Gabriel's vow still echoed in his chest like a silent oath.
A sharp knock echoed at the door- interupting his thoughts . It cracked open, revealing a maid, her face hesitant. "Young master… your family requests your presence in the dining hall."
Gabriel slowly opened his eyes, his gaze sharp as ice. He rose without answering, pushing open the door himself. The servant, startled by the prince's piercing stare, bowed low and scurried ahead to guide him.
The dining hall was already alive with the clatter of cutlery and the low murmur of voices when Gabriel entered. His brothers and sisters lounged in their seats, laughing and bickering as they usually did. At the head of the long polished table sat his father, King Orion, whose stern eyes swept across the room.
The moment Gabriel stepped inside, the noise softened.
There was something different about him. No trace of hesitation in his steps, no flicker of emotion across his face. He was calm, cold, and impossibly steady—as if the world itself could not sway him. His siblings, who once delighted in mocking his weakness, found themselves glancing at him with unspoken questions.
A few maids standing at the sides exchanged whispers."Is that really the young prince?" one murmured."He seems… colder. Almost frightening," another replied, bowing quickly when Gabriel's gaze brushed past them.
Gabriel pulled out his chair and sat in silence. He did not greet his siblings, nor did he lower his head before the king. He simply began to eat, his movements precise, almost mechanical, as if the food was nothing more than fuel.
For a long while, no one spoke to him. His step sister smirked, perhaps remembering their last altercation in this dining hall, but when she opened his mouth to taunt, Gabriel's eyes flicked up. Just one look—flat, emotionless, cutting like steel—froze the words in her throat. He swallowed and turned back to his plate.
The king noticed everything. He set his goblet down with a quiet thud."Gabriel," he said at last, his voice heavy with authority. "i don't want a repeat of the previous incidents - You will not fight your siblings again. Whatever grudge festers in your heart, bury it. I will not tolerate discord within this house."
Gabriel scoffed secretly. He should bury the years of humilation— funny.
He wiped his mouth with a napkin, his expression unchanged. "As long as they are not permitted to fight me, Father, there will be no problem."
The bluntness of his reply left the hall in silence. Some of his siblings blinked, shocked at his audacity. Others looked away, unwilling to meet his gaze. The maids bent lower, pretending to busy themselves with their tasks, though their ears burned with the gossip they would whisper later.
King Orion's eyes narrowed slightly, but he did not press further. For the first time, it seemed he did not know how to read his son.
Gabriel rose. "I have eaten my fill. If you will excuse me."
Without waiting for permission, he left the table. His back was straight, his steps unhurried, but each carried the weight of a man no longer willing to be overlooked. His family watched him go in silence, every person lost in their own thoughts.
Back in his chamber, Gabriel closed the door behind him and leaned against it, letting the silence wash over him. He summoned his system with a thought.
If subjugation can grant me power through beasts, then it can grant me soldiers. An army. But to build one, I must test the limits.
He extended his hand. Shadows stirred in the corners of the room. Two rats emerged, their red eyes gleaming faintly under the moonlight seeping through the window. They were his first subjugated beasts—small, weak, but loyal.
"You will be my messengers," Gabriel murmured.
He tore a strip of parchment and dipped his quill. His handwriting was steady as he penned the message:
Meet me beyond the old stone well in the western courtyard. Midnight. There will be a distraction. If you want your freedom, come.
He folded the note and sealed it with wax, then tied it carefully to the stronger rat."Deliver this to the one who rules the prisoners. Do not be seen."
The rat's whiskers twitched as if in understanding. Both scurried into the shadows and disappeared through a narrow crack in the floor.
Gabriel sat cross-legged on his bed, closing his eyes. Through the bond, he could sense their movements—the scurrying through walls, the scent of damp stone as they descended into the dungeon.
The prisoners were restless tonight. Chains clinked, curses echoed, and hollow laughter filled the corridors. But in one darkened cell, a man sat in silence, his posture too straight for a common criminal. His aura, though faint, was heavy—like a storm buried under years of dust.
The rat crept closer and dropped the note inside.
The man opened his eyes. For the first time in years, a spark flickered within them. He snatched the note, reading it under the dim torchlight.
"Interesting," he whispered, a cruel smile tugging at his lips. "Someone seeks allies among prisoners."
Gabriel felt the man's amusement through the rat's eyes. Yet there was no mockery in his voice, only curiosity—like a predator watching prey do something unexpected. almost like he knew the source of the letter.
The man tucked the note away and leaned back against the wall, waiting.
The rats returned, slipping back into Gabriel's chamber. He dismissed them with a nod. Now came the hard part: cultivation.
Hours passed. Gabriel focused on his breathing, trying to draw the faint threads of spiritual energy into his body. It was like grasping smoke with bare hands—slippery, fleeting, infuriating. Sweat beaded on his brow. His body resisted, screaming with fatigue from the past days of strain.
So this is cultivation… no wonder so many fail.
But he did not stop. Each attempt, each failure, was fuel for his resolve. He kept his mind steady, his heart cold.
At last, the appointed hour neared. He opened his eyes, exhaustion etched into his features but his will unshaken.
"Time."
He sent the rats ahead. They darted into the kitchens, toppling jars and scattering crumbs, causing the servants to shout in alarm. Elsewhere, they gnawed through ropes holding barrels in the courtyard, sending them crashing down with thunderous noise. Guards rushed to investigate.
In the chaos, Gabriel slipped through the shadows, his steps light and measured, until he reached the old stone well in the western courtyard.
The prisoner was already there, a tall man with sharp features and a mane of unkempt hair. His wrists bore the raw marks of chains, yet his presence was suffocating even in his weakened state.
"So," the man drawled, eyeing Gabriel, "the little prince comes to play with rats and prisoners. Have you sunk so low?"
Gabriel's face remained impassive. "Mock me if you wish. But I came with an offer."
The man chuckled darkly. "An offer? From a boy who barely stands at the threshold of power?"
Gabriel's eyes narrowed. "Serve me. In exchange, I will see you free of your cell."
The prisoner's laughter echoed in the night. "You think yourself worthy?
I was a beta-stage cultivator, mid-rank, before your noble father framed me and locked me away. You are not even a shadow of what I was."
Gabriel was impatiant — He called upon his system silently. Probability of subjugating him? he asked
[Calculation complete. Chance of success: 15%. Reason: Cultivation sealed. Mind dulled by imprisonment ]
Gabriel was startled— Too low. Too risky. even at his weakest, then at his strongest.... he did not want to think about it.
As Gabriel considered, the prisoner's gaze softened ever so slightly. "Boy. You have courage, I will grant you that. But strength? Not yet.
I will watch you. If you grow into someone worthy of commanding me, then perhaps one day I will kneel."
He turned, stepping back toward the dungeon.
Gabriel frowned. "Why return? Why not escape?"
The man glanced over his shoulder, his grin sharp. "Because unlike you, I know your father's strength. If I run now, I will not make it past the walls. Better to wait. Better to live." an now with renewed hope. he sia while staring at Gabriel.
Boy dont fail me!
With that, he vanished into the shadows of the castle, slipping back into his prison before discovery.
Gabriel stood alone by the well, the night air cold against his skin. Yet inside, a spark of satisfaction burned.
Progress. Not victory, but progress.
He returned to his chamber, dismissing the rats with a thought. Exhaustion weighed heavy on him now. His body finally yielded, pulling him into sleep.
For the first time in years, he dreamed not of fear—but of chains breaking, beasts kneeling, and shadows marching at his command.
The path was long. But it had begun.