Some time after entering the forest near the outskirts, Rurik stopped tracking and let his eyes ignite.
The constellations spread across his cornea, and the world split in two. One forest stood still under the grey afternoon light. The other held a ghost of the Fallen Demon's projection, moving backward through the trees with its snout low to the ground.
He followed it.
The projection tore backward through underbrush and over fallen trunks, retracing every lunge and every stumble of its march. Rurik kept pace a few steps behind, his essence draining in a slow, steady trickle. He followed and followed, deeper into the dead leaves and the shadows, until the trees thinned and the ground began to rise, slanting to a low slope. He had finally entered into the mountains of the edge.
He followed the projection for a few more minutes before suddenly, the ghost simply vanished.
It did not fade or flicker. One moment it was there, and the next there was only the empty forest.
Rurik's steps halted.
He turned a slow circle, his eyes sweeping over the trunks, the boulders, and the carpet of dead leaves. There was nothing. No trail, no tracks, no disturbed soil. The abomination's path had ended in the middle of nowhere, as if the earth had swallowed it whole.
His brow furrowed. The mark on the flesh was still intact. The ability itself had not failed, but something else had.
He closed his eyes for a moment, then activated his dormant ability.
It woke slowly, like a limb that had gone numb.
When he opened his eyes again, the forest looked different. The air around him was threaded with faint distortions, thin as spider silk, drifting across the clearing like heat haze. They were not natural. They bent his gaze away from certain spots, nudging it gently elsewhere.
Something had been blocking his ability this entire time.
He followed the strongest of the distortions to a patch of ground where the leaves lay a little too evenly. The haze thickened there, almost resentful. Rurik crouched and brushed the leaves aside.
There was wood. A trapdoor, weathered and dark, sat flush with the earth. When he lifted its edge, the haze around him shuddered and tore like wet paper, and the concealment broke.
Cold air escaped up from the opening, carrying the smell of dust and old stone.
The moment the door swung wide, his Awakened ability surged back into the world. The ghost of the Demon returned, and this time it was clear. He watched it crawl backward into the darkness of the tunnel's depths, down through the opening.
So this was where it had come from.
His gaze dropped to the ground around the entrance. Beside the Demon's enormous prints, a second set ran through the dirt. They were human footprints.
Rurik's fingers tightened on the edge of the trapdoor.
He descended the ladder into the dark.
The tunnel was wide and low, its walls shored with old timber, its floor worn smooth by feet long gone. Shallow alcoves were cut into the stone at regular intervals, built for torches that no longer existed. Faint grooves ran along the floor where carts and stretchers had once been dragged.
"The old tunnels," he murmured, and his voice echoed back at him. "One of the retreat routes."
He had heard about tunnels like this before, but they had been sealed and mostly forgotten long before he had even become an Awakened.
Somewhere ahead, the projection had stopped moving, completely motionless, its silhouette hidden almost perfectly within the shadows.
No, it wasn't standing still; it had lain down, asleep...
Seeing that nothing was happening at the moment, he sped up the time of the recollection, and minutes began to pass in a matter of seconds.
He would have missed it completely if he hadn't been paying full attention. At some point in time, for just a millisecond, an object appears hovering in the air. Startled, Rurik immediately slowed time and observed it closely.
It was a small bronze flask, quite simple in appearance and floating in the air. Right now, under the illumination of his glowing eyes, it was bobbing up and down slowly, as if the invisible person holding it had been breathing heavily. In the next second, the flask made a scooping motion, and the crimson blood that was still fresh on the projection jumped into the air and entered the flask. Then, the cap was put back on, and the flask disappeared from view once again.
Rurik looked at the peculiar scene, baffled.
It seemed that the streak of blood had been painted here by someone before anything had even happened. Not only that, the flask had a concealment effect almost identical to the one on the trapdoor, the one difference being that this time, it was present in the projection of the events itself, meaning he couldn't break through it to track it to its source.
Rurik stared at the empty air where the flask had been, but after a moment, he sped the recollection up once more.
Minutes folded into seconds. The Demon lay still, its breathing slow and steady in the dark, and the tunnel around it stayed quiet.
