Alex Toxic & Nadya Lee

The Dark Healer

Book Nine

A Historical Progression Fantasy Series

Published by Magic Dome Books

The Dark Healer

Book # 9

Copyright © Alex Toxic, Nadya Lee 2025

Cover Art © Natalia Radaeva from DrakArt Studio 2025

Cover designer: Vladimir Manyukhin

English translation copyright © Dan Veksler 2025

Published by Magic Dome Books, 2025

ISBN: 978-80-7702-499-0

All Rights Reserved

This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Amazon.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

This book is entirely a work of fiction. Any correlation with real people or events is coincidental.

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Table of Contents:

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

About The Authors

Chapter 1

Some time ago

“I CAN’T BELIEVE we’re actually doing this!” Hughes Demare exclaimed, standing alongside Phillipp, the head of the clan that governed Costa Sirena. The two of them were about to board a pleasure yacht and Phillipp was leaving behind a whole combat squad, as well as his bodyguards. “If this turns out to be a trap,” he had said, “we’re finished even if we bring the whole clan. Why take the risk?”

Hughes agreed with him in principle, but as they prepared to put him in harm’s way, a feeling of unfairness lingered. But he would never admit it. He wasn’t some spineless coward!

Still, the Sirens weren’t exactly friendly toward their clan, or the other Salazar vassal clans. Ships were sinking. The Salazars, their vassals, and a whole lot of mercenaries were perishing beneath the waves. Costa Sirena wasn’t under full siege, and independent clans and traders from the east still operated, but trade and travel had declined sharply. It wouldn’t be long before the Demares, used to a life of ease, would have to make do with less. Or try to make a deal.

The Sirens wanted to meet with Phillipp; but did they really want to negotiate, or were they just trying to lure him out to sea? Despite Hughes’s best efforts to talk his boss out of this plan, Phillipp remained steadfast.

“You can always stay back if you prefer,” Phillipp said as he climbed onto the deck.

“Wouldn’t it be better if we both stayed?” Hughes pressed for the last time.

Phillipp let out a long sigh and shrugged. “What’s the use? Everything is heading toward our clan’s downfall. Once the masters of this city, we’re changing beyond recognition. Money is slipping away; soon we might not even be able to outfit a single trading ship.”

“Where would we send them anyway?” Hughes shot back. “To certain doom? Not a single one has made it to its destination in the past several weeks!”

“Exactly,” Phillipp replied. “We can’t rely on anyone’s help right now. So we either strike some sort of deal with the Sirens ourselves, or we can say goodbye to the Demare clan. So, are you coming?”

“I’m coming,” Hughes sighed, hastening up the gangway onto the yacht.

The Sirens had communicated their invitation through the coast guard, setting just two conditions for the meeting. Their leader had to be present, and it would take place at sea. The Sirens felt at home in the ocean and, unfortunately, were in a position to lay down the law. The ball was clearly in their court.

After reaching the designated spot, where the coastal waters met the open ocean, Phillipp switched off the engine. The wait didn’t take long. Soon, a pod of orcas emerged on the horizon. One of them leaped out of the water, soaring toward the yacht.

“Holy shit!” Hughes yelled. “They’re going to kill us!”

If the massive black-and-white predator landed on the yacht, it would be floating splinters the next second. However, mid-leap, the orca morphed into a man, and landed gracefully on the deck. He was dressed in shimmering scaled armor, a detail that took Hughes by surprise. He rarely encountered shapeshifting mages and had always thought they lost their clothes during transformation. How convenient that their magic covered even that, he thought.

“My name is Azurion,” the newcomer introduced himself. “I am the crown prince of the Siren kingdom. I recommend you refrain from making any sudden moves. If my guards sense a threat, you’ll find yourselves at the bottom of the sea in an instant.”

“You see, Phillipp,” Hughes couldn’t help but chime in, “he brought guards with him!”

“If we really are here just to negotiate, then we don’t need guards,” Phillipp asserted yet again.

Azurion nodded in agreement. “Don’t worry. If you don’t attack us, I will see you back on shore, regardless of how the negotiations turn out.”

Phillipp nodded. “Well then. Should we get down to brass tacks? How can I be of service?”

“It’s simple,” Azurion replied without hesitation, a smirk playing on his lips. “Reject the Salazars’ protection,” he continued, “especially since it gives you nothing in return.”

Phillipp had anticipated something like this, but he still frowned. “And what is your end of the bargain?”

“You will have our protection. You will become a direct vassal of the Siren clan, with all the privileges that entails.”

Hughes bristled at the offer, but the conversation had taken on a serious tone, and only Phillipp had the right to speak freely in such a situation.

Phillipp himself was clearly unsettled as well. “Aren’t you overstepping a little, Azurion? The Salazars are a Great Clan, and we have served them faithfully for many years.”

The Siren prince stepped forward, his voice rising. “How have they rewarded you? They left you to fend for yourselves the moment real trouble came.”

Phillipp scoffed. “You do realize that this problem was caused by the Sirens, don’t you?”

“Of course!” Azurion replied again, his emotions bubbling to the surface. He was different from any business partner Hughes had ever dealt with — much more passionate and hot-headed. Yet there was something appealing about his sincerity, as if he wasn’t putting on a facade like so many others. Maybe it was simply that the Sirens had lived as recluses for so long, with most clans thinking of them as mythical, much like the Demare clan itself.

Suddenly, a thought crossed Phillipp’s mind regarding the recent capture of the capital by the Richters. Was it just him, or were too many ancient legends beginning to resurface?

“Of course, we take full responsibility for the shipwrecks on the trade routes,” Azurion continued. “But we’re only fighting the Salazars and their allies, and we strive to avoid any accidental casualties.”

“In any case,” Phillipp replied, “how do you envision this happening? Even if we agreed to serve under your standard, what guarantees do you have that you can protect us? The Salazars would never forgive us.”

“Armand gave you guarantees,” Azurion said seriously. “And where are they? Did he fulfill his duty? Let me level with you: we expected him to defend you. We deliberately lured him into the ocean. But...” He shrugged. “It seems the Salazars have not only lost their power, but any semblance of honor as well. Though, truthfully, they never really had any. Certainly not after Armand betrayed his friend, our prince Estuar.”

“So that’s not just a legend?” Phillipp asked, intrigued.

“It’s the absolute truth. But not the Salazars’ version. But that’s beside the point. Once you accept our terms, we will have plenty of time to discuss everything in detail.”

Phillipp pressed on. “You’re a strong clan, but only at sea. Armand will not ignore such an open act of rebellion. Our clan would be destroyed on land.”

Hughes looked at Phillipp in surprise, wanting to ask if he was seriously considering the Sirens’ proposal. But he held his tongue.

Azurion responded once more, “Bastian died when he invaded our lands. We know what’s happening to the Salazars. They have weakened, and with each passing day, they will grow weaker still. Meanwhile, we will rightfully reclaim our place among the strongest clans in the world. Our offer may very well be your only chance. Those who join us first will rise above the rest.”

Phillipp sighed. As much as he wished to dismiss Azurion’s words, there was undeniable truth in them. The Salazars had clearly lost their grip on the situation. They were floundering, dragging down with them all those still loyal to the clan. Demare found itself facing a stark choice: endure a slow downfall in a matter of weeks, left without resources or means to survive, or take a risky chance on an uncertain ally. Rumors were already swirling about Bastian’s suspicious death. There was something about Azurion and his message that inspired a strange sense of belief. After pondering for a few more moments, much to Hughes’ horror, Phillipp extended his hand and shook that of the Siren prince.

* * *

“So,” I turned to Rose as we were served our cups of coffee, and she was presented with a heart-shaped strawberry pastry. “You’re willing to head to Richterberg, despite your clan’s hesitance to sign a contract with me?”

“I am ready,” she nodded decisively. “You might think this is foolish, but I’ve been researching the area you’re interested in for two years. It seems weird and… I hate it that so much potentially fertile land is being overtaken by foci.”

“Not foolish,” I replied. “That’s a commendable aspiration. The Richter clan is also keen on clearing those fields of the abomination. Our goals in this regard align. But, Rose,” I smiled at her, “do you really understand what you’re proposing?”

“Of course!” she exclaimed, clearly eager to add more.

I gestured for her to pause and began to enumerate the implications: “You will need to sign not just any contract, but a magical one. Additionally, you might not be able to leave the capital for a whole year. And let’s not forget the potential backlash from your clan that you’ll invite upon yourself.” I didn’t want to exploit her naivety or her fervent desire to improve the world. But, as I had expected, my warnings didn’t deter her in the least.

“I fully understand everything!” she insisted. “And I’m ready. You know,” she shook her head, tossing her heavy braid behind her, “I’ll be stuck in Costa Sirena without any serious prospects for decades if I don’t take matters into my own hands. My clan still sees me as a child, despite my graduating with honors from the magical academy in Luminis! I’m already a magister of the elements! That’s not a common level at my age!” She finished with a proud smile.

She was right. Compared to the combat branch, her rank was equivalent to an executor. Achieving it in her early twenties was no small feat; one had to be a genius and study with the very best to reach such heights. The girl appeared genuinely talented, so I had no reason not to hire her. At the very least, she definitely had a foundational grasp of nature magic and should be able to manage our fields. I did want to enlist more mages in this specialty for the work, but starting with just Rose wasn’t a bad idea. After all, she was a Bloomfield. Plus, her enthusiasm for fighting abomination intrigued me. It’s far more engaging to work with passionate newcomers than with seasoned professionals who often cling to the limitations of their experiences and biases.

The coffee was delightful, and the evening was becoming more enjoyable by the minute, so I was in no rush to end the meeting. “Tell me more about your experiments with abomination,” I prompted.

The girl immediately brightened up and began to talk excitedly. “I thought that since plants can survive there, even with many mutations, there’s a chance we could grow a species that would be immune to them. Maybe even a species that starts absorbing abomination itself, thereby cleansing the soil around it.”

“And how are the results?” I asked, surprised. It was a sound idea, though it sounded like she wanted to create a necromancer plant. After all, only living beings can absorb abomination. I found the comparison amusing and smiled involuntarily. Rose took it personally.

“Well…” she faltered momentarily, looking a bit embarrassed. “They do exist. Unfortunately… or rather, fortunately, there aren’t many foci around Costa Sirena. Finding suitable soil for experiments can be extremely challenging. So, I… ahem…” She suddenly fell silent, as if realizing something.

“Yes?” I urged her with a smile.

“Um… how should I put this…”

“Just say it already, since you’ve started,” I laughed, encouraging her. “You’ll be working for me, I have no intention of handing you over to anyone.”

“Good!” she finally declared with determination, her eyes lighting up. “The thing is, I acted somewhat illegally. I don’t have a license to purchase grace or to use it in production or for any other purposes. But I’m willing to go to great lengths for science. I got it on the black market. I learned to create poisoned soil myself. In small quantities, of course!”

“And did at least one plant take root?” I asked, genuinely curious.

“It took root,” Rose nodded. “Not perfectly, but… my last experimental flower was capable of absorbing some abomination.”

“And it didn’t mutate?” I inquired, surprised. If that were the case, she might have actually made a breakthrough.

“Well…” she quickly dispelled any illusions, “there were some glitches. The lily I used became a little… carnivorous. Even predatory. I had to abort the experiment before it caused any harm. But I still consider it a great success, especially since, before destroying the flower, I conducted research that showed my lily retained fifty-eight percent of its original characteristics. Plants from the foci typically retain no more than ten percent of their pre-mutation selves.”

I paused to reflect. Perhaps it was premature to dismiss her research as a failure. It might be worthwhile to introduce her to the Villons, who were also studying abomination. Their differing approaches and specializations could lead to unexpected discoveries if they shared notes.

I continued questioning Rose about the specifics of her experiments, and she provided enthusiastic responses. It seemed she had finally found someone who took her seriously. Her eyes sparkled with excitement as she gestured animatedly, occasionally raising her voice in her eagerness. But then, when she remembered that we weren’t alone, she amusingly covered her mouth with her hands and spoke softly again.

“Oh,” she suddenly halted, staring at the figure standing in the entrance.

* * *

“It’s true,” Isabella snorted. “Where else would Max be if not in a coffee shop? I could probably have found him without your help, Lifeng,” she joked.

The head of the Mao clan didn’t hold back either: “Then I suppose I won’t bother specifying the address. In Costa Sirena, there are only fifty-two coffee shops according to public sources. I’m sure by morning, you’ll find the right one.”

“I would look,” Bella suddenly became serious. “But the matter can’t wait.”

“In that case, here’s the address,” Lifeng replied just as Isabella’s phone chimed. Not too far away, perhaps even within walking distance. But the Velasco heiress opted for a rickshaw service. It was faster and more in line with her status.

Still, what was Max doing here? When she hastily left for Costa Sirena, she hadn’t anticipated running into him right away. Especially since there hadn’t been time to arrange a meeting before boarding the train, and as everyone knew, the signal on trains was notoriously poor. Her assistant was supposed to contact the Richters, but for some reason, she had chosen to postpone the task and ended up crying on the phone, pleading for mercy. Bella quickly realized that someone from her family was involved. Her numerous brothers and sisters relished any chance to disrupt her plans, especially now, when a significant portion of their business dangled by a thread due to the contract with the Richters. And now this... the Salazars’ call. Bella believed in Max, but with each passing moment, the situation became increasingly tangled. She couldn’t even fathom how he would sort everything out. Still, she held on to the belief that he would, after all, he hadn’t come to Costa Sirena for nothing! Surely, he already knew everything and had a plan!

But those hopeful thoughts were dashed as she entered the café and spotted Max seated at a table, sweetly smiling and flirting with a very plain girl. The temperamental Bella Velasco instantly flared up. How could he engage in this nonsense while everything was falling apart? With determination, she strode toward the seemingly oblivious couple.

Chapter 2

“BELLA,” I SMILED as she approached, “you’re quick.”

She looked stunning as always, though today her attire had a distinctly business-like flair: a blue pinstriped suit, impeccably styled hair, and almost no jewelry. No matter what she wore, whether it was a tight dress or loose pants, her perfect figure radiated confidence and allure. Even with next to no makeup, like now, she was gorgeous.

“Time is of the essence,” she replied, her gaze shifting to Rose. “I thought that was why you were in Costa Sirena, I didn’t realize you were on a… date.”

“It’s not a date,” Rose Bloomfield immediately insisted. “It’s a business meeting.”

Isabella scoffed lightly. “Aren’t you a little green to handle business talks with Maximilian Richter himself?”

Rose’s eyes widened in surprise, and she choked slightly. “You mean, the very one?”

Now Bella looked surprised, too. “You didn’t even introduce yourself?” she asked me.

“I thought she knew,” I shrugged with a chuckle.

Rose blushed. “Well… I wasn’t following your conversation with the director at first, so I… I assumed you were just a representative. Clan leaders don’t usually handle these things personally.”

“Max is not your ordinary clan leader,” Isabella noted before turning to me. “Can we talk privately now?”

“Bella,” I smiled, “where’s the fire? Sit down and have some coffee. Rose and I are just about to finalize the contract. Let us finish, and then I’m all yours.”

“All?” The reptilian seductress licked her lips, but quickly recovered her business-like composure. “And yet I must insist,” she said. “This may be a question of the very existence of Costa Sirena.”

“What happened?” Rose’s voice trembled slightly.

“Nothing yet. But you’d better keep quiet about what you just heard,” the reptilian finished threateningly.

“Or what?” Rose Bloomfield defiantly lifted her chin.

“Or you’ll learn firsthand how Isabella Velasco got her reputation.”

Rose’s courage wavered at that. She swallowed nervously and asked again, “So you… you are the one… ahem… Bella the Destroyer, heiress of the Velasco line?”

The reptilian nodded lazily, and I quickly intervened before the conversation escalated into a confrontation, or worse, before I ended up without a nature mage.

“Bella, relax. Nothing is going to happen to the city in the next hour. And stop scaring my interlocutor,” I said.

She seemed poised to object, but meeting my gaze softened her resolve, and she eventually clicked her tongue and took a seat at the table. She then picked up the menu and focused intently on it, showing that it was more interesting than our conversation.

I turned back to Rose before she fled in horror. The poor girl clearly hadn’t expected to encounter two mages with less-than-stellar reputations at once, and she kept glancing warily at Bella. Fortunately, we were close to wrapping up our discussion, with only the contract left to sign.

Any agreements between gifted people were typically made with the assistance of magic, especially when a clan leader was involved in the signing. That helped mitigate some of the risks associated with these dealings. Compromises were often necessary, leading to dozens, maybe hundreds, of different types of magical contracts. Each mage had their own preferred version, and more often than not, these options tended to be on the lenient side. Even the most reputable gifted, with a pristine conscience, did not want to endanger their life by entering into a blood contract or signing other powerful magical agreements that imposed severe penalties. So these contracts usually utilized only financial or energy-related fines. When hiring someone, it would typically be an energy penalty. If the hired mage refused to fulfill their obligations, they wouldn’t perish, but the seal of the contract would begin to siphon power from them and transfer it to the employer until the contract’s duration ends — an interesting form of compensation.

There were also penalties for the employer if they failed to meet their obligations. In short, it was a useful tool when wielded correctly. Importantly, the conclusion of magical contracts didn’t even require any outside legal representation.

Rose already had the form prepared, as this wasn’t her first contract. All that remained was to fill it out and seal it. I used my ring for the transaction, while from Rose’s side, the document itself acted as a magical item.

Once we completed that, she was antsy to leave. “So… umm… should I go?” she asked uncertainly, still uncomfortable sitting between me and Bella.

“Yes, of course. See you tomorrow,” I smiled at her. “Don’t forget to take everything you’ll need. You won’t be able to return home for a whole year.”

“Of course,” she nodded, getting to her feet.

Isabella interjected, “And don’t forget my warning,” her gaze flashing. “There’s no need to stir up panic ahead of time.”

“Yes, of course!” Rose hurried to assure her, recognizing the wisdom of appeasing the powerful battle mage. She then quickly scurried out of the cafe, leaving Bella and me alone.

“Finally!” she exclaimed. “Max, this is a real disaster! This time I see no way out at all!”

“There is always a way out. Let’s take it one step at a time, and cool it with the emotional outbursts,” I replied, smiling.

“Of course…” the beautiful Bella said, nervously clasping her fingers. It took her thirty seconds to collect her thoughts and begin explaining the situation. I didn’t rush her; a new cup of coffee was brought to me, and I savored the rich aroma, content to enjoy the moment while I waited. I wasn’t too worried. I figured that, most likely, what had happened was somehow linked to the Salazars again. And again, it turned out I was right.

“Armand is demanding that all his vassals, both former and current, come to war in Costa Sirena,” Bella concluded her story. “He wants to punish the Demare clan and then deal with the other rebels who dared to take down the Salazar flags.”

I grunted. “Armand has never been very brave, but he was never an out-and-out coward before. The years have clearly taken their toll. So he wants the Velascos and the other clans to do all the heavy lifting for him, huh?”

“Exactly!” Bella exclaimed, indignation rising in her voice. “Sure, Velasco once owed him, but we’ve long since settled our debt. If we hadn’t, he wouldn’t have allowed us to gain independence. But now it seems that independence is just a facade.”

“Not entirely so,” I smirked. “Armand is just puffing out his chest to appear formidable, but his resolve isn’t nearly as strong as he’d like everyone to think. He hasn’t even directly demanded that you stop supplying food to Richterberg. There’s no way that, and our cooperation, is still a secret.”

“And you think…?”

“Yes. Your support is too crucial to him. That means the Salazars have weakened even more than I anticipated.”

“What do you mean?” Bella frowned, her curiosity piqued. “Is this whole thing with Bastian and the Sirens your doing?”

I shrugged and winked. “I thought that was obvious.”

“Max! When will you stop surprising me?! Tell me everything that happened! Maybe then I can convince Grandfather… He doesn’t want to listen to me right now. He still believes we can’t openly oppose the Salazars and intends to side with him in the slaughter over this city.”

I took a moment to share the details of everything that had transpired in Salforte, including the story of the Singing Shell of Marinus. As I spoke, I could see the realization dawn on Bella’s face, which I hoped would help her persuade her grandfather to reconsider his stance. “So, it’s not just a legend...” she replied thoughtfully. “But how do I explain this to Grandfather? He won’t believe that Armand has lost most of his power.”

“Nothing could be easier,” I smiled and reached out to Lifeng. It had become second nature for me to send her anything that might be important, and we had collected quite a few video recordings — either obtained directly through my own eyes, or from my shadow scouts. Naturally, our maritime episode was among the archives. A few seconds later, Bella’s phone beeped, alerting her to the video of the whirlpool that had turned the mightiest Salazar fleet to dust.

“Holy crap...” the reptilian exclaimed, unable to contain her emotions. “Did this really happen?”

“Of course,” I nodded. “Do you think I would send you a fake?”

“No! Of course not!” she waved her hands animatedly. “I just hope Grandfather doesn’t think that.”

I shrugged. “You probably have an analytical department. Let them conduct an examination.”

“Yes... I... Max, I need to run. I have to show this to Grandfather urgently.” She was so excited that she nearly leaped out from behind the table, but paused to ask, “Listen, why didn’t you leak this recording online or on TV? It would instantly ruin the Salazars’ reputation, right?”

“And it would make them suspect that someone is aiding the Sirens on land. Besides, you’re wrong that their reputation would suffer. The Salazars are still a powerful clan. They have enough influence to cover up and spin this in their favor. I don’t like half-measures. What’s the point of all this fuss if soon we’ll be destroying their clan once and for all?”

* * *

I spent the night at a hotel in Costa Sirena, under a fake name thoughtfully provided by Lara. I even afforded myself a couple of hours of sweet sleep, a rare luxury. The news Isabella had shared yesterday meant that everything was going even better than I had anticipated. With almost a whole week left until the planned assault, there was ample time to prepare for any eventuality.

I had yet to meet the head of the Demare clan. Neither the Richters nor the Sirens could afford to let our new ally falter. No one was to cause any harm to Costa Sirena either. I found myself rather fond of this city, with its cozy atmosphere, beautiful beaches, and countless cafes, many of which I had yet to explore. Most importantly, the future of Richterberg now undeniably hinged on Costa Sirena.

But first thing’s first. This morning, my first task was to ensure Rose Bloomfield made it to the metro, where my assistants would meet her on the other end. But she hadn’t shown up at the café yesterday, where we had agreed to meet. Now, half an hour had passed, and my unease was increasing.

It was unlikely she had changed her mind; the contract had already been signed — a fact even the most reckless mage would never ignore. And Rose was definitely not reckless. From our brief conversation, I had gathered that she was a talented and sensible girl for her age. What I still didn’t know, however, was how disciplined she was. After all, she could’ve simply overslept or taken too long to get ready. So, I decided to give her the benefit of the doubt and wait a little longer.

I smiled to myself, recalling how Olga had once mentioned that she had noticed I tended to overlook minor offenses whenever I had a warm cup of coffee in my hand, and that she sometimes took advantage of this. Maybe she was right. Even at this moment, as I waited, the long delay didn’t bother me at all; the café’s ambiance was just too cozy to care.

But after waiting an hour without any sign of Rose, I realized I might need to pay another visit to the Bloomfields — a visit not quite as courteous as the first.

* * *

Some time ago...

“Rose, stop!” Daisy Bloomfield barked from her post at the reception desk. The workday had already wrapped up, and it was clear Daisy had lingered for some specific reason. Rose immediately grasped what was happening — her relatives had pieced together some semblance of the truth. But without evidence, she decided to don a mask of blissful ignorance.

“What’s the matter, Auntie?” she inquired sweetly.

“Where have you been?” Daisy demanded without preamble.

Rose often wondered how someone with such a sweet name could be such a stinker. A real weed of a relative.

“I was out,” Rose replied, “meeting a friend. Why?”

“A friend? Or were you hoping to find a job in another city again?”

“What the hell are you talking about?!” the girl exclaimed with a feigned look of offense. “Where did you get that idea?”

But Daisy wasn’t backing down. “From the fact that you disappeared just as the unwanted client left us. We turned him down, and if you…”

“Enough with the paranoia!” Rose interrupted. “I didn’t even see him! I’m going to my room!” Not wanting to endure another round of questioning, she dashed up the stairs.

The Bloomfields lived on the second and third floors of the same estate they worked at. Rose’s room was on the third floor. She quickly locked the door behind her, relieved that Daisy wasn’t trailing. Then, she began to quietly gather her belongings.

There was a lot to sort through. It was daunting trying to decide what she could take and what must be left behind. Unfortunately, she couldn’t take more than a small backpack with her. If any of her family saw her leaving with a large suitcase, they would immediately make a hubbub. Daisy had practically blown her top, and that had been based on suspicions alone.

Half an hour passed as she deliberated over what to take. Then, suddenly, a key rattled in the lock. A strange one. Rose jumped up, trying to shove her scattered belongings under the bed, but she didn’t make it in time. Daisy burst into her room, accompanied by her cousin, the head of the clan, Earl Bloomfield.

“See?!” Daisy exclaimed triumphantly. “I told you she was up to something! Look! Packing her things! Where do you think you’re off to, huh?”

“I’m just tidying up,” Rose attempted to deflect suspicion. “What’s going on? Why are you barging into my room like I’m some kind of criminal? I’m of age and have the right to personal space!”

“You do,” Daisy conceded, “but you don’t have the right to make deals behind your own clan’s back!” Daisy scanned the room, her gaze landing on the bag, and she abruptly made a beeline for it. Rose’s heart sank; if they found the contract now, there would be no way to wriggle out of this.

She rushed forward to intercept Daisy, but her aunt was quicker and had already snatched up the bag. “What are you doing?!” Rose shouted. “You have no right to rummage through my things! Grandfather!” she turned pleadingly to Earl.

“I’m sorry, dear,” he replied, his tone firm, “but we need to make sure.”

In mere seconds, with her grandfather’s tacit approval, Daisy pulled out the contract.

“So she really did it! Silly girl! How can you not understand not to get involved with such dangerous people?”

“I just want to work,” Rose replied, tears welling up in her eyes. “You won’t let me take on any serious contracts!”

“You need to learn,” Earl said sternly. “Including obedience. You’ve graduated from the academy, but you’re not ready to represent the Bloomfields! Your reckless actions could affect all of us! You’re not going anywhere!”

“But how?!” Rose cried, unable to believe what she was hearing. “What about the contract? I have to fulfill it!”

This time, it was Daisy who responded. “It’s nothing serious. You’ll be without magic for a year. Maybe all this nonsense will blow over.”

Rose shot a hopeful glance at her grandfather, but he merely shook his head in disappointment, turned, and exited the room. Daisy followed him, taking both the key and the contract without a second thought.

As the door clicked shut, it dawned on Rose that she had just become a prisoner in her own home.

Chapter 3

“ROSE?” THE RECEPTIONIST raised an eyebrow in surprise. “Are you saying that you made a deal with her?”

“That’s exactly what I’m saying,” I replied bluntly. “Where is she?”

The woman shook her head. “We promised to contact you when we found professionals willing to go on a business trip to the capital.”

I could see she was dodging, and I wasn’t in the mood for niceties. Especially since I had realized just yesterday that they had no intention of offering me any services. “I am completely satisfied with Rose,” I reiterated, my tone firm. “I repeat: where is she?”

“You see…” the receptionist hesitated. “That’s the problem; we don’t know. Rose is still very young and doesn’t always realize what she’s doing. Yesterday, she packed her things and hastily left the city without explaining anything to anyone. Maybe she got scared. Or perhaps she changed her mind…” The woman sighed. “Young people these days are so fickle and irresponsible. We’re ready to compensate you for your losses if you’ve already paid her anything.”

I knew the protocol — there were no advance payments before arriving at the workplace, and I knew the Bloomfields were well aware of that. The form was standard. I listened to her lie with an impassive face while my shadow scout diligently combed through the building.

Eventually, my lizard slipped under yet another locked door to discover Rose sitting there like a damsel trapped in a tower, all anger and distress. She obviously wasn’t just locked up — she could have just kicked the door down or escaped out the window. The third floor was no big deal for a mage, even a non-battle one. No, Rose’s room was magically sealed. It wasn’t anything major — ordinary household magic. It wouldn’t stop my scout, but the young Bloomfield girl specialized in different kinds of magic and didn’t have the experience to break through it.

“What is your name?” I asked the receptionist. There hadn’t been any particular reason to get acquainted before.

“Daisy Bloomfield,” she replied proudly. “At your service.”

I nodded. “Great. I prefer to know the names of those who lie to my face. Daisy, I’m giving you one last chance to tell me the truth.”

“But I…” she started to object, but faltered as she met my gaze. “I’d better call our chieftain.”

“Warn him that Great Prince Maximilian Richter is in no mood for another rasher of lies.”

Daisy vanished into the depths of the building before returning with an elderly man who introduced himself as Earl. “So, you have a contract with Rose?” he said.

“You know very well I do,” I replied, keeping my tone even.

“So, what do you want from us?” he spread his hands. “If she unilaterally made a contract without her clan’s approval…”

I interrupted him: “Then her clan will hide her away? I’m starting to lose my patience, Earl. I know where you are keeping Rose. I expect you to do the smart thing and stop interfering with her fulfilling her obligation.”

Earl Bloomfield sighed and rubbed his temples wearily. His hands trembled. He clearly feared angering me.

He found the courage to respond. “Dear Maximilian, as head of the Bloomfield clan, I am responsible for every member of my kin. I do everything to protect both them and the clan from every manner of problems, often ones brought on themselves.”

I grunted in understanding. I could see why the old man was cautious, but unlike him, I knew that neither Rose nor his clan was in any danger — unless he continued to be stubborn, that is.

“Earl,” I said, “don’t be deceived. I’m not here to persuade you. I intend to get what is mine. And the best thing you can do for the clan right now is to not interfere with me.”

Daisy involuntarily clutched Earl’s hand, obviously nervous, even as she, like her uncle, hoped I would back down. “Are you threatening us, Mr. Richter?” she asked. She maintained her composure well, but her voice betrayed her anxiety.

I shrugged. “I’m merely warning you that I intend to enforce the contract I made with a member of your clan. If necessary, I will take what is mine by force. So be reasonable,” I smiled, “and bring Rose here.”

Earl straightened, his fists clenching at his sides. “In over a thousand years of the Bloomfield clan’s history, we have never fought with anyone. We are a peaceful clan. And we hope that you will show respect for our decisions and traditions, Mr. Richter.”

I sighed, impressed by his stubbornness. I could commend his courage, but right now, I was well within my rights. Yesterday, I might have considered backing down and seeking out other, more accommodating nature mages. I wasn’t one to force people to work for me — not living people, at least. But now that Rose had voluntarily signed a contract with me, as a legal adult and capable mage, their interference was a direct attack on my business. That they were unhappy with a decision made by one of their own was their problem. I wasn’t going to let them solve it at my expense.

Nature mages often behaved like startled field rodents: scare them a little, and they scurry away. If I declared war on them properly, they’d be under Desmond’s wing by the next day — there was always a demand for such specialists. However, if I pushed too hard, the other independent clans would retreat into their shells like frightened turtles, and I’d never find another specialist to hire again.

I replied firmly. “Right now, you are closer than ever to ending the glorious centuries-old history of the Bloomfields. I had no intention of causing you harm, but I will not allow you to treat me like a fool. I give you one last chance to make the right decision. Or should I demonstrate what you will be up against?”

“What do you mean?” Daisy asked, her voice full of fear. But then she squared her shoulders defiantly, adopting a bravado that seemed more about reassurance than conviction. “We are nature mages! Life surrounds us, not death! You have nothing to use against us!”

I smirked. “Really? What about the unfortunate pests, insects, and rodents that you eliminate on your fields on an industrial scale? They may be small, but I imagine you wouldn’t be too pleased if they decided to rise up and surround your house. And don’t forget, even dead mice can devour anything — perhaps even better than the living, since they would never be satisfied.” I could barely hold back a chuckle; the threat felt almost childish, yet it conveyed my point nicely.

Still, I didn’t truly want to engage in a fight with these amusing gardeners, despite their deceptions. They were just trying to protect their clan, believing that meant avoiding conflict with someone like me — a big, scary necromancer.

Fortunately, my words began to take effect. The Bloomfields exchanged worried glances, and then Daisy spoke up, her fists clenched. “Mr. Richter. In that case, allow us to amend your contract with Rose. I am ready to go to the capital in her place. I’m a more experienced mage, and my niece is still too young and inexperienced. She cannot represent the Bloomfields properly. We must consider our clan’s reputation, and I promise…”

I shook my head, gesturing for her to stop. “Daisy, I am not going to change my decision. The Richters are interested in working with Rose.” I wasn’t being difficult — I genuinely believed that the young Bloomfield’s experiments could advance my clan’s understanding of abomination and strategies to counteract it. I was also intrigued by the potential outcomes of providing her with an unlimited amount of material for her studies.

“I’m sorry,” Daisy pressed on, “but why? Do you doubt my competence?” She sounded personally offended. This receptionist was getting way ahead of herself with me.

I decided to be straightforward: I was interested in the research Rose was conducting. Upon hearing that, both Daisy and Earl got even more uptight, as though they believed that the young Bloomfield’s pursuits had veered into marginalia that might bring shame to the clan. Fortunately, I didn’t care about their opinion.

Heaving a heavy sigh, Earl finally relented: “I’ll bring Rose.”

“Good decision,” I praised him. “There will be no harm to your clan from collaborating with me. Only benefit. I give you the word of a Richter.”

Earl nodded absently, still weighing whether he was making the right choice, but with very few options left, he hurried up the stairs.

Daisy, meanwhile, immersed herself in thought for a moment before resolutely suggesting, “What if I accompany Rose? You must understand she truly has no experience at all. We wouldn’t want to send her off unsupervised.”

I smiled. “That’s a completely different conversation. Two Bloomfields are better than one. I would gladly sign a contract with you.” I really was pleased with this arrangement. The Bloomfields weren’t the only clan of nature mages, but they were one of the oldest and most capable. Their techniques had stood the test of time, and I expected both great skill and high quality from them. The fields around Richterberg needed the best of the best.

When Earl returned with Rose, he was met with another surprise, but he took it much better than he had his granddaughter’s earlier insubordination. Once the formalities were settled, Daisy went upstairs to pack her things, and Earl bid farewell to Rose, wishing her good luck. Overjoyed at finally being given the chance to go, she instantly shed her earlier frustration with him and beamed with happiness.

But when we were alone, she paused for a moment, as if recalling something important, and seriously asked, “Mr. Richter, may I ask…?” She hesitated but pressed on. “Ms. Velasco mentioned yesterday some danger threatening Costa Sirena. I… I will never forgive myself if something happens to my loved ones while I could have warned them...”

“Don’t worry,” I reassured her. “Isabella exaggerated the danger a bit. Everything is under control. Costa Sirena is under my protection just like Richterberg. I won’t allow anything to happen to these cities.”

I could see the tension in her shoulders ease slightly, though the concern in her eyes remained. “My word is my bond,” I added, hoping to instill a sense of confidence in her. “I’ll ensure that both cities remain safe.”

* * *

“You always knew that this legend was true, didn’t you?” Isabella pressed her grandfather with questions as he watched the video.

“I knew,” Alvaro nodded. “But it never occurred to me that Armand would one day lose his treasure. So, it’s all Richter’s doing, and the Salazars don’t even suspect it?”

Bella nodded enthusiastically. “So it seems. Max pulled it off cleverly, didn’t he?”

The Velasco chieftain shook his head, a mixture of admiration and concern in his expression. “I don’t even know how to feel about it. I should tell Armand everything.”

“You’re not going to do that, are you?” Isabella asked fearfully.

“I won’t,” her grandfather reassured her. “But I don’t like it. Not one bit.”

“But why?” his granddaughter queried, confusion knitting her brow.

“Everything is changing too quickly. For many years — centuries — our world was relatively stable. But now a new major player has appeared on the board. And not just any player. More like a hurricane. Every move becomes dangerous. Every political decision carries risk. Rise or failure…” Alvaro sighed deeply. “It’s no wonder wise people say there’s nothing worse than living in an era of change.”

Bella listened intently to her grandfather, and she began to understand the weight of his concerns. Yet she couldn’t share in that worry. On the contrary, she was bubbling with excitement, her heart yearning for those very changes. “Ch-ch-ch-ch-changes…” A line from an old song, with lyrics echoing a similar sentiment, spun through her mind. Isabella felt a surge of desire to sing, to dance, to fight! She was absolutely certain she had drawn a lucky ticket in this game. Max had never let her down before, and now he was once again achieving the impossible. The Villons, and now the Salazars… and he hadn’t even come into full force yet! Bella eagerly anticipated the prominent position the Velascos would hold in the world once Max returned his clan to the ranks of the Great. He would certainly value his allies more than the Salazars, and Bella was still amazed at how easily the Salazars had cast their vassals aside for the Sirens. Although, of course, now that she understood just how weakened the Salazars were, Bella felt a surge of vindication. Fortunately, the Velascos would not drown along with their former patron, and it was she — Bella — who had saved her clan!

All that remained now was a small formality: she needed to explain to the other council members why they would be taking a backseat. It was unlikely anyone would object. Once her grandfather made a decision, his orders were rarely challenged. Still, it irked her that she would have to face those… faces again. Isabella loved her clan, but even she wouldn’t turn a blind eye to the fact that its upper echelon resembled a den of snakes. Except for her grandfather, of course. Bella could not stand her numerous cousins, aunts, and uncles, and the feeling was mutual.

No one could predict how today’s Council meeting would go. As she made her way into the hall, she immediately sensed a tense atmosphere, thicker than usual. You could cut the tension with a knife, as they say. Bella had always had an instinct for family scandals, and she could feel the impending storm gathering above them. Diego, Maria, and a few of her least beloved relatives took their seats at the table first, and others soon joined them. Everything appeared routine, but Isabella was gripped by an inexplicable anxiety and didn’t notice as she slipped into battle mage mode. Her senses heightened and her reactions sharpened, though nothing on the surface seemed to foreshadow trouble.

Then Alvaro made his announcement: this time, the Velascos would remain on the sidelines. A tense silence settled over the hall, with Diego eventually breaking it with a frown. “Do we have the right to do this? Yes, we are no longer vassals of the Salazars, but it’s a matter of honor.”

“We cannot refuse them,” Maria chimed in, seconding his opinion. “It is reckless!” It was highly unusual for anyone to challenge Alvaro’s opinion, especially in such a blunt manner during a family council.

The voices of Diego and Maria were joined by several others in the council hall:

“We won’t stand aside!”

“We cannot!”

Isabella couldn’t take it anymore and shot back with sarcasm, “I don’t remember any of you being such patriots of the Salazars. Is their clan’s wealth really more important to you than ours?”

“It’s all you!” Maria hissed in response. “It’s your fault Alvaro makes the wrong decisions! You shouldn’t even be the heir!”

“Enough!” Alvaro shouted, his voice booming through the chamber. “One more word, and you’ll lose your place on the Council forever!”

“No way!” Diego exclaimed defiantly. “You’ll lose everything!” In a sudden movement, he lunged towards Alvaro, a blue object flashing in his hand, clearly intending to use it.

While Alvaro hesitated for just a moment, Bella had been like a drawn string the whole time. She darted forward to intercept her reckless cousin, knocking the object from his grasp. With a loud clang, it fell onto the marble tile, shattering into small, snowflake-like fragments.

Isabella didn’t comprehend what it was at first, but Alvaro quickly recognized the “Midnight Tear,” one of the most powerful Salazar artifacts. Outwardly, it resembled a small stiletto knife, but it was not designed for honorable combat. Once it pierced its target, it would dissolve within their body, extracting every drop of water in an instant and effectively turning the foe into a desiccated mummy.

The implications of what had just almost happened set Bella’s heart racing with adrenaline.

