Chapter 385: A Night of Unrest
Dark brown tentacles writhed and twisted above the water’s surface, forming a grotesque and terrifying sight that would be hard to rival even the most nightmarish visions. Clement, already gravely wounded, was utterly powerless against them. In an instant, a dozen or so tentacles—some thick, some thin—had coiled tightly around his limbs and torso. The slick, cold, soft appendages constricted bit by bit, and even this seasoned cultist of the All-Things-Perish faith—accustomed as he was to dealing with dark and dreadful magics—felt a bone-chilling terror seep deep into his soul.
Rising alongside the tentacles from the water was the upper body of a woman—Tyr’s form squeezed free from the writhing limbs. The sea witch looked nothing like her usual languid self. Her cheeks and upper torso were covered in a dense layer of shimmering scales, and membranous, patterned skin connected her to the surrounding tentacles. She resembled the monstrous yet alluring sea creatures drunken sailors from the eastern continent’s superstitious ports whispered about: a stunningly beautiful maiden with the terrifying visage of a sea monster. The stark contrast was enough to drag anyone into the sweetest yet deadliest of dreams.
Tyr emerged from the water, her eyes now pale gold with vertical pupils reflecting the scene before her. She glanced at the fully armed, stunned Steel Rangers, then at the strange old man she had ensnared, blinking in mild confusion. “How come there’s an extra person here while I was asleep?”
Solderin, like the Steel Rangers, was taken aback. Tyr’s current form was a far cry from the lazy sea slug she usually was. But he quickly regained his composure and was about to answer when his gaze caught the strange, twisting patterns crawling along some of the tentacles on the water’s surface.
Those patterns were grotesque and alien, beyond human comprehension.
In that instant, Solderin’s mind wavered. The markings seemed charged with immense magical power, containing forbidden truths no mortal should know. His rationality trembled; a deep, unintelligible murmur thundered in his head, buzzing and churning his thoughts. Bizarre, absurd visions flickered before his eyes.
He realized something was terribly wrong. Not long ago, he had visited a containment center with Gawain to see samples of divine flesh and had briefly experienced the overwhelming presence of a god. Now, the sensation was eerily similar—he was staring directly into the mysteries of the divine!
The high-level ranger struggled to control his mind, but it was futile. The patterns had already imprinted themselves in his consciousness, linking to forbidden divine knowledge that could not be erased. He felt his thoughts being subtly altered, soaked through. After what felt like an eternity, his clarity returned—and to his shock—
He hadn’t gone mad, lost his free will, or been driven insane by divine whispers. In fact, his mental state had never been better. A surge of optimism and joy filled him—he had never felt this happy in his life!
No trace of negativity remained. He was at the peak of his mental well-being, so elated he almost wanted to dance with wild abandon.
Wait—what did “dance with wild abandon” even mean?
Realizing this euphoric mood was itself unnatural, Solderin shook his head vigorously, trying to dispel the inexplicable happiness flooding out of him. Still, his spirit remained remarkably strong. At least it wasn’t harmful. He forced himself not to look at the patterns and said to Tyr, “Miss Tyr, restrain that man! He’s an enemy!”
“Huh? Oh… got it!” Tyr seemed only half-awake, blinking before snapping to attention. She quickly drew a few more tentacles from the water to bind Clement tighter, who was already near unconscious from the strangling.
“Don’t squeeze too hard—don’t kill him…”
Though the situation had unfolded differently than expected, the outcome was acceptable. Once they confirmed the old man was no longer a threat, Amber finally emerged from her shadow stealth. She had caught sight of Tyr’s unusual tentacles earlier and now looked unusually energized (in fact, the surrounding Steel Rangers shared her uplifted mood—their optimism even erased the lingering fear from seeing Tyr’s monstrous sea form). Amber hurried to the water’s edge and glanced up at Tyr. “You’re amazing like this… can sea witches really transform like that?”
“Modeled after a giant squid,” Tyr said proudly, wiggling a few tentacles. “Scary, huh?”
“…Definitely terrifying—if you’d stop wriggling so much. You look ridiculous when you do that.”
“Tch…” Tyr pouted, then curiously looked down at the tightly bound Clement and tapped his face with a tentacle. “By the way, where did this guy come from? I only slept a little—what happened? They even used those things called grenade launchers?”
