Building a Kingdom and Conquering the World - Chapter 205

Chapter 205: Creeping Darkness
A thunderous crash reverberated through the corridors of Luak’s Royal Palace, shaking the walls and sending tremors throughout the building. The sound bounced off the stone walls, and a few paintings slipped from their hooks, landing with dull thuds on the floor. Dust also drifted down from the ceiling, hovering in the air like a ghostly mist.

Cough.

The guard stationed outside Falmer’s study coughed, waving a hand in front of his face to clear the dust from his nostrils. He pressed his back against the door, trying to steady himself, his eyes darting nervously toward the corridor from which the noise had come. The flickering candlelight cast weak, trembling shadows, illuminating only a few feet ahead. Beyond that lay darkness, dense and unnerving.

The guard’s heart pounded in his chest, thumping like a drumbeat, each pulse getting stuck in his throat, threatening to jump out of his mouth. He looked around, feeling utterly alone, and with the sensation that something was lurking in the shadows of the corridor, creeping closer, waiting to strike.

“What the hell is happening out there?” Falmer’s voice echoed from inside the study. The king’s tone was laced with irritation, but beneath it, there was a crack of fear.

The guard bit his lip, his gaze darting from the door to the darkness. He could not take it anymore. Every instinct screamed at him to run. With a final glance down the hallway, he spun around and bolted, not sparing a second thought for his orders. He would come up with an excuse later, maybe say he had been sent to fetch more water for the king. “Screw it,” he muttered as he fled.

The moment his footsteps faded, three figures emerged from the shadows, Henry, Leier, and Yngvi. Leier’s short sword was drawn, her gaze fixed on the back of the retreating guard, her expression hard and cold.

Henry noted the fury in her eyes and placed a hand on her shoulder. “Leave him,” he said quietly. “He is harmless now. Soon, he will serve under my throne.”

Leier’s grip on her sword didn’t loosen. Her voice was sharp. “A coward who abandons his own king has no loyalty. He could be a danger to you, my liege.”

Yngvi snorted, his bearded old face set in a scowl. “The hairless lass is right, descendant. Cowards ain’t worth keepin’ around.” He patted the head of his hammer, Skybreaker, which sparked faintly with arcs of lightning at his touch, illuminating the dark hallway in brief, eerie flashes.

Henry shook his head, brushing off the topic. “We will deal with that later. Our priority is to finish this quickly. Luther is waiting for us in the North, and he may need our help. Every city we passed through was stripped of its fighting men. This fool king must have sent his entire kingdom’s strength to the front lines.”

At those words, Leier’s gaze shifted from the guard’s vanishing silhouette to the door of the study. She nodded, her expression hardening with resolve. “Understood, my liege. Let me go in first.” She stepped forward, her movements silent and deliberate as she approached the door, her footsteps echoing faintly in the otherwise still corridor.

Yngvi grunted, adjusting his grip on Skybreaker. “Aye, I will go in with ye, lass.” The hammer’s head crackled with arcs of lightning, casting brief, flickering glows on the walls as they advanced.

As they neared the door, Leier could hear Falmer’s voice from within, shrill and furious. “Damn it! I asked you what’s happening outside! Are you deaf?” His voice held a faint quiver, the bravado failing to mask his panic.

Leier reached for the latch. Locked. She glanced back at Henry, who nodded his approval, giving her the signal to proceed. She turned to Yngvi, who grinned, baring his teeth. Raising his hammer, he swung with precision, bringing Skybreaker down on the door handle. The lock shattered under the force, and the door swung open with a low, ominous creak.

Inside, Falmer was huddled in the far corner of the study, clutching an old, rusty sword he’d pulled from the wall, a relic of a bygone era, passed down through Luak’s royal lineage but long forgotten, a weapon that had never tasted the scent of blood or battle for centuries. His knuckles were white, his face pale with terror. His wide eyes darted between the intruders, the pitiful weapon trembling in his grip.

“You…” he stammered, his voice barely a whisper. His gaze flicked from Leier to Yngvi, and finally landed on Henry, whose dark hair and flickering violet eyes seemed to command the room, his presence like a dark storm cloud ready to strike.

“Nice to meet you, Falmer,” Henry said with a calm, almost mocking smile, his gaze dismissing the trembling sword pointed at him. His eyes roamed the study, noting the piles of untouched books and the faint smell of alcohol. “When your guard told us you were in the study, I pictured a king hunched over his maps, a wise man trying to win a war…” His gaze flicked to Falmer’s disheveled hair, his rumpled clothes, and the smudges of lipstick on his collar. “But I see you are nothing more than a pig wallowing in his own filth, playing king in a sty.”

Falmer’s mouth opened and closed, his eyes darting desperately between the three figures. “Who… who are you?” he croaked, pointing the rusty sword in a weak, shaking arc. “Don’t come any closer! I will cut you down!” His voice was high and trembling, barely holding onto the last shreds of his bravado as Henry took slow, measured steps toward him. He knew how to fight, but maybe because of the terror he was feeling, he couldn’t even muster his Mana.

“Pigs shouldn’t play with blades,” Henry said, his voice low and chilling. He reached out, intending to knock the sword from Falmer’s grip with ease. But as his fingers brushed the blade, a sudden sharp sting shot through his palm, drawing blood.

Henry frowned, examining the cut, a flicker of confusion crossing his face. The blade was rusted and blunt; it should not have been able to pierce his skin.

Falmer’s eyes widened, his terror shifting into a twisted, manic grin as he clutched the sword tighter. “I warned you! Stay back!” he shrieked, his voice desperate, wild. Suddenly, Black tendrils of a strange, shadowy aura began to snake up from the sword, curling around his hand and creeping along his arm, latching onto him like a parasite.

Henry felt a chill crawl up his spine, and the tattoo on his chest, the mark of Caelum, began to pulse, a warning resonating in his bones. His instincts screamed at him, and he could feel Caelum’s spirit stirring, alerting him to the danger.

“Fall back!” Henry commanded, his voice sharp and urgent as he took a step back, eyes fixed on the growing darkness enveloping Falmer.

But it was too late. The black aura crawled over Falmer’s body, seeping into his skin, twisting his expression into something unnatural, his eyes taking on an eerie, glassy shine. He opened his mouth to scream, but no sound came out, only a guttural, choking noise as the darkness consumed him, transforming his once-fearful gaze into something void, like a black vortex.

“Help me! Help me! Please! I’ll give you any gold you want!” Falmer’s voice was a strangled whisper, barely his own, as the shadowy aura was finished devouring him. He tried to drop the sword, but it clung to his hand, bound to him, refusing to release its grip.

Yes, it was too late, something awakened.