“How dare you betray me and your clan!” Alvaro shouted menacingly and began to transform. He wasn’t alone. All the Velascos hurried to take their battle forms, disregarding the fact that the hall was unlikely to withstand the weight of so many large reptiles. The walls and ceiling rapidly began to crumble under the assault of powerful wyverns and massive monitor lizards. Rather than punishing the rebel, the collapsing structure fell onto the clan leader. Treachery!

Isabella wasn’t about to stand on the sidelines either. It quickly became apparent that this was not merely an assassination attempt, but a full-blown rebellion. But there was no way Isabella would allow these pathetic traitors to triumph! She steeled herself to fight to the death, no matter how many adversaries she had to face.

But not all the enemies had fully transformed. Some had only partially shifted into their battle forms, and three of them gripped the same blue artifact that Diego had, its glow pulsing ominously in their claws. Bella narrowed her eyes, recognizing the danger it posed. She knew they could harness the Midnight Tear to launch a devastating assault. A fierce determination ignited within her a she readied herself for combat, knowing that she must act swiftly to protect her grandfather and her clan from this bitter betrayal. She wouldn’t let the darkness take hold without a fight.

Chapter 4

“DIE, BELLA!” MARIA SNARLED, hatred blazing in her eyes as she hurled the Midnight Tear at her. Fortunately, Isabella’s reflexes were on a completely different level. She instinctively ducked, but the dagger still managed to find its target. In an instant, one of those who had sided with her and Alvaro perished, leaving one less ally in this den of snakes, teeming with traitors.

Bella forced the death from her mind, though the sight was both horrifying and mesmerizing. She had never witnessed anything like it before: one moment there was a healthy person there, the next just a desiccated shell remained. The Midnight Tear was particularly terrifying, and doubly dangerous, because it somehow pierced through magical shields. Despite the sorrow she felt for the fallen ally, fixating on the gruesome scene would be too risky.

Anyone who turned their weapon against her grandfather had to die. She hadn’t always agreed with Alvaro’s decisions. There were times when he had punished and educated her. But he was the leader, and his word was law. Even the free-spirited Bella understood that only unity around a leader and strict discipline could elevate a clan to greatness. That was why she had never conducted any business behind her grandfather’s back, at least nothing truly significant. Her respect for him had borne fruit; Alvaro had always been wise and open to listening to his people. And he had given her many opportunities to prove her insights in practice, not just to him, but to everyone on the Council. It was this very loyalty that fueled her fury against the traitors. Pitiful losers! They couldn’t handle the competition, couldn’t defend their opinions with convincing arguments and evidence, so instead they resorted to outright rebellion! Moreover, it seemed they had secured the support of the Salazars, who found Alvaro’s recent decisions inconvenient.

Yes, they had refused to halt trade with the capital, but they had every right to do so! Once, the Salazars had helped the Velascos rise, but much had changed since then. The Velascos had repaid their debt many times over in gold and blood. For hundreds of years, they paid rent, fought fiercely for the Salazars wherever they commanded, and endured countless trials and tribulations, all in hopes of someday achieving independence. Yet the Salazars seemed to view this sacrifice as nothing more than a meaningless formality, believing they could continue to demand anything from the Velascos. And if the Velascos didn’t like it, the Midnight Tear would eliminate the inconvenient and unyielding leader and replace him with power-hungry incompetents. There was no chance in hell Isabella was going to let that happen. She could have transformed into a wyvern and fled the council without risking her life. But what was the point of living if people like them prevailed?

Fortunately, she had her own set of trump cards. She needed to neutralize the most dangerous opponents — the ones wielding the Salazar artifact. She wielded her own powerful weapon: the Sphere of Obedience. Max had told her that this artifact initially came from the Villons’ arsenal, and it had helped to secure victory in the war against them. “Our cooperation can no longer be hidden,” he said seriously before sending her back to her grandfather. “So take this with you.”

He had given her two spheres, but Bella had initially bristled at the suggestion. “I’m a strong battle mage,” she declared proudly. “I can take care of myself.”

Strangely enough, Max hadn’t argued; he had simply replied, “You can take this or not, but you must understand that even I cannot predict all the moves my enemies may make. And, as you know, there are no weaklings among them.”

These words had made Isabella’s prudence win out over her pride and she had taken both spheres and now had them with her. But, unlike the Midnight Tears, they couldn’t break through shields. She would need to take care of that herself.

Fortunately, nature had not shortchanged her in strength. Even only partially transformed, she was extremely dangerous. She steeled herself for what was to come. These traitors would learn that the Velascos were not to be underestimated. The only thing that bothered Isabella now was the tightness of the space around her. As each attendee began to shift into their battle forms and grow in size, the room became increasingly cramped, leaving little room for maneuvering. Dodging incoming blows and spells was becoming much more difficult. But, worse than that, the real concern were the Salazar artifacts. Fortunately, neither she nor Alvaro had been struck yet, but it was far too early to relax about them.

To her dismay, there were not three or four insurgents with the artifacts, but no fewer than six. On the flip side, the conspirators had tempered their recklessness after two failed attempts to unleash the Midnight Tears, realizing no one wanted to waste their precious stock of powerful artifacts or, worse, harm their own allies. This reduced the immediate threat somewhat. Nevertheless, Bella and Alvaro remained the primary targets of the traitors, who were intensifying their efforts to close in on them, ensuring the artifacts would be effectively utilized.

This was another reason neither the clan leader nor his heir were in a hurry to fully transform. An enormous wyvern would be a much easier target than a nimble, relatively small lizard-like person. They instinctively maintained their distance from each other. Having two targets in proximity could easily provoke a volley of dangerous attacks. If they couldn’t strike one, they would hit the other.

Despite the chaos around them, both Bella and Alvaro felt surprisingly composed. They possessed enough strength not only to dodge but also to incapacitate the weaker enemies with a single powerful strike from their clawed paws, threatening to make the stronger foes’ shields crack.

The walls of the Velascos’ castle, which had once felt so solid, were crumbling right before their eyes. Around the half-destroyed tower that used to house the council hall, three wyverns were already circling, all of them traitors, and Bella knew they had to act swiftly to prevent Álvaro or Bella from escaping this place alive.

Despite his venerable age, the embattled chieftain showed no signs of weakness. Instead, he took the risk and broke free from the ring of enemies. He leaped toward the spot where the wall used to stand, remaining in his partial combat form. When someone dared to throw a Midnight Tear at him, he dodged it effortlessly. The wyverns stationed nearby immediately raced toward the descending Álvaro, but he met their charge with a readiness that defied his years, soaring into the sky with startling speed, and ramming one of the three attacking wyverns with such force that it plummeted to the ground, its wing shattered.

Isabella seized the opportunity. While everyone’s attention was diverted by her grandfather, she sprouted a heavy spiked tail and spun like a top, knocking down all those who tried to encircle her. The traitors tumbled across the floor like bowling pins, and the force of her tail strike was so powerful that most of them lost their shields in the process.

That’s when Bella hurled the first Sphere of Obedience. Even the strongest Velascos were no Villons, known for their monstrous resistance to stunning attacks. The sphere knocked out everyone it touched, and among them, two traitors wielding Midnight Tears fell victim, the artifacts shattering and ceasing to pose any threat. Bella snorted in satisfaction; despite all their power, they had proved to be kind of fragile.

But the danger was far from over. She needed to deal with the others still standing. Without wasting a second, Isabella dashed straight toward Maria, hoping the traitor wouldn’t have time to recover. But Maria was quicker than Bella anticipated, and now Bella found herself at risk of joining her ancestors. Just as she braced for the worst, Álvaro swooped in to assist her. He hadn’t even considered abandoning her and the others to their fate.

Having ruthlessly dispatched the remaining wyverns, Alvaro, risking a strike from the artifact, turned his full attention to the council tower and smashed it himself. He destroyed all the supports holding it up, causing total mayhem as everyone inside — friend and foe alike — tumbled down. Those loyal to the clan were fewer than the traitors. Alvaro and Isabella, who transformed into a wyvern mid-flight, managed to catch them all gently and carry them to the roof of the castle.

Once safely there, the leader and his heir swiftly extinguished the fire of the rebellion. They began by finishing off the fallen former advisors, then turned their attention to the smaller fish. It became clear that scuffles had erupted simultaneously across many parts of the castle. The conspirators had never considered the possibility of a peaceful resolution from the outset. They were either wholly confident that Alvaro wouldn’t side with the Salazars, or had planned to seize power at a convenient moment and then feign loyalty to the Salazars.

Although Alvaro and Isabella had defended their claim over the clan, the victory felt hollow and bitter. The Velascos had lost about a dozen of their strongest fighters in one fell swoop, along with another dozen of the weaker ones. Even Bella, who harbored a deep dislike for many of the deceased, couldn’t ignore the profound blow this dealt to their clan. She found herself thinking that when she eventually became head of the clan, she would never allow the council to grow as large as it had under her grandfather. A few capable individuals were more than enough; there was no need to invite all the close relatives. The council should represent the elite!

Now, it seemed they would have to rebuild it from the ground up. After the rebellion, a serious investigation would be necessary, likely followed by large-scale purges. This reality weighed heavily on her. She glanced at her grandfather, whose expression was as dark as the clouds gathering over them. He now sat surrounded by his loyal advisors in his surviving office, even as the castle cried out for major repairs after the tumult.

“I can’t believe it,” Álvaro exclaimed. “I never had any illusions about the Salazars and their view of our independence, but I never thought they would stoop so low!”

“Is it really their doing?” Lucas Velasco asked, his concern evident. By a fortunate turn of events, he had arrived late to the Council. Despite being one of the most important figures in the clan due to his administrative talents, his incurable illness rendered him an extremely weak mage. He definitely wouldn’t have survived the turmoil.

“Are you sure it was a coincidence” — Álvaro emphasized that word — “that you were late?” Frightened, Lucas seemed to grasp for the first time how suspicious his tardiness appeared in the eyes of his leader.

But Bella quickly came to his defense. “I don’t think he stayed away because he knew what would happen. The moment the rebellion broke out, I saw him opening the door to the hall, and judging by how terrified he was when he quickly slammed it shut, he hadn’t been warned about anything.”

Álvaro sighed in relief. “I’m glad to hear that. Lucas’s betrayal would upset me more than anything — well, after yours, of course, Bella.”

“No way!” she exclaimed passionately. “A rebellion can only be justified in one case: if the leader has gone mad and is dragging the clan into the abyss with him!”

“Maybe they thought so,” Álvaro replied sadly. “They probably still believed the future belonged to the Salazars. It’s my mistake,” he sighed. “I should have convinced them better, like you did with me.”

“Or they’ve always been rotten,” Isabella said scornfully.

The Velasco chieftain pensively tapped his fingers on the table, and for a moment, that sound became the only noise in the room. Finally, Álvaro spoke again. “What’s done is done. The traitors are dead, and Armand Salazar has lost my respect. Once, I thought he might be the noblest of the Great Princes. He conducted his dealings with other clans honorably and with dignity. But now, in a moment of danger, he’s turned into a rat, ready to strike from the shadows.”

“So what are we going to do now?” Lucas asked, bewildered.

That’s when Alvaro voiced his new decision.

* * *

“I don’t understand,” Daisy mused, her brow furrowing. “Aren’t we going to sail across the sea?” Instead of heading toward the Desmonds’ station or turning toward the port, we found ourselves in one of the warehouse districts of Costa Sirena.

Rose looked at her with a puzzled expression. “How do you think we’re going to do that? There’s no access to the ocean in the capital.”

“But the railway tracks are blocked there now too,” her aunt persisted, “so I thought maybe they’d get there through some other city.”

I smiled. “Don’t argue, ladies. You’ll see everything for yourselves soon.”

There was no point in hiding the location of my metro any longer. Anyone willing to do a bit of digging could find it. The turnover had increased significantly, and it was impossible not to notice how trucks were relentlessly pouring into one not-so-large warehouse by the dozens.

Of course, we continued to expand our network, having already dug several additional stations in Costa Sirena. Still, the primary hub for our sales and purchases remained the very first building I acquired here.

The strategy was shifting. Instead of hiding, we planned to defend Costa Sirena, somehow weaving it into the revival of my empire. The Demare, who had been our allies for some time and were still the official owners of the city, were now well aware of how food was being transported into Richterberg. Having ceased being vassals of the Salazars and come under the protection of the Sirens, the pressure to obey Armand’s orders had evaporated. Now, the Demare were actually helping my trade rather than hindering it.

The only uncertainty was how long this cooperation would last and how firmly we could establish ourselves here. That, of course, depended on our ability to defend the city during the inevitable attack, which it was clear would come sooner or later, even without updates from Isabella. But now we could even estimate an approximate date for when things might escalate.

Earlier, I had envisioned returning with the Bloomfields to the capital to oversee the start of their work personally. Now, however, my plans had shifted; I intended to send them on the subway alone while I remained here to prepare the city for defense and instruct my allies.

At the warehouse, activity was in full swing as always. The undead busily unloaded and loaded boxes onto trucks, all under the bored gazes of the living drivers who had long since grown accustomed to this sight.

My companions, however, were not prepared for it. Even though the undead looked surprisingly decent and lively for corpses, the Bloomfields still suspected something was amiss.

“Um…” Rose hesitated before addressing me. “Is it just me, or are they…”

She didn’t finish her thought, but I understood what she meant.

“Yes,” I confirmed.

Daisy chimed in with a sarcastic remark: “You should have guessed it would be like this when you made a deal with a necromancer!”

Yet Rose stood her ground and defiantly replied, “Do you think I’m afraid? I’m just curious!”

Daisy snorted in response but remained silent, a flicker of unease in her eyes.

The girls were taken aback once again when we went downstairs, where the undead continued their labor in an endless line, resembling ants industriously moving cargo. They were loading not just onto regular trucks but onto our riding chimeras, improved turtles, and ladybugs.

“Is this a kind of transport?” Rose asked, her brow furrowing. “But how?! They’re not machines, right?”

“In addition to raising bodies in their natural form, necromancers can also modify them as needed,” I explained.

Daisy looked even more shocked.

“You…” she began anxiously, “you mentioned dead insects and mice that could attack us, but you didn’t warn us that these insects could be the size of a truck!”

I nearly laughed. If Daisy was so shocked by ladybugs, I wondered what her reaction would be if she ever encountered Dino. “See, Daisy,” I smiled, “how timely it was that you and Earl made the right decision.”

“Yes,” she replied, swallowing nervously, the reality of their situation finally settling in.

As I was seating them in the chimera, Daisy spoke up again. “Is it really safe?” she asked. “I’m worried that you’re not coming with us.”

“Absolutely safe,” I assured her. “Just don’t get out of the vehicle during the trip.”

She might have continued to doubt if it weren’t for Rose, who decisively jumped inside. Daisy definitely didn’t want to appear more cowardly than her niece, so she climbed in after her.

When they left, I headed upstairs, nearly leaving the warehouse area when I heard Lifeng’s voice call out, “Max, Velasco is on the line again.”

“Has Bella returned?” I asked.

“Not exactly. Their leader wants to meet with you.”

Chapter 5

THE CITY OF PUERTO LAGARTO welcomed me with sunny weather and the curious gazes of sailors, port workers, and random passersby. It wasn’t every day that a sailing yacht docked at the main trading pier of the city; such sights were normally reserved for tourist beaches. As I stepped off the gangway and onto the shore, I could feel eyes upon me, studying me as sort of curiosity. Very soon, those looks transformed into envy when I was greeted by none other than Isabella Velasco herself.

The heiress of the clan that controlled Puerto Lagarto was a beloved figure here, admired not only for her reputation despite my ally’s rather notorious standing, but also for her hard work and concern for the city and its people. Isabella was undeniably a true beauty, and the hot-blooded southern men couldn’t help but turn their heads at the sight of her. Today, she wore a designer suit in a deep wine shade, exquisitely tailored to fit her figure. The slim-waisted jacket and narrow trousers lent her silhouette an air of elegance. Her only accessory was a pair of striking gold earrings adorned with black pearls, which she later explained were a family heirloom passed down through generations. To my surprise, they weren’t even a magical artifact; the family valued them more for their sentimental value. The founder of the clan had crafted them by hand for his wife on the very day they broke free from the Salazars and established their own clan, although they remained vassals at that time.

“Max!” she exclaimed joyfully, her eyes lighting up. “You’re just in time!”

“Aren’t I always?” I replied with a smile.

“Well…” she glanced at my yacht with some uncertainty, “to be honest, you didn’t choose the fastest route to get here. I was worried you’d get stuck at sea for three days, but you made it in just one.”

“It’s not as difficult as it seems, especially with the wind in our favor,” I grinned back at her, remaining silent about the fact that the wind always blows in the right direction when accompanied by Sirens. Why reveal all my trump cards at once? “Is everyone already gathered?” I changed the subject instead.

Bella nodded. “Yes, they’re waiting for you. Well… sort of waiting. Grandfather is, but the others don’t even know you’re coming.”

As we walked leisurely to the harbor exit, I noticed that Isabella was strangely unaccompanied, lacking any guards. At the exit, we were met by two magnificent white Andalusian stallions. “I had to remember my childhood lessons too,” Isabella laughed as she gracefully mounted one of the horses. “I always thought it was foolish to waste time on this after cars appeared. But look at you!”

I followed her lead and settled comfortably onto my horse. “Any skill can come in handy in the most unexpected situations. And horseback riding is also a pleasant pastime. One day, I’ll take you for a ride on my Bucephalus. You’ll love it.”

“I have no doubt,” Bella replied, her enthusiasm returning. But as she spurred her horse, I could see her joy quickly shift to something more somber. A cloud seemed to roll over her face.

“Is everything okay?” I couldn’t help but ask.

“Yes…” she answered, her tone laced with hesitation. “Well, not exactly. I’m afraid our castle is not in the best condition right now. Just like the clan.” She then detailed the unexpected betrayal that had struck the clan just days prior.

“So you were right, as always, Max,” she said, offering a sad smile. “Perhaps it was your artifact that saved my life, and maybe even our entire clan from collapse.”

We spoke freely as we traveled along the empty road. It seemed Bella had taken care to block traffic and random passersby for our passage, allowing us to focus on the conversation and the challenges ahead. The only potential witnesses to our journey were the homeowners along the roadside, but they were in no rush to make an appearance. We passed by elite estates with sprawling private grounds behind low stone fences — mostly in shades of beige or white, mirroring the color schemes of the houses themselves.

As we approached the end of the road, the Velasco castle came into view, growing closer with each passing moment. Even from a distance, it was evident that Bella had not exaggerated. Several towers had collapsed, parts of the walls were in dire need of repair, and the cobblestones in the courtyard were broken and crumbling in many places. Isabella was clearly embarrassed by the sight and admitted as much. “Well,” she spread her hands as the grooms led our stallions to the stable, “I hoped that when you finally came to visit me, I could show you my house in all its glory, but instead, you get to see it in real devastation.”

“Even now, it’s clear how beautiful this place is,” I encouraged her. “You will restore everything.”

“Of course I will, but…” she began to object, but I interrupted her.

“You should have seen my crypt when I woke up in it. Then you would definitely stop seeing the scars of battle as something unworthy.”

Finally, Bella smiled. “To be honest, I still can’t believe that you are so…” She hesitated before continuing, “ancient. I’m used to thinking of my grandfather as old, but even he wasn’t around then. What surprises me the most is how thoroughly all traces of your existence have been erased — almost nothing remains, even in legends.”

“As you can see, nothing is impossible. Our allies, the Sirens, have found themselves in a similar situation.”

Isabella nodded thoughtfully. “Yes, but it’s much easier to find legends about them than about you. On the day you defeated Katharine and revealed yourself to the world, I searched everywhere — from the global network to the family library. I found only a few mentions of some ‘Scourge of Antiquity’ that was destroyed long ago.”

Her curiosity was palpable, and I could sense the thrill she felt learning about history, especially when it was connected with me. “Maybe it’s better that way,” I said, my tone teasing. “Less competition for the spotlight.”

Bella chuckled softly, her spirit visibly lifting. “I suppose so, but still, it’s frustrating to uncover so little. You must tell me everything you can about that time.”

“Who knows,” I smirked, “maybe in a thousand years no one will remember the Villons, or the other Great Princes. But the names of Richter and Velasco will remain known to all.”

“I hope so,” Bella beamed, her excitement evident. “But I’ve already talked you to death. We need to go upstairs.” She hurried toward the castle, then paused to turn around. “Our architects have already checked everything. The load-bearing walls are fine, and there’s no danger of a new collapse.”

“Don’t worry,” I said, and followed her.

* * *

“What is happening?!” the unfamiliar aristocrats jumped from their seats in shock and indignation. Most were southerners, like the Velascos, but there were also representatives from the central regions. “Alvaro! Have you betrayed us?!” shouted the most outspoken among them, his voice echoing in the tense atmosphere.

The scene had unfolded abruptly as I appeared at the door of the hall where Alvaro had gathered the other Salazar vassals for negotiations.

“There’s no need to rush to conclusions,” Alvaro interjected firmly. “Richter is not our enemy.”

“But what is he doing here at all?” the others pressed, eyes narrowing with suspicion.

“I want to discuss the current situation with you,” I replied, stepping further into the room. “I urge you not to sharpen your knives in vain.”

“What do you mean?” A man in the crowd, resembling someone I’d known in the past, regarded me with suspicion. He was clearly from the Garcia clan, one of the Salazars’ strongest allies. They were among those who were likely to remain loyal to Armand until the very end, no matter the circumstances. However, with the tides of change sweeping through all alliances, their loyalty might not hold as steadfast as before.

“I know you’re planning to act as a united punishing fist against the Demare clan, the masters of Costa Sirena,” I continued, “but if I were you, I wouldn’t rush to do that.”

“The decision is already made,” Garcia said resolutely.

“Hold on, Mateo,” Alvaro cautioned him. “I’ve called you here to explain the split that has occurred within my clan, and who is to blame for it.” To the surprise of many, the elder Velasco candidly recounted how particularly zealous members of his clan had nearly brought ruin upon all his loyal supporters and himself by leveraging the Salazar artifacts.

Nor did the revelations end there. Several other heads of supposed independent clans confessed that their own internal affairs were far from tranquil as well. It seemed as though someone from the outside was inciting unrest, pushing them to overthrow those who hesitated to support Armand. Like how it had happened at the Velascos’, tensions had yet to boil over into open confrontation. But the atmosphere among the clans was undeniably toxic.

Mateo Garcia listened with a furrowed brow, a look of dissatisfaction on his face, clearly working through all the implications in his mind. Finally, he broke the silence. “So what does this change? Are you suggesting I betray my suzerain? I would sooner inform Armand himself of these conversations and your association with Richter.”

I shrugged nonchalantly. “No one is forcing you. Everyone here can do as they see fit. But I think it’s important to warn you that in a week, on the very day you plan to strike at Costa Sirena, you’ll witness firsthand just how weak the Salazars have become. Armand is no longer a Great Prince. He may still be considered one, but everything has changed.”

“Are you talking about the emergence of the Sirens?” Garcia asked, narrowing his eyes as he sought clarity.

I nodded. “And not only that. So don’t rush to judgment. Consider your own clans. Your choices now may hinge on far more than you realize.”

* * *

The council of vassals and allies ended up being rather uneventful, but I hadn’t expected anything more. The key takeaway was that I had managed to plant seeds of doubt in many of their minds. I hoped this would be enough to stall any rash decisions regarding a punitive campaign. Moreover, Velasco had publicly declared that after the recent rebellion, they would only fight in Costa Sirena on behalf of the Demare clan. This announcement made many of the weaker and lesser vassals reconsider their positions.

While no one viewed the Demare as a significant threat, the Sirens, especially with the backing of the Velascos, were becoming a serious concern for many. This was compounded by the potential involvement of the Richters in the conflict. Our cooperation with the Velascos was common knowledge, as was their vested interest in Costa Sirena. Anyone capable of logical thought could now wonder whether it was wise to confront the mage who had ended Katharine Villon’s life. By the end of the Council, even Mateo had calmed down, so I could consider the task accomplished.

After a brief personal conversation with Alvaro, I returned to Costa Sirena, where I immediately headed to the warehouse. Inside, one of the halls was filled with a pile of materials I had ordered. I spent almost the entire day crafting a new transport chimera, this one designed for underwater use.

Once it was finished, it resembled a deep-sea anglerfish: a bulbous body that could comfortably hold about three people, complete with a large lamp mounted above to illuminate the depths. And, naturally, it had a huge toothy mouth ready for battle if needed.

I also ensured there was an oxygen supply. I wouldn’t need it in a state of “false death,” but not all passengers would necessarily be necromancers. This submersible could remain submerged for almost a day without needing to surface, ready for whatever challenges lay ahead.

Just as I launched the chimera into the water, Octavia reached Costa Sirena. Dressed in a light, airy gown, she immediately threw her arms around me. “I’m so looking forward to this, Max!” she exclaimed. “We have a new adventure waiting for us, right? Or are you just bored and want to spend a day at the sea with me?” She finished with a playful glint in her eye.

“A day at the sea? You could say that,” I grunted, but then I brought her up to speed on our mission.

“Are you serious?” she asked, her expression shifting to surprise. “This... oh... you know, this isn’t just an adventure. This is a real upheaval.”

“Are you scared?” I teased her.

“No,” she shook her head, but now her demeanor was much more serious than before. “Of course not. I will help you.” Then Octavia fell silent for a moment, seemingly trying to wrap her head around my plan. After a brief moment, her face lit up, and she exclaimed, “How could I miss this! Are we setting off today? Will there be Sirens? We’re going to ride orcas, right?” The little witch literally bombarded me with questions, but I chose to remain mysteriously silent. I didn’t want to spoil the surprise too soon.

When she finally laid eyes on my angler, her delight was palpable. “Wow!” she clapped her hands like a child. “Chimeras are amazing! I will never stop being amazed at how cool they are!” Kicking off her sandals, she dashed into the water to touch the angler and inspect it from all sides while it was still not fully submerged. “The headlight is simply magnificent!” she continued to admire. “So elegant and yet almost real. By the way,” she turned to me, “did you know that I’ve started attending Alina’s classes with the students?”

“I know,” I nodded, “Lifeng told me.”

Octavia playfully clicked her tongue. “Nothing gets by her! But honestly… I’m fascinated. It’s a bit like artifact crafting and doll-making, but at the same time, it’s something completely different. And I’m impressed by how quickly Alina has achieved such success in her field.”

“You can do it too,” I encouraged her, genuinely confident in her abilities. When it came to applied arts, Octavia was a true genius. Many wizards struggled with their craft, but she had the Midas touch.

“The only thing I regret right now is that I’ll probably miss a few classes,” she said, her tone a mix of disappointment and enthusiasm. “And, of course, I’ll have to put artifactology on hold. The kids will surely miss me. And I will miss them.”

“So,” I clarified, “you’ve gotten attached to the students?”

“A little,” she admitted, a hint of warmth in her voice. “There are many really talented ones. And I love seeing how hard they try. It’s so sweet.”

Her fondness for her students reminded me of the importance of mentorship and the impact it could have on the next generation of mages. “You’ll have the chance to catch up with them once this adventure is over,” I said, hoping to reassure her.

Octavia smiled, her excitement returning as she looked toward the water. “You’re right! Let’s focus on the journey ahead.”

* * *

Meanwhile, at the Richter Academy…

“Have you heard?! Octavia has gone somewhere, and we won’t have artifactology for a few days!” Victor exclaimed, bursting into the classroom.

“Seriously? There won’t be any class at all, or will someone replace her?” another student asked, eyebrows raised.

“No class!” the messenger joyfully confirmed.

A sigh of relief swept through the classroom. The way Octavia drilled them was unimaginable for any other teacher; even the stern Olga was a sweetheart compared to the witch Scipion. After the incident with Karolina, no one even thought about slacking off in artifactology class. No matter how much the students wanted to cut corners, each one tackled the homework assigned by Octavia as if their very lives depended on it — because, in a way, they did. So the news of a brief reprieve was met with a genuine roar of unrestrained happiness.

“Hooray! Artifactology is canceled!”

* * *

“I love the underwater world,” Octavia chattered as we glided through the depths, observing our surroundings through the translucent skin of the anglerfish. I had designed a small section of the vehicle this way so we could witness everything firsthand, rather than relying solely on our scouts. Nearby, Sirens transformed into orcas swam gracefully, their fins adorned with small bags. Occasionally, they would stop to revert back to their human forms, pulling tools from their bags to measure the magical density of the surrounding environment. Octavia and I then compared their readings with our own feelings. While I was adept at sensing magical flows, the modern world bore too many interferences that hindered natural intuition, which is precisely why specialized tools had emerged. The Sirens excelled at using these instruments, as they were pretty much the only modern clan that refrained from utilizing abomination.

We were searching for the same intersection of power lines that I had found at the site of my former castle in Richterberg, or at least, something sufficiently potent. This was proving to be very challenging. Octavia had started to feel a bit disheartened after spending three days in the depths without discovering anything substantial — only a few weak foci that were unsuitable for our objective. Finally, on the fourth day, alongside the Sirens, we sensed we were heading in the right direction as the power around us began to rise. Just as our excitement peaked, the accompanying mages suddenly halted, rooted to the spot. They gestured frantically, signaling “Back! Turn around!” Confused, I mimed a question, asking what lay ahead. I read their lips clearly: “Focus.”

Chapter 6

“WHAT DO YOU NEED?” Armand Salazar bluntly answered the call from Roland Desmond. His tone came off as curt and unrefined, but he didn’t care. The last few weeks had been, to put it mildly, a struggle for the Great Prince of the Water, and he had no patience for niceties. Especially not with the insolent Roland. He obviously wasn’t calling to shoot the shit. He would undoubtedly start pressuring him again. Armand would have gladly ended the call or ignored it altogether, but unfortunately, Desmond was powerful enough to demand at least a facade of civility.

“You could at least say hello,” Roland began with a smirk. “Or are your nerves shot?”

“What do you want?” Armand repeated, disregarding the sarcasm.

“To offer my condolences, of course. I heard you lost your son.” Roland’s tone was serious, laced with a hint of sympathy, but Armand sensed the insincerity from miles away. It was just another excuse for a jab at his expense.

“You’re about two weeks late,” Armand replied coolly, then added, “Is that all?”

“Not quite,” Roland smirked into the phone again. “I’m concerned about the situation in Costa Sirena. If I recall correctly, and I never forget such things, you promised to sort out the supplies to Richterberg nearly a month ago. But as time passes, the Velascos continue to trade with that bastard Max. From that, I can only conclude that you’re either complicit or your vassals no longer take you seriously. A sad sight, if that’s the case.”

Armand could barely hold himself back. He clenched his teeth and fists, contemplating his next move. The old man cringed internally, knowing the dire state of affairs would only empower scoundrels like Desmond to pick apart his empire piece by piece. It was already fraying at the edges, making it increasingly difficult to maintain control day by day. But he was not ready to acknowledge this weakness in front of Roland. Besides, everything would change soon enough.

Armand resolved to gather a punishing army of his vassals to deal with the traitors, gradually reclaiming every piece of his influence along the way. And of course, he would get his shell back. He had done it once before, and he would do it again. Everyone was saying that the times of ancient legends were returning, and he, Armand Salazar, was part of those legends. He intended to repeat the triumphs of his youth. He just needed to act wisely, cautiously, and prepare thoroughly.

But Desmond had already caught the scent of prey. As the silence stretched on, he prodded again, “Maybe I should take care of Costa Sirena myself?” His suggestion was laced with cunning. “There’s nothing easier than sending a squad of my people there to regain control of the city if you can’t handle it yourself.”

At this, Armand could no longer keep his composure. The moment the Salazars displayed any sign of weakness, the Desmonds sought to carve out a piece of his empire? He may have been an old wolf, but he wouldn’t let himself be brushed aside so easily.

“Aren’t you taking on a little too much, Roland?” he growled. “Did I ask for your help? Or maybe I’m here to teach you how to deal with your vassals? What makes you think you can meddle in my affairs?”

Roland listened calmly, a slight smirk playing upon his lips. No matter how much the old man blustered, everyone knew the Salazars had significantly weakened. Yet they still remained a Great Clan, and Roland was not inclined to push an open conflict. Any fool could see who would win. Too many forces and resources would have to be expended on a skirmish with Armand’s clan. Getting entangled in an adventure like this one was foolish, especially with the world spiraling into chaos. Just the fact alone that Max had returned! Roland refrained from provoking old man Salazar any further. He had already gleaned what he needed to know.

“I will handle my problems myself,” Armand barked. “Costa Sirena will be under my control again in a week. So don’t interfere, Roland.”

“Well,” Great Prince Desmond replied with a satisfied smile, “I hope Armand Salazar still stands by his words.” With that, he disconnected the call. For now, he was willing to wait a week and see how things played out. Time would reveal whether the old man still had the capacity to act or if the return of old enemies and the loss of his heir had finally begun to take a toll on him. Desmond’s confidence was rooted in the chaos surrounding the Salazars, and he enjoyed the prospect of watching Armand navigate through this storm. The game was still afoot, and he was ready to capitalize on any weakness that might arise.

* * *

I did not argue with our guides, but redirected the anglerfish submersible back to the city of the Sirens. Once there, I thoroughly explained to my allies that the focus should not be a reason to halt our research. In fact, everything pointed to this being the ideal location for the upcoming… shall we say, experiment.

“Maybe we could find another similar place?” Queen Merissa suggested timidly. “Perhaps you do not fully realize the danger of oceanic foci.”

“Don’t worry, Merissa,” I reassured her. “It seems to be just an epsilon.”

“Just?!” she exclaimed in disbelief. “As far as I know, even on land, clearing them is considered nearly impossible. And in the ocean, that difficulty can reliably be multiplied by two, or even three.”

Azurion joined the conversation, concern evident in his voice. “Exactly. Disguised as orcas, we sometimes observed how cleanser squads dealt with closing small foci that often appear on trade routes. We’ve also made attempts to contain their spread around our cities.”

“And?” Octavia asked, her interest piqued.

“It’s very difficult!” Azurion insisted, his expression earnest. “Really difficult! It takes a lot of time and requires extensive preparation. Even alpha cleansers can be destroyed in just a few days. Betas sometimes take weeks, and gammas can take months! Maximilian,” he said, turning to me, “you definitely won’t finish with the epsilon in less than a week. And if that’s the case, a bloody battle for Costa Sirena is inevitable!”

While I understood the concerns of my allies, I knew that my expertise in closing foci surpassed anyone else’s experience. I reminded them of this before adding, “But if you want to help me get it done faster, I would appreciate some sturdy sea creature carcasses.”

Azurion pondered for a moment, then nodded. “Alright. I will send several combat squads on a hunt.”

“Oh,” Octavia suddenly looked upset. “Can’t you use the bodies of the focus monsters, as usual? It’s a shame to destroy innocent little fish for this.”

I recalled the “chimeras” that the impressionable Scipion had created from the robbers who had broken into her treasury. From Octavia’s perspective, those thieves fully deserved their fate. But the little fish did not. Such were her notions of justice.

Azurion smiled and said, “Don’t worry, Lady Scipion. Our clan has lived in the ocean for many centuries, and we know better than anyone how and what to hunt without harming the ecosystem. We even help restore balance. There are times when certain areas become overcrowded with predators, which harms other species. And large sharks can pose a danger even to us.”

“I understand…” Octavia relaxed a little, though she still wore a look of sadness.

The prince continued, “Even the seafood we supply to Richterberg is harvested with this principle in mind. We only take what is in excess. Since the ocean is abundant, that’s more than enough.”

The little witch sighed but conceded. “Well, I would be a hypocrite to say I’m ready to give up fish to save the lives of all sea creatures. But it’s comforting to hear that you approach their harvesting wisely.”

Satisfied, Azurion gallantly bowed to Octavia and, bidding farewell, left the hall, assuring me that everything I needed would soon be on the shore for me.

That meant little Scipion and I needed to return to Costa Sirena. I was once again faced with the meticulous task of creating new chimeras. Remarkably, I managed to finish the work in about a day. Of course, I couldn’t create too many, but I hoped it would be enough. I planned not to tackle the focus alone, but to take my granddaughter and several phantoms who had also arrived from the capital with me. They were now gathering to listen to my instructions and explanations on how to handle the new chimeras effectively.

In essence, I created only one type of chimera, but it combined the best traits of several sea creatures. I took the strong muscular structure from the tuna, the sturdy skeleton and jaw from the great white shark, and partially protected the skin with armor inspired by the shell of a tortoise. Additionally, I crafted a large fin on the back of each of my battle fish, modeled after the fin of the sailfish, the fastest fish in the world. The resulting chimeras were powerful and swift. There were ten of them, and I planned to bring the anglerfish too. Its combat role would be minimal, but it made a great backup. Who knew if the creatures guarding the lair would manage to take out one of my fighters, and I would need a means of transport to get it to shore quickly.

Speaking of fighters, my numbers were sparse. I had Olga, Kira, Lev, and three phantoms accompanying me. Why phantoms instead of guards? Because the phantoms had mastered the spell of false death perfectly. In that state, a body used far less oxygen than usual. I had already utilized this ability in the lake focus, when I faced a formidable mentalist creature. It had appeared to only be a small, harmless frog… but that’s behind me now.

Preliminary reconnaissance indicated that whoever the boss of the undersea epsilon was, he was definitely not a mentalist, which was a relief. If he had been, I would have had to venture there alone to avoid putting my pupils at risk. This would really prolong our undertaking. I didn’t think it would take the months the Sirens predicted, but I was well aware it wouldn’t be resolved in one or two days either.

As it turned out, all we managed on the first day was to fend off whole crowds of small but incredibly dangerous creatures resembling piranhas. We faced attacks from monsters that resembled seahorses. In a typical situation, those creatures used their snouts to suck in food, but these were different — they shot out poison and paralyzing needles, along with various other nasty surprises.

Several times, we had to pause our hunt to help one of the phantoms bring some order back to their system. The toxins from those little nuisances proved to be too potent. The fighters required my assistance to flush the filth out of their bloodstream. They could have managed it on their own with time, but we were short on that luxury.

The second day mirrored the first, but yesterday my squad had experimented with various tactics, and now they were effectively dismantling the focus’s creatures with impressive speed. Our efforts were paying off. We were rapidly closing in on the heart of the focus.

Soon enough, we caught sight of it... only to find an old sunken ship before us. Strangely enough, it was in relatively good condition, suggesting it had lain here since a time when more than just pleasure yachts roamed the waters. This was a genuine battle galleon. I even spotted cannons peeking out from the gun ports, remnants of its former glory, which, however, had not helped it stay afloat. I couldn’t help but wonder whether it had sunk before the emergence of the focus or precisely because of the monstrous creatures that had proliferated in these waters. Yet that question seemed less pressing than the whereabouts of the boss. As I focused on the ship, it became clear that the crystal of the focus was positioned right on the deck.

We approached cautiously, ensuring a safe perimeter around us with our chimeras. Just as I was assessing our next move, the ocean around us began to stir, indicating that whatever lay in wait was far from small.

And then it emerged from the other side of the galleon, raising its massive head above the water and quickly extending long, sinuous tentacles toward us. Kraken. Huge octopus. Squid. I couldn’t pinpoint the exact classification, but one thing was clear: it had far more than the usual eight or ten tentacles — a number so staggering I lost count in mere moments.

Our squad instinctively reacted, and before long, the monster found itself losing a portion of its tentacles. To our dismay, this didn’t seem to faze it at all. The power of the kraken’s regeneration could make even Katharine Villon envious. It restored all severed limbs almost instantaneously. I hoped this power was limited only to limbs. If not, we could be here indefinitely. The first setback hadn’t deterred the creature at all. It stubbornly continued its attempts to reach us, exhibiting a peculiar interest in Olga and Kira.

I couldn’t help but snort at the memory of the video I had found on Lifeng’s computer — not intentionally, mind you. It was a side effect of using the thumb drive. It had given me ample opportunity to tease Olga about it later while I studied the tastes and interests of my current young apprentices. From those videos, I’d learned exactly what “tentacles” signified, and while I didn’t think my students were in any genuine danger, I decided to keep a close watch on them just in case. Particularly because the kraken managed to grasp them and pull them toward itself.