Then a figure came walking back from the far end of the tunnel.
Rurik slowed time at once.
The man was tall and hooded, his steps unhurried. As his back drew closer, he lowered the cloth from his face, and the glow of Rurik's eyes caught the features.
Rurik's heart stopped beating for a second, his thoughts stained by boundless confusion.
It was Gaius.
Also, something was clearly wrong with his face. There was a terrible burn on his left cheek, raw and blistered. The skin was still pink and wet, not yet healed into, well, anything.
But what was he doing here? Since he could see him in his recollection, this meant the bloodstain of the abomination's neck was actually his, but that bloodstain was definitely planted by someone else. Not only that, he was supposed to be far away in the wilderness, having gone to the expedition with him. Even if he had left at night when he was asleep, Rurik would've still at least sensed someone leaving.
Rurik got the answer to his first question pretty soon. As he watched, Gaius dragged the body of the Fallen Demon—that still seemed to be asleep somehow—out of the tunnel. Which meant in reality, he had been the one to drag it inside Casamir so it could go rampant within on its own.
Confusion slowly seeped into his mind the more he watched, and as he did, the confusion grew and grew until the question "What was Gaius doing?" turned to "Why was Gaius doing this?"
Suddenly, he remembered the hideous burn on Gaius's face in the projection and then remembered Corvin recounting his fight with the rampaging Oswald.
Finally, it was the conversation with him yesterday, where Corvin had told him about the conversation with Sera.
Gradually, all the clues and pieces of information came together, forming a clear and complete picture of what had happened and why.
His fingers curled into a fist, but then, as he looked at the bloodstain on the piece of flesh in his hand, he suddenly burst into loud laughter.
Without this blood, he would've never known who it was that had carried the abomination into Casamir and who it was that had disguised himself as Oswald.
'That guy, whoever he is... must really hate Gaius, to go to such length to deliver this evidence to me, eh?'
After he calmed down, he stood up straight and called for the voice in his head. Soon, it answered back, and Rurik gave his message.
>{Make an announcement to all Awakened in your range.}
***
{Attention all personnel, if you are currently in proximity of Prince Gaius, do not react or show signs of hearing this announcement.}
{Following a personal investigation held by Ascended Rurik, it has been found that Prince Gaius, chief commander of the army, is directly responsible for the most recent breach by a Fallen Demon. Additionally, it was he, disguised as Oswald, who had started the slaughter in the north-east outskirts and subsequently clashed with Ascended Corvin and Cathal.}
'What?!'
The voice in his head resounded once again, disclosing more details of Rubik's report.
Corvin did not stop walking. The corridor was narrow and torchlit, and Gaius was a few steps ahead of him, his back straight and calm as always.
'No.'
That was his first thought. It had to be a mistake. Rurik was injured and exhausted, so it had to be, because it did not make any sense at all otherwise; after all, Gaius was supposed to be a hundred kilometres away that night.
But Rurik should have known it better than him; after all, he had been with him on the expedition. There was also what Sera had told him before and the inconsistency in the two different times of witnesses.
Even then, he refused to believe it immediately.
But the voice kept going, listing what Rurik had seen. It mentioned the burn on his face, the tunnel infused with Gaius's ability, and the Demon dragged in by hand.
A fleeting memory passed by his mind; it was one of the exchange of words between him and Oswald during the fight.
''Do you not fear the Crown? Are you under the illusion that you will be able to escape its judgement? Don't be a fool and think it through first before attacking me, a Prince!''
He had not thought of them as strange back then, and even now, they didn't seem to be. But what he really remembered was the reaction he had given him, something he hadn't thought much on before. It was almost as if he was confused, not understanding why someone was fighting him.
Or more like why someone had attacked him out of nowhere.
'Had Gaius switched places with him at that moment?'
The reasoning was clear, but for some reason, he still felt unsure and hesitant to come to that conclusion.
His grip tightened on his sword hilt and then loosened.
No, there was still one way he could confirm this. Rurik's word had stated there was a fresh burn mark on his face at that time, and to turn it into scars and then heal it completely, Gaius must've needed a healer. And from what that young boy, Ashoka, had said, Gaius had visited the healer from the trade caravan before the expedition.
