Chapter 9: The Aftermath
In a city ravaged by the revolutionaries, Dale purchased a small shop.
“We’ll stay here until the time is right,” he said.
“Here… in this place?” Yufi stammered, unable to comprehend his decision.
Dale nodded. “Yes.”
Yufi swallowed hard, struggling to understand. The city was in chaos, and it was only a matter of time before more revolutionary forces arrived.
“But the revolutionaries—”
“We’re waiting for them,” Dale interrupted. He knew that once word of the city’s turmoil spread, the revolutionaries would send reinforcements, and they wouldn’t be a small force.
It was a reckless plan, but in a way, it was the quickest way to get in touch with the revolution’s leaders.
“Isn’t it dangerous? What if they ambush us?” Yufi asked, her voice tinged with worry.
“I’m monitoring their movements through the Blue Web. Any surprise attack would be futile. You have nothing to worry about,” Dale reassured her.
Yufi didn’t fully grasp what he meant, but she nodded quietly.
“We have enough food to last a few days,” Dale noted.
“Yes…”
“We could have a more lavish meal elsewhere,” he suggested.
“No, that’s not necessary!” Yufi protested, waving her hands dismissively. Dale chuckled softly and turned away.
He rummaged through the shop, gathering some soft bread, sausages, and soup. With a flick of his hand, flames danced in the air, heating the soup until steam rose from it.
“Here, eat up,” he offered.
“Thank you, Uncle Dale,” Yufi replied gratefully.
After casting his magic, Dale bit into a piece of hard black bread, his own portion.
Some time later, the power Dale had once wielded as the Blue Tower Master spread throughout the shop. Though he had passed on much of his strength to Lize, the essence of his magic remained unchanged.
Unaware of the web’s presence, shadows moved in the darkness. The Blue Web whispered to Dale, alerting him to their approach.
Silent footsteps descended onto the wooden floor of the shop. They were elite soldiers, clad in the same armor they had worn during the attack on the Marquis of Rosenheim.
As they surveyed the darkness within the shop, a figure emerged from the shadows—a man in a robe.
“Do you still think this fight has meaning?” the man asked, causing the soldiers to hold their breath.
“I encountered others like you in the Rosenheim territory. Do you know what happened to them?”
“You… you can’t be…!”
“The only reason you’re still alive is because I see no need to kill you,” the man said calmly, as if he were the very embodiment of death. One soldier mustered the courage to speak.
“Why did you massacre our comrades in this city?”
“They tried to kill me,” the man replied.
“Are you here to kill me too? I assume so.”
With those words, the darkness within the shop began to stir.
“This is your last chance. Bring your commander to me now.”
“How dare you…!”
His voice was commanding, leaving no room for hesitation or doubt. The soldiers’ pride was stung by his audacity, but then—
CRACK!
A scream pierced the darkness. A tendril from the shadows wrapped around one of the soldiers, crushing him silently.
“This is your final warning. Withdraw and bring your commander to me.”
The latest armor of the revolutionaries was no match for the ancient darkness. It crumpled like paper, revealing the gruesome remains within.
The malevolent shadows in the room began to writhe with intent.
“We… we accept your terms,” one soldier stammered, understanding the futility of resistance.
The shadows retreated, leaving the robed man alone, perched on a table as if it were a throne meant for him.
Alone in the darkness.
“This is too dangerous!” protested the revolutionaries’ strategists, blocking the path of their leader. Though not the head of the revolution, he was a pillar of their cause.
“He seeks negotiation, and we cannot handle him with our current strength. Isn’t that right, Colonel Bourbon?” the leader said, his voice calm and composed.
“Even our armored comrades couldn’t stop him, and the townspeople say he raised an army of the dead,” another strategist added.
“An army of the dead… like the return of the Dark Emperor,” the leader mused.
“As I said, opposing a sorcerer of his power is unwise,” the leader continued.
“But his magic is so dark and ominous! Even if it means bloodshed, we should gather our forces and launch a full-scale attack—”
“Are you suggesting we mobilize an army for one man? If he can raise the dead, what’s to stop our own forces from becoming his undead army?”
Colonel Bourbon fell silent, and the leader spoke again.
“I must go. I will speak with him myself.”
“Understood, Lord Eurys.”
The next morning, the revolutionary forces surrounded Dale’s shop.
Yufi watched from the window, her breath catching in her throat.
“There’s nothing to fear,” Dale said, his voice serene, as if there was nothing to worry about.
“But breakfast is still waiting,” he added.
“How can you think of eating at a time like this?” Yufi asked incredulously.
“Why not?” Dale replied nonchalantly, leaving Yufi momentarily speechless.
Just then, footsteps approached the shop, not bothering to conceal their presence.
“Excuse me, nameless dark sorcerer,” a voice called out.
Dale turned, a wry smile on his face.
A man stood there, his hair a striking red, wearing a familiar smile.
Yet Dale did not recognize him.
“My name is Albert Eurys,” the man introduced himself.
Dale continued preparing the meal, heating the soup and passing the bread without a word.
“I’m intrigued by the armor your forces use,” Dale finally said.
Albert Eurys smiled. “May I ask for your name, sorcerer?”
“I’ve had many names, but none of them matter now.”
“That’s not entirely true,” Albert replied.
“Just as you remain unchanged in the shadows of this altered world.”
“The Eurys lineage still endures?” Dale asked.
“You know of us?” Albert inquired.
“I’ve seen things beyond your imagination, young vampire,” Dale said.
Albert’s expression faltered, surprised by the sorcerer’s knowledge of his true nature. It wasn’t shocking that a sorcerer of such power could discern it, but to be called a ‘young vampire’ so casually was unexpected.
“Even without magic, your kind still holds power. Is that why you seek a new world through revolution?”
Albert’s eyes widened.
“The emperor was overthrown to justify the revolution. Those outside still fight to depose the emperor for the revolution. It’s quite amusing.”
Everyone has shadows, and this man seemed to see through the revolutionaries’ shadows as if they were his own.
“I have no interest in any of it. I seek only one thing,” Dale said.
“The relics of the Fourth Empire your revolutionaries are uncovering. It can’t just be about the magic armor.”
“How do you know about that?” Albert asked, taken aback.
“No one can hide their shadows from me,” Dale replied, rising to his feet.
“I have nothing more to gain from you. Your shadow has already spoken the truth.”
Albert Eurys’s face froze, understanding the weight of those words.
“The Shadow Lord…?”
“Does the conflict between gold and shadow still persist?” Dale asked.
Albert Eurys murmured, “It can’t be. The Shadow Lord, the Emperor of the Empire, is still in the capital…”
Yet here was another claiming the name and power of the Shadow Lord. It was unthinkable.
“Is the empire ruled by shadows, and now the golden lord leads the revolution against it?”
Since ancient times, the struggle between gold and shadow has persisted. Gold would triumph, then shadow, and then gold again, as the empire’s history repeated itself.
Yet, the world remained unchanged.
“Gold and shadow mean nothing to me anymore. I’m only interested in the relics of the old empire.”
With those words, the man stood up.
In the ancient conflict between gold and shadow, there were those who were granted power and destiny. But the man seemed indifferent, walking away without a care.
“Shall we go, Miss Yufi?”
“Y-yes!”
Having secured all the secret information hidden within Albert’s shadow about the revolutionary army.
Who exactly was this man? And what did he truly desire?
For the first time in his life, Albert Eurys, a member of the bloodline that ruled the world from the shadows, shivered with an unfamiliar fear.