There was a reason I had avoided the fight up till now. I needed time for my soul to digest all the essence I had consumed. To make it mine. To fill my essence pool so that I could create a seal. My fight with the adolescent damned named Baz had hammered home the fact that I was weak. Too weak to fight the foes that I had casually dismissed in the dark waters. As the Silent Hunter, I had twelve seals. Seals that could let me act with impunity. To travel to regions of conflict and quell the disturbance. To kill the armies of doomed, the damned, and fight back the doom bringers. Here I could not even stand against a relatively weak doomed or survive against a damned. That is why I needed to recreate my seals. The first seal was simple.

  It was the seal of the True Scythe. A long wooden shaft with a simple curved blade. Nothing about it was ornate, but everyone who looked at it knew what it was. A scythe that represented death.

  My chest burned and my mana veins twisted. I didn’t need to lift up my tunic to know what was happening. Just under my rib cage, my Reaper Seal was imprinting itself on my body. A dark scythe, not created of ink but of death mana, etched itself on my body. It wasn’t skin deep. It would go down to my muscles, blood, and soul. With it, I could now collect essence without actively breathing it in or swallowing it. Essence would be pulled to me. And even when I wasn’t in combat or hunting, essence would drift to me to fill up my empty pool.

  But that was not all. Other effects not expected made me stop and take stock for a brief second. My Reaper abilities felt closer. There was no other way to call it other than close. Ever since I had been pulled out of the dark waters, I had to sink into the waters to use my abilities. Now, they were at the tips of my fingers. I still couldn’t use them like the way I used to use them, but I had an instinctive understanding that I could do some of the things that I had been able to do.

  “Yo… Your Highness?” Grek looked at me with a slack jaw. “What do you mean, you will fight?”

  “Exactly that, Mouth. I will fight and you will stay back and watch. I don’t want you to interfere.” I raised the blade that my sister had given to me and looked at it. It was a dull gray blade that had mana channels inside it.

  “Your Highness. You can’t fight alone. There are two of them.” Grek started to protest.

  I cut him off with a shake of my head. “No, there are five of them. Don’t forget the other two specters and the thorg on the floor there.”

  I pointed at the doomed kneeling on the floor holding on to his gutted side.

  Grek frowned. “But...”

  “I want you to watch and let me know if they try to interfere. Be a good Mouth and do that for me.”

  “I can’t do that, Your Highness. His Majesty will be most unpleased if I let you charge into battle all alone.”

  I looked at the specter and the bear who were looking at each other and shooting me glances. None of us had moved. It was a three-way fight and nobody wanted to open themselves to attack from the other side.

  “Grek, I need to understand what I can do. I can’t do that fighting alongside someone. If I need help, I will call for you. But right now, I need you to take a few steps back and stay out of my way.”

  The punisher captain gave me a long look and sighed. “Understood, Your Highness. Just… try not to die? His Majesty will kill me, and I’ll be too dead to even properly blame the God Emperor for it. I’ll just have to sit in the afterlife, cursing your name. And your sister will probably find a way to come down there to yell at me, too. That is if Lady Saha doesn’t find me first.”

  I glanced at Grek from the side of my eye with a smile on my face. “That she is.”

  Grek smiled back at me and nodded. “Good. Now go kick their arse for us all, Your Highness.”

  I nodded back at the punisher but he was already gone. He blurred out of the way and appeared up on the chandelier swinging from the ceiling. We all looked at him for a second and then ignored the swinging chandelier and the warrior sitting on it.

  My foes looked back down at me. Their gazes were even more confident now. It was time to put an end to that. I reached inside my tunic and found the small carving. With a slight trickle of mana, my torc stopped compressing my body. I exhaled in relief. The feeling of growing to my full length was akin to being slouched over for hours and finally stretching my back.

  I began to grow, not in bits and starts like the thorg but like the Truechild I was. With me my clothes, my shoes, and even the belt around my waist grew in size to fit me. They were created by the Imperial Family tailors. They could have been called artifacts on their own. But the true artifact was my sword. It chimed and doubled in size. Its hilt grew warm and thickened to fit snugly in my palm.

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  The thorg looked at me and took a step back. The specter who had been looming over me had to now crick its neck to match my gaze. It looked like they didn’t know that I could do that. I smiled and took in a long breath. Air might have been stale but a lot of people had used a lot of mana in this hall. It rushed into my expanded lungs and mana began trickling into me with every breath.

  I looked down at my enemies and asked, “Shall we begin?”

  Nobody acted. We all looked at each other. Just as soon as I was beginning to wonder if I should start the fight, the bear roared. Spittle and blood flew out of its damaged mouth. The thorg dropped to all fours and charged me. His paws glowed red and the bones on its face began to create red force needles.

  The specter was smarter; it floated back. Soul fire gathered in its hands. It swiped one hand and then the other, throwing two balls of soul fire. One at me and the other at the thorg.

  I jumped to the side to avoid the fire and ran in an arc towards the specter. I couldn’t get hit by one of those. Getting hit by one of those balls was instant death. It wouldn’t just kill me. It would burn my soul shield and my soul.

  The thorg, though, just raised a paw and deflected the soul attack. Doomed always had better protection than normal souls. I looked at the thorg; it glanced back at me. Our eyes met. Our focus shifted as one toward the specter. The ranged attacker had to go first.

