Building a Kingdom and Conquering the World

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."

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.