I rushed to assist, but my help turned out to be unnecessary. The girls quickly sliced through the brazen tentacles, reducing them to something resembling noodles. However, that didn’t last long. The beast regenerated again. My students didn’t withdraw. On the contrary, they seized the moment to maneuver around the octopus, dealing damage across its body.

The others followed their example, and I gestured for everyone to attack from one side while I would sneak up on the creature from the opposite flank. The plan worked well. As all its tentacles were focused on the other fighters, I was able to approach and strike from behind. Admittedly, my knowledge of octopus physiology was limited, but I managed to land wounds in several areas and commenced estimating the location of its heart-core. With a swing! Another swing! I watched the huge crystal of abomination begin to sink slowly to the bottom.

The damn kraken still remained unfazed! It continued to fight as if nothing had happened! It seemed I had overlooked something crucial this time. The expressions on the faces of the fighters in my squad indicated that they were utterly baffled by the turn of events.

“Is he immortal?” I could see the silent question reflected in my granddaughter’s eyes, along with the rest of the squad.

The answer came from an unexpected place. Lev, who had previously impressed us with his deep understanding of biology while we cleared a nest of ants, had something valuable to contribute this time as well. He pointed at the kraken, then held up three fingers, pressed his fist to the left side of his chest, and pointed at the creature once more. Three hearts? I thought, intrigued. Nature indeed knows how to surprise us.

Fueled by this revelation, we surged into the attack with renewed vigor. Despite the creature’s monstrous endurance, it clearly lacked intelligence. It fell for the same ruse a second time, and again for a third time. In the end, I was taken aback by how easy it was to overcome. Well, if you disregard the fact that the battle lasted several hours. That was primarily due to its relentless regeneration. Timing the right moments for successful strikes had proved to be challenging.

But now it was all over. The only task left was to finish off the remaining minions and clean up the area, a job I knew the Sirens would handle. With the boss defeated and the main gem of the focus in our possession, the area no longer posed a serious threat to the mages. They could handle the remaining ordinary monsters. My squad needed rest and recovery, but I had more pressing matters to attend to — tasks far more important than the cleanup.

* * *

“Now we just have to wait for a reaction,” Lifeng reported after I sent her the video of Queen Merissa’s warning. The hacker had spread it across all news channels, even hacking into several live broadcasts to ensure that as many viewers as possible saw the clip.

Her initial attempt at recording hadn’t gone smoothly; the queen had been too preoccupied with her appearance. “This is the first public statement from my people in many years,” she explained, her nervousness evident. “I cannot appear weak or, contrariwise, like some kind of monster. So I’m asking you, Maximilian: please help me do everything right.”

Fortunately, Octavia had not yet returned to Richterberg, so her directing talents were particularly useful in this endeavor. It was worth noting that the filming approach she used for the queen was radically different from that utilized when creating videos with the two “zombie witnesses.” For the latter, she had gone all out, emphasizing their plebeian backgrounds and slang because, as she put it, that was what entertained the audience. But for the queen, Octavia worked to create a video that was as beautiful and grandiose as possible. In the final cut, Merissa stood against the backdrop of the already renovated sea palace, everything sparkling with jewels. The queen herself exuded majesty and solemnity. She began her address with a few contemptuous remarks aimed at the Salazars, ultimately concluding her speech with a grave warning: “Residents and guests of the city of Salforte, we do not wish you harm and do not want you to become victims of our war with the clan of thieves, traitors, and murderers. Therefore, we strongly suggest you leave the capital of the Salazar clan. In exactly two days, it will be wiped off the face of the earth.”

Chapter 7

“WHAT IS HAPPENING, Armand?” Günther Steiger asked gloomily as the Council of the Great Princes convened.

“Oh yes, Armand, enlighten us!” Regina giggled, her tone playful yet laced with curiosity.

The Council was gathering because the situation had spiraled into the realm of the outrageous. Never before in the centuries-long history of the Great Princes had anyone dared to issue such a bold and unexpected challenge to one of them so publicly. Typically, all matters concerning the Great Clans were resolved discreetly, away from the public eye. The “deities” did not involve ordinary mortals in their disputes. Such discretion lent an aura of invincibility to the Great Princes. With the situation surrounding the Salazars becoming increasingly precarious, everyone was keenly interested in what was currently unfolding. Yes, “curiosity” was indeed the most fitting description for why they had all come here. Yet none of the princes had any intention of stepping in to resolve Armand’s problems, at least not without incentive. Only a very profitable deal, or a threat that could endanger their own clans, would prompt any of them to intervene.

For the moment, Armand remained silent. His face betrayed no emotions, but anyone could sense the tension radiating from him, the difficulty he had in assembling the words that he finally uttered: “I need help.”

“Really?” Roland replied sarcastically. “Am I mistaken, or did you demand just a week ago that I stay out of your affairs?”

Armand glared at him, anger simmering beneath the surface. Yet he kept his response measured. “I regret it.”

“So,” Regina Scipion chimed in, intrigued, “your city can really be destroyed?”

“No,” Salazar declared firmly, “but I want you to help me get those damn fish. I can’t pry them out of the depths of the sea, and they are extremely annoying and damaging to my business.”

Günther grunted, skepticism evident in his voice. “If you, the king of water magic, can’t do anything about them, what do you want from us?”

“One strong gift is good,” Armand replied, “but sometimes it is not enough. I will explain to you what the difficulty is, and together we will smoke these creatures out of their hideout. After that, I will handle it myself.”

“How cunning!” Regina clapped her hands together. “How are you planning to pay for our help? Do you think you can afford to settle with all of us?”

“I’m sure we will come to some agreement,” he said, “I am ready to discuss individual discounts for the passage of ships along my trade routes.”

Regina burst into laughter, her amusement genuine. “How clever you are, Armand! We’ll help you reclaim the sea routes you no longer control, and in exchange, you’ll give us a discount!”

“She’s right,” added Raksha Kanwar, lounging in lotus pose atop a nearby cliff. “You need to come up with something better than that.”

Armand worked to maintain his air of confidence and composure. “I’m ready to discuss the terms of our deal in detail with each of you.” He intended to say more, but he didn’t have the chance. Suddenly, another holographic figure materialized among the five present, the air thickening with tension as the newcomers stepped into the fray.

* * *

“Before making decisions, you should hear from the other side,” I said with a smile as I burst into the council chamber. After the first interruption, every subsequent breach had become a simple matter.

“Are you going to come here uninvited whenever you feel like it?” Roland couldn’t hold back his irritation. It was somewhat amusing to see him get worked up, as if I had spoiled his chance to show off in front of the others.

I raised an eyebrow. “Really? Do I need a special invitation now to meet with old friends?”

“Don’t listen to him, Maxie,” Regina interjected with a grin. “Come whenever you want. It’s so boring here with these old fogies.” She stretched luxuriously, as if to emphasize her point.

Günther joined in with a more business-like demeanor. “And who do you suggest we listen to? The Sirens?”

“Exactly,” I replied, gesturing theatrically toward the door. “Allow me to introduce Queen Merissa!” With that, a holographic figure of my ally materialized.

“How dare you?!” Armand gasped in outrage, unable to contain his disbelief. “To bring this… to the Council of the Great Princes...” He struggled to find the right words to define our guest.

I remained silent, letting the Queen take center stage. “If there’s anyone here who shouldn’t be, it’s you, thief!” she shot back at him. “You killed many Sirens with your treachery. You stole our magic, and forced us to hide underwater for centuries. But now we have regained our power and returned to our rightful place among the Great Clans.”

“Stole your magic?” Günther interjected, surprise flashing across his face. “How is that?”

“She’s delusional!” Armand exclaimed, his voice rising. “Do you really intend to take her words at face value?”

A thoughtful expression settled on the faces of the other princes, though uncertainty rippled through the room. Armand pressed on, determined to regain control of the situation. “We shouldn’t waste a minute on this nonsense. It seems the Council is in need of a new communication system.”

“There’s just one thing I don’t understand,” the usually silent Kanwar started, his voice breaking the tension. “Why could the Sirens not cause you any trouble before, but now they have become such a problem?”

“Because he no longer has our power!” Merissa exclaimed, her tone fierce. “Now we possess our ancient relic again, the one that once elevated the Salazars to your level!”

“And you expect us to believe that?” Regina scoffed, addressing Armand with a mocking laugh.

“Of course!” he shot back, clearly clinging to the hope of convincing the Council of his position.

Merissa was on a roll, relishing the opportunity to confront her sworn enemy, even if it was through a holographic projection. “Salazar can do nothing to us anymore. Nothing. We killed his son, who tried to reclaim our relic. We now control the trade routes in the ocean, and Armand can no longer do anything about it! His vassals have publicly renounced him and come under our banners! Soon, we will completely destroy him!” Her passionate speech was stunning, even eliciting a stir of admiration from me. She pressed on, her conviction palpable. “So decide, gentlemen, with whom it is more profitable for you to cooperate. With the Sirens, the true rulers of the ocean, or with this weakling, who is of no use to you without our relic! All he can do now is ride at your expense!”

As the weight of her words settled, silence enveloped the room. Armand visibly paled, clearly struggling to formulate a response to such serious accusations. The other princes were equally absorbed in thought. The first to break the silence was, predictably, Regina. The cheerful demeanor she had earlier was now an expression of anger. “So, you preferred to keep quiet about the relic, huh, Armand?” she shot him a menacing glare.

“There is no relic!” he protested vehemently. “It’s all a lie!”

“We’ll see about that,” she hissed, clearly agitated. “I hate being played for a fool. In any case, this changes everything!”

“What do you mean?” Günther asked.

“There is no point in defending him now! If the relic isn’t there, then he is still a Great Prince, right? His strength should be enough to resist the Sirens. And if the relic does exist and it’s with the little fish,” Scipion smiled with a predatory glint in her eyes, “then why do we need this weakling?”

“Indeed,” Günther grunted, nodding in agreement with her arguments. “Today we help him, and tomorrow what use is he to us? If his strength isn’t comparable to ours, and if he’s a usurper…”

“Will you dare to fight me, Günther?! Answer for your words! I demand satisfaction!” Armand shouted, his anger palpable. I couldn’t help but smirk; he was clearly reluctant to offer Regina an opportunity like that.

Steiger had no intention of accepting Armand’s challenge. “Fight the Sirens first. Put your own lands in order. Then I will offer my apologies. If there’s anyone to apologize to…” With that, he disconnected, followed immediately by the others, who didn’t bother to offer any parting words.

In the end, only Armand, Queen Merissa, and I remained in the virtual chamber. The look on Salazar’s face shifted, his wandering gaze finally settling on me, a flicker of realization breaking through the rage. “Richter,” he addressed me, his voice trembling with fury, “what are you even doing with the Sirens? This is all your doing, isn’t it?”

I smiled back at him, unperturbed. “No, Armand. Was I the one who betrayed and robbed my friend? Was I the one who created enemies for myself? No. It’s just that sooner or later, everything has to be paid for, and your time of reckoning has come.”

* * *

“Are we really going to make it out?” the people at the Salforte station murmured, voices laced with worry. Taking advantage of the rising panic, the Desmonds had clearly capitalized on the situation, organizing so many trains on this route that they now ran practically one after another. The entire city was in the midst of an evacuation, despite the Salazars’ assurances that nothing would happen to Salforte and that it was all just a bluff. Few were willing to test that statement on their own skin. People gathered their valuables, leaving for safer ground, some even taking to the sea to sail away from the coast. Among them were businessmen who temporarily abandoned their cargo transport operations, as evacuating people had suddenly become much more lucrative.

The sea itself appeared to aid in their flight, pushing vessels in the right direction. By the end of the second day, only the most stubborn or the most loyal to the Salazars remained in the city. And, of course, the Salazars themselves. Several dozen archmages stood lined up on the deserted shore, just a stone’s throw from their clan’s castle. They gazed anxiously into the distance, toward the ocean, where an attack was evidently being prepared.

Armand, standing before his assembled warriors, did his utmost to rally their spirits. “Fear not, friends! We all know very well what the relic is capable of — and what it isn’t,” he declared, pacing across the hot sand. “The Sirens will lack the energy and abilities to harm us or our city. Today, we will fend off their attack, and tomorrow we’ll find a way to make soup out of them and reclaim the shell!”

His words resonated with his comrades, sparking a flicker of hope within them. A chorus of war cries rang out:

“Yes!”

“We’ll show ‘em!”

“We won’t let Salforte be harmed!”

The Salazars stood ready, awaiting the impending assault. However, everyone’s attention soon turned to the horizon, where the ocean met the sky. A barely discernible ripple began to form, but with each passing second, it swelled into something far more formidable.

It quickly became clear that a massive tidal wave was racing toward the castle — a tsunami the likes of which the world had never seen. Armand’s confidence was about to be tested in the most terrifying way imaginable.

Chapter 8

“WE’LL SORT IT OUT!” Armand Salazar declared resolutely, repeating the phrase even louder for emphasis. The Salazars stared grimly into the distance at the tsunami inexorably advancing toward the city. Yet, now, having assessed its magnitude, they felt a surprising calm wash over them — especially their leader, who seemed to have relaxed entirely. He didn’t consider the upcoming task easy, but Armand believed he could handle it. If the Sirens thought everything he relied upon resided solely in the shell, they were in for a rude awakening.

Armand had always maintained that even the most powerful relic in the hands of incompetents would only spell disaster. Had he not taken it from Estuar, someone else would have. The Sirens were no weaklings, but they had always been out of touch with reality, poor at politics, and unable to grasp the motivations behind human actions or navigate the intricacies of diplomacy. Naive and perpetually straightforward, they remained oblivious to their own shortcomings. Even after losing the relic, they failed to draw the correct conclusions. Like lemmings, they crashed against his clan century after century, thoughtlessly repeating their mistakes. But now, even amid these dire circumstances, Armand was resolute in his belief that he could turn the tide once again.

Yes, perhaps something had changed. It was no coincidence that Max had appeared at the Council with that silly fish, Merissa. That scoundrel had been stirring the waters lately. But even if Richter had provided the Sirens with a few sound moves, it wouldn’t alter their fundamental nature. They remained pathetic losers, destined to once again squander everything. Armand smirked at the thought. How naive to believe the power of the artifact could wash away Salforte — his ancestral nest! Especially while he was alive and ready to defend it. Who knew better than a Salazar the true power of the ancient relic, having possessed it for over a thousand years?

He figured the worst the ‘fish’ could do to him was tarnish his reputation. They expected him to flee, refusing to fight, believing that in doing so, no storm would materialize. His clan would collapse like a house of cards, with vassals and allies tearing the Salazar empire to pieces like hyenas feasting on a limping lion.

But that was not going to happen. Armand was ready to fight, and he was confident of victory. With purpose, he extended his energy threads to all nearby Salazars. As the strongest transmitter mage of modernity, he had the ability to both share energy and siphon it when needed. The bond forged by gift and blood made this connection nearly unbreakable. Thus, Armand could distribute energy at will, disregarding the desires of others. However, when clan members willingly contributed their energy, the efficiency of their combined strength increased significantly.

At his command, the Salazar battle squad stationed with him to defend the city began to pour their strength into him. Most clan members had prepared for this impending attack, even utilizing grace stimulants to bolster their reserves. While they may no longer have had reliance on the relic, they could still retain their status as the strongest clan. Let that cunning Scipion and the other Princes say what they would, Armand wasn’t about to relinquish the status of Great Prince so easily. You’d need more than this nonsense to break him!

He took a decisive step forward, raising his hands high, directing energy toward the ocean and pushing it against the encroaching giant tsunami. For a moment, it appeared as if the tide had started to recede. The water pulled back from the shore, unveiling rocks, seaweed, and marine life that couldn’t keep pace with the wave’s advance. On the rocky ocean floor, fish floundered in surprise, and crabs hurriedly scuttled away in search of deeper water. Precious clusters of pearl oyster shells were laid bare, of no concern at that moment. As the water retreated from Salforte, it surged upward into a massive wave that began to rush toward the enemy tsunami, on the path to a clash of titanic force.

In the end, Armand managed to match the size of the towering wave, though it was evident that achieving this feat had taken a toll on him. The two waves crashed into each other about a nautical mile from the city. Deep down, he figured it had cost him, but he’d won. The strain was visible; the veins on his forehead bulged, the capillaries in his eyes burst, and he struggled to maintain his footing under the immense pressure of the colossal energy surging through him. Yet, he persevered, and this determination was crucial not only for himself but for his clan as well. Many Salazars had begun to doubt Armand after the loss of his heir, and those few who were aware of the relic’s significance teetered on the brink of despair. But now, they would witness firsthand that their uncertainty held no weight against the reality of Armand’s unwavering resolve to emerge victorious once again. He poured every ounce of focus into the moment, pushing himself even harder. Just a little more! The force of his wave gradually overcame the enemy tsunami, pushing it back into the depths of the ocean.

Only once both waves had receded beyond the horizon did he finally relax, casting a triumphant glance at those who had gathered to witness the spectacle. In that moment, his spirit soared; he had demonstrated to his followers and himself that no matter the obstacles, he could reclaim his power and assert his dominance over the challenges ahead.

* * *

“Excellent!” Octavia exclaimed with evident excitement. “The test launch was successful!”

“Really?” Queen Merissa asked nervously. “It’s too early to celebrate.”

“Of course,” the little witch nodded seriously, but then her expression shifted to a carefree smile. “In fact, it would be strange if we got everything perfect on the first try. That wouldn’t be very interesting. But the main thing is that I can now calculate the right place for energy reception with millimeter precision.” Octavia took the shell and walked a few meters to the right with it, followed hurriedly by Neris and one of the advisors, who was dragging a pedestal for the relic. Upon seeing it, the diminutive witch waved her hand dismissively. “No need. It’s best to place the artifact directly on the bottom,” she said. “In fact, let’s make a depression in the ground. We need a pit three and a half meters deep. Yes,” she nodded, agreeing with her own calculations, “three meters and sixty-five centimeters, to be exact.”

Queen Merissa waved her hand approvingly, and the area sprang to life with activity. Since my students and I had cleared the underwater focus, a whole settlement had emerged. The Sirens embraced the task of clearing the area with great dedication and set up a large temporary camp. They had even managed to cover the necessary space with an air dome, similar to those used in their cities. We could now converse and relax here, all in preparation for what lay ahead. Today marked the day the Sirens would deal a crushing blow to the Salazars.

Contemplating how to dismantle their empire, Octavia and I reached the conclusion that the Shell of Marinus alone wouldn’t suffice. Certainly, it was a powerful artifact, but charging it with enough energy by the usual means would take months, if not years. There were only so many Sirens, and the artifact was limited to absorbing their power alone. Consequently, without putting themselves at risk, they could only provide Pearl with a fraction of their energy — far too little for any significant combat actions. Each of the Sirens was undoubtedly prepared to sacrifice their lives for victory. But eliminating allies was not part of our plans.

Skilled artifact makers understood that natural power lines could significantly influence an artifact’s performance. The more powerful the energy source, the easier it was to harness that power, while simultaneously complicating matters. Correctly positioning the relic could substantially enhance energy output, but miscalculating its placement could lead to catastrophic results, potentially causing the artifact to explode and devastate everything around it. Hence, few daredevils dared to employ such risky methods.

Fortunately, Octavia and I were experienced enough to handle the intricacies involved. We understood how to mitigate risks by approaching the desired location gradually. We were thus relatively unfazed by the potential for catastrophe — something that could not be said for the Sirens accompanying us. Both the queen and the most formidable battle mages of the kingdom carried a palpable sense of foreboding, worried not merely about the prospect of losing the artifact or their own lives. No, what they feared most was the possibility of being unable to exact revenge on the Salazars. This goal had become deeply ingrained in their perception of the world — a sacred drive that had consumed their focus for far too long.

Fortunately, our goals aligned perfectly. I had no intention of delaying the promise made to Azurion and Merissa. With my assistance, the Sirens would seize their vengeance against the Salazars today. Only a couple of details remained to be sorted out.

While Octavia directed the excavations, opening the path to an essential natural magical line that ran below sea level, I was busy arranging other transmitter artifacts around us. These artifacts adjusted the direction of the remaining lines, creating an optimal intersection point between them. This was precisely why we had cleared the focus that had once obstructed us, disturbing the natural flow of magical energy in this area.

Despite the considerable forces gathered around us, the energy lines proved to be remarkably powerful. As we later understood, this was precisely why the epsilon had never grown to the level of a kappa or something even scarier. This area had remained uncleansed for centuries. The natural resistance here was strikingly strong, which had seriously impeded the influx of corruption. But that was now in the past. The key advantage was that by installing the shell in this locale, we were effectively killing two birds with one stone. First, we enhanced the energy output of the artifact itself. Second, we aided its ‘donors’ in more effectively channeling their power into it. At such a potent focus, magical energy replenished itself far more quickly than in other places, so it was foolish not to capitalize on this.

And this was precisely why a crowd of strong Siren mages had gathered here, though they were not required to do anything more for the moment.

“So?” Octavia called out, her voice ringing with anticipation. “Half an hour, and back to battle?”

I smiled widely. “This time, the old man will get more than just a scare.”

The Sirens exchanged glances filled with cautious optimism, eager to believe that everything would go off without a hitch.

“Will I manage for sure?” Princess Neris asked, doubt creeping into her voice. “Even the first time it was hard to hold and direct all this power,” she admitted.

“I’ll help you,” I assured her as I stepped closer and placed my hand on her shoulder. “I’ll help you prepare. The main thing is to relax.”

“What are you going to do?” she inquired.

“I’m going to reboot your energy system. You’ll feel the tension dissipate, and the power will flow freely through your channels. The fatigue will also lift.”

“But you’re a necromancer, aren’t you?” Neris replied, surprised. “Where do you get these abilities?”

“Sometimes I’m also a bit of a healer,” I smiled, invoking the magic of my craft as I got to work.

“Wow, it really is getting better!” the princess exclaimed, her eyes widening. “And so quickly! Incredible!”

I nodded, but cautioned her, “It will be a little painful now. I found an inherent defect in one of your energy channels. Nothing serious, but it’s better to fix it. It’s likely causing you to tire more quickly.”

“Is it going to hurt a lot… oh!” She flinched as I applied the necessary pressure to correct the issue, but I was ready to guide her through the pain and ensure she emerged stronger on the other side.

“That’s it,” I replied, “now enjoy the last moments before the second attack.”

Neris nodded, then suddenly grew shy but still found the courage to ask, “And afterward... will you help me relax again? I’ve never felt this good.”

“Just don’t get carried away. Only after he helps me relax,” Octavia chimed in. “Don’t be greedy, princess,” she finished with a hint of jealousy.

Neris flushed and stepped back, flustered. “I didn’t mean anything like that!”

“Don’t worry,” I laughed, pulling the slightly grumpy Scipion closer and shamelessly kissing the top of her head. “When Armand dies, we’ll all have plenty of time to rest.”

* * *

A large albatross circled above the Salforte coast, its majestic wings casting fleeting shadows over the land. The mighty bird returned to its native element, even after death, to serve the sea and its masters one last time. I had been fortunate to find it during its final moments, an old specimen whose heart had ceased beating for natural reasons. Yet its bones remained surprisingly strong, and its vision was sharp enough that I hardly needed to enhance it with my magic.

From my vantage point, I watched Armand revel in his victory on the shore. His delight at having repelled the first wave was almost comical. I was surprised he hadn’t gathered his squad and retreated to the safety of the castle or set up a celebratory picnic right on the beach, complete with baskets of sparkling wine and lamb on a spit. Apparently, the caution that many mages instill in themselves throughout their lives still held him captive. For safety’s sake, he seemed unwilling to stray far from the shore until the day was done.

It was a pity, really. It would have been far more entertaining to watch him scamper out of his castle in a panic, losing his sandals as he rushed back to the ocean, knowing well that this time his efforts would be in vain. Yet even now, it was amusing to see him make carefree jokes and be all confident in front of his people when a new wave loomed on the horizon.

Someone from his squad was the first to notice it, pointing animatedly toward the sea. Armand turned, the exuberance on his face replaced by gravity. But the tsunami was still too far for anyone to fully grasp its impending power. He raised his hands, preparing to repeat the trick that had saved them the first time. But I knew that this time he would not succeed.

The new wave was four times larger than the previous one, and the Salazars were already exhausted from their earlier fight. According to Lifeng’s teachings, we could only sit back, eat popcorn, and watch as Salforte and its masters succumbed to the depths.

As the orca-Sirens plunged into the fray, Azurion rode the wave like a daredevil surfer, propelled forward on its crest by a fierce thirst for revenge and an intense desire to settle the long-standing feud. His determination was palpable, and I was equally unwilling to sit idle. I had dedicated too much time to meticulous preparations to miss out on the action now! Especially since even at this moment, there was no guarantee that the Sirens could overpower Armand on their own. I wasn’t about to give the old man a chance to slip away; I had never liked offering enemies a second opportunity.

The Salazars remained oblivious to the impending doom, and Armand was quick to generate a counter wave. However, when the two waves collided, it was a pitiful sight — one so disheartening that even the prince abandoned his plan. “Let’s go!” he ordered sharply to his people, hastily retreating from the shore. Strengthened by magic, the Salazars surged forward faster than any ordinary person could manage, but it wasn’t enough to escape the tsunami’s relentless advance. The wall of water swallowed the beach, engulfed their castle, and ultimately consumed the entire city.

Regrettably, the scout albatross had become nearly useless amidst the chaos, but soon, many small and nimble fish joined the scene, allowing me to locate the Salazars with ease. The Siren warriors may not have their own shadow scouts, but they possessed an instinct for accurately pinpointing their enemies’ locations.

Realizing they couldn’t just flee, the Salazars prepared to engage in a sea battle. In an arena where representatives from other clans would likely struggle to survive, the Salazars held their ground fiercely. They fought on equal terms with the Sirens, undeterred by the fact that the battle was happening underwater.

The Sirens were utilizing their full advantages, shifting between their orca forms and human mages to confront the threat. The ocean surged and churned in the battle zones, resembling the stirring of a giant preparing to make soup, as the two factions clashed, each refusing to yield in the face of adversity.

Alas, not all the Sirens emerged victorious. Even in such dire circumstances, their enemies had no intention of surrendering. On the shore, alongside Armand, stood several dozen archmages, and Prince Salazar himself was a mage beyond categories even without access to the shell. Armand obviously hoped to retreat and maneuver his way out of this predicament, but any fool could see that his empire had crumbled in an instant. A cornered beast can be far more dangerous than one with something to protect. If he survived this encounter, he would likely become a significant thorn in the Richters’ side. Armand had caught on to the fact that I played a role in his downfall, and the last thing I needed was for him to seek revenge by aligning himself with the Desmonds, further bolstering Roland’s position. I had no intention of gifting such an advantage to an erstwhile ally, so I moved decisively after the once Great Prince.

Unfortunately, a couple of Sirens managed to get ahead of me. Armand waved his hand dismissively, and they were abruptly pinned to the ocean floor by a large icy spear. Azurion was luckier — he was intent on dealing with the old man himself. I could see the fierce battle between them, with the Prince of Sirens landing a couple of solid blows on Salazar, almost breaking through his shield. But several warriors from Armand’s retinue rushed to defend their prince, and Azurion soon found himself bogged down in the chaos of the fight.

While Armand and parts of his retinue stubbornly retreated from the flooded city, I positioned myself strategically nearby. “Come on, Spaghetti,” I mentally encouraged my newly designated pet kraken. With a swift, powerful movement of its enormous tentacles, it ensnared all the fleeing Salazars and pulled them back — right to me.

Chapter 9

FOR A MOMENT, the Salazars were taken aback, Armand included. None of them had anticipated being suddenly ensnared by massive tentacles. They were intimately familiar with the Sirens’ fighting style, having hunted them for centuries, and giant octopuses had never fought alongside them. Spaghetti managed to pull them toward me for a full two seconds, but as soon as that brief moment passed, the enemies regained their footing and swiftly freed themselves, severing his tentacles with ease. This wasn’t a significant setback, as even under my control, the kraken retained its primary ability — monstrous regeneration. It would grow new limbs as long as I had the energy to sustain it. Still, I knew it would be reckless to expose it to unnecessary danger. Nonetheless, it had already achieved its main objective.

Moreover, the location where I planned to engage in battle was quite advantageous. We had halted right in one of Salforte’s squares, providing ample room to maneuver. I had also noted several submerged buildings nearby, which I could utilize for my purposes if needed.

As the retreating Salazars turned and spotted me, a spectrum of emotions flickered in their eyes — especially in Armand’s, whose expression was a blend of fury, surprise, and something that almost resembled fear. It was a pity we were underwater, preventing any dialogue between us. I imagined that, under the adrenaline of the moment, the former Great Prince could have shared a multitude of thoughts — both useful and absurd, but ultimately entertaining. However, I wasn’t planning to give him that opportunity. Everything would come to a head here and now.

At that moment, my shark-like chimeras, which had helped clear the area, cut through the water, racing at full speed toward Armand’s support squad. I hoped they would occupy the foes long enough for me to deal with their leader.

Even the archmages found it challenging to withstand the onslaught of the swift and powerful chimeras. Unlike the Sirens, the Salazars were unable to transform into sea creatures, and for a human — regardless of how magically enhanced they may be — it was nearly impossible to keep pace with the true rulers of the ocean.

My opponents were forced into a tight defense, desperately trying to avoid taking hits as my necro-sharks seized every opportunity to catch them in their jaws. While the shields effectively protected the Salazars, in a game of endurance, they would inevitably falter. Soon enough, my pets were joined by the Sirens, who, after a couple of failed attempts, finally adjusted their tactics. Instead of engaging in head-on clashes, they adopted a strategy similar to that of my chimeras and phantoms: attacking only at opportune moments, making the most of their speed and maneuverability. The phantoms, too, joined the fray after the cleanup of the stronghold was finished. Initially, I had not intended for Olga to stay so long, as her lessons were urgently needed at the academy. However, Prokhor had offered to temporarily take her place, assuring me that it would not affect the guards’ training. To my granddaughter’s delight, I allowed her to participate in the assault.

As I directed the battle, I began to contemplate the necessity for temporary substitutes for each of our instructors. Too many of them might be required at a moment’s notice, not just for a day but for an extended period. But those thoughts could wait for later. Right now, the priority was clear: I had to ensure that no one interfered with my confrontation with Armand, except for Armand himself.

I was uncertain if he might attempt to escape again, and if he did, there was no guarantee I could catch him. Underestimating an opponent’s ability to withdraw is just as foolish as downplaying their combat skills. My encounter with Katharine had dragged on endlessly until I deliberately cornered her. I could only imagine the numerous problems and losses a protracted war with the Villons would bring us. With Katharine still alive, a different outcome would have simply been impossible. There was no reason to believe that events would unfold differently if Armand managed to survive this encounter.

I steeled myself for the confrontation ahead, but Armand surprised me. Instead of continuing his retreat, he decided to engage in battle. A magical light flared in Prince Salazar’s hand, and in a fraction of a second, a trident similar to the one I had seen Bastian use materialized in his palm. Wasting no time, he aimed it directly at me. The prongs detached from the weapon and surged forward, creating powerful whirlpools around them, swiftly splitting into smaller eddies designed to prevent any dodging. Nor was Armand content with a single strike. He unleashed them like a relentless barrage. There was a certain similarity between his trident and Spaghetti; both could almost instantaneously restore their forms. I had to admit, the whirlpools Armand conjured were so potent that they severely limited my movements. If I didn’t resist the current, I risked being swept away and dragged deep into its depths. I found myself moving as if in slow motion, reminiscent of scenes from modern films, bracing myself for the prongs that were aimed at me. Fortunately, the weather was clear, and the water was transparent. Sunlight reached the ocean floor, which had been the streets of Salforte just that morning. With the light came shadows.

Rather than demonstrating resilience or hiding behind the kraken, and risking it to absorb the blows, I chose to evade the danger and close in on Armand to launch a counterattack. Positioned to his right, I unleashed three dozen shadow knives in his direction. To ensure that at least some of them found their mark, Spaghetti diverted his attention from the front. Due to its size, the kraken wasn’t as affected by the whirlpools.

Unfortunately, Armand quickly recognized this advantage. So, when Spaghetti raised its tentacles to strike, Armand rushed toward one of them and seized it. The sea monster was instantly encased in ice. First, its tentacle, and then the rest of its massive body transformed into one formidable icicle. It was an unsettling sight. Breaking the kraken’s curse would require a considerable amount of my own energy; it seemed I would need to fight without it for a while.

Despite that setback, my plan still succeeded, as several shadow daggers found their way to Armand, scratching against his shield. It’s curious how a scratch can appear on an immaterial shield. Quite simply, like any other spell, the shield is constructed from a flow of energy bound to a power circuit. Damage to that circuit manifests as a scratch, a minor imperfection that threatens its integrity and demands significantly more energy to maintain. I certainly couldn’t shatter the shield so quickly, but in a deadly confrontation, every detail mattered. Even the lightest scratch could sap the opponent’s strength and potentially initiate the avalanche that would sweep them away.

Determined, I didn’t change tactics for the moment. Instead, I began to teleport around Armand, launching more and more daggers in his direction. He wasn’t idle either, and a true shooting, or perhaps artillery duel, erupted in the square. Both our projectiles detonated upon impact, each of us striving desperately to dismantle the other’s defenses as swiftly as possible. For now, I held the advantage in this duel. My teleports allowed me to dodge attacks more effectively, while Armand struggled to focus on evasion, forced to constantly monitor my movements. However, when cracks began to appear on his shield, he shifted his strategy. I recognized this change as I noticed the energy waning in the eyes of his pets. It seemed that, in a bid for his own survival, Armand had decided to sacrifice them. The surprise and fear on their faces indicated they hadn’t anticipated the betrayal.

Deprived of energy, the Salazars could no longer fight or even maintain their shields. The Sirens, phantoms, and my own pets left them no chance of survival, dispatching their foes in seconds. Even the strongest mage becomes no more dangerous than a kitten after exhausting their energy. Yet the truly interesting part lay in what Armand intended to accomplish with the energy he had stolen from his own. I couldn’t help but smirk. In just a few weeks, a Great Prince had devolved into a pathetic thief.

Nevertheless, he remained dangerously formidable. I tried to decipher his actions, concentrating so intently that he seemed oblivious to my attacks. Nothing was changing around us — no new whirlpools or projectiles, and no visible magic. The only noticeable shift was the gradual drop in water temperature. Initially, it had decreased a couple of degrees, but in the blink of an eye, the water around me froze, transforming into a massive block of ice. The old man had literally buried me alive in an icy trap.

Since I was also under the spell of false death, my body stiffened more easily, and the effect was so potent that I lost some of my abilities, including shadow teleportation. I found myself unable to step into the shadows, and it seemed I was on a path to becoming a worthy ice monument in the square of Salforte, right next to Spaghetti, who had frozen moments earlier. That was undoubtedly Armand’s hope.

But I was all too aware of what he was capable of, so I had prepared for these eventualities. Alongside the large chimeras, I was accompanied by small fish whose modest size not at all hindered their effectiveness. They exploded brilliantly, clearing a path for me as I raised my body temperature to stave off complete freezing.

Of course, Salazar quickly attempted to encase me in ice again, but I was ready for him. I realized I could no longer afford to delay. It was now or never — either I took the initiative, or Armand would fully exhaust me.

The constant threat of freezing prevented me from utilizing “false death” to its full extent, and without that advantage, my endurance underwater wouldn’t last long. What worried me most was that Armand seemed to be targeting more than just me. His last attack aimed to freeze nearly all the water covering the city, and my other allies didn’t possess the same stamina I did. This trick from the old man threatened us with multiple casualties, which I could not allow to happen.

In this precarious situation, it was untenable to sacrifice nothing. So, I quickly rallied all my pets and sent them straight at Armand. Even the birds swooping over the water, including my storm petrel, dove toward the enemy, plummeting like stones into the depths. I was prepared to sacrifice almost all my pets if it meant weakening Salazar’s shield. Only then would I have a chance to stop him.

BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!

The chimeras charged at him like deep-sea torpedoes, but not all made it to their target. The water around Armand quickly froze, causing many of them to get stuck midway. However, a portion of his shield’s strength had already been expended.

Determined, I decided to close the distance, even at the risk of exposing myself to his counterattacks. As I revved up my blood, I found that the freezing didn’t impede me. But time was running short; soon enough, the lack of oxygen would take its toll.

Strike! Another strike! I circled around Armand like a shark, aiming to inflict as much damage as possible. He fought back fiercely. My defenses were beginning to crack under the pressure. I needed a game-changer — something to turn the tide in my favor. I stretched my energy threads toward the frozen Spaghetti. To unfreeze him from a distance would require a substantial amount of energy, but the payoff could be worth it. His regeneration would be pivotal in this fight, and I was determined to tap into that potential.

But Armand was also beginning to wear down. He was expending all his strength to ensnare my allies in ice traps, and he was doing it effectively. I had only a few precious minutes left to save everyone from inevitable death. There was no time to consider whether the enemy could freeze the kraken again; if I wanted to win, I needed him. Otherwise, I would simply let Salazar slip away. It seemed he had decided to abandon the flooded city, no longer believing he could eliminate me. Instead, he planned to take as many of my allies down with him as possible before he escaped. But that would not happen. He would leave Salforte only over my dead body.

With a loud crack, chunks of ice fell from the massive kraken. Spaghetti could move again. To ensure everything worked out, I poured even more energy into him, making my former focus guardian as strong and swift as possible.

Armand was preoccupied with me and didn’t immediately notice what had just happened. When several tentacles wrapped around his body and began to press against his shield, the look of fear that crossed Armand’s face was genuine, perhaps the first moment of real fear he had experienced during our encounter. I had correctly deduced that he no longer had sufficient strength to imprison such a massive creature as Spaghetti in ice once more. At the same time, his shield was cracking all over.

And finally, it burst! Without wasting a second, I rushed toward him, reaching out to touch the once Great Prince, feeling the remnants of his energy flowing into me. It was astonishingly weak — so pitiful that it wouldn’t sustain even a medium-strength chimera.

Armand Salazar, a mage whose reserves had been the stuff of legends, spent everything to the last drop today and perished in the very ocean he had fancied himself the master of for centuries.

* * *

“This wasn’t you, right?” Martin Garcia asked his father, surprise evident in his voice. Mateo found it difficult to react to the sight of a letter from Armand Salazar burning on the table in his office. It wasn’t Mateo who had set it ablaze — no one had. The letter had spontaneously combusted, much like the contracts made with Katharine Villon had in the past. The Garcia clan had dealt with a few such incidents…

But if that were the case… could a second Great Prince have met his end? And in such a short time? The body of Katharine was still warm, as the saying went.

Mateo would have remained silent, tense, and waiting for news, but the inquisitive gaze of his heir compelled him to respond. “No. It wasn’t me.”

Martin snorted softly. “So I came in at just the right time, it seems.” He had indeed entered his father’s office just as the letter caught fire — a fortuitous coincidence.

Mateo didn’t have time to ask why he was there; that concern quickly faded into the background. However, Martin clearly believed that the news he brought was important enough to share, even in such a bizarre situation. “You know…” he began, “our clan, like you, has always been a loyal vassal of the Salazars. I’ve always seen how you respect Armand. But… now I believe his death may be for the best.”

“What do you mean?” Mateo frowned, concerned by his son’s words.

“I mean we were mistaken when we thought Velasco was exaggerating. We dismissed the idea that Armand could have acted against Alvaro just because he got too full of himself and forgot what loyalty is.”

“Really…” Mateo began to connect the dots.

“Yes,” the heir confirmed, his tone serious. “I received a report from our secret service. Some of the clan’s advisors conspired under the guise of the Salazars. They were planning to overthrow you if you chose not to side with Armand in the battle for Costa Sirena. The old man ensured his safety even against the most loyal supporters, believing that where duty might fail, greed would take hold.”