Keeping his head low to hide the terrible distortion of his expression, he spoke.
"You know, Gaius, I was planning to get myself healed by one of the Awakened healer from the recent caravan. I wonder if you knew anything about her."
Gaius looked over his shoulder, frowning in confusion. But all Corvin could see were the imperfections in those deliberate muscular movements—a shallow facsimile of a genuine expression.
"A healer? No, I have no clue. They must have arrived when I wasn't attending court."
'Liar...'
He remembered Cathal's broken body after the brutal fight and the expression on his face.
The seed of doubt and suspicion in his heart finally bloomed, transforming into acceptance.
'...Traitor.'
With that acceptance came a fury so boundless and overwhelming that it scorched his mind and heart, leaving nothing but pure hatred behind.
Ah, how easy it was to shatter the bonds of trust forged over a decade of blood and steel.
His hand moved before his mind could process the action, ripping a blazing torch from the stone wall.
Gaius noticed the sudden shift in the shadows immediately. But as he turned, Corvin swung the roaring flame straight at his face.
A cloud of blinding ash and sparks exploded into the air. Gaius screamed, staggering backward with his eyes wide in shock.
In that fleeting, dim light, Corvin caught one last look at his face. The left cheek was smeared with black soot, perfectly mimicking Oswald's iconic scar. The resemblance was identical.
"YOU VILE SCUM!"
The screech of Corvin's sword leaving its scabbard echoed as his terrible wail shook the corridor, snuffing out the torches and plunging them into instant darkness.
Right on the heels of that, high above, the evening sky of Casamir suddenly shook, the sea of cloud rippling and distorting like a passing wave.
Then, as if a second sun had appeared high above, brilliant light fell down, cutting through the rolling clouds like a heavenly waterfall and turning the land brass.
A booming, majestic voice tore through the silence of the dusk, echoing across all of Casamir.
{ATTENTION, ALL CITIZENS OF CASAMIR...}
Everyone looked up at the sky in astonishment.
{ON ACCOUNTS OF THE MURDER OF PRINCE OSWALD, AND TREASON AGAINST THE CROWN...}
{I, THE HAND OF ORDER, IN THE NAME OF THE CROWN...}
{DECLARE PRINCE GAIUS AS A TRAITOR OF CASAMIR!}
Ashoka had only just entered into Eldrin's chamber, and the boy was still in the process of giving him a questioning look when the voice of the Hand of Order reached their ears.
Both of them looked at the ceiling in unison, as if intending to see through the layers of stone and wood and observe the sky that by now should've turned a sea of brassy twilight.
"Wha—"
Before Eldrin could finish his question, the doors were forcefully pushed open as two figures barged in. Ashoka instantly recognized them as the same Awakened and Ascended that had been there on the day of Oswald's death.
The voice of heaven boomed once again.
{PRINCE GAIUS, FOR HAVING COMMITTED TREACHERY OF THE HIGHEST DEGREE, SHALL HAVE HIS TITLE AS A ROYAL HEIR REVOKED!}
As Ashoka barely suppressed a grin from peeking through, the two uninvited guests dashed forward. The Ascended came to stand beside Eldrin, hand on his sword and ready to protect. The Awakened woman meanwhile put a hand on Ashoka's shoulder, as if warning him not to try anything funny.
Eldrin looked side to side in panic and confusion. "What's happening?!"
Although he had asked the Ascended, it was the woman who answered, grinning darkly.
"What else, your highness? Your uncle, Prince Gaius, is attempting to murder you! And usurp the Crown as well! He also led to the death of Prince Oswald and most likely Prince Alariv as well."
Eldrin made a startled noise, but his next words were drowned out once more.
{ASCENDED GAIUS, FOR HAVING COMMITTED TREACHERY OF THE HIGHEST DEGREE, SHALL HAVE HIS ASPECT ABILITIES SEALED!}
The ground suddenly shook, different from the tremor in the air due to the Hand of Order's words.
"Oh right," the woman added, "and Ascended Corvin is currently engaging in combat with him. That impact must be from their fight."
