his thick velvet chair. The stocky man wrapped in layered silk clothes, sweat soaking his forehead. His right hand held a glass containing thick red wine. His left index fingernail twirled the large ruby stone ring constant. A demonic gesture weighing the profit of human lives.

The true threat stood flanking the noble. Varan's three elite knights who had just shifted position from the front hall. Three neck-chopping Resonants.

On the left side, Eric stood with a drawn greatsword. His silk clothes embroidered with gold thread looked highly excessive for an ambush, yet the cynical smile on his face covered his dense killing intent.

Behind the desk, Albert stood rigid. His face highly symmetrical and flat. His pale brown eyes darted fast sweeping Luka's troop numbers. His thumb tapped his index finger in rhythm, calculating Luka's physical weaknesses.

And in the middle of the room, right between Luka and Varan's desk.

A wall of flesh. Adler.

The giant whose shoulders could block the room's pillar breathed extremely heavy, resembling the exhale of a broken chimney.

Varan sipped his red wine. Staring at Luka from behind the mahogany wooden desk.

"But bringing four people into my castle?" Varan mocked. He clicked his tongue arrogant. "That is pure stupidity, Prince. What makes you think I will not chop your head on this carpet, and sell your skull to Ulric for additional territory?"

Tension pulled the nerves to the breaking limit. The three elite knights pressed their positions, narrowing Luka's breathing room.

Luka stood silent in his place. His black cloak did not tremble.

Luka's breath did not accelerate. His body posture refused to tense. He purely responded to the threat with silence, letting his right arm remain asleep behind the cloak. He stared straight piercing the arrogance in Varan's eyes.

Luka walked casual. His shoe steps calm. He stopped two meters before Adler the giant. Facing his masked face straight to Varan's desk.

Luka's left hand raised. He pointed three fingers into the air.

One.

His ring finger folded.

To his right, Lysandra shifted. The woman's pale face ducked. Her twin daggers undrawn, yet her posture had locked flawless onto Albert's blind spot. The woman's body ready to vault snapping the observer's neck in a fraction of a second before the man could swing his sword.

Two.

His middle finger bent.

Vance growled low. His shark jaw scraped loud. The muscles in his arms swelled feral exceeding normal limits. The energy from the blue stone thrashed demanding release.

The giant man took one step forward. His killing intent extremely thick and wild. Eric and Adler jolted backward on reflex, their biological instincts beaten back by the dominance of a pure predator's aura.

Three.

Luka folded his index finger. His eyes stared straight toward the giant stained glass window located right behind Varan's back. The window radiating the Dark Sapphire Moon's light.

CRASH!

The giant stained glass exploded to pieces. Sharp glass shards flew, raining upon the fur carpet.

The freezing snowstorm air crashed inside, destroying the room's hot temperature.

An object shot from the night darkness with a speed faster than the eye could follow. A long bone arrow.

The arrow did not pierce Varan's chest. The projectile's trajectory cut the air right beside the noble's face, embedding dead center into the teakwood backrest of the red velvet chair Varan sat on, located exactly half an inch from his fat-folded neck vein.

The silver glass in Varan's hand fell. Thick red wine spilled, soaking his silk trousers. His stocky body tensed rigidly like a frozen corpse. His stocky face, previously deep red with ego, now turned deathly pale like a blood-drained corpse.

Far atop the stone cliff wrapped in the snowstorm, Merrik lowered his bone bow. His three-eye lenses blinked analyzing the shot trajectory. The blue stone energy from Rhea granted him accuracy and power destroying the laws of physics.

Inside the study now breached by the storm, Luka's black cloak fluttered rough.

He leaned his body forward, passing Adler who remained petrified. Luka's pitch-black eye stared into Varan's severe trembling eyes looking at the arrow fletching beside his neck.

"You did not invite four people to your castle, Varan." Luka's voice sounded extremely low, cold, and lethal. "You invited death. Now, tell your dogs to step back, and let us talk business.”