“Yeah…” the elder Garcia said, tapping his knuckles on the table. “So it wasn’t in vain that I listened to that old fox Alvaro and doubled the security. I hope all the conspirators have been identified?” He looked expectantly at his son.

“Most likely. But I would conduct an additional investigation,” Martin replied.

Mateo nodded, his expression growing grave. “It seems serious purges await us. But, more importantly…” He paused for a moment, letting the gravity of the situation sink in. “If Armand is really dead, we need to urgently mobilize all the legal, economic, and, of course, military departments of the clan. It’s about to get heated, and there’s no time to waste.”

Martin instantly agreed. “I thought about that right away. We need to secure our share of the pie and grab the best pieces before others can make their move. I’m sure old Velasco is already rubbing his hands together.”

“Only he won’t get anything,” Mateo grinned predatorily. “We will be the first to rise above all the former Salazar vassals. This is a chance we can’t afford to miss.”

Chapter 10

“I TOLD YOU! I TOLD you!” Lizzel yelled indignantly as she perched on the edge of the roof, legs dangling down. Her friends shared the same mix of anxiety and disbelief. When the neighbors had alerted them that something terrible might happen — something that could cause the city to flood — they were in the middle of having a party. Even if they had wanted to leave, it would have been difficult. Those of them who drove were in no shape to get behind the wheel. Plus, it was hard to get on that anything like this could happen in a city renowned for being the stronghold of the Great Clan associated with the element of water. They had laughed at the neighbors. But when they finally spotted the first wave on the horizon, their laughter turned to silence. Some of the partygoers sobered up instantly, in sight of the sudden reality that lay before them. Despite the looming threat, it was still difficult for them to internalize that they were in danger, especially since the villa they had rented was on a hill. In a burst of bravado, they decided to keep the party going, relocating to the roof of the house “just to be safe.”

That spontaneous decision may very well have saved their lives. The second wave arrived, crashing through everything in its path but for the houses. Cars, trees, benches, and trash cans were all swept away down the streets as they watched from their elevated perch.

Surprisingly, they weren’t alone. A crowd of worried residents and tourists had gathered in this hilltop settlement. There were perhaps more people here than in the rest of the city combined. Many had mistakenly believed that being on a higher elevation offered them safety, but the grim reality was proving to be more severe than anticipated. It was unclear when, or if, they would be rescued at all, and their anxiety was rising with the water level. Each of them privately couldn’t believe they had agreed to leave their phones behind!

“It’s not about the gadgets,” Dave countered Lizzel, still trying to maintain some sense of calm. “It was a cool idea and we had a great time.”

“But we didn’t get any news in time!” Lizzel persisted, her frustration boiling over.

“That’s just it. We did get news. We just didn’t pay attention,” Dave shrugged, trying to deflect the blame.

“It’s one thing to hear it from strangers who might just be crazy, it’s another to see it with your own eyes!”

“Enough already!” Mary, another girl in the group, snapped, unable to contain herself. “We’re already in deep trouble. Stop causing a scene!”

“I’m not…” Lizelle started to protest, but her words faltered as she suddenly shouted, “Look! What is that?!”

“Where? What?!” The others perked up, straining to follow her gaze. A wave was approaching them again, but this one was nothing like the one that had previously engulfed the city. It was just a small wave, but the mere fact of its appearance after everything had calmed down had everyone trembling with dread.

Things turned even more terrifying when something emerged from the water — clearly the thing responsible for the wave’s sudden appearance.

A gargantuan kraken.

The village erupted in piercing screams. Panic swept through the crowd — boys and girls alike, all scrambling for places to hide. The creature moved rapidly through the water. Lizelle felt like she was about to faint, struggling to comprehend what this terrifying beast would do to her.

Just then, a loud female voice pierced through the chaos. “Residents and guests of Salforte! Remain calm! We are here to help you evacuate! Do not be afraid of the Kraken. He is our pet, his name is Spaghetti. He is here to save you!”

“Spaghetti?” Mary laughed nervously, disbelief etched across her face. At that very moment, the kraken swam closer, extending one of its colossal tentacles toward her. She squeaked nervously, bracing for the worst, but the tentacle gently picked her up, and delivered her straight to the riders perched atop the creature. In a split second, the same was done to Lizelle and two other girls from their group, whisked away by the kraken’s tentacles as their panic transformed into bewildered awe.

Even once they were all on the kraken, the sense of being saved didn’t fully register. Especially when their savior began yelling at them. “Why are you flirting with my husband?!” she accused, eyes blazing with indignation. “It’s not for nothing he ordered Spaghetti to save you first!”

“We didn’t—” Mary started, attempting to justify themselves against the unexpected tirade, but her words fell on deaf ears.

“Don’t even look at him again, or you’ll end up in the water! I’ll make sure you cool off!”

“Kira, stop!” Lev interjected, but the woman was on a roll and seemingly unstoppable.

“Oh, now you’re defending them too?!” she shot back, her frustration boiling over.

* * *

Armand was dead, but our work in Salforte was just beginning. There was no longer any need to finish off the Salazars — Armand had handled that himself by draining their power, effectively robbing his subordinates of any chance of survival. Prior to decimating the archmages who had fought alongside him, he had depleted those left behind. They no longer held any value for him as his focus had narrowed solely on his own survival.

As a result, there wasn’t a single living Salazar mage left in the city. One could not yet make the same claim for the entire world, but that was a problem for future Max. First and foremost, we needed to restore order here. Unfortunately, not all residents of Salforte had heeded our warnings and left the city, so we needed to make sure to avoid as many casualties as possible.

The place was alive with activity, albeit somewhat subdued, as everything was happening underwater. Sirens and my chimeras were performing rescue operations. They scoured the depths for anyone who had drowned and pulled them to the surface. Fortunately, there were not many victims, as nearly everyone was assisted in time. Most of those who remained in Salforte had managed to save themselves, taking refuge on the rooftops of high-rises or ascending the hills around the city. Bringing down those who were on the rooftops would be pretty easy, as there was no longer any immediate threat to their lives. Some particularly stubborn individuals, though, insisted on staying atop those rooftops once they realized that the water was slowly receding.

Indeed, the water had begun to go back as soon as Armand was dead. Neither I nor the Sirens wished to flood Salforte permanently. On the contrary, we aimed to restore it to life as quickly as possible. The Sirens were especially invested in this goal. It was remarkable that after so many years of living covertly underwater and waging a clandestine war against the Salazars, my new allies retained such nobility and a sense of responsibility for the city and its people. The Sirens were genuinely concerned about how quickly the innocent civilians would be able to return to their homes. The only people whose lives they wanted to ruin were the Salazars. With the incoming wave, not only their fighters surged into the city, but also numerous rescue teams that sprang into action from the very first moments of the flood.

The search and rescue operation began immediately and had now ramped up to full strength. The Villon team, whom we had brought from Richterberg in advance, wasted no time in getting to work. Their magical abilities performed veritable miracles, bringing even those who had drowned for more than twenty minutes back to life. Only Villon mages possessed such extraordinary talents. Many of them now being allied with me was a major stroke of luck.

Patients were taken to the largest hotel in the city, where the water had receded from the upper floors. The main task was to tidy up and prepare everything for the comfort of those in need of assistance. The deceased Salazars proved useful in this effort. Under Armand’s direction, they returned furniture to its rightful places, washed the floors, and dried out wet clothes. There was no leniency for past merits or high status. Armand was, after all, an excellent undead. Originally, the Sirens had shown interest in him for vengeful purposes, perhaps to display the body of their people’s enemy for all to see or to feed it to the fish. But I had other plans for Armand — plans that extended far beyond his current state. For now, there was no reason for him to sit idle; he would work on restoring the city he himself had contributed to ruining through his stubbornness.

Fortunately, some of the equipment in the hotel was usable, and partial restoration was aided by a young representative of the Steiger clan who had fortuitously missed the train. He was the type of person who simply couldn’t stand by and do nothing in the face of chaos. He recognized that many people were in desperate need of medical assistance and decided to do everything he could to make their recovery as comfortable as possible. His only request was that this involvement remain confidential, as he feared that the head of his clan would be displeased with his participation. I easily assured him that I would say nothing to no one.

I knew I needed to inform Günther about the ongoing efforts. The restoration of the hotel was already in full swing, getting it ready for tomorrow. We were expecting the representatives forming the coalition of Salazar’s victors. This gathering would include members of the Richters, Sirens, Velasco, and Demare clans, all coming together for a council to discuss the actions needed in this new reality that we had forged.

* * *

“I can’t believe it! Is this really Salforte?” Isabella exclaimed as I met her at the station. Alvaro Velasco himself accompanied her, flanked by several assistants and, notably, bodyguards. After the attempted coup, it would have been foolish to take security lightly, what with the rapidly shifting political landscape and all. Even though the primary hostilities had already ended, everyone had arrived for the council armed to the teeth.

“Incredible!” Bella continued to marvel, taking in her surroundings. “I’ve never seen a city like this... will it always be like this now?”

I smiled in response. Indeed, our conflict with the Salazars had yielded unforeseen consequences. When the battle concluded, it was expected that the water would return to the ocean, and while that had indeed happened, it was not complete. The lower floors of many buildings remained submerged, and the Sirens could not yet determine whether it would ever fully recede or if they would need to reconnect the artifact’s powers for that to happen. Most importantly, was it even necessary to do so? Perhaps it would be wiser to enhance the beauty of what existed now. The transformation had been remarkable. Instead of solid roads, there were now canals navigable by boats, or even by swimming. The Sirens weren’t shy about diving in when necessary — after all, why use a motorboat when they swam as fast, if not faster, even in human form? Many streets in Salforte were so wide that entire pods of orcas could swim through them comfortably.

But the city’s ultimate fate would be determined in the council meeting scheduled for about two hours later.

Alvaro was the last to arrive when the others were already waiting at the hotel. I guided him and his guards to the spacious boat while extending an invitation to Isabella for a ride on a narrow gondola.

“This is a far cry from your Andalusian stallions,” I teased.

Isabella received the idea with delight. “It’s even better, Max. It’s so… unusual.” She gracefully stepped onto the boat and settled comfortably into the passenger seat beside me. A table with drinks and fruit was already set up in front of us, and, amusingly, it was Armand Salazar himself who would be working the oars. I couldn’t resist the temptation to indulge in a bit of mischief.

The guests didn’t recognize him right away since he had been facing away from them the whole time. But when he finally turned around… Isabella instantly paled, goosebumps rising on her arms, so pronounced that they were clearly visible. Alvaro gasped in surprise, commanding his boat, which had already started moving, to come to an abrupt halt to verify that he wasn’t mistaken.

“I would never have believed it if I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes,” he said, shaking his head. “Amazing times we live in.”

However, the moment wasn’t lingered over for too long. We had a council to attend. For now, Isabella and I were left to our own thoughts for a while.

“The water here is so clear that it’s both a blessing and a curse,” she mused as we passed a few streets.

“What do you mean?” I asked, intrigued.

“On one hand, everything is beautiful. You can even see the fish! On the other hand, you can also see the partially submerged houses, and that’s a little depressing.”

“If everything stays as it is,” I explained, “then reconstruction and reinforcement work will be done on the lower floors. The Sirens are very masterful at underwater construction.”

Bella smiled at the thought. “Maybe one day I’ll get to visit one of their cities. What do you think?”

“Very likely,” I agreed. “Times are changing rapidly, and many of those changes are for the better.”

She seemed to ponder this for a moment before asking another question, “By the way… you mentioned we are going to a hotel. But why not to the Salazar castle? Is it really completely destroyed? I thought it was a very strong building.”

“No, the castle is fine, but it will probably still be demolished.”

“But why?!” Bella was taken aback. “It’s such a beautiful building — a symbol of Salforte…”

“And a symbol of the suffering of the Sirens, who were tortured and tormented within its walls. Our allies see all this a bit differently. This palace isn’t of any great value in the grand scheme of things.”

“Oh…” Isabella’s expression fell, the realization hitting her. “I didn’t think of that…”

“Don’t worry,” I said, wrapping my arm around her comfortingly. “Let’s have a drink.”

I took a bottle of wine and poured it into our glasses. Bella eyed it with interest and soon commented with delight, “Oh, I know this wine! Well, rather, I’ve heard of it. It’s a special variety from the Salazars, reserved only for the table of Armand himself!” She turned the bottle to inspect the label closely. “And it’s so old… I can’t wait to try it!”

“So, what are you waiting for?” I raised my glass toward her. The crystal clinked softly as our glasses touched, and Isabella and I took a sip.

A blissful smile spread across her face. “It’s as delicious as I imagined,” she said, lightly teasing me by poking my side with her elbow. “I see you didn’t waste any time.”

“There’s a whole crate of this wine waiting for us at the council,” I responded cheerfully.

“Oh… then we definitely won’t be bored,” she replied, her spirits lifting once more.

* * *

There would be no shortage of excitement at the council, even without the alcohol. Numerous questions loomed over us, and each individual present understood that a great deal was at stake — land, influence, property. The dynamics had shifted. Allies had turned into competitors. Each clan that arrived held its own expectations and aspirations regarding how the spoils from the Salazar downfall should be distributed and how we would forge our future cooperation.

“Who would have thought,” I began jokingly as everyone settled at the large round table, “that the heirs of Armand’s fortune would not be his descendants at all?” The allies exchanged smiles, and I continued, “Yes, let’s not be overly modest and pretend that we aren’t here to discuss how to divide the Salazar inheritance. I propose we tackle this topic first, and then move on to other matters.”

The allies nodded in agreement, and Alvaro chimed in, “Time is of the essence. If we don’t lock this down, there will be those eager to take a bite out of our trophy, to which they have no rightful claim.”

Chapter 11

ALVARO’S ASSESSMENT of our situation was spot on. The most fitting comparison I could conjure was that of a hunter standing over a large game he had just shot. While we contemplated the best way to butcher it, new opportunists were gradually surrounding us — other hunters, predators, and ordinary vultures looking to scavenge the remnants. What worked in our favor was that the Salazar empire had collapsed in an instant, leaving no one time to prepare for the fallout. Many had not believed we could do any significant harm to Armand and his capital, let alone obliterate the entire upper echelon of his clan, including the Great Prince himself, in one decisive blow. But now, with the tide of chaos swirling, everyone would be eager to grab a piece for themselves. This had remained constant throughout history, and perhaps it had even become more pronounced in our current context.

I still couldn’t fully comprehend that Roland, once one of the most aggressive princes, was now hesitating over every penny. What he did during the evacuation of Salforte was notable, but it was even more striking that the Desmonds didn’t pause their railway operations for a moment after it became clear that the Salazars had lost and that I had played a role in it. Just as he hadn’t thought to close the Pyramid in Richterberg. I began to wonder, perhaps half-jokingly, if I had rushed into destroying the railway tracks. Given how keen Roland seemed to be on making a profit, it appeared that we could potentially negotiate supplying goods directly from his fog-laden island to the capital. It seemed my former friend had played at being a neutral guarantor for too long, which had kept him from taking any decisive actions against me.

Now, his transportation empire encircled the globe, with clubs like the Pyramid established in the largest cities, where the Desmonds ensured the security of any negotiations. In retrospect, it was clear that after my disappearance, only their clan could have orchestrated such an intricate network. However, I also recognized that this empire had shifted from being merely a source of power and wealth to becoming a trap for them.

Undoubtedly, Roland was strong enough to dismiss any reputational losses and do as he pleased. But the years of comfort and peace had deprived him of one crucial trait — the ability to make instant decisions. Risky decisions. Dangerous decisions. The same could be said for the other Great Princes. Ironically, the most decisive and proactive of them had turned out to be Katharine. Perhaps if she had shown a bit more wisdom, her clan could have stood on equal footing with the Desmonds or even eclipsed them. But her determination was often fueled by emotion and hysteria, resulting in quick but foolish choices that never allowed her to realize her true potential.

From my perspective, even that was preferable to the endless stagnation and painful introspection about how to navigate the complexities of power dynamics. Moreover, they had all picked up the unfortunate habit of offloading their problems onto others, a strategy that rarely led to success. I still believed that Armand’s only chance to preserve his empire would have been to personally venture into the city of the Sirens alongside his son. Instead, he cowardly tucked himself away in the castle, and artifact or not, we had very little chance against the two of them.

Given the small weaknesses of the Greats, the situation was playing out quite favorably for me. Yet, I couldn’t shake the thought of how my enemies would react now that they were down a member. I eagerly and impatiently awaited their next moves.

Meanwhile, the meeting about the division of Salazar property had been going on for an hour, but we hadn’t managed to discuss much of substance. The Sirens managed to surprise me. Queen Merissa took the floor and suggested I take Salforte. Just like that, no more and no less. “What we have achieved as victors is entirely your merit, Maximilian. Therefore, it would be fair for the heart of the former Salazar empire to go to you.”

I hesitated before responding. On one hand, it was indeed an exceedingly fortunate acquisition — a beautiful port city with fertile lands surrounding it, well-suited for trade, agriculture, and tourism. But I couldn’t shake the feeling that claiming it right now might be a misstep. This potential boon could just as easily transform into a consuming black hole for resources that were already scarce. After all, every city meant not only profit but also responsibility. You could not gain something without investing in it. Before I could expect coins to flow from Salforte, I would have to take on restoring and protecting it. While the first could be managed with the aid of the undead, at a lower cost than usual, the latter was far more complex. Salforte was considerably distant from the capital, making it inefficient for me to arrive swiftly when needed. Maintaining a large army there continuously would mean weakening Richterberg, a compromise I couldn’t afford. I also didn’t want to replicate the strategy I had employed around the foci of the city. The initial move was dictated by harsh necessity, where I maintained complete control over the infected zones. Continuing such a practice would be foolish, and I had no intention of doing so. Ultimately, I aimed to rid the world of the scourge, not facilitate its spread.

I would much rather take control of Costa Sirena. It was just a stone’s throw from Richterberg, making it significantly easier to protect. The benefits could be comparable, if not greater, than owning Salforte. After all, it too possessed a port and potential for tourism, even if the city itself was smaller.

In any case, diplomatic considerations came into play, forcing us to abandon the idea of claiming Salforte outright. Philip, the head of the Demare clan and one of the attendees at our council of mages, proved to be a reasonable man. He accepted the Sirens’ proposal of vassalage and did not waver under the threat of the Salazars attacking his city and clan. The Demare placed their trust in us and became our allies. Robbing allies is the last resort, often leading to disastrous results; even the strongest clans had succumbed to this folly and quickly vanished from existence. Take the Salazars, for example — their downfall was a vivid reinforcement of this lesson.

I set aside my greed for the time being and smiled as I responded to Merissa’s proposal. “On the contrary, I believe Salforte should belong to the Sirens. This city would become an excellent land capital for your people. It’s conveniently located, and now it’s optimized for your clan,” I was hinting at the street-canals that lined the area.

The queen did not deny this. “We would indeed be happy to take this city under our care,” she stated directly. “But then there would be no fairness in this division of spoils.”

Philip and Alvaro exchanged glances, clearly taken aback by such honesty in negotiations. But this was the essence of the Sirens, something I had come to appreciate during our cooperation. I hoped that even after coming ashore, they would be able to maintain their noble demeanor and avoid getting mired in the intrigues that plagued most magical clans.

“I will not walk away empty-handed,” I assured her. “Your scouts, like mine, have already discovered a treasury full of jewels in Armand’s castle. The Salazars didn’t keep all their wealth in the Schitzer bank.”

Merissa nodded, her expression casual. “Of course. My clan lays no claim to those trinkets at all,” she said indifferently, which again elicited astonishment from the faces of Philip and Alvaro. They clearly hadn’t anticipated the Sirens to also be ascetics.

Noticing the bewilderment on the faces of the allies, Queen Merissa added with a smile, “Don’t be surprised. We view earthly riches differently. The ocean provides us with everything we need.”

Alvaro and Philip still looked puzzled, so I decided to elaborate. “The Sirens have accumulated so many precious stones and metals that they use them instead of gravel for paving their paths.”

This revelation shifted their expressions from confusion to a fleeting envy. They hadn’t yet witnessed the wealth of the underwater city firsthand. I hoped the relic would fortify their defenses, knowing that once other major clans became aware of the Sirens’ immense riches, some might struggle to keep their greed in check.

“Moreover,” I continued, “there is something else you can do for me.”

Merissa perked up, keenly attentive. “The Sirens are eternally in debt to the Richters. We are ready to do everything in our power to repay you, Maximilian.”

“In that case, please bring the remaining Salazar fleet to Costa Sirena.”

The queen chuckled heartily. “Such a trifle? Nothing could be easier!”

Alvaro and Philip exchanged bewildered glances again. Their understanding of simple tasks diverged significantly from the Sirens’ perspective, much like their views on wealth. Regardless, the surviving Salazars wouldn’t likely part with their ships easily, not to mention the other vassals who might seize them first. After all, there wasn’t a single intact ship left in the port of Salforte, neither military nor commercial. The largest battle fleet belonging to Armand had perished in a massive whirlpool along with Bastian, and everything else had been destroyed by the tsunami.

But Salforte wasn’t the only city governed by the Salazars. Some of their ships were still in other ports, destinations to which we currently lacked direct access. But that would have to wait till the next meeting.

* * *

“What is this?! I feel like I’ve returned to the Middle Ages!” Günther Steiger exclaimed, his outrage palpable. Like everyone else in the room, he was twisting a transparent magic sphere in his hands, within which the silhouettes of the other Great Princes were barely discernible.

“What is your problem?” Regina growled, her tone threatening. For the first time, the Scipion witch allowed herself to show such intense emotions in public, driven by her protectiveness over her artifacts.

In his annoyance, Günther dared to confront her directly, his manners stripped away by frustration. “The fact that it’s a piece of shit! I’m honestly surprised your spheres still work. Very poorly, mind you. I can barely see you, let alone hear you!”

Regina instantly discarded any pretense of decency in her response. “Maybe I’ll just cut off your ears then! It seems you’ve forgotten how to use them.”

Günther snorted but stood firm. “You could at least try to modernize them. Or are you so set in your ways that you can’t create anything better than this old junk?”

“Be grateful for what you’ve been given,” she shot back. “Or perhaps you’re missing sweet Max? Do you want him to burst into our council again?”

“Better that than using this piece of crap artifact!”

“I see you’ve completely lost your fear,” Regina replied maliciously, “and along with it, your brains. Do you think Richter only hears what we discuss in front of him? Your communication system is riddled with holes! I’m certain that since the first time he appeared at our council, Max has learned everything we’ve talked about, regardless of whether he was physically present.”

Günther opened his mouth again, preparing to continue the argument, but he was interrupted by Roland. “Enough, Günther. Calm down. Regina is right. Your system has compromised itself. We can no longer trust it with anything that shouldn’t reach Richter’s ears.”

“I can work on it and strengthen the security systems,” Steiger countered stubbornly, unwilling to concede his position.

“Pointless,” Desmond stamped his foot. “You already tried that after the first hack. Did it help? No. Now that communication channel is exclusively for cautious negotiations with Richter.”

“So we’ll continue to pretend that we’re still using it, so Max doesn’t suspect anything?” Raksha Kanwar chimed in.

“You’re a genius, Raksh,” Regina snorted.

“Exactly,” Roland agreed, ignoring her remark. “But we’re not here to discuss trivialities or argue over nonsense. It’s far more crucial to prepare for Richter’s next moves.”

“What’s there to prepare for?” grumbled Steiger. “It’s time for us to unite and finish him once and for all! Or do you think you can just hide again? I’m not going to wait until he picks us off one by one!”

“I think so too,” Kanwar supported him grimly. “We need to take action.”

“What do you propose?” Roland asked with a smirk. “To unleash a full-scale war?”

“What’s stopping us?” Günther retorted defiantly. Today, he seemed more agitated than ever, ready to pounce on anyone who dared to argue with him.

“How much are you going to fight without my support?” Roland shot back with a question of his own. “Maybe you didn’t notice, but most of my forces are on the island.”

“And the entire fleet is under repair?” Steiger replied sarcastically. “I can lend a couple of ships for the occasion.”

“Turn off your emotions and finally activate your brain,” Desmond barked. “Or do you think our fleet is more immortal than the Salazar fleet?”

“By the way, they were considered the masters of the seas,” Regina added almost casually, her tone reflecting a sense of detachment. The squabbling among the other Princes seemed to help her regain her composure.

Roland continued, “The smiling Sirens have already sailed to our shores, very friendly, asking if we are maintaining neutrality in their war with the Salazars.”

“Who are these Sirens, anyway?” Günther grumbled, his discontent palpable.

“This is exactly what we need to determine before taking any steps. For now, they are dark horses, but with or without Max’s help, they managed to destroy one of us. And if they truly possess the power of old Armand, whether we like it or not, we will have to reckon with them, especially in the ocean.”

“Let’s assume,” Günther said, managing to calm his emotions a bit, “the ocean is out of the question. But we have airships.”

“Airships?” Regina giggled, a mischievous twinkle in her eye. “Kathy has already taken a ride on one. Or do you miss our redhead so much that you’re ready to join her in the afterlife?”

“Exactly,” Roland confirmed, shaking his head. “Have you forgotten what happened to the Villons? To use airships in the war against Richter, we’ll have to completely redesign them. We need new models of flying machines — faster, more dangerous, and sturdier. And developing those isn’t a one-day job.”

Steiger cursed again, his frustration bubbling over. “Logic… caution… we’re just wasting time! Your plan is no better than mine! Max has just shown up, and you’re already abdicating your place before him! Great Princes, indeed! Bah!”

“Haste makes waste,” Regina interjected thoughtfully but then burst into mad laughter.

“Calm down, Günther,” Roland said, trying to be conciliatory. “We won’t let this situation just slip away. However, we genuinely need time to plan wisely — not like… Katharine.”

“The only question is whether we have that time,” Regina surprisingly sided with Steiger. “Max currently has Armand in his grasp. Who knows what little secrets he might extract from him?”

“Armand is already dead,” Kanwar replied, a hint of skepticism in his voice.

“Well, yes,” Regina chuckled, “but is that a hindrance for Max? What do you say, Roland?”

“I have never seen him interrogating the dead with my own eyes,” he began slowly, “but he often learned secrets known only to the dead from somewhere. How much strength and energy is needed for this? Who knows? Who knows how much he has already recovered from his previous level? I am certain of only one thing: underestimating Richter is the dumbest idea in the world.”

Chapter 12

“BEFORE WE CONTINUE,” Álvaro Velasco spoke up, “I want to make an important statement.” The gazes of everyone present instantly turned to him, while I looked at Isabella. She smiled slyly. It seemed that the reptilian knew what her grandfather was about to discuss, but she hadn’t warned me in advance. I wondered how important his statement would turn out to be.

I nodded to Álvaro and said, “Go ahead. We are here to listen to everyone.”

The role of chairperson in our small council had defaulted to me. The Sirens were not particularly skilled in diplomacy, Velasco and Demare were being modest, and I had grown accustomed to it. It was no wonder I had once headed the Council of the Great Princes. But that was a long time ago.

“If you allow me, I will start from afar,” the elder Velasco warned. He even stood up from the table and began pacing across the hall, as if preparing himself. This seemed to hold significant weight for him. “For a long time, Armand Salazar was our benefactor,” he finally continued. “We served him faithfully in exchange for the opportunities that this vassalage opened up for us. Our clan is so ancient that my late grandfather was surely acquainted with you, Maximilian.”

“Indeed,” I confirmed, but decided not to mention any details. It would be tactless to remind my allies of their low origins. The founder of the Velasco line had been a coachman for the Salazars. Indeed, it was Armand who had granted him his title for his faithful service, recognizing the poisonous gift of Velasco’s ancestor as possessing enough potential to be beneficial to the Salazars. It was foolish to think that Armand had done this solely out of noble intentions.

However, it was clear that Alvaro understood this perfectly well himself. He spoke again: “I became the head of the clan when the Velascos had finally become a force to be reckoned with. But even then, we had not fully paid off the debt that Salazar imposed on us. I won’t delve into the fairness of this debt. Since my ancestors agreed to those terms, it’s not for me to judge them. Yet, I have always understood that nothing comes easy in this world.”

He walked around the hall again, gathering his thoughts. “But there was something I still believed in, with all the naivety that a young man, which is what I was at the time, was capable of. I believed that the Great Princes always fulfill the terms of the contracts they enter into. And indeed, they did, but only in letter, not in spirit.”

“Oh,” Merissa chimed in, unable to restrain herself. “It’s a pity we weren’t acquainted earlier. You would have understood right away that Armand could not be trusted. He was perhaps the most deceitful person in this world! He even betrayed his own sister and friend!”

I smiled sadly. Sirens tend to be very naive. There are enough liars in the world who would easily give the old man Salazar a significant advantage.

But Alvaro didn’t argue with the queen. He politely agreed with her and continued his story: “Nevertheless, one day we paid off our debt. It cost us a great deal of blood and gold. But I, like my ancestors, believed that the Velascos should carve our own path. Therefore, we always sought a way out of the vassalage, and we obtained the right to it. Formally, we became an independent clan, just as we had always wanted.”

Alvaro fell silent, but the queen was so engrossed in his story that she couldn’t help but prompt him further: “But?”

The elder Velasco sighed. “But as it turned out, we were the only ones who considered ourselves independent. Yes, at first, it seemed everything was fine. The Salazars no longer demanded service or money from us — usually. But they still expected us to be at their beck and call.” He sighed again, rubbed his temples with his fingers, and quickly continued, “It became clear very quickly that we could not refuse Armand anything. All contracts between us and the Salazars became unprofitable or even burdensome for us, despite initial appearances. In reality, our so-called partners did everything to squeeze every last drop from us. Yet, even then, I still believed in the independence of the Velascos. We were forced to submit to the strongest, but we knew full well that other Great Clans could also exert pressure on us. The alliance with the Salazars was supposed to guarantee our safety from those situations, and I accepted this while clinging to the crumbs of our freedom.”

Alvaro paced the hall once more before finally settling back down at the table. “Only much later did I realize that we had found ourselves in an even worse position than before. The Velascos remained indebted to the Salazars. But they were not indebted to us. We resolved our own problems, without the right to call on their help. Meanwhile, they showed no hesitation in using us whenever they needed.”

Philippe Demare, listening attentively, nodded in understanding interjected, “As it turns out, even the position of an official vassal of the Salazars guaranteed nothing. We had previously noticed that their fleet didn’t always come to the aid of allies, but we hoped it was only because of internal politics and that, as loyal vassals, we would remain untouched by such things. But we were wrong. When serious problems arose, we found ourselves isolated, left to face them on our own, and without explanation.”

Merissa snorted in agreement. “Even I was surprised by how cowardly and weak Armand turned out to be. With our actions, we sought to lure him out, to compel him into battle. Instead, he chose to use you as a bargaining chip rather than defending his empire like a true warrior.”

“Exactly,” Isabella, who usually maintained polite silence in front of her grandfather and refrained from disputing his authority, seconded her. She now felt emboldened to speak up. “He was not worthy of his vassals!”

“Exactly,” Álvaro agreed with his granddaughter. “But recent events have prompted me to reconsider my views not only on our independence but also on vassalage.” He stood up again and approached me. “Maximilian Richter, on behalf of the entire Velasco clan, I officially declare that my clan is ready to stand under your banners if you wish.”

Now I understood the reason behind Isabella’s sly glances. This decision hadn’t been made spontaneously; Álvaro must have discussed it with her. Or perhaps she was a strong supporter of the idea, considering that their cooperation with the Richters had thus far yielded nothing but benefits.

I stood as well and extended my hand for a handshake. “So be it.”

As soon as our hands met, a document materialized in the air before us. Álvaro and I signed it with our clan seals. Why waste time?

While I hadn’t anticipated the Velasco clan being ready to swear fealty to the Richters, I had no reason to refuse their offer. I understood well why my new ally had made such a lengthy preamble to his proposal. He wasn’t merely recounting the history of his clan; he was articulating his hopes and disappointments. This narrative included part of our contract — one that symbolized our mutual promise. From Álvaro’s perspective, it was a sign of the utmost trust. He had the courage to admit that his once-naive convictions were still alive, albeit transformed. By extending this trust to me, he was also inviting me to share in the accompanying risks.

Such vassals are not to be refused. I reassured Alvaro, “As long as the Richters are alive and the Velascos are true to their word, your clan will thrive under our protection.”

Applause erupted in the hall — a bit sparse for such a significant occasion, but understandable given the few people present. Nonetheless, all my allies warmly welcomed the establishment of this new treaty between the clans.

Once the excitement settled, we shifted our focus back to politics and the preliminary discussions regarding the division of property.

* * *

The Salazar holdings appeared vast, but that was only an illusion. The clan owned only a portion outright; the remainder of the lands and wealth belonged to their vassals, who had swiftly declared their independence while eyeing their neighbors with predatory intent — perhaps they had something of value. We hadn’t yet considered these clans, as their future would depend on their prudence and the alliances they chose to pursue. For now, the main focus remained on the princely lands. Despite their modest size, the Salazars had left behind true gems that promised maximum profit, Salforte being a prime example. In addition to Salforte, their holdings included two other sizable port cities and two fertile provinces further inland. Naturally, we aimed to claim them all. After detailed discussions, it was decided that the three ports would go to the Sirens. Our allies were to take the Salazars’ place in the ocean, and to effectively control it, they would need as many levers of influence and convenient access points to the sea as possible. While they could operate without any human ships, we were betting that over time, they would secure additional vassals beyond the Demare. Not to mention the need for servants and hired workers. Ultimately, they would have to embrace not only the privileges of the Salazars but also their responsibilities.

Despite his many shortcomings, Armand knew how to count profits and had managed several firms of marine cleaners that contained the spread of foci on key trade routes. Now, that responsibility would shift to the Sirens and me. We immediately agreed that my people would also participate periodically in these clearings. Unlike the Salazars, we planned not to restrict ourselves to just trade routes; we aimed to push beyond and ultimately cleanse the ocean of abomination entirely.

The Sirens were completely satisfied with this arrangement. Our views on abomination aligned, though they did not possess the same resistance to it as the Richters. As for the fertile provinces, the main contenders were, of course, the Velascos. Isabella was particularly keen on the vineyard where the Salazars produced that special wine. My new vassals were a clan whose wealth largely depended on agriculture, so they understood exactly how to handle such a legacy.

Now, the key was not to miss the opportunity. Right at the council, Alvaro ordered his marshal to prepare a detachment to quickly secure their dominance over the province. I approved this plan and promised my assistance should it be needed. For the moment, we were uncertain who might dare to oppose our alliance or in what numbers. Thus, we decided not to rush, aiming to conserve our resources and send help in a timely manner where it was truly required. The Sirens themselves were not entirely confident that they could seize all the ports without resistance. The threat over Costa Sirena still loomed large; it was quite possible that someone might view it as an easy target.

Philip Demare expressed concern about this very issue. He didn’t lay claim to even a small share of the Salazar estate, but instead voiced hopes that his city would continue to develop in peace and tranquility. “Our clan,” he said modestly, “is not distinguished by impressive military power or a large personnel. To put it bluntly, we are a small clan that knows its limitations. But in return for protection, we will do everything to ensure that you always feel at home in Costa Sirena.”

“Yes, maybe right now you are indeed a small clan. But you are very fortunate. Costa Sirena will soon become one of the main centers of attraction for maritime trade. Richterberg is a large city, and all capital exports and imports will flow through your port from this moment on — openly and officially. So if you don’t snooze, the Demare clan could soon become a truly influential force.”

Despite my encouragement, Philipp remained reserved. “I have always prioritized the welfare of the city entrusted to me, and of my clan. This will remain my priority now. I apologize, Maximilian, if this disappoints you, but I will not seek influence and power any more than necessary, although I fully understand the opportunities you’re referring to. The Demare clan is more than satisfied with the current state of affairs.”

“Well,” I praised him, “that is an honest and worthy position. Queen Merissa and I were not mistaken about you. You can rest assured. We will always do everything possible to protect Costa Sirena.”

Philipp bowed his head gratefully, and with that, we shifted our focus back to discussions about potential military actions and cooperation between the Richters, Velasco, and Sirens. My refusal of direct control over the trophy cities was clarified by both the distance separating them from Richterberg and the contracts we intended to conclude with my allies. Essentially, even without officially owning the southern ports, I would gain nearly all the trading advantages that their actual owners would possess. The Sirens would not impose duties on me, and my ships would always have reserved spots in the port along with access to part of the warehouses.

We even discussed various details, including that the Richters would have residences in each of these cities for living. Part of these privileges would also extend to the Velascos. For instance, the goods they supplied by sea to Richterberg would be exempt from duties, and they would also gain access to my warehouses. We were all poised to become wealthy soon; the only remaining task was to establish actual control over all potential trophies. The hunt for them began today.

However, that would be without me for now. I needed to return to Richterberg, and I certainly wasn’t going to risk traveling on the Desmonds’ train. Although Roland hadn’t yet taken any actions to limit my movements or those of my allies, I didn’t want to provide him with any opportunity to interfere with transporting Armand’s body to the capital. It was far too valuable a piece of cargo for me to risk. I wanted to eliminate any potential accidents.

That’s why I considered returning on the same sailing ship I had taken to visit the Velascos. To my surprise, the Sirens had already taken the initiative. By order of the queen and the prince, while we were in our meeting, an entire squad of orcas had brought three ships from the former Salazar fleet to Salforte. Two of them turned out to be large freighters, but the third, unexpectedly, was a cruise liner. It wasn’t the largest by any means, but I learned it could carry about five hundred passengers. That was more than enough for us. Along with the phantoms, the Demare, and even the undead, nearly seventy people were planning to return to Costa Sirena.

We did need to bring a similar number as support staff. Fortunately, there were no issues on that front. The Sirens had managed to bring the sailors along with the ship. No, they hadn’t kidnapped them; they had simply offered contracts. Having lost their employer — the Salazars, the crews readily agreed to continue working. Judging by their satisfied expressions, they would have gladly signed on even with my giant kraken, Spaghetti, just to avoid being laid off on shore.

So we returned home in comfort, but that was only a pleasant addition. The main reason for choosing the cruise liner was its speed. Even a slow-moving liner easily outpaced any sailing vessel.

More importantly, I discovered that I could travel on these ships just like on trains, without the risk of siphoning all the abomination out of the mechanisms. I had previously thought that locomotives saved trains from these issues because they housed all the main equipment, meaning I had no interaction with them and couldn’t harm the train as a whole. But I learned that it wasn’t just about that; it was also about the special shielding metal manufactured by the Desmonds. To move substantial transports like trains or large ships required a significant amount of abomination, so even machines made from the purest grace emitted noise. That’s why they were covered with this special metal, ensuring that mages wouldn’t accidentally overdose when close to the crystals. Fortunately, this technology protected both the mages and the mechanisms from me.

As I stepped onto the liner, I felt no concern about the safety of these valuable assets. I could see that my lovely crew was equally pleased. Upon learning what we would be taking home — Octavia, Olga, Kira, and the other phantom girls who had participated in the sea battle — everyone was thrilled. Although the journey wouldn’t take long, they were overjoyed to spend it in such luxury. Even the phantom men were struggling to hide their interest; an adventure like this didn’t come their way every day, especially after having spent almost their entire lives as hermits in the forest.

“So we have new vassals?” Olga asked with a smile when we finally decided to have a snack in the restaurant on the liner.

“As you can see,” I replied, stirring my coffee with a spoon — my favorite drink, regardless of where I was.

“How interesting everything has turned out…” my granddaughter mused thoughtfully.

“What are you talking about?” I decided to clarify.

“Well, do you remember how it all started? With that fool… Hugo, who tried to evict me… us from the stable?” Olga said, a smirk growing on her lips. I noticed that she no longer realized she had started referring to her home as a stable, echoing my earlier remarks. She continued, “Back then, this endless invasion of the Velascos felt like some kind of apocalypse. And then everything changed abruptly. Just think, they could still be trying to take revenge on us!”