"What?!" An alarmed expression flashed across his face as he frantically shook his head. "No! Stop! Get Corvin to stop!" The sudden, terrifying realization that he might lose his last remaining family member seemed to have completely eclipsed everything else. In that moment of sheer panic, his fear-stricken mind utterly ignored the fact that the very same person he was trying to protect had been conspiring to kill him.
As if to mock his words, the air in the room trembled.
{A KILL ORDER HAS BEEN PLACED ON ASCENDED GAIUS!}
"NO!"
A sudden warm wind blew across the room, almost like a slow exhale, and Ashoka suddenly felt an overpowering presence of authority and dominance envelope Eldrin like a mantle. With the unmistakable aura of a King, he raised one hand and opened his mouth, about to pass a verdict to stop Corvin.
But before he could, the voice of the Hand of Order spoke, making his world crumble into a million pieces:
{ASCENDED GAIUS HAS BEEN EXECUTED BY ASCENDED CORVIN UNDER THE KILL ORDER...}
The room fell into the deathly silence of midnight. Like a cyclone, the disaster had struck—and just like a cyclone, it vanished in an instant, leaving nothing but stillness and devastation in its wake.
Eldrin fell to his knees, as an expression of desperation still stuck on his face.
"No... No, no, no..."
Soon, it turned into despair, as his gaze drifted to some distant place, unfocused. With tears starting to wet his nose and cheeks, his breathing turned rapid and he began to hyperventilate.
The Ascended knelt and laid a steady hand on the boy's back, and it did nothing. Eldrin's breaths came in shuddering gasps, his small fingers clawing at the carpet as if the floor itself were slipping away. Eventually, the gasps turned into broken sobs.
Ashoka stood frozen where he was.
Not able to look at the scene for long, Ashoka turned away, his expression distorting. Once again, he felt the sorrowful ache in his heart.
After a moment, he turned towards the Awakened woman and asked for more details on the matter, intending to still play his part as an innocent party.
The explanation went on for a dozen minutes, a replay of most of Gaius's action and some of Ashoka's as well, but credited to Gaius instead.
By the time she finished explaining, Eldrin's sobs had turned quiet, instead replaced by a heavy silence.
Ashoka bit his lower lip and walked towards him with slow and soft steps. Looking at Eldrin's small and feeble figure, he hesitated for a moment before speaking:
"Eldrin."
The boy looked up, and Ashoka was once again painfully reminded of his lack in the skills of comforting someone.
"...We should probably go and take a look. The place of the fight shouldn't be too far a way."
A sharp expression passed over his face, something akin to shock or fear. Eldrin remained silent for a moment, as if the gears in his head were churning for a reply. Eventually, he gave a simple nod.
Ashoka gave a nod of his own before turning to the Awakened and asking her to tell the young king what she had told him.
Finally, he turned on his heel to head for the door, but in the process, the corner of his vision captured something.
Behind him, the figure of the Ascended was bent over, his ear near Eldrin. And Eldrin, at the moment, was whispering something into his ear, something Ashoka couldn't catch.
For some strange and inexplicable reason, a feeling of unease gripped his heart as he continued his walking pace, making it hard to breathe.
But the feeling of suffocation had been present from the moment he had entered this room in the afternoon. So, he simply ordered his mind to ignore it.
Finally, he took his last step, clearing the threshold of the room.
The next second, the world upended.
A sudden weight slammed into his spine, knocking his legs out. He hit the stone before he could blink. The impact emptied his lungs in a ragged wheeze, and before he could drag air back into his throat, a heavy, iron palm smashed into the back of his skull, driving his face flat against the freezing floor.
"Argh...!"
Disoriented and suffocating, Ashoka tried to thrash against the weight, but the pressure pinning him down was simply monstrous. It was like being trapped under a collapsed wall.
'Wha—what the hell!'
An incomprehensible scream echoed against his ringing ears. It wasn't Eldrin's voice, which he first expected, but a deep, booming command.
He flailed blindly, trying to break free, but another hand clamped around his wrists, wrenching his arms back and pinning them ruthlessly against his spine. Ashoka's eyes widened.
Then, a brutal strike clipped the side of his neck, and the world went instantly black.