Amber’s mind flashed back to the shocking scenes she had witnessed—the assassinated king, the prince clearly involved, the shadow signet ring on the king’s hand. Her expression grew grave. “This is serious—if I’m right, this man is the one I brought from the eastern border. He just killed the king right in front of me!”
“Oh, I thought sleeping during the ruins expedition was a big crime, and you’d get blown up with grenade launchers,” Tyr said, visibly relieved. Then she realized the gravity of Amber’s words. “Ah—that sounds serious. Should we notify your lord immediately?”
“Of course!” Amber said, turning quickly to Solderin. “Ranger, watch this place. I’m going to report this right away!”
At Longwind Fortress, inside the lavish lounge, Prince Edmond checked his mechanical watch.
Master Clement was not coming back.
He had long heard that venturing recklessly into the Shadow Realm was perilous. Throughout history, many shadow mages had found the gateway, but most died gruesome deaths. In that twisted world mirroring reality, insane and warped creatures tore apart any intruders—and their power in the shadow environment was beyond imagination.
“All things perish… people brainwashed by that cult really aren’t right in the head,” Edmond muttered, closing the watch cover. He lowered his gaze to his father’s lifeless body, a faint trace of sorrow finally crossing his face.
“Father, this is a regrettable end… but for the Morn family’s resurgence, and the kingdom’s revival, you must go first,” Edmond whispered, bowing before Francis II’s corpse. “You once said the most important skill for a king is the art of compromise. For the past hundred years, every King of Ansu has held the throne through compromise…
“But times have changed, Father. Compromise is over.”
The young prince straightened and calmly left the room. In the corridor, Duke Selas Loren awaited him silently.
“A night full of trouble,” the Duke said quietly, expression unreadable.
“The King of Ansu was assassinated,” Edmond said. “An assassin from the capital killed our king.”
“The Wilde family has long resented the Morn heirs slipping from their control. Now that the most capable Morn heir has left the capital, leaving only a pawn in Silverkeep, they couldn’t resist striking to prevent the king and crown prince from returning,” Selas Loren said, meeting Edmond’s eyes with frankness. “It’s only natural.”
“Exactly,” Edmond nodded slightly. “Duke Selas Loren, my most trusted man, muster the troops—the decaying Ansu needs a baptism of fire and blood to be reborn.”
“Of course, my future king,” the Duke bowed slightly and stepped back. “But before mustering the troops, this place needs a great fire to send off our king.”
Edmond nodded. As the Duke turned to leave, Edmond called after him, “Duke, you swear loyalty to me, right?”
“Of course. The Loren family is forever loyal to the Morn royal line,” the Duke stopped and looked Edmond in the eye with solemnity. “We are not like the greedy wolves of the North.”
On the western horizon, a faint red glow appeared—the direction of Longwind Fortress, built by the Ansu.
The sky was clear and night deep. Even from Winterwolf Keep, the red light was clearly visible.
Atop Winterwolf’s highest tower, Rosetta Augustus stood before a crystal-clear window, quietly watching the growing red glow rising from Longwind Fortress. The light rapidly expanded, tinting the sky itself with a faint crimson.
Though separated by a small plain and shielded by magical barriers, Rosetta seemed to smell the faint scent of burning in the air.
Footsteps approached from behind. Rosetta turned to see Lady Andersa Wendell entering hurriedly—a young, outstanding high knight who had taken command of Winterwolf Keep and earned many honors on the border.
The Wendell bloodline was noble, and its heirs never disappointed.
“Your Majesty,” Andersa bowed swiftly, then spoke quickly, “The Eagle Eye sentinels have spotted flames rising from the Ansu’s Longwind Fortress. Something’s wrong.”
The Emperor nodded, voice calm and steady. “Understood.”
“Your Majesty, should we—”
“No need. That is Ansu’s own affair,” Rosetta interrupted, a rare smile touching the somber man’s face. “We have signed a peace treaty with the Ansu, haven’t we?”
Andersa felt a shiver at the meaning behind the Emperor’s smile.
After a brief silence, the young wolf general inhaled deeply and bowed again. “I understand, Your Majesty.”
(End of chapter)