“They could have,” I agreed, nodding. “But we weren’t the ones attacking them. Isabella, in her wisdom, understood that her people in the capital could act more intelligently and convinced her grandfather of this.” I took a sip of my coffee to stifle a laugh. I couldn’t share with my granddaughter that initially, Bella had attempted to do exactly the same thing as them. She had just miscalculated a tad when she found herself in my bed. They say there’s a fine line between love and hate, and in this instance, we had gone from murder attempts to vassalage. The Velascos remarkably blended southern passion with a keen eye for profit. Even now, by seemingly losing status, they had transformed into the primary force in the south, second only to the Sirens. More importantly, they had chosen to align with the Richters rather than Queen Merissa, whose forces, stationed far from the coast, remained modest at best.

Initially, Alvaro was upset that I wouldn’t join his advance party or at least send some of my mages with him. I explained that such a conflict required thorough preparation and the dedicated effort of our expanded chimera workshop. For that, I needed to return to the capital.

But there was another reason I didn’t want to linger even for a moment. Armand. I was eager to delve into his mind and extract all the information I could find.

Chapter 13

“MAX,” OCTAVIA EXCLAIMED, practically jumping onto my deck chair, her arms wrapping around me. “How do you always manage to anticipate my desires? Sailing home on a liner is the best idea you could have come up with!” She had just emerged from the pool, her curves glistening with shiny droplets, looking quite tempting. The downside was that I was now soaked too, though I hadn’t planned to take a dip. After our long underwater adventures, the thought of swimming again was less than appealing. The girls, though, seemed to have immunity. Most of them had spent nearly as much time in the water as I had, yet they didn’t deny themselves the joy of splashing around in the large pool on the liner. They especially enjoyed the tall, winding water slide, from which peals of laughter and squeals could be heard occasionally.

“We worked hard,” I replied to Octavia, “so we deserve a little rest.”

“I hope this isn’t our last cruise on the liner,” she added, her eyes sparkling with hope. For what felt like the tenth time, she asked, “Are you sure you haven’t changed your mind…”

“No,” I interrupted gently. “I won’t go into the pool. I’d much rather watch you in there,” I smirked.

“Okay, okay,” she replied with a smirk of her own, getting up from the deck chair and swaying her hips enticingly as she walked back to the pool. Her figure was captivating, and I could never tire of admiring it.

Nevertheless, I did find myself distracted from this pleasant activity. Philip Demare had been circling around the pool area for over an hour, but he couldn’t bring himself to approach me. He would lie down on a deck chair, get a drink at the bar, and a couple of times even slid down the slide into the pool. But all of it was done with a continuous glance in my direction. With so many people milling around me, he couldn’t find the right moment. When Octavia left me alone, he finally seized his chance. “May I talk to you, Maximilian?” he asked, taking a seat on the deck chair next to mine.

“Of course,” I replied, observing his clear anxiety. “What’s bothering you, Philip? Your anxiety is palpable.”

“Ahem,” he choked, attempting to regain his composure. “It seems I need to work on that.”

“So what’s the matter?” I pressed again.

“The matter is, of course, Costa Sirena,” he said seriously. “I would like to understand your plans regarding this city better. You see, until now we’ve lived very peacefully. The largest and most dangerous event in the city was the masquerade when the Salazars attended and dealt with… the emerging problems. But now we find ourselves, you could say, at the center of a large conflict. Naturally, I cannot help but worry.”

“What are you afraid of, Philip?” I clarified. “At the council, we promised you protection. Remember, there are two strong clans: the Sirens and the Richters. Perhaps,” I smirked, “while we may not be officially recognized as one of the Great Clans, you’ve seen with your own eyes what we are capable of.”

“Yes,” he blushed slightly, “forgive me; I have no doubt in your word and capabilities. My question is more about what we should prepare for. Should we ready my people for war or act as if nothing is happening? Or do you have some special plan for Costa Sirena?”

“Yes,” I nodded. “There are indeed plans. I was thinking of discussing them with you later, but why not now?”

“Thank you,” Philip replied in evident relief. The poor man seemed so troubled by the new circumstances that I realized if we hadn’t had this conversation today, he wouldn’t have been able to sleep normally. I took the opportunity to reassure him that nothing extraordinary was required of him personally. From what I had observed, he was managing the city well. Costa Sirena was well-maintained and relatively safe for both tourism and trade. It had its flaws, certainly, but what place didn’t? One thing the Demare had overlooked, for instance, was that the hotel equipped with video cameras wasn’t exactly an honorable look. But they hadn’t had a chance to hide them yet — we were just ‘lucky’ enough to move in as one of the first residents. Besides that, we were finding our stay in this city more than satisfactory.

However, the role of Costa Sirena was changing. Beyond tourism, it was essential to expand the trade port. I expressed my desire to acquire a few more warehouses in the city. Philippe seemed unexpectedly pleased. “Listen!” he exclaimed. “Why don’t you just take the entire area around your warehouse?”

I was intrigued. “As far as I know, no buildings have been put up for sale there recently. My people are actively monitoring all market offers.”

“I’ll take care of that,” Philippe replied eagerly. “Some of the warehouses belong to the city and are only rented out. As for the others… well, I’ll find a way to negotiate with the owners.”

“That’s a great offer,” I acknowledged, but couldn’t resist asking, “But why does the Demare clan want this so much?”

Philippe sighed heavily. “If you only knew how many problems arise with these warehouses from time to time. It’s literally a disgusting wart on the body of beautiful Costa Sirena. We spend so much time and effort keeping this area in order, yet tenants and owners always find ways to surprise us. We try not to rent land to just anyone! But the area is still too attractive to smugglers, which brings along other dirty dealings. In short, anything can happen there.”

I smirked, recalling how I had had to clear my own warehouse of mutants when I purchased it. “Well, in that case, I will gladly relieve you of this burden. I also want to discuss another issue with you right away. I like that Costa Sirena isn’t spoiled by excessive car traffic. But, as you understand, the scale of local trade will soon increase significantly.”

Philipp thoughtfully nodded, finishing my thoughts: “And that means one bypass road for trucks won’t be sufficient.”

“Exactly. But I have a solution.”

We then spent the remainder of our conversation strategizing new metro lines. I was no longer inclined to conceal my transportation methods and was even considering opening passenger traffic between our two cities. After all, I couldn’t keep the residents of Richterberg in forced isolation forever. They deserved the chance to see their relatives in other cities and travel like everyone else. If people were deprived of this opportunity for too long, it would inevitably lead to growing discontent. I didn’t want to follow my grandfather’s path, which turned all residents into submissive, spiritless shells. On the contrary, my cities had always thrived because people genuinely wanted to live in them. This desire for life and connectivity brought substantial revenue to my clan, and that’s exactly what I was counting on now.

* * *

Extracting information from Armand proved challenging — almost impossible. When he died, I was already severely exhausted, unable to perform the necessary ritual on-site. Moreover, there was no suitable place to do it. We were underwater, dealing with all the complications that came with that. Even as the tsunami began to recede, it was still not the right time for such an undertaking, and precious moments had already slipped away. All I could do was try to preserve his dying brain in its existing state and transform it into a zombie, hoping that eventually, I would be able to extract something useful from it.

Now, I finally needed to determine how successful my plan had been. For this task, I chose to use my old workshop in the basement of the stable. I wanted to work in solitude, without anyone present, and I didn’t want to distract my people from their responsibilities. The basement was the only place where I could truly be alone. I knew I would require ample time to bring my idea to fruition, so I asked not to be disturbed for trivial matters and locked myself in for two full days. Yes, even I recognized that this task could not be completed any faster. It was fortunate I had already begun my path to becoming an archmage again. Without that foundation, I wouldn’t have had enough energy to even partially revive Armand’s brain.

Even so, I understood that I shouldn’t expect too much. The difficulty lay not only in the time elapsed since his death. Once the first few minutes were lost, it made little difference whether an hour or a month had passed. The main difficulty lay in the personality of Armand himself. He was a mage who had lived for over fifteen hundred years — ancient even when I was just studying at the academy. Delving into the mind of such an ancient being would be incredibly challenging, even for the most skilled mentalists, while he was still alive. For necromancers, it was an even greater hurdle.

Nonetheless, I refused to back down. Gradually, Armand began to speak. His words were confusing and lacked detail, but even so, they shed light on events long past, providing insights I hadn’t anticipated. I strained to absorb every fragment of information he shared, piecing together the history and motivations that had shaped the present strife.

* * *

“Do you really not want to try it, Armand?” Katharine practically bobbed with impatience, holding a vial of the experimental substance in her hands.

“Maybe he thinks we want to poison him?” Roland smirked, leaning against the doorframe. The three of them stood in the living room of the Salazar castle, with the guests attempting to impose their ‘treat’ on the host right from the threshold.

“Come on, that doesn’t make any sense,” Katharine waved her hand dismissively. “Armand knows there’s nothing to fear. I’ll try it first in front of him.” The red-haired princess popped the cap off the vial, took a sip, and then handed it back to Salazar. “See? Nothing happened. Moreover, when you try it, you’ll understand that it’s a real find — you’ve never felt better.”

“Oh yeah?” Armand asked, his curiosity piqued. “No side effects?”

“Well…” Katharine stretched, a hint of mischief in her tone, “we’re working on that. But believe me, the effect is worth it.”

With a sip, a wave of strength surged through Salazar’s body — pure, unclouded energy. In that moment, he felt invincible, ready to move mountains and drain seas.

“Do you like it?” Katharine’s ringing voice seemed to echo from a distance. “We call it ‘grace.’ I think it’s a great name!”

* * *

“I see you have made good progress in your magical research,” Armand remarked when he encountered Günther at the port of Salforte. Steiger had rented several warehouses from him, claiming that he intended to significantly expand his production. Now, Salazar observed the bustling activity of golems moving back and forth. Some were not merely crafted from stone or clay, as was typical, but incorporated metals as well.

“This wasn’t just research,” the dwarf shook his head. “I’ve known how to do this for a long time. But I lacked the energy.”

“And you used the abomination, like Desmond and Villon?” Armand questioned, a hint of disapproval in his voice.

“Yes. What’s wrong with that?” Günther replied defiantly. “Now I regret that we listened to Max and his paranoia for so long. We should have put this source of power to work for us sooner. Cheap, practically free energy for everyone! Make no mistake, this is the future!”

* * *

“Resistance is useless,” the shadow addressed Armand in a quiet, whispering voice. He found it impossible to describe her in any other way — just a shadow without features, devoid of details. In reality, it wasn’t even a shadow in the traditional sense he was familiar with. It was something more, something that eluded his understanding.

The shadow continued, “This world is already doomed. From the moment we made the first puncture.”

“Really?” Armand replied, skeptical. “I thought we had recently closed each of them.”

He wasn’t sure why he said “we,” as only Richter could have been responsible for that. Perhaps it was out of personal stubbornness or a desire to inflate his own significance.

“What has that changed?” his mysterious interlocutor countered. “Here we are again. And we will remain as long as it takes to suppress any resistance. We are in no hurry…”

“Why do you need this? Why destroy our world?”

“You don’t understand,” the shadow whispered. “This is not destruction. This is transformation. New. Higher.”

“What difference does it make if, according to your plan, we all die?” Salazar scoffed.

“Incorrect again,” the intruder replied. “Many will die, but not all. The strongest among you will have a chance to become like us. Eternal. Truly Great. Masters of Worlds.”

The shadow’s promises were tempting, but Armand wasn’t naive enough to trust them blindly. “So far, the only transformation I have seen is mages becoming mindless monsters under the influence of abomination.”

“Shhh…” his interlocutor interrupted him. “Not abomination… grace.”

“What difference does it make?” Armand couldn’t hold back his frustration. “That’s still not an answer.”

“We are in no hurry,” the intruder reiterated, “it’s all about time. Mages need to prepare for transformation gradually. Not just years. Centuries. Accept the grace, and you will become like us.”

“And if I don’t?” Salazar asked, his voice edged with skepticism.

“Then you will simply die in useless resistance. We need your world, just like many other worlds. And we will take everything we want. But we are not monsters and see no reason for unnecessary sacrifices. Therefore, we give you a chance — a chance to join us in a new… completely different future. So, what is your decision, being who calls himself Armand Salazar?”

Armand’s composure faltered for a moment as he processed the weight of the ultimatum. The prospect of yielding to such a powerful force, or facing the annihilation of his legacy, loomed heavily over him, and he understood the gravity of the moment. The thought of abandoning everything he had fought for was unbearable, yet the alternative was equally terrifying.

“I will not surrender,” Armand replied, his voice steady, though the strain was evident. “My people and I have fought too hard for our independence. We will not bow to threats, nor will we allow our world to fall into your hands without a fight.”

The shadow’s expression remained inscrutable, but the atmosphere in the room thickened with anticipation. “Very well,” the voice murmured. “Then prepare yourself for what comes next. This is not a threat, it is a promise. The tides of change are upon you, and you will either adapt or be swept away.”

* * *

Of course, the most interesting part for me was the final episode. In that moment, I clung to my focus with renewed intensity, attempting to extract as many details as possible from my deceased enemy. But, as anticipated, he offered only pitiful crumbs, consistently getting tangled in his responses and drifting off onto unrelated topics. I found myself piecing his answers together like a mosaic.

The longer the interrogation dragged on, the less useful his replies became, until, finally, Armand fell silent forever. I had to be content with what I had managed to gather. Despite the limited information, I learned quite a bit and received confirmation of several of my suspicions. Interestingly, these invading beings were capable of speaking our language. However, for some reason, they hadn’t deigned to engage with me directly. Did they correctly assess that I wouldn’t make any deals with them? If so, I had to give them credit; they were clearly not foolish.

On the other hand, I hadn’t gleaned much about them. I already suspected they were otherworldly entities, but I was not inclined to trust everything they had relayed to Armand. Eternal Lords of Worlds, indeed. One of them had died like an ordinary mortal in the Siberian stronghold. Still, underestimating them would clearly be a mistake. I needed to continue the investigation and find out as much as possible about them. This shadow was correct in one aspect: despite my efforts to close all strongholds, they managed to open new ones with little trouble. This suggested that our war with them could easily devolve into a pointless war of attrition. Containing the spread of abomination wasn’t enough. I needed to understand how to destroy it for good.

With these thoughts swirling in my mind, I ascended to the stable, where I found a distressed Olga in the kitchen. She was sadly devouring pancakes prepared by Fred while periodically petting Archie, who had missed her terribly during her absence.

“What happened?” I asked my granddaughter as I sat down beside her and Fred promptly brought me a steaming cup of coffee and another plate of pancakes.

“Nothing important,” Olga waved her hand dismissively. “What’s more important is what you have. Did everything work out?”

I nodded. “More or less. I’ll explain everything at the clan council. We need to gather everyone.”

Olga sighed heavily. “I’m afraid it won’t work.”

“What do you mean?” I asked, surprised. “How can it not work if the leader orders everyone to gather? Or has there been a rebellion in the clan while I was away?”

“No, of course not!” Olga exclaimed. “It’s just… Prokhor hasn’t been able to return to the city for two days. He says there’s absolutely no way to leave the fields, or we’ll be left without food again in the spring.”

I frowned. “What happened there? Didn’t the Bloomfields start working?”

“About that…” Olga began, then fell silent. “To be honest, I didn’t really understand much myself. Prokhor couldn’t talk for even a minute. He only said there was no time for conversations. I wanted to go there myself today, but I decided to wait for you.”

Chapter 14

“HELP NEEDED in the eastern field!” a guard shouted into the megaphone as Olga and I approached the city’s farmland. “Urgently!” the voice continued straining. “The defenders are struggling!”

“What’s going on there?” Olga asked, her nerves apparent as she fidgeted in the seat of the chimera-mobile. “Prokhor didn’t mention they were at war!” My granddaughter was itching to dive into the fray.

I grunted and shrugged. “I’m curious too. But if it were truly dangerous, they would have reached out to me through Lifeng.”

“Well, you’ve been busy for a while…” Olga shot back. “First the war, then Armand…”

“Still,” I replied, “there’s a big difference between not bothering me over small things and concealing serious issues.”

“I hope you’re right,” she said, gazing thoughtfully out the window.

Ahead, we could see the plowed fields, with the first green shoots pushing through the soil. The revival of Richterberg’s agricultural lands was progressing rapidly, as is befitting fields watched over by nature mages. But that beautiful image was marred by the frantic movements of the guards in those very fields. They seemed to be engaged in some bizarre dance with their blades — swaying, bending down, lunging toward the earth, tossing daggers around them. It looked as if they were fighting ghosts. To add to the odd scene, I noticed the local farmers joining the fray, armed with shovels, rakes, and pitchforks. They were more cautious, but still waved their tools anxiously. In the midst of the chaos, the two girls from the Bloomfield clan dashed about, gesturing wildly and shouting to the guards, who responded by moving from one part of the field to another on their command.

Glancing at each other in confusion, Olga and I got out of the car and headed toward the unfolding scene. The strange performance continued all around us. One of the farmers let out a loud scream, pointing frantically at a corner of the field where no one stood. He dashed toward it, only to trip over his own rake, nearly injuring himself. Fortunately, a guard caught him just in time to prevent a serious fall. But neither of them could escape the surge of other farmers who rushed to the spot the man had indicated, pushing past each other in the chaos.

“What’s happening here?” I called out, stopping a short distance from the field. No one seemed eager to answer. The concentrated expressions on their faces suggested they were engaged in a battle against some great calamity, leaving them little room to explain anything to me.

After a moment, a flushed and breathless Rose hurried over. She wiped the sweat from her forehead with her sleeve and began, “Mr. Richter, we followed the plan, and as you can see, the plants have sprouted for the first time, but…” She paused dramatically and spread her arms wide. “Raids have begun.”

“What kind of raids?” Olga asked. While I had begun to sense the growing tension and understand the situation, my granddaughter was still trying to catch up.

“Pests! They’re incredibly small, almost invisible among the crops, but—”

“Goddammit!” shouted a furious voice from the field. We all turned to see one of the guards sinking into the ground up to his waist with a loud thud as he jumped back out, shaking dirt from his uniform.

“How much longer can this go on?” Rose exclaimed in frustration. “This is the third time this has happened! They’ll ruin the entire field!”

“Who are they?!” Olga demanded.

“Those damn rodents…” Bloomfield waved her hand in exasperation, “hamsters, ferrets, or something like that…”

Olga frowned. “Aren’t you a nature mage? How can you not tell a hamster from a ferret? A ferret is a predator; those crops are of no interest to it.”

“I can’t,” Bloomfield said, raising her arms in defeat. “They look like no one and everyone all at once.”

“They’ve mutated, I wager,” I said, piecing it together. “Most likely, these beasts have retained only the general traits associated with the rodent family or some diminutive predators that resemble them. The filth can do even more; it can make sworn enemies band together.”

“Yes, yes!” Rose nodded eagerly. “It doesn’t really matter who they are. The real issue is how many there are… Besides…” she trailed off, her attention suddenly focused on something in the distance.

Olga and I strained to hear a strange, rising hum that filled the air.

“You’ll see everything now,” Rose said as she turned and shouted to the others, “Everyone gather! New wave!”

The hum intensified, and soon a strange gray cloud appeared on the horizon. In the field, the commotion escalated even more. The guards dashed to the roadside, snatching up scattered flamethrowers and quickly formed a line, a living barrier against the approaching threat. As the cloud drew nearer, it became clear that it was a swarm of mutated locusts, clearly intent on our crops!

“Fire!” shouted one of the guards as the swarm moved into range. In unison, the warriors opened fire. However, the locusts surged forward with the abandon of suicide bombers. Only after more than half of their number had been lost did the cloud veer and retreat.

The guards dropped their flamethrowers and rushed back into the field, urgency in their steps, as Daisy shouted encouragement. “They’re leaving! Chase the little bastards!” she commanded.

It was then I noticed that, alongside the guards and farmers, mini-chimeras were also partaking in the battle. They were the first to dart after the fleeing swarms of small black, gray, and brown specks.

Now Olga had spotted them too. “Oh,” she exhaled, realization dawning, “now it makes sense why they’re so hard to see from a distance. They blend in perfectly with the ground.”

“Yes,” Rose nodded earnestly, “that’s why we need to be doubly careful. If you don’t catch them right away, those things will dig up the seeds, stuff them into their cheeks, and you’ll be left with bupkis!”

“Is it like this in all the fields?” my granddaughter asked, her brow furrowed with concern.

“Yes…” Rose replied, her tone heavy with sadness as she began to explain. Gradually, the picture began to take shape. Bloomfield recounted how it had all started when the crops began to sprout just a few days ago. Before that, she and Daisy had been toiling away in the fields, and everything had proceeded as normal — well, except that a bit more natural magic was needed to strengthen the sprouts. The land had recently been cleansed of corruption, but its lingering effects were still felt.

But the real issue turned out to be something more troubling. The rodents and insects returning to these lands had also been tainted by abomination and began to mutate, though not entirely. Rose compared it to her experiments with plants. When they mutated, they didn’t fully transform into monsters. A similar fate awaited the pests. Initially, they made only occasional and infrequent appearances in the fields, which the Bloomfields and local farmers managed to handle without much trouble. However, the following day, the number of mutants surged.

There were so many that Daisy could no longer tolerate it and sought help from Ignatius, whose contacts they had lined up in advance. Ignatius spent the entire day in the fields with the Bloomfields, hoping that with his undead squad, he could drive off the pests and resolve the problem by evening. But as it turned out, there were so many that he ultimately found himself having to call in Prokhor. From that point on, the situation only deteriorated further. It wasn’t for lack of effort on the part of the guards; on the contrary, they were doing everything they could. The problem lay in the fact that the creatures multiplied far more quickly than they could be eradicated.

In the end, Prokhor enlisted the help of Furball and the mini-chimeras, bringing significant relief to the fields. For a fleeting moment, the problem seemed to have been solved. But then clouds of locusts descended upon us. By some miracle, the guards managed to repel them the first time, quickly restocking their flamethrowers and establishing a defense. But that was still not enough. The gravest concern was that if any part of the swarm infiltrated the fields, the use of fire was no longer an option. We had to find other means to combat the mutant insects, so everyone put in their utmost effort, forming a veritable wall that could not be breached.

Meanwhile, Prokhor conducted reconnaissance and discovered that the mutants had become unexpectedly cunning, launching organized assaults influenced by neighboring foci that had yet to be cleared. They were drawn like moths to a flame toward the main crystal of those foci, returning there after each raid. Without delay, Prokhor had organized teams to clear these threats. Initially, the pests occupied the nearest gamma focus, but Prokhor and the guards quickly eradicated it.

He returned with a sense of satisfaction, thinking he had solved the issue. However, that was still not the case. The pests simply relocated their “base.” Now they transformed into persistent epsilon, or even kappa level foci. As the cleansing crews cautiously advanced deeper, the pests moved further away, evading capture.

“But now we can finally put an end to these foci, right, Max?” Olga turned to me, her eyes alight with determination. “The guards may still not be able to manage high-level foci quickly, but the two of us can definitely sort this out together!”

“Good thought,” I replied, “but not quite. Have you checked the map of foci around Richterberg lately?”

Olga’s expression faltered. “To be honest, I haven’t looked at all…”

“If you had, then you would know,” I continued, “that there are more than a dozen eternal foci right here. Moreover, new ones manifest every day. Yes, they might not be particularly dangerous, rarely higher than gamma, but that’s not the crux of the problem.”

Now Olga grasped the situation and finished my thought. “It’s that these creatures reproduce faster than we can eliminate them. As long as there is even one focus in the area, everything else is futile.”

“Exactly,” I affirmed. “That doesn’t mean we shouldn’t clear them, but to truly address the problem in the fields, we need a different approach.”

As I contemplated our options, Olga addressed Rose. “What about poisons and other pest control methods? If they’re not fully developed focus creatures, then maybe those could work…”

Rose shook her head with a heavy heart. “We tried all of that first, but unfortunately, the mutation has progressed far enough that it’s no longer effective. And if we ramp up the doses or introduce something more lethal, we risk harming the plants.”

A thought struck me. “Rose, call Daisy. I want you both to come with me now.”

“But how…” she replied, surprised. “We’re needed here! Without our support, the sprouts won’t survive long; we constantly renew our protective magic…”

“Rose,” I interrupted gently, “you know you’re only delaying the inevitable. The pests are multiplying, and soon we’ll need to bring the whole city to the fields to defend the crops.”

“Yes, but… what if only one of us goes?”

Seeing how much Rose cared for the plants, I forgave her for that small protest. I simply reiterated that I needed both of them. After a moment of hesitation, she finally acquiesced and we returned together to the Richter residence.

* * *

“It’s amazing…” the Bloomfields marveled in unison, watching our Ivy transform several of her branches into something akin to a broom, gathering fallen autumn leaves into a neat pile. She then swept them into a bucket — an impressive feat, considering she held the bucket independently — and deftly passed it between her branches until she emptied it into a large trash bin. To be honest, I was a bit taken aback myself. Charlotte wasn’t wasting any time. Even without my direct orders, she was teaching her trusty companion lots of simple practical tricks. I already knew that Ivy was capable of moving objects throughout the entire residence, but now it appeared we didn’t need to fret about any cleaning duties. I hadn’t even considered why the place was so immaculate or who was responsible for it. I had merely assumed it was one of Ignatius’s undead.

“What else can she do?!” Rose exclaimed.

Charlotte blushed slightly under the attention but was pleased to showcase her pet’s abilities. She approached a small pond in the garden and called out, “Ivy, help!”

In response, powerful tendrils of the plant reached toward Charlotte, encircling her waist and carefully transporting her to the other side of the pond.

“There,” Lottie said proudly, then added, “by the way, Ivy also dug the pond. She can manage a shovel now, along with many other tools!”

At this, the Bloomfields seemed to shift uncomfortably. As nature mages, they were deeply curious about our remarkable pet, but it was clear their own plants were not capable of such feats. Both girls were experiencing some semblance of professional jealousy, though they managed to keep their feelings in check.

Daisy broke the silence, asking, “So, you want to use this plant as a barrier against pests? That might work, but I’m not sure it will be completely effective.”

“Yes, yes,” Rose nodded vigorously. “You saw for yourself that they can tunnel! They seem to be growing smarter by the day! I’m sure even the locusts will soon figure out how to dive down onto the fields from above, like hawks, completely bypassing the fence.”

I smiled at her enthusiasm. “No. I suggest you go further. Create an entirely new variety of plants that can protect themselves from pests.”

Suddenly, it began to drizzle, and Daisy’s expression darkened. She seemed horrified by the idea.

“I apologize,” she began, indignantly, “but with all due respect, how can you propose such a thing?! This is… completely different magic! Nature magic and necromancy… it’s unnatural! Blasphemous! The Bloomfields cannot take on such a task! Besides, I’m not even sure it’s possible.”

I had anticipated this reaction. In fact, I was prepared for the girls to require significant motivation to agree. But Rose didn’t disappoint me. Upon hearing my suggestion, her mind began to churn. Of course! It was reminiscent of her experiments with abomination.

With resolve, she countered her aunt. “Isn’t it terrible what the blight turns ordinary rodents and insects into? Isn’t it blasphemous to turn a blind eye to this and pretend nothing is happening? Isn’t it unnatural that nature mages cannot restore the land’s fertility because of this? Daisy, don’t you feel it’s our duty? We must do everything possible to save the land from poison! And if new methods and unconventional means are required, then I’m ready for that! You won’t stop me from participating!”

Daisy was taken aback by such a passionate rebuttal. Meanwhile, the rain intensified, clearly indicating that if we wanted to continue our discussion, we needed to seek shelter.

Charlotte turned to Ivy once more. “Please create us some cover, dear,” she gently requested. The seemingly conscious shrub extended its tendrils toward us, weaving them together just above our heads. It formed such a thick canopy that the raindrops could no longer penetrate. In moments, we found ourselves sheltered in a natural green gazebo. The Bloomfields regarded it once more with a mix of surprise and respect.

Charlotte added, “Ivy might be a tad dead, that’s true… but you wouldn’t know it! It’s quite pleasant, really. You’d be amazed at what a pleasure it is to work with. Plus, I know how easy it is to take cuttings from it for experiments.”

With a reluctant sigh, Daisy relented. “Alright, let’s give it a try,” she conceded. “I’m with you.”

Chapter 15

“I THOUGHT YOU WERE SPENDING the night at work,” Jurgen remarked with noticeable discontent upon Charlotte’s return. His irritation had been growing lately, as their once-quiet family life felt increasingly incomprehensible. His wife no longer met him at the door after work and frequently returned home later than he did. He found himself dining alone, watching sports shows or movies on the brand new enormous television, a temporary distraction that provided some comfort amid the upheaval. For a time, he had reconciled himself to the situation, especially since Lottie still managed to cook for him, always having a delicious dish waiting on the stove. The house remained impeccably tidy as well, and the new television in the living room was a gift from her. Although he had never had cause to complain about his own salary, his wife’s income had soared to such heights that he felt as though he was falling behind. Charlotte never mentioned it, but the idea of earning less than his wife troubled him. He had been raised in a conservative family where women didn’t work, and coming to terms with this new reality was a struggle. Most importantly, he couldn’t fathom why she was being paid so much. He regarded her abilities with a condescending and arrogant attitude.

“Oh, sweetheart, I’m so glad to see you!” beamed Lottie, fluttering over to him and utterly ignoring his discontent. “You can’t imagine the fascinating task we had today! But we’ll talk about that later. Tell me how your day went.”

As she settled comfortably beside him on the couch, preparing to listen, Jurgen’s frustration deepened. He had been on the verge of expressing his pent-up feelings for some time, but her blatant disregard for his earlier remark drove him to the edge. Without thinking to soften his tone, he replied sharply, “Who is ‘we’ exactly? Those two clowns constantly hovering around you?”

“Clowns?” Charlotte echoed, puzzled.

“Those… idiots from the show,” Jurgen clarified, his displeasure evident.

“Ahh…” Charlotte recalled, “no, we rarely see them. Although they’re working for Mr. Richter now, our tasks are very different. And you’re wrong about them being idiots,” she lightly reproached him. “Their video blog is currently one of the most popular in the world. Of course, much of that is thanks to Ms. Octavia, but…”

Like most ordinary clan workers, Charlotte didn’t know the witch’s real last name. The fact that she belonged to the Scipions was known only to a small circle of people close to Maximilian and the academy students, who were sworn to secrecy. To everyone else, Octavia was simply known by her first name.

“So you’re defending them too?” Jürgen interrupted, his tone sharper. “Maybe you even admire them? Have you become their biggest fan?”

Charlotte could see him getting worked up, and it was becoming harder to overlook. She looked at him in surprise, attempting to smooth the tension. “Darling, I hardly see them! Only in passing! You know how busy I am taking care of the plants…”

She spoke of Ivy in the plural, avoiding any mention of its unusual nature. Jürgen was not fond of anything strange or magical, so she preferred to pretend that, after managing the peculiar cats, she had simply taken on the role of a regular gardener. Well, almost. The plants were rare and valuable, which was her excuse for her high salary. She wasn’t exactly lying. Ivy truly was a unique plant, existing as a singular specimen.

Jürgen snorted. “What’s there to do? Automatic irrigation has been around for ages, and you don’t treat pests and diseases every day. I’m sure you’re busy only part of the day. What do you spend the rest of your time on?” He exhaled sharply, answering himself. “As always, on women’s gossip! You think I don’t know how you and that… neighbor have been chatting all day long? All you do is watch your shows!”

Saying this, Jürgen felt a misplaced pride swelling within him. He’d expressed himself far softer than he had intended. Yet Charlotte was clearly hurt, her sweet smile fading as the weight of his words sank in. She had spent her whole life striving to be a good wife, and now his accusation felt like a betrayal. The only time she had chosen to prioritize herself was when she accepted the job offer. Even then, she had bent over backwards to ensure that her decision didn’t disrupt their household. Lottie managed everything, even as it wore her thin, and only the relaxation spell she had learned kept her from completely unraveling.

“Jürgen!” she exclaimed, offended. “What exactly are you accusing me of? That I was friends with the neighbor once? How does that even relate to my work? Or do you want me to stop working and avoid talking to anyone?”

Even now, Charlotte was genuinely trying to understand her husband, though it was no easy task. He seemed confused, struggling with unacknowledged fears. Rather than confronting his own uncertainty, he chose to raise his voice. “Don’t play the innocent victim! You know perfectly well what I mean!”

“I…” Lottie stumbled, utterly bewildered. But she held her composure. “I really don’t understand. But please, let’s postpone this conversation. I have to get up early tomorrow. I wanted to tell you that I’ll be going on a business trip out of town for a few days. My help is needed to address an agricultural issue.”

“Your help?” Jürgen scoffed, disbelief etched across his face. “What’s wrong with those Richters?”

“What do you mean?” Charlotte frowned in confusion.

“Wake up, Lottie! You’re just an ordinary housewife! Do you seriously think your work is that valuable? I’m sure they’re using you! Or maybe you don’t mind? What are they involved in? Maybe drugs or smuggling? And you’re just the fool they’ll pin everything on later!”

At first, Charlotte’s husband’s words had only confused her, but now a real fury bubbled up within her. It was one thing to have Jürgen doubt her and her abilities — she had grown accustomed to that. To him, she had always been just a silly cook. But now, he was insulting the Richters! People who had done so much for her! People who had recognized a hidden talent in her. Yes, in an ordinary housewife! In the Richter household, she had finally felt capable of something more substantial than standing by the stove or scrubbing floors. She and Ivy had achieved so much together; her pet had recently been nothing more than a predatory plant, merely guarding the wall around their clan’s residence. Now, Charlotte was teaching her new tricks daily, taking pride in her as if she were a child excelling in school.

In a moment of anger, she snapped back at her husband, speaking uncharacteristically sharply. “Cut it out right now! You know nothing about my work and you don’t understand the Richter clan!”

Unaccustomed to her sudden resistance, Jürgen was taken aback, but he quickly regained his composure and shouted, “I know that your Maximilian is a bloodthirsty necromancer who killed a whole bunch of life mages! Along with their beautiful princess! And you keep working for him!”

“Enough!” Charlotte exclaimed, her voice wavering on the brink of tears. “I… I won’t stay home today!” She jumped up from the couch, rushing toward the exit, but Jürgen seized her by the wrist, pulling her back.

“No, dear!” he said menacingly. “You’re not going anywhere! And you’re not going on any business trip! I’ve had enough! I’ve tolerated your caprices for too long… We played house, and that’s enough! A wife should manage the household and do as her husband tells her! Not wander around who knows where with who knows whom! You’re quitting tomorrow!”

“No!” Charlotte shouted, struggling to free herself from his grip.

“Yes, dear, yes! You’ll thank me for saving you from the trouble you’ll otherwise get into! And if you keep squirming, I’ll remember what my father taught me! You women, when you think of yourselves as important, only understand brute strength!”

Fueled by anger, Jürgen decided to reinforce his words with force. He raised his hand to strike when, out of nowhere, a small, fluffy keychain that resembled an adorable animal leaped from Charlotte’s bag and landed squarely on his head. And that was where its cuteness abruptly ended. Its claws emerged from nowhere, clinging fiercely to his hair and ripping it out by the roots, leaving large, bloody, bald patches behind.

“Ow!” Jürgen yelped. “Get your little creature off me right now! What is this junk you’ve brought home again!” He swiped at the angry fluffball, trying to defend himself, but it was too nimble and quick. He couldn’t even get a decent grip on it.

His desire to teach his disobedient wife a lesson was quickly forgotten. Charlotte, on the other hand, felt a sudden emptiness toward Jürgen. All warmth and attachment vanished. He had lost all significance to her. What she felt now was gratitude toward Alina Aster, who had gifted her the keychain, concerned for her safety on those late nights. “If any bullies harass you, just command the keychain to deal with the offender. It won’t kill anyone unless you want it to, but it will scare them enough for you to escape,” the chimerologist had explained. Who would have thought that this little charm would prove useful not in a dark alley but in her own home?

No. She would never again call this place her home — not with this person.

Indifferently observing Jürgen’s desperate attempts to salvage his remaining hair, Charlotte took her bag and stated coldly, “I’m filing for divorce and no longer wish to see you. I will communicate only through a lawyer.” Then, with a simple command, she summoned the chimera keychain to cease its aggression, and the fluffy creature obediently leaped onto her shoulder. Jürgen was so overwhelmed by shock that he didn’t even think to stop her. He regarded her as one might regard a complete stranger who might prove dangerous.

Marching toward the exit, Charlotte paused momentarily at the door, glancing back to deliver her parting words: “I will send someone for my things tomorrow.”

* * *

After the mages Bloomfield and Charlotte Becker began their work on the new project, I returned to my other tasks, though not without first conducting a few brief lessons for them. I answered questions and clarified various aspects of necromancy, as well as the unique properties of plants like Ivy. While Charlotte had a solid understanding of its outer characteristics and how to care for it, she lacked a deeper grasp of the specifics surrounding its existence — how magic sustained its “life” and allowed it to perform a variety of functions. Eventually, I assigned one of Alina’s team of chimerologists to assist the girls with these technical details. I believed his expertise would suffice, as both Alina and I were too occupied to lend our full attention right now.

We faced another significant upheaval on the horizon. I couldn’t pinpoint the exact moment I would need to side with the Velascos and the Sirens, but I sensed it was imminent. We had collectively decided against drawing too much attention to my involvement in this conflict for several reasons. Primarily, it could provoke some of the Greats to intervene in the impending division of the Salazars’ property. Simultaneously, my allies were eager to carve out their own reputations through this war. Although the Sirens had made a bold statement following Salazar’s death, they understood that to rise as a new Great Clan, they could not afford to back down. The Velascos had similar ambitions. They needed to project strength and confidence to deter any temptation outsiders might feel to seize what they were about to conquer. I understood their concerns well. A vassal clan, even with a robust ally, occupies a precarious position. If adversaries perceive any hint of weakness, they won’t hesitate to exploit it, even if only to get some swipes in at the Richters. If I was constantly forced to defend them, I knew I wouldn’t be able to operate effectively in other areas.

I resolved that only a select few types of my chimeras would engage in the conflict down south — those that wouldn’t be easily recognized as my servants. That meant no dinos, pters, Harrys, or my other significant creations. I needed to avoid anything too unusual. Instead, I’d go with reapers, cardinals, and perhaps a few bone hounds — forms that resembled ordinary people or their pets.

However, my recent focus on other creatures had left me with a limited stock. The cardinals were especially scarce, having already taken considerable damage in earlier battles. There was much work to be done. I also needed to upgrade the chimeras whose magical capabilities had relied on the crystals of abomination.

Yes, cardinals again. Their primary ability, beyond having chainsaw arms, was the capacity to concentrate a significant amount of energy, allowing them to smash through magic shields with a single blow. This, however, had required a massive amount of energy, and previously, I had no real choice but to resort to abomination to achieve it. That changed when I managed to create several natural energy accumulators, which were now continuously fueling the artifact batteries. This development made things considerably easier.

We had options. True, natural energy still lagged behind abomination in terms of efficiency and cost. Even at the convergence of natural energy lines, it took significantly longer to accumulate enough energy compared to clearing a small focus. But I wouldn’t let that be enough justification to resort to alien power again. My enemies could think whatever they liked, but I knew that abomination was unequivocally evil and must be eradicated. That meant I had to find a way to operate without it. In the future, not only would I need to close my grace processing plants myself, but I would also have to teach the world to live without this filth.

For the same reason, before shutting myself away in the workshop to work on the chimeras, I decided to pay Lifeng a visit. “I haven’t seen you in person for a long time,” she greeted me with a smile, spinning around in her computer chair as I entered her office. As always, she had curled up in her seat, sitting in a lotus pose. It was a feat only a petite hacker could manage, leaving half the chair vacant. A little dragon spirit nestled behind her, comfortably settled and peacefully snoring, oblivious to my presence.