  The bear glowed a deep red and charged at the specter. The specter opened its mouth and spat out a gout of fire at the bear. The fire hid the bear for a second and then the bear appeared in front of the specter unharmed, with its paws raised to strike.

  Then I closed the gap, striking down with my sword. My sword was deflected away by one arm while the bone-eyed bear had to quickly jump back to avoid a slashing arm. I pulled my sword back and fed mana into my next thrust. The specter swayed sideways and opened its mouth to spew fire into my face. My thrust connected, but stopped after it bit into the specter’s dark rags. I ducked and rolled under the floating specter.

  The thorg slammed into the specter almost trampling me. I rolled away before the claws on its feet could pierce my chest. I jumped back to my feet and slashed out at the specter. The rags got in the way again. I had to dodge again. The thorg shot red rays from its face again. Some of them hit the specter’s raised arms. The others came close enough to cut into my throat.

  I looked at the thorg. I could see the hint of amusement in its eyes. Before I could do anything, I had to jump back once again. This time to dodge a ball of soul fire. Apparently, these two creatures thought that I was weakest among us all. That was okay. Because none of them had realized the reason I kept closing the gap in between me and the specter. The closer I got to the malicious soul, the more essence I consumed. I took stock. My pool was only at five percent. It wasn’t enough. I would have to do this with mana.

  I charged the specter again. This time before I closed the gap I created a spike of ice in my left hand and threw it. Straight at the thorg. The thorg didn’t even dodge. It brought its arm up and took the blow on its arm. The spike didn’t even scratch its fur.

  But that wasn’t the real attack. My real attack was aimed at the specter. I wound my sword back, filled the blade with ice until it creaked, and slammed the specter with the broad side of my blade. The specter hissed and flew sideways. It caught itself after a few steps. It started to turn. I ran past it before it could attack.

  My eyes were locked on the bear. The thorg’s face glowed red. It aimed the bones on its face at me. I planted my feet. Fed mana to my body until my body hummed. With all the strength I could muster, I threw an uppercut at the bear’s chin. Its head jerked up. Its neck creaked. More importantly, its red rays of force flew upwards. The thorg reeled back.

  “Blight and curses!” Grek shouted from up above.

  “Sorry,” I responded while kicking the thorg’s legs.

  I sped more mana into my body and spun. My breath fogged the air as I brought the broad side of my blade to slam on the specter’s head. The fire it was going to spew went sideways, and a slight frosting of ice appeared on the specter’s dark hood. I continued my spin again and punched out. I connected with the bear’s injured face. The thorg howled and dropped to a knee.

  I didn’t stop. I saw the specter raising an arm. Blue flickers of fire began to ignite in its palm. I grabbed the bony limb. The specter raised its second arm to slash. I didn’t give it the chance. With a twist of my hips I threw the floating creature. Right on top of the bone-faced bear.

  The two creatures howled. They bit and slashed at each other. Red force began to manifest. Followed by blue fire. I turned and ran backwards. With a loud whoosh and a boom, the two enemies parted, rolling and flying away from each other.

  I turned back panting. I had used a lot of mana and energy in a small amount of time. I put my hands on my knees and breathed in and out. The smoke parted and my two enemies lifted themselves up. The bear fur looked singed at places and blood dripped down its torso. The specter had three deep slashes running down from its collar to the chest.

  They both turned to look at me. Fire blazed in the specter’s eyes and the bear growled at me. I gulped. I couldn’t help it. That should have been enough. Blight, these enemies were tough.

  Okay, then. I guess I would just hit them with another one of my attacks. I raised my finger. I shot one death dart and then another. The bear rolled to the side. The specter took the blow unfazed. I looked at my raised finger and back at the specter in shock. Why hadn’t this worked?

  “Uh… Your Highness. You can’t kill the dead with death,” Grek explained from up above.

  “Why?” I looked up with gritted teeth and asked.

  Grek looked down at me from the swinging chandelier and shrugged. “They are already dead.”

  My shoulders slumped and I looked at my enemies. The specter gathered fire in its palms. On the other side the bones on the thorg’s face began to glow red. I realized that now I was the one that they both were going to team up to finish off first.

  I exhaled loudly and raised my sword. And braced for their attacks.

  “Come on then. Let’s see what you can do.”

  They gave him a name forged in fire: Stormbreaker. They gave him two legions and a crown of spears. They gave him the South to break.

  Alric Vaelgard did not refuse.

  For three years he bore the Empire's wrath like a yoke, silent and unyielding, bound by chains older than his birth. As the court demanded, he answered.

  Then came Khal-Drathir, the final city, the final command. And in its ruin, he made the choice that would unravel him.

  Now the ghost he denied death walks beside him to Valekyr, where the throne waits and the Seneschals have already begun circling.

  In an empire built on ash and gilded lies, one act of defiance may cost him everything.

  But carrying the weight of what he has done may cost him more.

  A dark epic of obedience, ruin, and hope.

  What to expect:

  - An epic dark fantasy with poetic prose and biblical influences

  - Atmospheric worldbuilding and supernatural dread

  - Slow-burn character dynamics built on guilt, hatred, and moral tension

  - Political intrigue and courtly scheming

  - A weekly chapter posted every Thursday at 2:00 A.M. UTC+1