“It looks like your bond is getting stronger,” I observed, smiling at the cozy scene.

“I don’t even know,” she replied with a playful shrug. “Sometimes it feels like he just wants to take my place. He used to sleep on my system unit or in a nearby chair, but now he insists on climbing onto my lap or the table in front of the monitor… to be honest,” she lowered her voice, “sometimes he’s too needy for me...”

Just then, the little dragon stirred awake, seemingly sensing it was being talked about. It must have understood her words, as it huffed indignantly, took flight from the chair, and landed on the windowsill, where it glared at her with a look of offense. Lifeng sighed. “And always so dramatic. As soon as I say something he doesn’t like, he throws a fit...”

“At least he doesn’t get in your way,” I noted.

“If only! He barely lasts a minute before he’s back at my table!” she laughed.

I settled into another chair beside her and suggested, “Maybe he needs more action? You’re used to being indoors, but the spirit needs to let off some steam. How about visiting the fields? Things are pretty lively there right now!”

She smiled. “Yes, I’ve heard. But, as I mentioned, I have absolutely no time for full-fledged spirit training. There’s just too much to do. And right now, you clearly didn’t just come to chat, did you?”

“That obvious, huh?” I replied playfully, quickly moving on to the matter at hand. “I need you to do something. I’ve been considering how it is that almost all modern technologies depend on abomination or grace — whatever you want to call it. This transformation didn’t occur overnight, and I want a condensed report on how civilization arrived at this point, as well as a more detailed account of any attempts to create technology using natural magic. If there were any, of course.”

Lifeng pondered for a moment. “An interesting task… However,” she shot me a sly glance, “you don’t usually ask me for anything unless it’s important. But can I ask why you need this? Do you really want to recreate all modern technology in a new form?”

“We will do it together,” I replied with a playful grin. “After all,” I added jokingly, “when I close all the sources again, I don’t want you to be left without work!”

Chapter 16

THE SITUATION IN THE FIELDS remained complex for an extended period. Despite receiving regular updates from the Bloomfields regarding their progress, it would have been overly optimistic to expect them to complete their experiments in a single day. In fact, it took over a week, which I considered a swift turnaround given the circumstances. Daisy and Rose were highly motivated by the challenges facing their plantings. While the guards and farmers continued to protect the crops, it was clear to everyone that without the aid of nature mages, our sprouts would struggle to survive.

Moreover, the assaults on the fields were intensifying day by day. Prokhor even requested that I allocate students from the academy to assist for a few days — not because the guards were overwhelmed by the minor pests, but simply because they needed more hands. After all, there was more than one field to tend to.

I appreciated the idea of involving the young Richters. It offered valuable practice for novice fighters. It was a completely safe yet important task that taught them to measure their strength, rather than merely swinging their blades with brute force. Precision and accuracy were demanded here, as it was crucial to eliminate the mutated rodents and insects without trampling the crops, lest such assistance be counterproductive.

As far as I knew, the students adapted quickly in the end. To enhance their motivation and inject excitement into the task, Olga, who also worked as their instructor, devised competitions featuring a ranking system and automatic tracking of the creatures they dispatched. We had Lifeng to thank for that innovation, as she had a suitable program designed to record everything live on video. The shadow scout birds were responsible for capturing the footage.

But everyone understood that true victory could only be celebrated once the Bloomfields and Charlotte successfully realized their new project. Around the middle of the second week of experiments, I was finally summoned to the field. I knew this wouldn’t be the first time the hybrid plants were tested, but it felt monumental with the scale of their efforts. As soon as I stepped out of the chimeramobile, all three girls rushed over to me, eager to explain the essence of their development in turn.

“We tried many methods,” Rose began, her excitement palpable. “But in the end, we settled on this one. Daisy, will you show?”

Daisy opened a small bag of seeds in front of me, saying, “These are demo samples, but we’ve already prepared several bags to try on an entire field.”

I didn’t even need to ask questions. The girls were ready to detail their work with enthusiasm. “Each seed has a small spike,” Rose continued. “But, in fact, it’s more like a connector. With its help, our mini-vines will attach to living plants, entering into something akin to symbiosis.”

“Unfortunately,” Charlotte interjected, “our attempts to directly cross the plants didn’t yield ideal results. We encountered numerous problems, the main one being that only a small portion of those plants was eventually capable of bearing fruit. Perhaps the girls could have perfected this technology, but due to time constraints, we decided to try a different approach.”

It was clear how much Charlotte was stressing over presenting this. She seemed to perceive it as a sort of examination, perhaps because I hadn’t assigned her any serious tasks before. I encouraged her gently, “The important thing is that you found a solution.”

“We hope so,” she replied modestly, her voice softening as she fell silent.

In contrast, Rose was eager to add as many details as possible. I had long sensed her enthusiasm and admired it; it was one of the qualities that had drawn me to her from the start. When a person is passionate about their work, they always strive to reach new heights. Yes, this often leads to more mistakes, as they venture into territories others might hesitate to explore. But I have always believed that this willingness to experiment is preferable to stagnation. Magic and science must evolve. I have held this conviction for as long as I can remember, and more than anyone, I understood the delight that comes when a concept transforms into a tangible reality. Whether the outcome is a success or a failure doesn’t matter; even failures impart valuable lessons. For example, they indicate what pathways are futile to pursue. So, I listened intently to Rose and her explanations, even when I struggled to grasp some of the nuances. After all, our areas of expertise varied significantly. I wasn’t shy about asking questions to clarify my misunderstandings.

By the end of our discussion, I had gained a comprehensive understanding of what the girls had devised, and I was genuinely impressed by the beauty of their idea. They hadn’t complicated the process with ordinary plants, leaving them intact, except for strengthening their root systems. Our mini-vines would literally attach to them, acting almost like parasites. They were like vampires of the plant kingdom, draining nutrients from the sprouts to bolster their own strength. This raised potential concerns, of course: the plantings would require more fertilizers and more frequent watering since they would essentially be feeding two organisms. However, the significant advantage was that the plants would be entirely protected from pests, maintaining their original taste and nutritional qualities. They would remain indistinguishable from the vegetables and grains everyone was accustomed to. It was now crucial to ensure that everything functioned as planned. Upon the girls’ command, the sowing of the field with the new seeds commenced. Remarkably, the farmers only needed to scatter them on the ground, and the rest was handled by the mini-vines.

I moved closer to observe a rather amusing spectacle. The prickly seeds, seemingly alive, were burrowing into the ground as if searching for their ‘victim.’ In just a minute, another branch appeared beside an ordinary seedling.

“It doesn’t look too impressive,” Rose justified herself, perhaps sensing my scrutiny. “But that’s just at first glance. You’ll see everything soon!”

I nodded, and we settled in to wait. Surprisingly, it was at that moment that the pests decided to take a break from their raids, as if sensing something was amiss. The girls, unable to contain their impatience, darted around the field, constantly checking on things, casting spells, and lamenting the absence of the creatures they desperately wanted to see.

I joked, “Even if the pests never show up again, it would mean we defeated them.”

Rose let out a nervous laugh. “Yes, but… I’ll lose my mind if I don’t see our experiment in action!”

Olga overhead this and stepped closer. “Even I’m curious. You know, Max, I used to play a game on my phone… I think it was called *Plants vs. Zombies.* Now I feel like we have to pass a new level.”

“Only this time on the zombies’ side?” I clarified.

“That’s true!” she laughed.

Fortunately, the wait didn’t last long. If it had, the girls would have surely reached their breaking point. In the distance, we could hear the guards shouting, but this time they didn’t hinder the invasion. A gray wave surged beyond the boundaries of the focus, encircling the guards like the sea does coastal boulders, and engulfed the crops. The fields were once again filled with tiny mutants. We were taking a significant risk by not engaging them at all. It was essential to determine if the plants could now fend for themselves.

At first glance, things didn’t look too rosy. The rodents scurried into the field without encountering any resistance, and set about their destructive business like they owned the place. But as soon as one of the hamsters buried its paws in the ground, trying to dig up seeds, the nearest sprout of mini-vine puffed up like a cobra. It lunged forward, ensnaring the pest with its spiky appendages, slamming it against the soil, and yanking it underground.

“Well, we saved on fertilizers,” Daisy snorted.

“True,” Rose happily agreed, “and we didn’t even plan this! A side effect!”

“Indeed…” Rose turned to me. “Future vegetable buyers probably shouldn’t know about this.”

I smiled. Let the Bloomfields call themselves nature wizards and take pride in their ecological methods, they were surprisingly pragmatic when it came to the fate of pests. If not to say cynical.

Meanwhile, there were almost no rodents left in the field. The mini-vines were swiftly and decisively handling this issue. The real test lay ahead in seeing how effective they would be against the locusts. There were still several times more insects than rodents, and the surviving ones had proven themselves to be quite clever. The few rodents that remained were scrambling away from the field, eager not to become food for the plants. However, they didn’t run far, halting at the edge of the plantings as if waiting for something or contemplating their next move.

“Here come the locusts!” Olga exclaimed in anticipation.

Indeed, a familiar cloud appeared on the horizon. To everyone’s surprise, the locusts didn’t fly directly onto the field but instead circled above the remaining rodents. It was as if the latter had telepathically communicated that the mini-vines left them no chance.

“This is new,” Prokhor, who had approached the others, remarked with a hint of amusement. The captain of the guards also couldn’t resist the urge to personally witness the experiment in action.

“Look!” Rose shouted. “What’s that?!” Before our eyes, an extraordinary spectacle unfolded. The locusts began to swirl above the surviving rodents, as if attempting to assume a new form. In a remarkable moment, they transformed, and on the field appeared a massive creature that was either a chipmunk or a hamster. Like a construction of chaos, the massive creature was assembled from thousands of smaller pests, now towering over the field like some kind of King Kong from a movie I had recently watched.

“Hot damn!” Prokhor said. “Every day these creatures find new ways to surprise us! Should the guards intervene?”

“No! Don’t!” Rose exclaimed, her voice urgent. “Let’s give the plants a chance to defend themselves.”

“Are you sure?” Olga asked, concerned. “It would be a shame to lose an entire field after we’ve guarded it for so long.”

“Positive!” the younger Bloomfield replied with conviction.

Even Daisy chimed in to support her. “We certainly didn’t plan for this,” she began cautiously, “but everything should work out. Otherwise, what’s the point of having a guard near the fields?”

“No one intervene,” I declared, putting an end to the discussion. My own curiosity piqued; I wanted to see how this would go. We could always deal with the creature later if necessary.

To our surprise, the mini-vines didn’t wait for the monster to charge onto the field and trample the sprouts. Sensing the impending threat, they began to grow rapidly, forming a formidable wall of thorny vines in front of the mutated hamster — much like their ancestor, the first Ivy, which guarded the Richter residence.

The monster was not quick to concede. It initially retreated, but that was only to build momentum for an assault. “It will demolish any barrier with just its mass!” Olga gasped, anxiety creeping into her voice.

But Charlotte countered her gently, “Our plants are stronger than they seem.”

Indeed, despite the odds being stacked against them, instead of breaking through the vines and rampaging onto the field, the enormous hamster became ensnared within them. The wall released new shoots continuously, each one wrapping around the beast and digging its thorns into its skin, effectively hindering its movement.

In the end, the hamster seemed to realize its predicament as well. It resorted to the only tactic left that might help: scattering into hundreds of tiny pests once again. This strategy worked for a moment, allowing some of them to slip free from the guardian plant’s grip. But only a few managed to escape. As they squeaked loudly, trying to flee, the vines hindered their flight. They whipped about, ensnaring and impaling the escapees on thorns with such swiftness that some spectators found it hard to track the details of what was going on.

“I don’t understand what’s happening,” admitted one of the farmers standing nearby, rubbing his eyes in disbelief.

“Me neither,” replied his equally shocked friend. “Is it safe to enter these fields? What if I get mistaken for a pest too?”

In about two minutes, it was all over. The colossal monster was defeated, along with the tiny pests that constituted it. There was no trace left behind as the mini-vines busily dragged everything unnecessary back underground.

“Well,” I summarized, “I guess it’s time to sow the rest of the fields!”

* * *

“Who do I see!” Phil exclaimed joyfully, practically racing to the table where Charlotte was seated. “Oh my! Lottie! It’s you!”

“It’s me,” Charlotte smiled, genuinely pleased to see him. She was sitting with Alina, Octavia, and Lara at one of the more intimate tables in the Academy café. Unlike the bustling general student cafeteria, this café offered a quieter atmosphere where one could enjoy a cup of coffee with delicious sweets or pastries. Charlotte had been brought here by Alina. The two girls had been friends and collaborators for some time, and now the chief chimerologist of the castle was introducing Charlotte to the other teachers she hadn’t met before.

Today, Charlotte had a particular reason for meeting with Alina. She needed to discuss her recent situation — she urgently needed to move out of her house. Although she had found a temporary apartment, she wanted to reside on the clan’s property, like many other clan staff members. It seemed safer, and it would save her from long commutes to work. Previously, the house she shared with her husband was just a stone’s throw away, so traveling wasn’t a problem. But now… Asking Maximilian himself about such a matter felt daunting. Though she had seen him recently in the fields, she didn’t dare approach him. The clan leader clearly had much more pressing issues to deal with than her relocation. She hoped that Alina’s father, who seemed to handle those kinds of matters, would be able to assist her. Charlotte hoped her request wouldn’t burden her friend.

As she looked around the café, Charlotte regretted that she had never visited this place before despite its popularity within the clan. In anticipation of the café’s success, it had been established in a separate building not far from the academy’s entrance. This way, anyone wishing to enjoy a delicious meal wouldn’t have to navigate through the corridors and classrooms, potentially disturbing the students. And the food here was exceptional. The head chef was none other than the renowned Fred. Legends abounded regarding his culinary talents, making the café a remarkable find for anyone seeking a delightful dining experience. Charlotte recognized this as undeniably true. The quality of the dishes was far superior to that of any elite restaurant in the city, where Jürgen had taken her on the day he had gotten his last promotion. Unbothered by the presence of others, Phil and Hans pulled up two more chairs and bombarded Charlotte with questions. She couldn’t hide anything from her old friends, and soon they discovered the details of her divorce.

“What? He touched you?!” Phil exclaimed, anger sparking in his eyes. “Just say the word! I’ll hit him!”

“Not at all. He can’t hurt me,” Charlotte shook her head. “That’s not why I left.”

“Then why?” Hans pressed, genuinely surprised.

“You might find this funny…” Charlotte blushed slightly, “but he started saying nasty things about the clan. I’ve gotten used to that treatment directed at me, but I can’t stand hearing that about people I respect!”

“No, sis, you’re right,” Hans replied, patting her on the shoulder. “The Richters are great people. I’d stand up for them too.”

“What did he say exactly?” Octavia asked sharply, her narrowed eyes keen with interest.

“Well…” Charlotte hesitated, “to sum it up briefly, he claimed that I was involved with terrible people. That necromancers can’t be normal. And that the fact they killed the princess of life only proves it… something like that,” she trailed off.

“Ah…” Octavia waved her hand dismissively. “Just the usual whining of a loser.” She quickly lost interest, and who could blame her? The Scipions were accustomed to hearing far worse remarks thrown their way.

But Lara decided to intervene in the conversation. “Well… to be honest, I’ve been thinking about this for a long time,” she said, drawing everyone’s attention to her.

“You mean you think necromancers are terrible too?” Alina asked, surprised.

“No!” Lara shook her head vigorously. “I mean that ordinary people, even mages, are still afraid of necromancers. And fear breeds rejection and even hatred. They might not express their true feelings openly, but it still surfaces in the end.”

“Hmmm…” Alina said thoughtfully. “You’re right. Who knows how many people in Richterberg actually can’t stand us. That’s… unpleasant.”

“If it were just unpleasant,” Lara replied, “I could handle that. But even I, though I’m not a member of your clan, have had people be extremely reluctant to help me once they learned who I was working for. You know, I often carry out tasks for Maximilian or Linda.”

“Not everything at once,” Octavia remarked philosophically. “Not for nothing, we’re using media to gradually acclimate people to necromancers.” She nodded at the two bros.

Phil seized the opportunity to jump into the conversation. “Are you kidding?” he exclaimed. “People are really into all sorts of gore! Have you seen the crowd at the cinema for the latest horror movie? There was a long line for tickets!”

“And those… what are they called?” Hans chimed in to support his brother. “Horror quests! People bring their own coins to get scared out of their wits! They literally spend money on scary stories!”

“Hmmm…” Alina mused, a thoughtful expression crossing her face. “I think I have an idea.”

Chapter 17

“MAX,” ALINA BEGAN slyly, “would you like to have some coffee with me?” Although she spent several hours each day at the academy, she always returned in the evenings to her cherished chimera workshop. Since I spent nearly all my time creating new servants and pets, we often crossed paths. Her tone was unusual, though, and prompted my curiosity.

“Right now? Should I send for Fred?” While my first undead primarily hung out at the academy café, neither my granddaughter nor I ever hesitated to take advantage of his culinary skills. He would drop everything to come to us at a moment’s notice, particularly since I could summon him with a simple mental command.

Alina flushed and, after a brief silence, added, “No, not here… and not just with me. There are a few other people who would like to talk to you.”

“Why all the secrecy?” I asked, surprised. “You can speak directly.”

The chimerologist hesitated again. Due to her natural modesty, Alina always found it difficult to ask for anything, even something as harmless as this. But she pressed on, “Yesterday we met after work, and had an idea. We’d like you to hear us out.”

I clarified who was involved in this little gathering, and as she named them, my interest peaked. The mix of personalities promised a heady brew. With three female teachers involved in the ‘conspiracy,’ I assumed the proposal was about the academy, though the presence of Phil and Hans puzzled me. Alternatively, I speculated that it might be connected to the blog Octavia helped the boys run, but then the interest of all the others remained unclear.

Determined not to delay, I followed Alina as she quickly called everyone together. Within half an hour, we gathered in that very café of the academy where their idea had first taken root, and now it was time for me to be initiated into it.

While everyone sat quietly, hesitant to kick off the conversation, Octavia decided to take the plunge. “The Richters need an amusement park,” she declared, stunning me into silence.

“Do you think we don’t have enough recreation?” I asked in disbelief. “I heard there’s already a fairy tale park in Richterberg dedicated to talking cartoon mice and fairy princesses. I can take you there in my spare time if this is such a dire need that you’ve gathered a whole delegation for it.”

“No,” she shook her head. “We won’t be the ones having fun.”

“If you want to take students there, I wouldn’t mind either.” I still couldn’t fathom what they sought from me. Did they want my approval for a school trip? I added cautiously, “But make sure to handle safety. Not just for our students, but for everyone around. Our youth from the past have not fully adapted to modern realities.”

“By the way, I was just thinking about excursions recently,” Lara chimed in, a puzzling hint that I had guessed incorrectly once again.

Alina tried to clarify. “No, Max, we mean…” But she didn’t get the chance to finish her thought. One of our bloggers — Hans, I assumed — interjected decisively. I didn’t often speak with them personally, so I struggled to distinguish between the two brothers. Besides, they were quite similar in their mannerisms, clothing, and even haircuts.

“What are you talking about? Let’s keep it simple! We need a clearing, workers, and your dinosaur! We’ll whip up some scary stories there, and it’ll be awesome!”

At that moment, Octavia slapped him lightly on the back of the head. “Hey, watch your mouth! You’re not shooting the shit with your buddy here,” she reprimanded him, effortlessly transitioning into their slang. “Don’t forget who’s the boss here.”

In that instant, I unexpectedly understood how she elicited the necessary actions and reactions from them in their videos. It seemed that the little witch had a talent for connecting with anyone, even without utilizing her mentalist skills.

“Ah! I got it, I got it! I’m being respectful, boss!” Hans exclaimed, rubbing his bruised spot and muttering quietly to his friend, “She knows I don’t fight with ladies, even if they attack first!”

“I can hear everything,” Octavia warned with a teasing threat in her voice. It was clear these guys had no idea what kind of fire they were playing with; the danger of a witch like Scipion lay far beyond her playful slaps.

However, this little squabble didn’t clarify much for me. “You want me to hand over Dino?” I asked, incredulous. “A boss-level combat undead? What do you plan to do with him?”

To my surprise, the entire group nodded in agreement. “Yes, we need Dino, a few raptors, maybe a pter,” Alina began to list off. “And permission to create other chimeras for various attractions.”

“Alright, enough with the riddles. Start from the beginning. Who thought up this bright idea, and most importantly, why?”

“Sorry, Max,” Alina said, glancing down. “It was my suggestion. I thought it was a good one…”

“Maybe it is good,” I replied calmly, “but please explain what its essence is.” Only then did I finally hear some coherent explanations.

Even so, it still took considerable effort to grasp all their arguments as the whole enthusiastic group scrambled to convince me that a park like this was crucial for the prosperity of the clan, particularly Richterberg. In their view, it would help people become accustomed to living alongside all kinds of undead more readily. Instead of fearing them genuinely, they would learn to fear them in a pretend way, as if they were experiencing something thrilling in Zombieland.

“And they’ll thank the wise Maximilian Richter, who arranged all the cool entertainment for them,” Lara Allen concluded.

“Let’s say,” I replied, brushing off her flattery, “that I have a small plot in mind on the outskirts of the city. It used to be a gang hideout, but you know our track record with gangsters, so now it’s largely abandoned. We can clear the area and build something like that…”

The faces around me lit up with unrestrained joy, but I had to temper their enthusiasm. “But don’t even think about involving Pter and the other battle pets. They’re needed for the war. Besides, where would we find enough free necromancers to stand guard in your park and oversee everything?”

“No,” Alina replied unexpectedly, her tone firm. “We can’t do without Dino. I understand he’s an important combat unit, but he would truly be a fantastic advertisement for the park. Please, Max. We can always return him to the army if needed.” She looked at me with such puppy-dog eyes that even my grandfather would have found it hard to refuse her right then and there.

The others immediately rallied to support her. It seemed this group was genuinely resolute about securing my undead, and nobody was willing to back down. The girls turned on all their charm, while the two bloggers jumped into character, creating a hilarious scene where one pretended to be a Tyrannosaurus and the other played an excited yet terrified park visitor. Inexplicably, the scene concluded with the dinosaur ‘eating’ the visitor, followed by a loud, satisfied burp that drew Octavia’s disapproving glare.

“Behave yourselves, clowns!” she scolded. Then she turned to me. “Max, I assure you, no one will be harmed. We’ll take care of that. That is the duty of necromancers. We’ve already come up with an idea…” She suggested involving the youth, which could provide another excellent and safe form of practice for them, similar to what they had recently experienced in the fields.

Lara added, “I try as much as I can to make it easier for them to integrate into the modern world. But practice is essential. I genuinely believe that managing the park will be a valuable lesson for them. They’ll encounter different people, get to know them, and observe how they behave and communicate…”

In the end, I relented. Not entirely because their arguments were so convincing, though they did play a part, but mainly due to the sheer passion and belief they all had in this idea. Their enthusiasm was infectious. Even without any experience in construction or planning attractions, they were ready to tackle all aspects of the project, fully aware that it would take time and effort. Alina pulled out a whole folder filled with drawings, diagrams, and concepts for their future Zombieland, all sketched out in just a couple of evenings. The notion seemed utterly crazy to me, but that was part of its charm.

Still, I hesitated to entrust such a significant task solely to amateurs. So we concluded our discussion with my promise to find a few professionals to join their team. Naturally, I started with Ignatius.

* * *

The next day, I found the senior Aster at one of the city’s construction sites, arriving just in time for the morning briefing. Inside the unfinished building, nearly a dozen men had gathered around him, not all of them alive. At first, I didn’t grasp the purpose of their meeting, but Ignatius confidently delivered instructions for the day to everyone present. I chose not to interrupt. I wanted to observe his leadership style.

Ignatius possessed a gift, though it was modest. Nature had generously endowed Alina, but her father had not been able to develop his abilities to the point of controlling even one undead as a fully-fledged necromancer. Yet, these dead servants could understand simple voice commands from ordinary people, given that their creator designated a specific person to issue those orders. Thus, all the undead teams under his command followed his directives. But a briefing? Complex instructions? Dead foremen? Wasn’t this a bit much for someone who was ostensibly ungifted? And yet, the lifeless servants appeared to listen attentively, grasping everything he said. On the contrary, the living ones struggled.

“Basil, why are you without a helmet?” Aster confronted one of the men.

“Uh, I… asked for leave yesterday. I just popped in for a second. I’ll listen to you and then return to my tasks. I won’t be on shift till lunch!”

“For a second?!” Ignatius continued to scold him. “The undead over there don’t even have brains, and they wear helmets! Put it on right now! And I don’t want to hear any more excuses!”

“Right away!” the frightened Basil complied without argument, especially when one of the dead foremen produced a spare helmet and offered it to him.

Just then, another living man burst into the meeting. “Sorry I’m late!” he shouted.

“That’s fine,” Ignatius said sternly, “but where were you slacking off yesterday, huh?”

“Well, I… was sick. Didn’t anyone tell you?”

“Oops,” another foreman joined in, “I forgot.”

“— He was sick! Steve over there is altogether dead, yet he still goes to work every day! Alright, listen…”

In this manner, about fifteen more minutes passed. Ignatius detailed his instructions to everyone before he and I were left alone. I asked immediately, “do the undead really follow all your long and detailed instructions?”

Clearly taken aback by the question, he replied, “Of course. We’ve been together for so long! Although… to be honest, it was a little difficult at first. We started with one simple command, and then they gained experience. Now they understand better than the living!”

I grunted. It was hard to deny that his foremen were well on their way to rivaling Fred in development. Still, it was a new concept for me. As a necromancer, I had never needed to build a dialogue with the undead or convey my thoughts through straightforward explanations. So, it caught me off guard how comprehending they could become at high levels. Perhaps this was why everyone enjoyed talking with Fred so much. Unlike me, they could interact with him in a regular manner. Maybe I should consider conducting some tests on Ignatius’s foremen to see what level they had achieved. Perhaps I could cultivate an officer corps for my guard this way. Prokhor would be surprised to see one of the undead competing for his spot. Imagining his reaction made me smirk, and I made a mental note to explore this idea further later on.

For now, I was here for something else. When I began explaining that we needed a team of builders for the park, Ignatius shook his head. “Of course, I will do everything I can. But I’ll have to push back deadlines for some other projects. We’re putting out fires every day, Mr. Richter. If only I had a couple more squads at my disposal…”

I smiled, the thought already forming in my mind. “You will have new undead. Especially after seeing how skillfully you handle them…” I promised without hesitation. We had successfully eradicated nearly all crime in Richterberg, and most of the former gangsters were now working for Ignatius at the construction site. Recently, the police department had begun bringing in those detained for administrative offenses or minor crimes for excursions, showcasing the alternative paths available to them. This initiative aimed to highlight the prospects of a future criminal career, and as a result, the rate of recidivism had decreased severalfold. Richterberg had become one of the safest cities on the planet. But the influx of new workers at the construction site had almost come to a halt.

Costa Sirena still had its fair share of brazen gangs. Not to mention, with the impending war in the south, there would certainly be enough labor to go around. The prospect of tapping into those resources offered a promising solution for our needs. I felt confident that we could find the manpower necessary to help bring Alina and the others’ vision for the amusement park to life. All we needed was a little time and a bit of effort to direct the available workforce.

* * *

“Don’t even think about it, lizard!” Mateo Garcia shouted triumphantly, pouring magic into the wyverns spiraling high above the border fortress that protected the city with the enchanting name of Charmant. The Garcia clan was not just among the strongest combat clans, excluding the Greats, of course. Their gift was also unusual. Some even speculated that they had somehow mastered two elements simultaneously: Fire and Wind. This notion wasn’t entirely accurate, but the Garcias guarded their secrets jealously, deliberately stoking the flames of doubt among their foes to discourage any challengers from confronting them.

In reality, they controlled just one element, but Mateo had perfected it. By heating the air, he could conjure genuine fire tornadoes, instilling terror in his enemies. He passed this skill along to the other strong members of his clan, and fiery whirlwinds soon became a hallmark of the Garcia family. In addition to that, they wielded devastating spells like fire rain, walls of lava, and other forms of destructive magic.

As a result, the wyverns of the Velasco clan found themselves at a significant disadvantage. This especially angered Isabella. Unaccustomed to defeat, she blamed herself for allowing the Garcia clan to establish a stronghold in the fortress of Charmant. For two days, they had struggled to smoke out the Garcias, but the Velascos were used to dominating the skies, and now it seemed that advantage meant nothing. That damn Mateo and his crew had driven the Velascos away like flies with flamethrowers. Several strong fighters from Isabella’s clan had ended up in the hospital with singed wings. Unfortunately, such injuries could not simply be healed by reverting to human form. In that state, the damage could worsen, resulting in severe burns across the back. So the Velasco preferred to heal in their reptile form when faced with such injuries.

At the same time, Mateo Garcia was clearly preparing for battle. Despite Isabella’s efforts in personally poisoning a couple of them with toxic sparks, those wyverns miraculously returned to duty the very next day. It seemed the Garcias had either managed to procure potent antidotes or had developed them on the spot, which was far more likely. Isabella’s poison was distinctive, much like the toxic concoctions crafted by other formidable members of her clan.

The situation was infuriating, and Bella couldn’t shake her irritation. She had initially hoped to swiftly capture the provinces they needed and earn Maximilian’s admiration as he observed her strength. Now, it appeared she would have to abandon those fantasies. Despite her pride, Isabella Velasco was a practical individual. She understood that holding a captured city meant far more than fleeting pride or admiration, especially when her clan’s worth diminished without it.

So, with a mix of annoyance and resolve, she ordered her wyvern squad to retreat once again. Upon returning to camp, she presented herself before Alvaro. “It’s time,” she stated firmly. “Without the Richters’ help, we won’t take this fortress.”

Chapter 18

“WELL LOOK WHAT THE CAT dragged in! Is it the new master of the district?” the thug nicknamed “Boar” drawled in an overly sweet voice. He truly resembled that animal, not just in his large, stocky build, but even in his facial features. Yet this was no harmless pig. He was a wild, aggressive beast capable of crushing his opponents with sheer mass.

But Boar didn’t need brute strength to assert his dominance. He possessed magic that allowed him to conduct business on a whole different level. He was not alone, either — there were nine of them now. Although the others lacked the magical prowess of their leader, they were well-versed in using brass knuckles and clubs, perfectly capable of delivering a knife to the gut without a hint of hesitation. With this backing, Boar felt entirely confident.

His supposed opponent, despite looking like a typical criminal himself, especially with that face, had only four ordinary workers alongside him. They appeared worn out, pallid, and intensely indifferent. Perhaps, he mused, they were nothing more than junkies performing menial tasks for a fix. None of that concerned Boar. His primary objective was to make this unimaginably rich kid understand how things operated in Costa Sirena.

The newcomer brandished some official paper from the city hall, and looked utterly naïve. Instead of showing any sign of intimidation, he turned toward Boar, scanning his gang with a bored expression and even yawning before responding.

“Well, yes, I am the master. What did you want?” he asked, his tone dripping with disrespect.

“You should understand,” Boar switched to a rougher tone, “you’re a newcomer here, clearly unfamiliar with the rules. But don’t worry, we’ll explain them to you right now.”

As he spoke, his comrades encircled the unyielding newcomer. By all accounts, this should have prompted him to tense up, yet not a single muscle twitched on his hardened face. Boar was momentarily taken aback. Could it be that someone formidable was backing this kid? The boss hadn’t mentioned anything. He’d said it was just an ordinary city brat — some nightclub operator trying to expand his operations but barking up the wrong tree.

A smirk crossed Boar’s face as he thought of this, and he said, “Whatever you might have thought you thought, remember this: we are the real owners of this area. If you want to do business here, you’re going to have to pay a tax.”

“I have another idea,” their opponent declared boldly. “I pretend I didn’t hear anything, and you get the hell out of here and forget the way back forever.”

Boar felt a surge of satisfaction at this defiance. To hell with the verbal sparring! A bat to the head explains the situation far more effectively. “You want to do it the hard way?” he growled. “Let’s take him down, guys!”

With a fierce whoop, the gang charged forward. Yet, almost instantly, something went wrong. Boar couldn’t comprehend what had just happened, but the first wave of attackers crumpled to the ground right in front of the brat. While they groaned, the loaders seized them from the asphalt and dragged them away like refuse. Boar rushed toward them, channeling his magic to pump his muscles.

What’s the hell is going on here? He would quickly show them who’s boss!

But before he could take more than a few steps, he found himself on the ground, under the boot of the smirking brat. And, as if that wasn’t enough, the kid instantly delivered a solid kick, then another, and another. The assault continued until Boar lost consciousness.

When he came to, he found himself in a desolate area, surrounded by his comrades, all thoroughly beaten. Each of them struggled to get up, some likely nursing broken bones. They groaned as if a steamroller had flattened them.

“What was that?” one of them asked Boar, his voice little more than a tiny rasp. The others directed silent, questioning looks at him.

“Hell if I know,” he replied. “I guess this bastard is not so simple! But it’s okay! Gloomy will quickly put them in their place!”

“Exactly!” several of his comrades enthusiastically supported him. “Gloomy won’t let this go!” The rallying shouts of his friends reinforced Boar’s resolve. Nobody wanted to accept that they had screwed up, so he recognized the need to press on this angle.

“It’s even better!” he exclaimed, his confidence swelling. “That little bastard showed that he only understands harsh treatment! We’ll come back tomorrow with Gloomy’s whole gang! That brat will unload even more goods! He could have bought his way out with a small, regular tribute, but now the rich kid is really in trouble! We’ll take him for everything he’s got! He doesn’t know who he’s fucking with. But he’ll find out tomorrow!”

* * *

“And you just let them go?” I asked, surprised. “I don’t remember you being so magnanimous.” As soon as I arrived in Costa Sirena, Alan had briefed me on a recent incident. Some local thugs had attempted to extort us, and Kowalski had firmly set them straight. Yet, for some reason, he had then tossed them out into the wasteland outside the city.

“They’ll come back,” Alan had replied confidently. “I know that kind. They’re probably already whining to some local crime boss. Tomorrow, the whole gang will show up. That’s when we’ll catch them off guard.”

I grunted. “I hope you’re right. We could use a replenishment of corpses.”

“Absolutely!” Alan responded enthusiastically. “I’ve only been here a day, but I already see this is a city full of suckers.”

Alan had arrived before us because I was still preoccupied with creating new chimeras before heading to assist the Velasco clan. Kowalski was eager to familiarize himself with his new surroundings. When he learned we planned to acquire all the warehouse spaces in one of the districts of Costa Sirena, he practically begged me to let him handle it. Despite successfully managing Silk Club in the capital, Alan had been feeling restless. Club affairs required little constant oversight when everything ran smoothly. Kowalski had effectively delegated tasks to former club administrators who had joined our side after the war with the Mao.

He complained of feeling as if he had been cast aside in life. “Olga teaches at the academy,” he complained, “Prokhor heads the special corps of Richterberg, and I’m relegated to catering to all sorts of rich drunks. If it weren’t for the training with the guards that I occasionally get to attend, I’d probably have drunk myself into oblivion by now!”

Surprisingly, even Lifeng had defended Alan. “Max, everything really is going great with the club,” she said when I asked if she had any other candidates in mind for the position of warehouse owner. I wasn’t in a rush to make a decision, I wanted to choose the most suitable person based on objective criteria.

“I just recently talked to Mao Wei about this,” Lifeng continued. “At first, Alan really brought a breath of fresh air to Silk Club. He staffed the team with excellent professionals, so now the kitchen and bar are among the best in the city. He found a fantastic designer who modernized the decor while preserving the individuality of Silk Club. Not to mention how well he’s worked on the cultural program. The club now constantly hosts renowned musical performers and stand-up comedians. It’s packed every evening and night!”

“But?” I prompted.

“But now everything operates like clockwork. Alan is just wasting his potential and getting bored. I think he really needs a business trip to Costa Sirena. Old Kowalski needs a shake-up.”

I paused to consider her words. I couldn’t recall the last time I had visited Silk Club, and I wasn’t even sure if I had reviewed recent reports. Financial matters for the clan were primarily overseen by Arnold Zeppelt and Linda Aster and they only reported to me when issues arose.

Interestingly, Silk Club had never fallen into that category of “something.” This was part of why it had almost completely escaped my attention. This made perfect sense. The more property the clan acquired, the more difficult it became to manage each asset personally. It was essential to have as many capable people as possible to distribute responsibilities, allowing me to focus solely on what could not be resolved without my presence. So, I listened attentively to Lifeng as she presented the financial report on the club’s performance as proof of her claims. Of course, copies of such documents were also stored in our computer database.

After her glowing recommendation, I had no choice but to take action. Alan was granted a new appointment, and this time I resolved to carefully monitor how he would conduct business in his new role. To be honest, while I trusted him with the club, I hadn’t considered that Kowalski had the strong organizational talent everyone claimed he did. Would he manage the new task just as effectively, or had he simply gotten lucky with Silk Club? I would find out soon enough.

In the meantime, activities in the warehouses were in full swing. We had about a day and a half left before our departure to Salforte, from where we would then head directly to Charmant.

* * *

“So, he didn’t get it…” mused Gloomy, reflecting on Boar’s account. Despite the loser’s tale, his mood remained excellent, even if it seemed to others that he was his usual, perpetually dissatisfied self. This perception was largely due to the peculiar shape of his thick, bushy eyebrows that gave him that constant frown.

“He seemed really stupid to me, boss!” Boar vented, frustration etched on his rough features.

Gloomy chuckled, casually responding, “So, you couldn’t even handle a dumbass. You’re not much use to me, are you, Boar?”

Boar’s embarrassment was evident as he blushed, which only drew more smiles from those around him. The contrast against his rugged visage and massive form made it all the more amusing.

“He used some trick! Maybe he got an artifact or something. Or maybe the mage is just stronger than me,” Boar was reluctantly forced to admit.

“Alright,” Gloomy conceded, “I’ll have to explain to him properly about your little disgrace. You say he unloaded a lot of goods?”

Boar nodded eagerly, feeling a surge of confidence. There was no doubt in his mind that the boss would handle this situation. That Kowalski’s gonna get it good, he thought, trying to remember the rich kid’s name, ignited by a sense of impending retribution.

* * *

Gloomy decided not to take any risks. With Boar taken down so easily, he realized it was unwise to underestimate the newcomer. Who knew what card he had up his sleeve? Plus, Gloomy never understood ‘villains’ who sent weak squads to capture a hero. Why do that? To give the hero time to level up? It made no sense. If they could just show up with an entire army and eliminate the threat while it was still small, why wouldn’t they?

While Gloomy certainly didn’t consider Kowalski a hero, he prided himself on being a villain smart enough to avoid stupid jams like the one Boar had gotten himself into. He got his whole gang together to make sure they showcased the true balance of power to the newcomer.

In fact, he had yielded to Demare’s pressure, which had forced him to relinquish part of the warehouses and sell them back to the city. Gloomy had been using those warehouses for smuggling but had cleverly disguised his operations. The fools in law enforcement had no evidence against him — no proof whatsoever. Thus, even as he sold the property, Gloomy was determined to squeeze the maximum price out of Demare. They wanted to resell everything to a city buyer. But the true owner of this territory had a different plan: according to him, everything was to return to him quickly, maybe even for free. Gloomy intended to press the rich idiot who didn’t understand the game he was entering, forcing him to transfer the warehouses back to him. This way, he’d pocket the money from Demare while retaining ownership of the property. It was a plan as reliable as clockwork. No room for error.

As for magic or some artifact, Gloomy wasn’t afraid. He was a seasoned enforcer, not just a petty thief. In the company of his loyal crew, he headed toward the warehouses in high spirits, anticipating a lucrative haul. Whatever that rich kid was transporting, they would undoubtedly find a far better use for it.

The porters, noticing the crowd of thugs, completely ignored them, continuing to scurry back and forth, transporting heavy boxes from the warehouse to the back of a large truck. Gloomy licked his lips. Those were nice wheels.

Striding up to one of the workers, he grabbed the loader by the collar and demanded brusquely, “Bring your employer to us. We have business.” But the loader didn’t even blink, his gaze vacant. Boar had been right, these workers were likely on something. Realizing he wouldn’t get anywhere this way, Gloomy released the empty-headed fool and whistled as loudly as he could, a skill he’d always prided himself on. He could make a sound so piercing that it sometimes shattered glass. Especially when he added a bit of magic.

“If they don’t come out in five minutes,” he declared to his men, “we’ll break in ourselves.” The response from his crew was a chorus of approving shouts. It was clear they were in the mood for some excitement.

Less than a minute later, however, a figure appeared at the warehouse door. A tall blonde man in an expensive tailored suit stepped out, his demeanor unhurried as he surveyed the assembly of bandits, showing not the slightest trace of fear.

Boar, standing nearby, felt the need to interject. “That’s not the rich kid. He sent someone else instead of himself, idiot!” he spat.

“Got it,” Gloomy nodded, turning his attention back to the blonde. “Hey, where’s your boss Kowalski? Bring him here!”

The man simply smiled and stepped closer, regarding Gloomy with curiosity. “Kowalski turned out to be right — that’s a point for him,” he observed quietly before adding louder, “You can tell me everything you were going to say to him. I’ll pass it on.”

“What’s so hard to understand?” Boar said, taking a step forward. “We need your boss! Serious people here. Don’t make this harder—”

Gloomy cut him off with a gesture, signaling him to shut up. He didn’t want Boar’s bluster to mess up whatever precarious advantage they might have. “Well, since Kowalski is so afraid of meeting us, we’ll first take what’s rightfully ours. He must pay… the tax,” Gloomy declared with a smirk, echoing Boar’s earlier words. “Open the boxes. Let’s see what you have here.”

“By all means,” the blonde shrugged dismissively.

With a wave of his hand, the loaders placed several large wooden crates right in front of Gloomy. “And you’ll clearly be smarter than your boss,” Boar commented, his eyes gleaming with greed.

Gloomy ordered his henchmen to open the loot he already envisioned as his. Curiosity ignited within him as he anticipated what lay inside.

But as soon as the first box was unsealed, the head of the opener fell from his neck with a sickening thud, rolling down the road and leaving a trail of blood behind. Everything transpired so quickly that the gangsters wouldn’t process what had just happened for another several seconds. Meanwhile, terrifying brutes with blade-like arms began to leap out of the boxes, surprisingly agile for their size. Within moments, several more bodies hit the ground.

The smarter thugs bolted for safety, but none among them were destined to escape the warehouse district. Even Gloomy, who had boasted about his rank as an executor, lasted barely a minute against these monstrous foes.

* * *

“Sir! We have a report from the warehouse district!” one of the ordinary law enforcement officers burst into the police chief’s office in Costa Sirena. But the chief seemed not to hear him, continuing to focus intently on something on his computer screen. “Well, not from the warehouse itself… but from the neighboring one. People are complaining that there’s some serious commotion. About a hundred people. Shouting, gunshots, noise… We need your permission to send in reinforced patrols!”

At the mention of gunfire, the chief finally looked up. “I do not permit it,” he declared firmly.

“But why?” the officer asked, surprised by the refusal.

“Direct order from Philip Demare. No matter what happens in that block, even if it’s a full-blown apocalypse, we must not intervene,” the chief replied, dragging the cursor over a red ace to close the solitaire game, snorting in disbelief at his own words. “Let them kill each other if they want.”

Chapter 19

THE SCUFFLE WITH THE THUGS was brief, lasting less time than we would later spend dealing with their bodies. It was surprising that no one had buried these weaklings before us. Sure, one of them was an executor, but even the weakest clans usually possess a bit more combat potential. While I wasn’t shocked by the presence of so many small, fleeting gangs in the capital, as big cities always have room for petty thieves that people ignore except for their victims, Costa Sirena was a bit too small for that kind of organized crime. It was especially curious that these groups enjoyed clout among local merchants and other businesspeople. Extortion becomes a rather unpromising endeavor without a solid backing.

Even though the clans here were weaker and there were generally fewer mages compared to Richterberg, they weren’t entirely absent. The Demare clan worked to maintain order as best they could, so I assumed there was likely some manner of criminal hierarchy existing here as well. The gang that had eyed our boxes surely had its own cover somewhere. Smuggling is a lucrative business, one that many ‘upstanding citizens’ and even aristocrats might revolve around in their quest to line their pockets.

I didn’t dwell on these thoughts for long. Whether it was true or not, we would find out in due time. Even if no one else tried to infringe upon our warehouses, sooner or later, it would all come to light. That meant we’d be in line for another batch of excellent corpses. Or maybe several batches.

I hadn’t anticipated that the labor shortage would be replenished so swiftly and without effort on our part. But I did have to temper Alan’s expectations, who thought the newcomers would settle down in Costa Sirena to work in the warehouses and at the port. At least part of them I planned to send to the capital under Ignatius’s command. But not right away. I wanted to wait until after we headed to Salforte. Despite having prepared many chimeras for the journey in Richterberg with Alina, I felt the need to continue working here along the coast as well.

Isabella had warned me that Garcia was a master of fire magic, and I immediately recognized the need for as many chimeras with opposing water magic as possible. While I could create them anywhere using runes, the magical flows were heterogeneous. Enchanting a chimera with spells related to water would be far more effective when near the same element. This connection not only strengthened the spells the chimera could use but also conserved the energy the necromancer expended.

Keeping that beneficial property in mind, I decided to establish a temporary workshop right on the coast, in one of the port warehouses that now belonged to the Richters. While creating chimeras is generally easier and faster in the capital thanks to our fully established processes and specialized equipment, I had grown accustomed to crafting my creations in less-than-ideal field conditions, particularly when actively clearing foci. I was not at all mad at the thought of doing it again. I had always believed that it’s not the tools that define the master. A true professional can achieve impressive results even under challenging circumstances.

As soon as we tidied up the warehouse area, I set to work, motivated by the prospect of taking fresh undead with me. I would need all the help I could get, as time was of the essence. Olga, who had accompanied me, reluctantly joined in. The initial curiosity she had when I first taught her to create chimeras had long since waned. Now, she engaged in this work purely out of necessity. At other times, she preferred to hone skills more suited to her fiery nature, and I had no objections to that. Raising necromancers who excel in every area is no easy task. It’s far more effective to allow each individual to develop in accordance with their own tendencies and strengths. After all, it would be unreasonable to expect a very young girl to keep pace with someone who has lived for centuries. By the time Olga reaches my age, who knows what skills she will have mastered beyond mere combat? I certainly didn’t learn everything at once.

She already displayed certain abilities in chimerology. Although not as pronounced as Alina’s, Olga could focus when necessary and typically avoided making dumb mistakes. Her assistance proved to be incredibly timely. By evening, we accomplished all I had set out to do, and with a clear conscience, we loaded the new servants and pets onto the destroyer provided by the Sirens. Of course, it had been part of the Salazar fleet. We had been fortunate that some combat ships had not been caught in the meat grinder at Salforte and that no one had snatched them away from us in the interim. But we couldn’t boast of a particularly rich haul. Besides this destroyer, the Sirens had only managed to capture a few corvettes so far — small but fast and maneuverable vessels. All of them were still stationed in the port of the former capital of the Salazars.

* * *

Contrary to expectations, travel between Salforte and Charmant didn’t rely solely on the railway. Old Armand’s lands were profitable not only because of their resources but also due to the sparse settlements dotting the fertile lands surrounding the cities. Perhaps the cunning Salazars actively protected their clan territories, keeping the abomination from spreading excessively and threatening their business. This sensible approach could earn Armand a nod of respect from me, if he weren’t as much of a traitor as all the others.

As we traveled, the road to Charmant wound through hills that unveiled stunning vistas. Golden wheat fields alternated with rows of flourishing vineyards on the southern slopes. Small villages scattered along the hilltops featured houses made of sandstone, adorned with red-tiled roofs, white walls, and bright shutters. Along the road, fences of lavender stretched out, their fragrant aroma filling the air. Nestled within the silver foliage of olive groves, old fountains and wells lay hidden, adding to the charm. On the mountain terraces, vibrant red poppies mingled with sunny yellow sunflowers, forming a colorful carpet over the valley as a warm breeze rustled through the treetops, carrying the scents of herbs and flowers. This idyllic scene made a notable impression on Olga and Alan, who hadn’t traveled much in their lives. The landscape around Richterberg, scarred by abomination for centuries, could hardly be described as picturesque. Despite his commitments in Costa Sirena, Kowalski was along for the ride too. Business could wait, and he would benefit from some combat practice.

The three of us rode on horseback, while the crates containing chimeras traveled slightly ahead in the vans. As we passed a quaint village, Olga remarked dreamily, “The charm of the south is unmatched. Perhaps it was a mistake not to claim at least one city for ourselves? Maybe it’s not too late, Max? What about a small village? How about this one! We could set up a resort there…”

“We can do that without direct control over the land,” I said with a smile. “Besides, you can’t even imagine how good Richterberg can be under competent management. After our clan was defeated, it seemed like no one cared about preserving the historical image of the capital. But now, we will work on that.”

“No, Max, you don’t understand,” my granddaughter shook her head. “I love our city. Especially now that it belongs to us. But the mild climate here is simply irresistible.”

Alan piped up in agreement. “That’s true. Even I feel a bit romantic looking at these views.”

Olga laughed. “Or maybe you just liked that sweet peasant girl in the hat with lavender and big… talent.”

“What peasant girl?” Alan frowned immediately, confusion crossing his face.

“Oh, don’t pretend you didn’t notice,” she replied slyly. “Five minutes ago, she waved at us and was flirting with you and Max.”

“I didn’t see anything. I don’t even look at girls,” Kowalski replied gloomily. “I’m thinking about business. And about this… upcoming battle.”

I chuckled at his reaction. His embarrassment made it clear he was worried that Olga might say something inappropriate in front of Alina. Alan had been trying persistently to win over our chief chimerologist, and feared that a stray comment could destroy all his efforts.

Olga seemed to sense his anxiety and softened her demeanor. “Don’t worry,” she reassured him. “It wasn’t you she waved at.”

The road passed beneath us quickly, and even on horseback, we reached Charmant in just a few hours. The Velasco siege camp was set up away from the city, ensuring we wouldn’t have to worry about potential sorties from the Garcias and their long-range fire magic. They had chosen a location beneath one of the hills, which effectively concealed the attackers from enemy sight and was additionally protected by an energy dome. Of course, patrols were everywhere, keeping vigilant watch over the perimeter. The swift and powerful monitor lizards crawled across the ground, while at least one wyvern continuously circled in the air, surveying all approaches to the camp from above. All precautions had been meticulously taken.

“It’s just that…” Isabella began to update me almost immediately. “The situation is a stalemate. Garcia tried to send scouts our way a couple of times but quickly abandoned the idea after losing each one. They don’t want to engage us in a head-on confrontation.”

“Why?” I asked for clarification. “On the phone, you mentioned it was very difficult for you to fight them.”

“Yes,” she nodded. “But only when they’re behind fortress walls. They possess incredibly strong magic, that’s true. But they don’t have the kind of powerful and sturdy combat forms that we do. If they choose to attack in the open, they won’t stand a chance against me and our other wyverns.”

“So the main difficulty is that you don’t know how to draw them out of the city?”

“Yes!” Isabella exclaimed fiercely, almost slapping her thigh in frustration. “Those cowards fled to Charmant as soon as they realized Armand was dead. They’ve fortified themselves there and have successfully repelled all our attacks. To reach them now feels like we’d need to level the entire city to the ground, which, as you can imagine, is completely impractical.”

I understood her frustration. No one wanted destruction and ruin. “Well,” I nodded, “can you give me a little tour? I want to see the fortress with my own eyes.”

She was taken aback for a moment, blushing as if she might steam from her ears. “You… you want me to carry you on my back?” she stammered.

I hadn’t meant it in that way, but now that Isabella had suggested it, it felt silly to refuse. So I smiled and replied, “Yes.” Especially since her reaction was so entertaining. It seemed for her, it carried an implication more intimate than even sharing a bed. However, I could see that she genuinely liked the idea, so I made sure she couldn’t back down.

The little reptilian soon shook off her embarrassment. She did ask me to turn away while she transformed into her battle form, and I obliged without argument. In just a minute, I found myself riding a powerful flying wyvern. The sensations were pretty awesome, especially when recalling how this formidable creature presented itself in human form. It was particularly amusing to observe Bella’s reaction when I scratched behind her ear. More precisely, around the small horn that covered her ear. She let out an adorably flustered snort and immediately launched into the air, seemingly to distract me from my playful antics. Still, I managed to find the time to tickle her neck while she soared toward our destination.

Despite the fun of teasing Bella, I kept my focus on the task at hand. I carefully examined the fortress we needed to contend with. The first thing that struck me was the fact that a wall had been preserved around the city, clearly from ancient times. Its age did not lessen its strength or effectiveness in the slightest, it was well-maintained even in present times. Modern firearms like Manticores and Phoenixes were mounted in the embrasures, and crucial points were shielded by energy barriers. The fortress itself was perched on a low but solid rock formation, providing its guards with an excellent vantage point over the surrounding lands. This made it difficult for attackers to execute any tricks intended to capture the fortifications easily. Tunneling or ramming the walls would be futile here. It would require nothing short of a suicidal assault.

Of course, everything would have been simpler if it weren’t for their fire spells. I could see firsthand that a straightforward assault on this defense would not succeed. However, I had a few ideas brewing in my mind, and I voiced them to Isabella when we returned to camp.

“Of course, we thought about it, Max! Poison is our specialty, after all. All roads from the city, including the railway owned by the Desmonds, are blocked by us. Well, at a safe distance, of course. The Garcias can’t get out either.”

“But?” I prompted, curious.

“But we couldn’t poison their water source because we have no idea how to approach it! They have a well there. Without it, any prolonged defense of the city would be pointless. But we haven’t been able to figure out exactly where the underground stream that runs beneath the hill begins. So we had to abandon that idea,” she said regretfully.

“Reasonable,” I agreed with her. “But I still have one idea. It just might take some time to execute.”

“How much?” Bella asked, tension etching her features. “The Garcias’ scouts we intercepted said Mateo has already made arrangements with some of his old allies, and soon another combat clan will come to their aid. Things could get hairy.”

“Don’t worry,” I said, putting my hand on her shoulder. “There’s nothing more foolish than storming a fortress like this one head-on. The number of defenders inside won’t matter much, let’s put it that way.”

She nodded, leaning against me. “I believe you, but still, what exactly do you want to do? Are you sure this will even work and that it’s worth delaying the battle?”

I didn’t have a precise answer, so I replied honestly, “Everything will be decided tonight. Either I’ll succeed, or in the morning, we’ll go for the usual assault.”

Isabella looked at me with surprise, then sighed sadly. “No details, right?”

“Later,” I smirked. “I don’t like to discuss plans in advance about things that might not pan out.”

* * *

Along with the chimeras, our cargo trucks were loaded with chests containing trophy artifacts that we had acquired after the war with the Salazars. Most of these artifacts worked, one way or another, with water elements and spells, so I was certain they wouldn’t go to waste. It must be noted that Armand had accumulated a considerable number of trinkets over his long life, and sorting through them all was no small feat. Luckily, the Sirens, who had a far better understanding of water magic than I did, had helped sort the piles of artifacts. Without their expertise, the task of identifying each piece would have turned into an entertainment endeavor for the Richters that could have lasted months, maybe more than a year.

However, despite the sheer number of artifacts, their quality left much to be desired. Most were various one-time spells or household magic items, like self-watering flower pots. Perhaps we had yet to uncover the truly powerful relics, or maybe Armand had stashed them away in some secret hoard beyond the castle. Nonetheless, I had managed to secure something useful for the upcoming conflict.

At the moment, though, a couple of artifacts were hardly helpful at all. If everything went as planned, I would eventually need to utilize the ‘most delicious’ ones. But if things worked out well, that concern would become irrelevant.

I grabbed a bag of magical items, took Olga with me, and headed toward one of the nearby caves, the entrance to which I had spotted from the air while flying with Isabella. I noticed that just above this hill ran one of the strongest natural magical lines in the area. So if I was going to be fortunate enough to find a new ally nearby, it would most likely be there.

Chapter 20

“I THOUGHT IT WAS JUST legends,” Olga said, her surprise evident as I explained our reason for entering the cave.

I shrugged. “There isn’t a single legend in this world that doesn’t have its roots in something real. The trouble is, some of them truly become mere fairy tales over time.”

“Just like necromancers could have remained a myth forever…” my granddaughter thoughtfully interjected, “if you hadn’t woken up.”

“As you can see, completely destroying the Richters turned out not to be so easy,” I smiled.

“Which cannot be said of magical creatures,” Olga said gloomily. “If all fairy-tale beings once lived in reality, then it seems humanity has managed to eliminate about ninety percent of them. Only those controlled and bred by certain clans have survived.”

“Don’t jump to conclusions,” I advised her. “Of course, many species have suffered greatly due to abomination or the actions of wizards, but magical creatures have always excelled at hiding. Even a thousand years ago, they weren’t so easy to find.”

As we delved deeper into the cave, we illuminated our path with a simple light spell, augmented by a household artifact flashlight. The gift of a necromancer isn’t suited for such magic, no matter how basic it might be.

The stone corridors around us were entirely unremarkable. It felt as if we were traversing some sort of mole tunnel, or a tunnel dug by Harry. There was absolutely nothing interesting, no distinguishing features to capture our imagination.

“But some of them have definitely gone extinct!” Olga declared. “It’s hard to hide if you’re, say, a dragon and are as big as our dinosaurs.”

“Oh, believe me,” I replied with a smirk, “dragons were much larger than Pter or Dino. But I fully admit that some of them might still be alive.”

Olga frowned, contemplating my words. “But how is that possible? They can’t hide in nests. And in other places, anyone would notice a giant like that. They still need to eat and so on…”

“They mainly feed on magical energy,” I explained. “Stories about dragons devouring herds of cows and sheep are nothing more than fabrications. They didn’t feast on princesses and knights either.”

Olga’s surprise deepened. “But they are living beings and... and not just some artifacts!”

“You pointed that out quite astutely,” I praised her. “They’re not artifacts. But there is much more in common between magical beings and relics than between them and ordinary animals.”

“Strange…” my granddaughter pondered aloud. “I thought it was more like with wizards and humans. The same idea, only we have an energy system.”

I smiled. “I existed for a thousand years without food and water. For a high-level wizard, this is possible. But for a human?” I paused, allowing her to reflect on my words. “Are you still so sure we are similar to humans?”

Olga’s face brightened with understanding. “Aha, I think I get it… but doesn’t that mean that we are also, in some sense, magical beings?”

“Of course it does,” I nodded. “But it’s also much more complicated than it seems. One lecture won’t suffice.”

Olga sighed. “Yes, yes, a bunch of nuances — I get that. But one thing is clear to me: the weaker a person’s gift, the closer they are to humans. Does this mean that weak magical beings also wander among ordinary animals, and we just don’t notice them?”

I shook my head. “Not quite. I won’t tire you with long explanations, but briefly put, natural energy channels create certain astral planes around them that are invisible to the eye. Within those planes, any magical being can quietly hide. Moreover, the less power they possess, the harder it becomes for them to reveal themselves to the physical world. Returning to the question of dragons, can you imagine how much natural energy they would consume just to exist in plain sight? Almost every dragon resided in places of great power, most often at the intersections of several potent energy lines.”

Olga snorted. “I suppose the mages didn’t like that very much.”

I smirked. “Not at all. But even I would find it difficult to deal with a dragon at full strength. You see, since abomination took over our world, the natural energy lines have started to thin out. There are too many obstacles in their way, and they can no longer flow as freely as they once did.”

My granddaughter nodded, recalling our previous conversations. “Yes, you’ve already told me about this… So, if the dragons have survived, they’ve become very weak and now hide in those astral planes near the magical currents?”

“Smart girl,” I praised her.

Olga’s eyes sparkled with interest. “I wish I could see them one day…”

I chuckled lightly. “I’m afraid you wouldn’t like them. They’re extremely arrogant and selfish creatures. Some legends are not just lies. These enormous magical lizards, like greedy magpies, hoard anything that glitters in their lairs. As soon as a dragon settles in an area, the local residents instantly lose all their jewelry. And I’m not just talking about precious items — dragons even take stained glass windows and colorful street lamps.”

My granddaughter let out a laugh. By this time, we had reached our destination. The chamber was little different from the other corridors of the cave we had explored. For an ungifted, it would have seemed unremarkable. But I had specifically led us here because I could sense that the energy line began to thicken noticeably.

“And we’ll just leave the artifacts here?” Olga questioned as I pulled out several relics from the bag, each containing powerful water spells.

“Not just leave them. We need to enhance their magical background and leave special marks so that only the desired creatures will respond to them. Ideally, we want water or earth elementals. But in the worst case, any water spirit from the lower pantheon will suffice.”

With that, I squatted down and began to draw the necessary runes on the ground, right around our precious gifts. I focused intently on ensuring that each line and symbol was precise, the magic crackling in response to my efforts.

Olga’s curiosity was insatiable that day, and she continued to pepper me with questions. “So, any mage can perform summoning rituals, regardless of their gift?”

I nodded. “Yes, this is universal magic — one of its forms, that is. But remember, necromancers have their own unique methods of bypassing the limitations of their gifts.”

“Magical runes on chimeras that allow them to use elemental magic,” she summarized, a smile breaking across her face.

“Exactly,” I said, returning her smile as I stood up and stepped aside. “It’s ready. Now we just have to wait.”

“For how long?” Olga inquired, her eagerness palpable.

“If there’s at least one creature we need here, then… here it comes,” I smiled again. As I spoke, a faint blue glow appeared at the end of the corridor, quickly approaching us.

“Is this… did we do it? So quickly?” Olga’s eyes widened in disbelief.

“As you see,” I replied. “Magical creatures are very responsive to rituals like this one. And to gifts. Look!”

But Olga could hardly tear her gaze away from the glowing cloud. When it reached the artifacts, we saw that it was actually a translucent blue otter.

“It’s soooo cute!” she exclaimed, unable to contain her delight. She immediately bombarded me with another barrage of questions. “Does it understand speech? Is it a he? And what kind of spirit is it? Can I pet it?” The last question clearly held the most weight for her. Olga’s hands twitched with the desire to reach out and touch the enchanting, enchanted creature. However, she managed to hold back, which was wise.

“Better not to rush,” I advised her. “We might scare our friend away. This is a water elemental, and it’s very weak right now, so it won’t take any risks.”

“Got it,” Olga nodded, a hint of disappointment in her voice, though the sparkle of excitement remained on her face.

Meanwhile, the little otter was diligently examining our artifacts. It circled around them slowly, occasionally nudging one with its paw. Finally, it halted beside one that resembled a boat carved from wood, looking at me with a curious expression as though seeking confirmation or guidance. The otter then tilted her head to the side in an endearing manner, stretching both paws toward the wooden boat, then pointing at herself as if asking for permission to take it.

“Of course,” I nodded at her. “It’s our gift.” I wasn’t entirely certain that the elemental comprehended human speech, but I felt hopeful. Once, all spirits were familiar with their surroundings, and who knew what had transpired since? How long had they gone without contact with other mages? Their strength had obviously waned. This water elemental barely had enough magical energy to survive, likely due to the scarcity of nearby energy flows feeding her. There were far too few wild places of power left on Earth that were untamed or not claimed by humans. Many magical creatures like this one were now on a starvation diet.

The otter seemed to understand. With joy, she grabbed the artifact and pressed it to her chest, watching as it slowly began to dissolve in her paws.

“Is she absorbing the energy?” Olga asked.

“Yup,” I replied.

“But why along with the physical form of the artifact? It really is a wooden boat. How is that even possible?”

I couldn’t help but smirk. “You should attend Octavia’s classes with the students.”

“Please, Max,” she pleaded. “I’m ready to learn from Scipion, but explain it to me now.”

“It’s simple,” I said, “When creating an artifact, a physical support is needed, one to which the desired effect is tied. Over time, though, this physical entity gradually deteriorates, while the magic of the artifact continues to preserve its illusion and appearance in the form it held at the moment of creation. You see?” I gestured toward the otter. The boat in her hands had completely vanished, but in its place, she tossed aside a very small, worn piece of wood. “So this is all that’s left of the real foundation of the artifact…”

Olga realized, then contemplated further. “I wonder what the Singing Shell of Marinus looks like now?”

“I think, just as we see it,” I replied, “artifacts of that level can maintain their foundation in proper condition through their own power alone. After all, if there were nothing left of this boat, not even sawdust, the artifact would cease to exist. The creators of legendary relics wouldn’t allow such a fate to befall their creations.”

“I see…” Olga said, still carefully observing our otter. By this point, the otter had assessed three out of the five artifacts we offered her. With each infusion of energy, her blue glow brightened.

When she finished examining all the gifts, she stretched her paws toward us and then spun around, transforming for a brief moment. Now, instead of an otter, there stood a translucent girl with hair like seaweed. She opened her mouth, and we heard something akin to human speech emerge. “T…ank…oo” she struggled to say before returning to her original animal form.

“Wow!” Olga exclaimed, eyes wide. “She can talk too!”

I shrugged. “When elementals have a surplus of energy, they are capable of even more than that.”

Turning back to the otter, who showed no signs of wanting to leave, I continued, “I will bring you more artifacts if you help us now.”

The otter tilted her head slightly, indicating she was listening.

I pressed on, “Help me find the underground stream that leads to the fortress on the hill.”

I wondered if the elemental would understand which well and fortress I was referring to, but it seemed there would be no issues on that front. The otter waved her paw, beckoning us to follow, and immediately took off ahead through the cave corridors.

Before long, Olga and I realized that without her guidance, we likely would never have found the right location. That is, I could sense the anomalous energy in one of the underground halls, but I still wouldn’t be able to pinpoint the exact detail needed to locate the hidden passage. Fortunately, the water elemental opened it for us. The cave instantly transformed. Gone were the monotonous underground corridors, and a vibrant new part of the dungeon revealed itself. Stalactites hung from the ceiling, and luminescent plants and mushrooms glowed around us. Some were so enormous that it seemed they had been growing here for centuries. Perhaps that was the case.

“I wonder if they are edible.” Olga mused as we passed through a whole ‘grove’ of them. “Just think of how many dishes could be made from just one of them!”

I had to rein in her gastronomic fantasies. “It’s not worth it. The spirits are unlikely to appreciate us dismantling their home.”

It soon became clear to me that there were many spirits in the area. Curious magical creatures, though hesitant to approach any closer, watched us from almost every corner. All of them seemed as weak as our little otter had been before it absorbed the artifacts.

“Listen, since we can’t eat their mushrooms, maybe we should feed them instead? And take them to Richterberg…” Olga suggested, her eyes brightening at the thought.

“Everything is possible in the future,” I replied soberly, “but these aren’t toys. We must be prepared to take responsibility for them and deal with their personalities. That’s not always simple. As long as they remain weak, they seem cute and harmless. But remember what I said about dragons.”

“Got it,” Olga said, a bit disappointed, but her sorrows were short-lived as we suddenly discovered ourselves in a hall with a vast underground lake. The otter made it clear that we had arrived. It ran up to the water and extended its paw, inviting us to dive in. Once it confirmed we understood, it jumped straight into the lake and swam ahead. We followed, quickly reaching a real underground river.

* * *

“So, they’ve entrusted you to storm the fortress with us?” Isabella squinted as she assessed Alan. He didn’t impress her much. There was no comparison to the noble and majestic Maximilian Richter. The necromancer, Kowalski, looked more like a common criminal. Even his stylish, expensive clothes did little to alter that impression, hinting instead that he was the head of some successful gang rather than a potential ally.

Nonetheless, Alan appeared somewhat offended by the doubt cast on his abilities. Not one to hold back, he responded defiantly, “I know my job perfectly well. I expect you won’t let me down either.”

Isabella sighed at his lack of manners. But since Max trusted him, she chose not to dwell on it any longer. Time was running short, it was already dark, and that meant the operation needed to begin.

Just minutes later, several wyverns took to the skies, observing from above as a formidable army of Richter chimeras marched toward the foot of the fortress, illuminated by roadside lamps. From a distance, they resembled powerful fighters, but that illusion faded upon closer inspection.

Bella was well aware that some of these chimeras could hold their own against an archmage, and the thought of such power sent a shiver down her spine. Once again, she praised herself for making the right decision at the right time. It was frightening to consider what might have happened had Richter remained their enemy. Now, united, they would become the true masters of this world. With renewed determination, Isabella quickened her pace and charged into the fray, ready to launch the decisive assault.

Chapter 21

“FIRE AT TARGET ONE! Fire!” The shouts of her opponents reached Isabella, and she knew instinctively that Target One was, of course, her. Her magical gift was one of the strongest ever seen in the Velasco lineage. More importantly, she had rapidly developed it to a level where there was no doubt in the clan about who should lead the wyvern squad into the attack. Isabella embodied all the qualities of a formidable warrior — swift, brave, and capable of making instant decisions. She was exceptionally suited to face off against formidable foes like the Garcia mages.

As soon as they entered the strike zone, the sky was filled with flashes of fire spells soaring toward them. Their only defenses were agility and intuition. “Move!” Bella shouted before her team launched into the air. “Move if you don’t want to turn from majestic wyverns into smoked chickens!”

Her subordinates sprang into action, doing their utmost to obey her command. Seven wyverns circled in the sky, representing nearly all the warriors of the clan who could transform into these powerful creatures. Only Alvaro and a few other mages were absent, some recovering from injuries and others positioned to replace those currently in the air if necessary.

While it was theoretically possible to send all the clan’s wyverns aloft at once, more numbers didn’t always equate to better odds. The Garcias had area-of-effect spells that could devastate a crowd, making it unwise to charge into battle together. Thus, the wyverns maintained as much distance from one another as possible, avoiding the risk of turning themselves and their comrades into easy targets.

However, this new strategy presented its own challenges for the wyverns. Previously, their fights had followed a familiar pattern, but now the mission had shifted in urgency: they were required to absorb incoming fire while the army of chimeras approached the fortress gates. Not everyone was fond of this role. Some had expressed their concerns during the briefing, voicing their doubts about the new tactical direction. But Isabella knew that sometimes sacrifices were necessary for the greater good of their mission.

“I thought The dead would cover us, not the other way around,” grumbled Gaspar Velasco. “What’s the point of all this?”

“For that to happen,” Bella explained patiently, “we need to help them reach the gates, and then they will do everything necessary.”

Isabella was wearing thin on having to explain these things, but she knew that too much depended on her squad’s morale.

However, she began to realize that perhaps she had been overly cautious. The chimeras seemed to be holding their own even against the barrage of Garcia’s mages. This was impressive, especially given that the protective dome covering them would occasionally crack and disappear, allowing enemy spells to strike their targets without any visible resistance. The Richters had meticulously planned for this. The first to advance were the inflammable creatures. Their entire bodies, or rather their shells, were constructed of bone, reinforced with magic. They resembled hulking armored warriors crossed with upright turtles, but unlike their real counterparts, these had shells that completely surrounded their bodies. Additionally, something akin to water cannons was affixed to their shoulders. Alan had amusingly dubbed them “Squirtles” and seemed to find endless delight in it. He often laughed, expressing satisfaction that Max had accepted his idea and made it into action and that Kowalski was finally fulfilling his childhood dream of becoming a coach.

Why a coach? Who knew? Isabella didn’t have time to delve into those trivialities. What mattered was that the Squirtles were performing magnificently, allowing the other chimeras, cardinals and reapers alike, to take little to no damage while advancing toward the fortress.

Convinced that the chimeras could handle themselves without the wyverns’ interference, Isabella signaled in the air to her squad, indicating a change in their task. Now, instead of drawing fire, the wyverns were to conserve their strength and prepare to wait.

No one objected, except perhaps Bella Velasco herself. Her passionate nature craved an exhilarating battle where she could be at the heart of the action. But Isabella, wise from her lineage, understood that if she allowed impulsiveness to rule her, she would never have risen to the level of heir. So she waited, albeit with a restless energy. The little reptile in her, confident in her reflexes and ability to dodge any enemy attack, couldn’t resist a bit of mischief. Determined to provoke the mages of the Garcia clan, she delighted in getting under the skin of their leader, Mateo. He thought he was so clever. She’d show him!

As she flew past a loophole from which he was hurling spells protected by a force field, Isabella waved her wing and unleashed a torrent of poison rain that drenched the shield. The drops seeped through the dome, creating chaos among the enemies below. Even the wyvern’s face bore a victorious smirk. Few mages could maintain such a robust shield that her spell couldn’t penetrate, even partially. However, her audacity nearly cost her dearly. A fire tornado whizzed past, narrowly missing her wing. Realizing the risk was too great, she cooled it on the taunting.

Instead, she watched as the Richter chimeras pressed confidently up the hill. In just a minute, they would start battering down the gates. The Garcias were aware of this too, having pulled many of their mages to reinforce this section of the wall. Despite their efforts, the enemies held firm, shielded by a powerful energy dome that would keep the chimeras at bay for a while.

As reality settled in, the Garcias began to unite their forces, casting spells. Recognizing that ordinary fireballs and whirlwinds were ineffective against the chimeras, they resorted to one of their most complex and dangerous spells. The Garcias rarely used this particular spell, as its impact had a significant effect on the terrain around them. It was a risk, but one they felt was necessary to defend their position.

The Garcias summoned a real torrent of lava. The molten flow was supposed to wash away the army of chimeras, dissolving them like so much trash. As it coursed down the slope, it picked up speed, making escape nearly impossible.

However, to the fire mages’ surprise, the enemy army showed no inclination to retreat. Instead, the Velasco mages joined the fray, witnessing the Squirtle water cannons in action for the first time. Their function was impressive, but not for long. Streams of water burst forth with a loud hiss, colliding violently with the advancing lava. The interaction created an immense cloud of steam, knocking out all visibility.

But one thing became abundantly clear: things were not going as Garcia had envisioned. The assault pressed on.

* * *

“Are those lizards attacking again?” grumbled Javier Garcia as he moved through the utility wing of the castle along a beautiful cobblestone path. “They haven’t let me sleep for several nights! Green monsters!” The night sky was illuminated by fiery spells shot from the walls, which meant the Velascos had begun another attack.

Javier’s friend quickly shushed him. “Don’t shout like that, you fool! What if someone notices we’re not on duty and we’ve been drinking…” he whispered fearfully.

“Don’t worry,” Javier hurried to reassure him. “We’re just getting a snack. One foot here, the other there. The lizards won’t break through anyway.”

“That’s true, but Mateo will knock your head off if he finds out! He’s terrified of losing Charmant.”

Javier wanted to respond but didn’t have time. Instead, he turned his head at the sound of some strange rustling. Drunk or not, he was a warrior, and not a weak one at that. He wouldn’t overlook something like that, even in his current state.

His friend noticed it too. “What is it?” he asked in surprise.

“How should I know…” Javier replied irritably, “but the sound seems to be coming from the well…”

“What sense does that make? We’ve scouted everything for miles around here. There’s no way to get to the well!” his friend immediately assumed the worst.

“Why are you making things worse!” Javier cursed. “Maybe some bird flew in…” He didn’t have time to finish, because in the best traditions of horror movies, something crawled out of the pool… resembling a girl with long, black tangled hair. An evil spirit that took revenge, or simply enjoyed killing.

Javier swallowed nervously and rubbed his eyes. Maybe it was just a drunken hallucination? When the girl didn’t vanish, he recalled the battle mage’s fireball that had been thrown at the well creature. With a loud hissing, it extinguished in mid-air, and the evil spirit of the girl had somehow appeared next to him at that very moment. Now he could clearly see the predatory grin on her surprisingly beautiful face.

Javier was so stunned by what he was seeing that he didn’t even have time to scream before she hurled something at him, shattering his magical shield like glass, and then swiftly slashed his throat.

* * *

“Oh man,” Olga sighed disappointedly, “we still couldn’t sneak in without murder.”

I shrugged. “But no one screamed, so you’re worrying for nothing.” I climbed out of the well right after my granddaughter, catching only the last moments of the execution of the unfortunate witnesses to our arrival. I was increasingly pleased with Olga’s progress in combat skills. While these enemies weren’t particularly strong and we caught them off guard, my granddaughter had quickly dealt with their shields. It was no wonder, as she had been dedicating her free time to learning how to channel as much power as possible into a single strike, focusing energy in one place. This skill was essential for successful magical duels and one-on-one confrontations. This method made it significantly easier to breach an opponent’s defenses. Even many weak strikes dissipated against shields and walls, going to waste, but one sufficiently strong blow could overload a shield and shatter it like a crab’s shell.

Now it was clear that her training had paid off. However, I did make a note to remind her. “Just remember, you always forget to work with the form of the shadow blade. Do you remember what I told you?”

“Yes,” she nodded, annoyance creeping into her expression. “Bludgeoning weapons deal with shields much better than piercing ones. It’s just… everything happened so fast. I got a bit flustered,” she admitted. “I didn’t notice them right away. While we were swimming, I lost my hair tie somewhere. So my hair got messed up and…” She waved her hand dismissively. “Okay, we need to move on.”

But I wasn’t wasting time on conversation. Or rather, while it might have seemed that way from the outside, I was commanding a whole swarm of undead frogs that I had gathered along the way. Moreover, I hadn’t even needed to kill anyone for that. Some predator had handled that task before me, leaving the prey almost untouched. Regardless, several fresh shadow scouts were now leaping around the fortress, ready to assist us in our endeavor.

The undead frogs helped me to understand precisely where we needed to go. As I had directed, the false assault had already commenced. My allies were doing their best to feign seriousness, but in reality, they were only drawing attention away from the center of the fortress, where Olga and I were positioned. This diversion was crucial to avoid a direct confrontation that might break through the fortress’s defenses.

It didn’t matter whether Garcia was raising the dome with some artifact or if it was simply the coordinated efforts of their mages. Perhaps it was a combination of both. Regardless, Olga and I did not plan to remain trapped for long. If all the enemy forces had surged toward us, that scenario might have been unavoidable. Neither I nor my warlike granddaughter was particularly afraid of that outcome. I was sure we could draw a real bloodbath here without much trouble.

But that wasn’t the goal. I came to assist, not to do everything for Velasco. Achievements gained too easily are seldom valued. Besides, it wasn’t enough to merely take the city, they also had to demonstrate their ability to hold it. The Velasco clan needed to showcase their might, asserting themselves as a powerful combat clan. Technically, they had been that for a long time, but in the world of clan wars, constant reminders of one’s strength are essential to be taken seriously. If you display weakness, like the Salazars had recently done, you find yourself isolated, stripped of your once-numerous allies, and ultimately perish in disgrace.

I couldn’t allow my vassals to lose good fighters in this skirmish either. That was precisely why Olga and I had infiltrated. Any fortress remains strong as long as its walls are invulnerable. Once that cover is lost, the defenders will have little cause for laughter. We were fortunate to have secured the support of a water elemental. Without its help, we would’ve had to resort to a heavy assault. Even with the cover of my chimeras, the potential losses could have been devastating.

Garcia had proven cunning enough to establish himself in Charmant, which appeared to be the most challenging Salazar stronghold to conquer. Even in Salforte, their fortifications hadn’t been a major concern.

I recalled that Armand had once taken these lands from Katharine. He had taken a very serious approach to establishing a strong defense, ensuring she had no chance of reclaiming Charmant. Indeed, there were few methods I could think of to breach this stronghold. The hill on which the castle sat was too solid to make tunneling beneath it a viable option. Sure, Harry would have managed the task, but it would have taken him more than a day. The castle’s foundation was a thick slab of solid stone, and Harry would effectively have to gnaw his way through it. This undoubtedly wouldn’t go unnoticed by the enemy, which meant any element of surprise would be lost. Therefore, it was much more beneficial to keep him in Richterberg, where his skills were essential for creating new subway lines or for general construction and demolition work. The former focus boss had become nearly indispensable there.

In any case, as I had hoped, we were managing without his assistance here. The only task left was to disable the dome. Olga and I confidently advanced deeper into the fortress, following the path previously scouted by my frogs. As I suspected, the dome was primarily supported by an artifact-mechanism powered by abomination. Even from a distance, the technology felt familiar. The influence of the Steigers was unmistakable. It seemed Garcia had acquired this artifact from them and was now just overseeing its operation.

In the hall containing the mechanism, there were five mages present, each as formidable as a destructor. Even as havoc erupted around them, they remained motionless. This was wise; anyone could see that if the dome fell, Velasco’s wyverns would shred them in minutes.

As soon as they spotted us, the mages opened fire with deadly intent. I hadn’t witnessed such an intense display of fire magic in a long time, and Olga had likely never seen anything like it before. The entire hall erupted in flames, desperate tongues of fire trying to break through our shields. The strain on my granddaughter’s shield became evident as it began to crack, but not before we dispatched our foes.

With practiced efficiency, we moved: step into the shadows, swing the blade, and step back into the shadows again. The Garcias couldn’t comprehend our tactics or anticipate where we would strike next. Their once-coordinated squad quickly devolved into frenzy. I even managed to siphon energy from three of them before we finished them off, which caused some frustration for Olga. She had just found her groove, and before she could truly enjoy the fight, the enemies were already gone.

“Max, can I go to the wall?” my granddaughter pleaded, excitement in her voice.

I nodded, swiftly dismantling the defensive mechanism. “Just don’t get hit by Velasco poison,” I cautioned her. “You’re not strong enough yet to purge it from your blood instantly. I don’t want to have to revive you later.”

Chapter 22

AS SOON AS THE SHIELD collapsed, a real massacre ensued across the entire territory of the Charmant fortress. This wasn’t solely due to my granddaughter’s presence on the walls, where the Garcias were desperately trying to defend against the wyverns. They were now suddenly under fire from all sides. Interestingly, the source of this pressure wasn’t their fire magic. My allies were no longer hindered by anything significant. Without the force shield, the castle walls were nothing more than fragments of stone, concrete, and steel. Of course, even in such a state, they were quite strong, but not strong enough to halt powerful mages and chimeras. Through the eyes of my scouts, I witnessed the army of squirtles, cardinals, and reapers breaking through the gates. It had been a long journey since Alan had barely learned to control just Furball. Now, he operated the chimeras as skillfully as Prokhor. I had entrusted him with this critical task without hesitation.

Though the Garcias continued to rain fire from the towers above the gates, they lacked the strength to manifest lava as they had before. I watched as one of the Velasco wyverns seized two enemies from the ramparts and lifted them into the air. They flailed amusingly in her claws, making it even easier for my chimeras to break inside the fortress. With the flow of spells targeting them significantly decreased, the need for the armored squirtles to provide cover diminished, allowing the cardinals to surge forward.

The power of their saws, capable of shattering the shields of archmages, proved more than enough to breach the heavy, sturdy gates guarding the entrance to this fortress. The chimeras flooded inside, where the wyverns were already frolicking in the inner courtyard. Although the fire whirlwinds and spells cast by the Garcias had not become any less dangerous, still posing significant challenges for the flying Velascos, losing the protective dome over the castle stripped the enemies of their defenses, granting my allies greater maneuverability.

Earlier, the fire mages had only needed to drive opponents away from the dome, capitalizing on the fact that wyverns could only approach the fortress at designated points. At that time, they were unable to harm the defenders inside. Now, however, the flying lizards circled freely over the entire territory, skillfully dodging spells while showering enemies with poison. At the right moment, they would dive down to seize someone in their clawed talons, sealing the fate of the unfortunate soul instantly. Surviving such an aerial encounter was nearly impossible.

Isabella, particularly exuberant in all the chaos, stood out among the wyverns. Though all of them appeared similar, the clan heiress was larger than the rest and boasted a stunning silver pattern on her green wings. She moved through the sky with the grace of a true predator, as natural as a fish in water. I couldn’t help but admire the agility with which she dispatched at least two dozen enemies, often swooping down to grab them from the ground. Then she either tore them to pieces immediately or, as if teasing, tossed them to her allies like some sort of aerial volleyball. This beauty reminded me of my granddaughter. Both heiresses of their clans seemed born for fierce battles.

Even on the ground, the Garcias’ mages found no refuge from their impending doom. One agent whereof was named Olga, while the others included Alan. I didn’t even need to involve myself in the fray. The enemies lost all initiative far too quickly. For a mage of my level, squaring off against such foes was just dull. It was much more enjoyable to see what my students had learned and root for them as they energetically crushed even the strongest adversaries.

So, I strolled through the night park beneath the flashes of fire magic, observing the unfolding chaos through the eyes of my pets. All that was missing was a cup of fresh coffee, so I sent one of the scout frogs to search for local cuisine — anything that could provide my favorite drink.

As I searched for coffee, the number of Garcias in the fortress was steadily dwindling. The more cunning among them were desperately seeking ways to hide or even escape, but most often, their efforts proved futile. Clan wars are notoriously ruthless. When it comes to a mass battle, the victor typically eliminates everyone they can reach. There are numerous justifications for this approach, but the primary reason is that it’s often the only way to secure a swift and unequivocal victory. Otherwise, matters can drag on indefinitely. Banks will delay account re-registration, and the surviving enemies will squirm and seek negotiations with other factions, adding layers of complexity to an already fraught situation. This grim reality means that in a fight like this one, every mage on either side battles as if it’s their last time, fully aware that the outcome not only affects their well-being but their very lives. For that reason, serious battles between equally matched clans, like the Velascos and Garcias, rarely occur. Of course, this doesn’t account for my intervention, which had tipped the scales in favor of the poisonous lizards. Without me, this war would have been even more bloody, resulting in far greater losses on both sides.

Typically, clans don’t let confrontations escalate to this point. They engage in one or several minor skirmishes to gauge strengths and then retreat, negotiating terms behind closed doors. But now, the scale of events had reached entirely different levels. One of the Great Clans had fallen, and many recognized that such an opportunity for ascension could come only once in hundreds of years. That’s why the Garcias took such a deadly risk. But they didn’t account for certain factors, and they ultimately paid for it.

Finally, I reached one of the break rooms, where a coffee machine was stationed. Unfortunately, I couldn’t operate it without the risk of breaking it, and all the staff had vanished. So, my frog had to pull double duty as a barista, pressing the buttons with its tiny paws to brew the coffee I so desperately craved.

As I took my first sip, I noticed that the situation on the battlefield had shifted entirely in favor of my allies. Only a handful of archmages and executors still held the line, and it appeared that the leader, Garcia, was among them. However, Olga had already pinpointed his location, with her back covered by chimeras. It seemed that the clock was ticking for them.

Isabella evidently sensed this urgency as well. Fearing that the main prize might be snatched by another, she dove down and transformed. No longer a wyvern, she became a bipedal lizard with a long tail. The girls exchanged determined glances and charged into the fray simultaneously.

Olga fought with ferocity, as always. I was continually amazed at her innate instincts, reactions, and intuition, which were on par with the finest warriors I had encountered. This natural talent significantly accelerated her progress in combat skills. It struck me how easy it was to overlook one’s own abilities. Had I not entered Olga’s life, she might still be just an ordinary healer, unaware of the warrior she could become.

That’s why I firmly believed in the importance of not fixating on a single path. One must explore various fields of activity. How else would I have discovered my proficiency not only in necromancy but also in artifact crafting and martial arts? I held on to the hope that one day, Olga would come to a similar realization. Who knows how many more talents lay hidden within her? For now, she was fully showcasing her combat gifts, gracefully maneuvering among the enemies with her shadow blade. With each battle, her skill in shadow teleportation grew easier, allowing her to surprise her opponents by disappearing right under their noses, only to reappear where her strikes were least expected.

I watched Isabella with equal curiosity. Though she didn’t appear as formidable on the ground as she did in the air, she remained a fierce and dangerous adversary to her enemies, embodying the spirit of a true warrior. She couldn’t teleport around the hall like Olga, deftly dodging attacks, but her shield was robust enough to withstand a barrage of fire spells. Even when it faltered for a few moments, it became apparent that the lizard’s skin was almost as tough as the armor of our squirtles. Bella suffered only minor burns during the brief intervals when she was restoring her shield.

Aside from her impressive resilience, she also really knew how to wreak havoc within enemy ranks. Her long and powerful tail proved to be a formidable weapon, tripping up Garcia’s mages and even deflecting some of their spells back at them by concentrating energy at its tip. It was a remarkable and valuable skill.

Of course, if Bella were alone against several powerful fire mages, she surely wouldn’t have fared as well. But alongside my granddaughter and the chimeras, their combined might was overwhelming. Even the archmages of Garcia struggled to withstand the relentless assault.

About fifteen minutes later, it was all over. I had just finished my coffee, enjoying the satisfaction that came with watching the tide of battle turn decisively in favor of our forces.

* * *

“This is a disaster!” Isabella lamented as we strolled through the fortress, surveying the battle’s aftermath.

“Well, I think everything turned out quite well,” replied a satisfied Olga. “By the way… you’re a very good fighter,” she surprised everyone by offering a compliment. “I didn’t expect that.” This was particularly unexpected given Olga’s longstanding disdain for the Velascos, dating back to the days when they had tried to assert control over our stable. Yet it seemed the solidarity of a warrior was ultimately triumphing in her.

Isabella, in turn, refrained from acting spitefully and returned the courtesy. “You fought excellently too. Now I understand why you’re the heir of the Richter clan. To be honest, I didn’t understand Max’s choice before, but now it’s a different matter. However, I didn’t mean the fight at all. It really went better than expected. But… just look around,” she gestured to the hall we were walking through, “everything is burned, much is broken and beyond repair. And what can be repaired… we’re looking at huge expenses.” She shook her head in dismay.

“Bella,” Alvaro, who was also taking part in the assessment of his new possessions, addressed her, “you shouldn’t worry so much, or our allies will think we’re poor.”

“Oh,” Isabella said, coming to her senses. “You’re right, grandfather. I just trust Max so much that I didn’t consider how this might appear from the outside.”

I smiled. “Don’t worry. The ability to assess finances cannot be a disadvantage. Besides, I’m not concerned about your wallet. Even if you truly had no coins, these lands will soon replenish the Velasco clan’s treasury.”

“That’s true,” Alvaro nodded, “and we’re grateful that you’ve allowed us to become the masters of these lands. But it’s time to determine what the benefit for the Richters will be in this arrangement.”

Old Velasco was the type of person who preferred to resolve important matters immediately, and I appreciated that trait in him. So I didn’t beat around the bush either. “We definitely expect half of the treasury from this fortress. Moreover… I want all the obsidian.”

Yes, when the enemy lava collided with the water from our squirtles, a substantial road of this material formed right in front of the fortress gates. Alvaro smirked slyly. “I admit, I was hoping you hadn’t set your eyes on it. But, of course, we will concede.” His candor worked in his favor, yet I still had no intention of relinquishing even a portion of the valuable resource.

Obsidian had long been a sought-after material in artifact creation; its structure was highly efficient at accumulating energy. Interestingly, obsidian procured in battle was by far the most valuable. The energy burst from the collision of two opposing elements made each piece unique, and the instant crystallization imbued it with raw energy. Wizards throughout the ages had attempted to replicate this phenomenon under peaceful conditions, fully controlling their spells, but the results were invariably inferior to those gleaned in real combat. Such experiments lacked the wildness of battle, where wizards unleashed energy without concern for the consequences. While artificial obsidian may appear smoother, more aesthetically pleasing, and even stronger, it lacked the imperfections, microscopic cracks, and irregularities that could not be artificially replicated. Yet it was these very flaws that rendered the material uniquely receptive to energy and magical influence. Given that I was soon planning to delve deeper into artifact crafting, I absolutely couldn’t afford to overlook such excellent obsidian that practically fell into my hands.

As we discussed plans and examined trophies, we inspected nearly half of the fortress. When we set foot in the park, which had surprisingly been well preserved, we were approached by one of the Velasco scouts. He was a tanned middle-aged man with a magnificent mustache.

“Allow me to report,” he began, skipping the niceties.

“Go ahead,” Alvaro nodded.

The scout delivered surprising news. While we had been engaged in battle, a combat squad from the Castillo clan was making its way toward Charmant. Although they were not as powerful as Velasco or Garcia, they were still a notable force among the former vassals of Armand. The Castillos were rushing here not for leisure, but to lend assistance to our enemies. Fortunately, they hadn’t arrived in time; the battle had ended with a complete rout of the Garcias, and the Velasco patrols had encircled the enemy squad. Eventually, realizing their precarious situation, the Castillos declared they would not fight and sought negotiations. “So we took their leader and her entourage under escort and accompanied them to the fortress,” the scout explained, “while the rest of the squad remained where we found them, still surrounded by our warriors.”

Alvaro thanked the messenger and turned to me. “What do you say, Maximilian?”

I smiled. “Well, why not have a chat?”

Isabella, whose expression had soured the moment she heard the name Castillo, couldn’t help but snort. “I hope we’ll be talking to them in the cell they’re being taken to now?”

“Take it easy,” I placed my hand on her shoulder. “We can always lock them up later. Let’s hear what they want to say first.”

I turned to the messenger and instructed, “Bring them to the garden at the central entrance of the castle. We will wait for them there.”

Alvaro nodded in agreement and set off to carry out my order.

* * *

I hadn’t expected the park, which had seemed the first to burn, to have sustained the least damage. The battle raged around it, but the blooming trees, pavilions with twisted columns, and fountains adorned with elegant sculptures were hardly touched. Even the flowers in the flowerbeds remained unharmed. Consequently, the park became the most pleasant venue for negotiations while order was restored within the castle halls.

In one of the large pavilions, we prepared to wait for our guests, and they didn’t keep us waiting long. Soon, several figures appeared on the cobbled path. Most were Velasco guards, but I could also discern a few strangers among them, one of whom was a woman in a long, formal dress and a hat with a veil. As she approached, she lifted the veil to reveal a warm smile that felt rehearsed, characteristic of an experienced politician. Her face seemed better suited for a famous actress, boasting a bold and predatory southern beauty that reminded me of Isabella, yet it had an air of softness crafted by makeup and a gentle expression. Her enormous amber eyes sparkled, framed by long, fluffy eyelashes — eyes of rare beauty, in which surely many a man had lost himself.

“Beatriz Castillo, at your service,” she spoke softly, her voice flowing as if she were singing rather than speaking. It was clear she was familiar with the Velascos, so only Olga and I formally introduced ourselves. She spoke directly to me. “Mr. Richter, I want to apologize,” she said, executing an elegant curtsy. “If I had known about… your interest in this war, I would never have made any promises to the Garcia clan. We would have immediately proposed negotiations.”

But unlike her, Isabella did not play the diplomatic game. She grimaced and sarcastically asked, “Do you prefer to surrender before the fight?”

Beatriz didn’t even blink. Rather, she locked her languid gaze onto me and said, “There is nothing humiliating in surrendering to a strong opponent. On the contrary, it speaks of the wisdom of the vanquished, does it not, Mr. Richter?”

At that moment, I realized that her dress wasn’t as strict as it had initially appeared. As she leaned forward, her ample assets swayed enticingly right in front of me. She was so obviously attempting to seduce me that I almost laughed.

“What do you want, Beatriz?” I asked her directly.

She straightened up and adjusted a black curl that had come loose from her hairdo. “I have always believed that nothing in this world happens without reason. Perhaps the fact that we did not arrive in time to assist Garcia, along with your victory today… is also a sign. A sign that the Castillo and Richter clans should... get closer,” she licked her lips, hinting clearly at more than just a political alliance.

Judging by her expression, Isabella appeared ready to grab Beatriz by the hair and scratch her eyes out, though she held herself back with sheer willpower. My granddaughter was equally prepared to join in the confrontation. I’d noticed her irritation toward those who pursued my attention. She didn’t particularly like Isabella and had only begun to respect her after witnessing her prowess in battle. Octavia had likewise earned that respect slowly.

This time, however, my granddaughter couldn’t restrain herself and offered a sarcastic retort: “Yes, of course, get closer… to about the distance of a sword.”

Isabella shot her a grateful glance.

As for me, I had no intention of succumbing to the charms of this lovely seductress. It was no surprise that, faced with such a precarious situation for her clan, she was trying to wriggle out of it in the way she was accustomed to. Thus, I continued to pretend I hadn’t noticed her innuendos and instead asked her only direct and businesslike questions: “Does the Castillo clan want to become a vassal of the Richter clan?”

A flicker of regret sparked in Beatriz’s eyes. It was clear she wanted to keep flirting, tossing hints and insinuations, but she reluctantly replied, though her words remained ambiguous. “I, like my clan, am ready to serve you faithfully, Maximilian.”

“Well,” I responded sharply, “your offer is somewhat belated. I must decline.”

“But why?!” Beatriz exclaimed, surprised, as if she hadn’t heard the word “no” in a hundred years.

I smirked. “Vassalage is not a commodity that can buy someone’s favor. If your loyalty is for sale, then it holds little value.”

“But I’m not asking for anything in return!” she protested.

“That’s not true. You want my protection since you couldn’t conquer the city with Garcia. You want to switch to the winning side and reap the rewards of victory. But what have you done to earn that?”

Beatriz was at a loss. “I… we’re not expecting anything right now. And we’re ready to prove this with our loyal service.”

“In that case,” I smiled, “prove it by swearing loyalty to the Velasco clan.”

A tense silence fell over the park. Both sides were clearly taken aback by my proposal. No one had expected this twist.

I had reasoned simply. In the south, even the most dubious allies might be of use to us right now. It was wise to keep enemies close. It didn’t matter how loyal the Castillos would actually be if they were under supervision.

At the same time, I had no desire to offer them vassalage. That would place them on the same level as the Velasco clan and my loyal Villons and Mao, alongside those who had endured many trials for my clan and fought for it — not those who merely planned to betray it. No, the Castillos could only join our alliance as a junior clan, one that would have to obey both the Richters and my vassals, the Velascos.

However, they had no choice now. It was obvious that no one would let them leave just like that. Why provide them with an opportunity to ally with another enemy? And Beatriz was clearly not one to simply step aside. Judging by the emotions flickering across her face, she understood exactly what my proposal entailed.

“Fine,” she reluctantly agreed, “I am willing to sign a vassal contract with Alvaro Velasco.”

She specifically mentioned the head of the clan, seemingly attempting to shield herself from Isabella. But the cunning reptile caught on as well, and for the first time during our conversation, a smirk of superiority crossed her face.

When my granddaughter and I left the park after signing all the contracts, she noted joyfully, “I don’t like that bitch Beatriz. All the better that she will suffer.”

“Why do you think so?” I asked Olga with a smile.

“Did you see how Isabella looked at her? Velasco will make her life a fun one.”

I laughed, though my granddaughter probably didn’t realize that what amused me was not just her comment but the fact that Bella had unexpectedly gained a bloodthirsty ally in the form of my heir.

* * *

The rest of the day, my chimeras and the Velasco clan continued to clear debris, clean up, and tally the remaining loot. Even at night, the work quieted only slightly but didn’t stop altogether. Everything seemed to be progressing smoothly, and by morning, it looked like we would be able to return to Salforte and head home.

However, sunrise brought with it unpleasant news. One of Velasco’s stewards, responsible for collecting the trophies, appeared at the door of my room. “Mr. Richter, I came to apologize for not safeguarding part of the loot,” he began, his head hung low. “Last night, we lost many captured artifacts, including those meant for you. It seems a thief has infiltrated the fortress.”

Chapter 23

“AND WHAT,” I PRESSED, “only artifacts are disappearing? Gold and other valuables without magical properties aren’t of any interest to the thief?”

“No,” the manager replied promptly. “No other valuables have gone missing. At least, I’m not aware of any yet.”

“I see,” I nodded. “So it’s not dragons.”

“What?” my interlocutor asked, clearly confused by my joke. “Dragons?”

“Don’t take it to heart. I’m sure everything will become clear soon enough.”

He politely bowed and left, assuring me that the Velasco clan’s guards had already implemented all necessary measures to quickly identify the culprit. I didn’t doubt his words, but I was not convinced they would find the thief without difficulty. I had my suspicions…

Nevertheless, I wasn’t ready to share my thoughts with anyone just yet. I suddenly realized that staying here for a while wasn’t such a bad idea. The castle boasted a good library, and I still had matters to discuss with Alvaro and his granddaughter. Moreover, if my suspicions were correct, it provided the most compelling reason to remain. I sent my shadow scouts to patrol all areas of the fortress bordering the artifact storages, as well as within those storages and any other halls where something magical could be hidden. And I settled in to wait.

* * *

“My friends,” Lifeng’s voice echoed in my head, taking on the tone of a famous naturalist host, “today we will witness an amazing performance in an ancient castle, where a creature has intruded that can be called a true master of camouflage and theft. A water elemental. An otter!” After a brief pause, she continued, “Here she glides between the stone columns, her fur wet and shining, as if coated with the finest layer of magical dew. The guards, those clumsy creatures in heavy armor, do not even suspect her presence. Every movement of the otter is a ballet of cunning and grace!”

I watched alongside Lifeng, comfortably settled in a library chair with a book in one hand and a cup of hot coffee in the other. Isabella had invited the best barista in Charmant to the castle just for me, and he was bringing me a new aromatic drink every half hour. Eager to please, he prepared each cup using beans from different regions and varying roasts. Although I had already sampled quite a few of his creations, I was delighted to discover that the world of coffee was rich with nuances, and I continually encountered new flavors.

In the eyes of the barista and his assistants, I could see a mix of horror and awe. One of them explained that with such a quantity of coffee, any person, or even a high-level mage, might suffer a heart attack. How fortunate it was that I could fully control my body’s functions and enjoy coffee as much as I desired.

“See that?” Lifeng continued, her excitement evident. “She is already reaching out her paw toward the ancient artifact. Her eyes glisten like two shiny beads, filled with mischief and primal intelligence. With the agility of a circus gymnast, she snatches the magical item and carries it into the shadows.”

“Not such an ancient artifact,” I interjected, amused. “Just an ordinary portable shower of modern production.”

“It’s like advertising,” the hacker replied without the slightest hint of embarrassment. “Without a catchy headline, no one will bite.”

I smiled and continued my thought. “If I were our thief, I’d pay attention to the wristwatch lying on the mantelpiece.”

“What is that?” Lifeng immediately asked, intrigued.

“I have no idea,” I admitted, “but judging by the energy emanating from it, it must be something valuable.”

“She was probably afraid of getting caught,” the hacker suggested, “after all, the mantel is right in the line of sight of the patrols.”

However, as soon as she finished speaking, the otter waved its free paw, and the room filled with dense fog. The surprised guards began communicating among themselves and quickly took combat stances, preparing to repel an impending attack. Yet, within a few seconds, the fog dissipated, and the wristwatch was gone, along with the otter. Having snatched the loot, it had already slipped into the corridor, ready to dash into the park and then follow its usual escape route — jumping into the well.

“Are you sure she didn’t hear what you said?” Lifeng laughed.

“I don’t think so,” I replied. “But I guess this elemental has significantly strengthened since our first encounter.”

Quite a few artifacts had already vanished from the fortress. If the otter had absorbed them all, it made sense that it was now capable of casting spells, especially simpler ones.

In the hall we were observing, the patrols began to notice the disappearance as well. Glancing at each other, they started to fuss. One dashed into the corridor, while another went to the window, hoping to catch a glimpse of the thief. Futile, of course.

“Aren’t you going to tell them?” the hacker asked.

“Not now,” I shook my head. “I don’t want to miss this opportunity to study the behavior and abilities of elementals more closely.”

Despite having performed a successful summoning ritual and possessing a general understanding of how it was done, I lacked specialized knowledge about elemental spirits. Even a thousand years ago, when encounters with them were far more common, our paths seldom crossed. I was prepared to sacrifice a portion of my spoils from this war to learn more about their habits.

Moreover, I needed time to prepare for our next meeting.

* * *

“I told you we should have assigned more guards to them!” Isabella exclaimed as she, along with Alvaro and Olga, listened to the latest report from the manager. “Now here we are! We continue to incur losses!”

Yes, I had ordered my granddaughter to establish connections with our allies in Velasco and dig deeper into all the post-war issues while I occupied myself with matters in the library. Still, I kept a watchful eye on the events in the fortress through my scouts.

“Bella, emotions are not the best advisor,” Alvaro counseled. “The Castillos are now our vassals. Ruining relations with them right at the outset would be unwise. On the contrary, we need to work on turning these… let’s say, dubious allies into loyal companions.”

“And so we will just let them ransack the entire castle?” Isabella persisted.

Alvaro sighed. “There is no evidence that Beatriz or her entourage is involved in this matter.”

“There are testimonies from some guards,” Olga interjected. “They reported seeing human figures in the corridors dressed in the colors of the Castillo clan after several thefts.”

“But none of them were caught,” Alvaro gently countered. “I understand your outrage, ladies. But we cannot accuse anyone without solid evidence and testimonies. We need to wait. Sooner or later, someone from this gang of thieves will slip up.”

“Fine,” Isabella replied, barely restraining her impatience. “I will wait a little longer. But if there’s even one more theft… even one suspicion toward that rat Beatriz…” She didn’t finish her thought, instead raising her fist threateningly.

Judging by Olga’s fierce look, she fully supported her. “I would like,” she began resolutely, “to personally patrol the largest artifact storage in the fortress. Perhaps my special skills will help me catch the thief.”

“As you wish, Lady Richter,” Alvaro politely agreed.

My granddaughter headed toward the exit of the hall where the conversation took place, with Isabella following closely behind. “Wait,” she called out, “I’m with you!”

Together, they hurried to the storage, discussing how best to fortify their defenses while venting their frustrations regarding the unfortunate and innocent Beatriz at every opportunity. “I’m sure it’s that Castillo bitch,” Olga stated bluntly. “No one else could be involved.”

Bella sighed in agreement. “But, unfortunately, Grandfather is right. We can’t just say that to her. Without evidence, we’ll come off as two hysterics.”

“Well…” Olga mused, stretching a bit, “we can’t directly accuse her, but we can demand to search the rooms assigned to her. For security reasons.”

“That’s a thought,” Bella admitted, considering the idea. “Of course, it would still be tactless, but if we find the missing artifacts in her room, we won’t need to explain ourselves.”

“Alright,” Olga softened her tone. “For Max and your grandfather’s sake, let’s not rush, let’s try to catch the thief red-handed one more time. But if we miss, we will definitely conduct a search!”

Isabella nodded, and the girls reached one of the treasure rooms, where they grimly took up their guard positions. For a moment, I contemplated revealing to them what was actually going on. Yet, I relented, as I was thoroughly enjoying my time in the library with coffee, books, and a very fine piece of obsidian, which I was shaping into the artifact I needed. I quickly changed my mind.

While all the fuss was happening within the fortress and the attempts to catch the thieves, no one bothered me, allowing me to focus calmly on my own affairs without disrupting the integrity of the experiment. I observed how adept the elemental had become at diverting those unaware of its presence. With each stolen artifact, the little otter grew more inventive, and its spells became increasingly varied. The guards who reported seeing human figures were indeed telling the truth. It was merely an illusion crafted by the water spirit to divert suspicion away from itself.

Interestingly, our little thief exhibited a delightful and mischievous sense of humor. This rascal spent almost half an hour relocating artifacts right under the nose of one of the keepers. It seemed to amuse her how he repeatedly lost count, utterly oblivious to her antics. At another moment, she distracted the guards playing cards with an illusion. Four warriors jumped up as if stung, spotting the ‘absconding thief’ in another section of the corridor. But instead of simply snatching the artifact she desired while their backs were turned, she also enchanted their cards. When the guards returned, they spent a considerable time puzzling over why their deck had suddenly become soaked and inexplicably consisted solely of aces. Meanwhile, Bella and Olga were also at risk of becoming victims of this playful mischief. Their initial enthusiasm had begun to wane, and they realized that, ultimately, patrolling was rather dull when nothing was transpiring.

Deciding to take a short tea break, they settled in the storage room, still unwilling to give up or leave. It was at this moment that the little thief finally made her appearance. However, they didn’t notice her as she skillfully maneuvered through their blind spots, only moving when they couldn’t see her. My scouts, of course, were aware of her movements, but the elemental herself remained oblivious to their presence and couldn’t defend herself. The girls fell victim to one of her simplest tricks. To draw them away from the storage room, she conjured an illusion of a female figure in the corridor. They immediately dashed off to catch her, losing the trail at the very first turn as the illusion simply dissolved when they could no longer see it.

After wandering around a bit, the frustrated hunters returned to the treasury, only to find that a couple of artifacts had vanished again. They also discovered that their tea had turned into plain water.

“That’s it!” Olga exclaimed defiantly. “I’ve had enough!” She moved into the corridor with determination, closely followed by an equally indignant Isabella.

“This bitch has the audacity not only to steal but to mock us!” Isabella fumed, struggling to contain her rage as the girls stormed into Beatriz Castillo’s room. They demanded that she allow them to search it without interference.

But our new ally was no shrinking violet. “Am I being suspected of something?” she began, her tone sharp. “I heard that a thief has appeared in the fortress. But do you dare to accuse me of this?!”

Isabella barely held back and practically admitted it. “I trust my people,” she interjected, making it clear that their only suspects were the Castillos.

“It could be the surviving Garcias,” Beatriz declared, lifting her chin defiantly. “And who knows who else. The Castillo clan would never stoop to petty theft!”

“These aren’t petty thefts,” Olga countered, her voice firm, “but rather very inventive ones.”

“It doesn’t matter!” Beatriz retorted, indignantly pacing the room. “My own people have become victims of this thief, and yet I’m not accusing you of anything!” Isabella fired back.

“You, accuse us?!” Isabella’s fury mounted. “Why did you hide this theft from everyone? Maybe because you just made it up?!”

“How dare you!” Beatriz flared up.

The atmosphere in the room heated to the point that I began to move toward the library exit, determined to intervene before the situation escalated further. But unexpectedly, the true instigator of the chaos came to my aid. The little weasel, brimming with confidence, decided to snatch the artifact right from under the noses of the three girls. Somehow, she managed to take control of the empty iron armor at the entrance to Beatriz’s room. Clanking dramatically, she dashed past the stunned witnesses. Then, she grabbed the magical energy-infused scarf that Beatriz had left on one of the chairs with her iron glove, letting it drop to the ground with a loud crash.

As if nothing had happened, the living armor then bolted out of the room, leaving behind a stunned silence. Olga and Bella quickly regained their senses and rushed to intercept the thief. These girls weren’t about to give anyone a break, not even a metal contraption.

Recognizing this, the otter made the most sensible decision at that moment: to escape. A jet of water splashed in the heirs’ faces as the elemental transformed into a stream of water, slipping gracefully out from under the helmet. In a split second, she took the form of the otter again, waved her paw, and repeated her trick with the dense fog. When it cleared, the girls were left staring at only a heap of bent armor in front of them.

“I told you!” Beatriz exclaimed triumphantly. “It’s not me, and it’s not my clan!”

“Maybe it’s not you…” Olga replied gloomily. Yet, determined not to concede, she added, “but we still can’t be completely certain about your clan.”

“This isn’t even our magic,” Castillo scoffed. “We operate with force barriers, not water and... I don’t even know what that is,” she gestured toward the armor.

Bella reluctantly confirmed, “Indeed, this doesn’t resemble any of your clan’s abilities. But questions still remain. Why didn’t you use your barriers just now to stop the thief?”

Beatriz fell silent, and the expressions from Isabella and Olga grew increasingly suspicious. Eventually, the head of the Castillo clan blushed and admitted softly, “I just got flustered.” It was the truth, and it felt like the only response she could muster.

“Aren’t you a battle mage?” Olga asked, surprised. “How can you get flustered?” In the heat of this conflict, all the girls had dropped their formalities and switched to familiar terms.

“I…” Beatriz stammered, feeling flustered once more, but then her resolve stiffened. “I will help you find the thief to clear my name and my clan’s. Next time, I won’t let him get away!”

Isabella snorted but didn’t refuse the assistance. “Alright. Let’s see what your force barriers are capable of.”

Smiling to myself, I made my way back to the library. The scandal had taken an unexpected turn, and I didn’t want to squander such a promising opportunity. Let the girls attempt to build cooperation among themselves — after all, nothing unites people better than a common enemy.

I wasn’t concerned about the otter either. The elemental had enough tricks up its sleeve to keep everyone guessing for a while. Besides, for Olga, this could serve as valuable training. They could enjoy their little adventure while I focused on completing my own trap.

Chapter 24

“THE THIEF WAS JUST here!” Isabella exclaimed when one of Velasco’s guards approached her with news that the thefts were continuing. Moreover, it seemed the thief was becoming bolder.

“I’m sorry, milady,” the guard stammered. “I report on the words of the commander of the third patrol.”

Bella’s frown deepened. “The third... but they are in the northern part of the castle?”

“Yes, milady.”

“Alright, dismissed. We will sort it out.” She turned to her allies, and confusion was evident on their faces.

“That’s the other end of the fortress,” Olga said. “The thief wouldn’t be able to move there so quickly.”

“Unless there’s a copycat,” Beatriz scoffed, “or the guards are exaggerating.”

“Our warriors wouldn’t lie,” Bella interjected firmly.

Castillo calmly shifted the conversation. “In any case, we need to continue. This time, we almost caught the thief.”

“Yeah, but so far we don’t even know what he looks like,” Olga noted. “All we know is that he’s a mage who wields water magic.”

“Maybe a survivor from Salazar?” Isabella suggested as they walked thoughtfully along the corridor lined with doors leading to several storerooms. Charmant was a wealthy city, and the fortress was filled with all manner of valuables. Artifacts were just a small part of the treasure; most storerooms were packed with various goods. Wine, in particular, occupied a prominent spot. The cellars overflowed with supplies of every conceivable brand, from those accessible to the general public to exclusive vintages that had once graced Armand’s table.

Isabella was already seriously contemplating opening one or two collectible bottles with Olga and Beatriz. As the Velasco heiress, she was accustomed to solving issues swiftly and decisively, and this elusive thief was starting to irritate her. Furthermore, they had yet to determine both his identity and his motives. It was perplexing that he obsessed over magical artifacts when there were ample riches to steal that didn’t involve them. Of course, while this made their task easier, it raised significant questions. They say to catch a criminal, you need to think like one, but how could they do that if they didn’t understand his motivations at all? The girls dashed from one alarm signal to another, but they only managed to catch fleeting glimpses of the scoundrel’s silhouette, or sometimes nothing at all.

Then there was Beatriz. Despite her status, she never seemed to manage using her magic in time. Initially, Bella even suspected she was playing along with the thief, trying to make fools of her and Olga. But soon enough, she realized that the head of the Castillo clan was simply an inexperienced warrior. Her lack of combat experience and slow reactions weren’t surprising — Velasco had never heard of Beatriz’s clan being involved in major confrontations. The Castillos preferred to resolve their issues, ahem, diplomatically, and the rumors regarding her methods of diplomacy were anything but flattering. Many were tales that wouldn’t be spoken of in polite society.

In the end, Bella had all but rid herself of doubts, convinced that Beatriz was simply ineffectual in battle. Yet that didn’t mean they were going to halt their pursuit. The more the thief outsmarted them, the more fierce their determination became. Capturing him was now a matter of honor. Surrendering was never on the table.

Instead, Bella and Olga took it upon themselves to “teach bad habits” to Beatriz. “Don’t think, don’t hesitate, don’t calculate the consequences. Just act. Throw your spell at any suspicious figure. It’s not even lethal. If you make a mistake, it’s not a big deal.”

“I’m not used to that…” Lady Castillo timidly protested.

“But this is our only chance! There’s no time to think.”

And indeed, that guidance proved fruitful. As they chased the thief once more, Beatriz finally summoned her spell, blocking the fleeing figure’s path. But instead of stopping, the figure transformed into a stream of water and smoothly slipped through Castillo’s force barrier.

“That’s it!” Olga exclaimed. “This is beyond ridiculous! We need Max!”

“Here he is,” Velasco smirked, watching as the necromancer approached them down the corridor, a smile playing on his lips.

* * *

Some time prior, my work was gradually reaching completion while the girls continued to hold onto the hope of catching our elusive thief on their own. Each of their attempts inevitably ended in failure. It was amusing to witness, but truthfully, I hoped they would unravel the true nature of the thief without my nudges.

Isabella had lived for quite a few centuries, and Beatriz Castillo had, presumably, done the same. Olga had even encountered an elemental in person. Yet emotions clouded their judgment, preventing them from stopping to calmly analyze the situation. They might as well have been chasing a ghost. Nevertheless, the lack of results was an outcome in its own right. I hoped that Olga would learn a lesson from this experience.

Meanwhile, the otter was growing bolder. The situation came to a head when I saw her emerge from the well, followed by a whole brood of little otters, about the size of a guinea pig but looking incredibly determined. It appeared that our friend, after regaining some of her power, had begun feeding artifacts to other local water spirits. Some might have thought they were her offspring, but as far as I understood, in the world of elementals, such connections didn’t exist in the same way they did for flesh-and-blood creatures. They were born from entirely different processes.

However, this change had little impact on our current situation. I realized it was time to conclude my research. Otherwise, not only would the girls succumb to madness from the spirit’s tricks, but we all risked being left with no loot at all. While the otter had been alone, the plunderer had operated within the confines of its abilities. But a whole company of little bandits was a different story — they would clean out the fortress in the space of a few hours.

Fortunately, I had only a couple of final touches left before my device for capturing the otter was ready. I was certain that now, with the elemental having discovered a stash of enticing artifacts, luring it into a conversation as I had in the cave would be much trickier. So, I didn’t waste time on futile attempts, focusing instead on creating a trap that would compel the otter to talk to us. I had fun recalling some of my artifact crafting skills, especially while working with such quality obsidian.

“Max!” the girls rushed to me when I found them in the corridors of the fortress. “Finally, you’re here. We’ve been running around trying to catch the thief. Will you help us?”

“I will help,” I nodded. “As long as we catch the right one…”

“So he really isn’t alone?!” Isabella exclaimed, her expression turning grave. “Do you know who they are?”

“I do.”

“Who are they?” Even Beatriz Castillo was almost bouncing with impatience. Gone was the social charm the previous day had brought her. While she remained beautiful and charming, it seemed that after spending a day with the lively energy of Olga and Bella, she had picked up their restless resourcefulness.

I grunted, realizing that I had unconsciously adopted Lifeng’s favorite expression. Clearly, my ongoing negotiations with her through my “flash drive” were bearing fruit. “You’ll see for yourselves,” I said with a smile, not wishing to spoil the surprise too soon. Instead, I prepared the trap — a sturdy obsidian box located in one of the storerooms filled with artifacts. After setting it up, I left with the girls, ready to wait.

“Are you sure we don’t need to stay in the room?” Olga asked anxiously. “These thieves are very cunning!”

“I’m sure,” I replied, trying to reassure her.

But the questions didn’t stop there. This time it was Isabella who pressed on. “Why do you think the criminal will take the bait with this box?”

“And how does it even work?” Beatriz added, her curiosity piqued.

“You’ll see soon enough,” I smiled, attempting to maintain an air of mystery.

“But how?” Olga insisted. “We’re in another room.”

It seemed like it was time for a firm talking-to. “Olga, I would accept this question from anyone but you. Tell me, why haven’t you bothered to create your own shadow scouts and are only relying on mine to keep everything under control?”

“Shadow scouts?!” Beatriz gasped, wide-eyed. “So we’ve been under surveillance the whole time? Even… in our quarters?” She blushed, raising her nose with a hint of pride as if to assert that she had nothing to be ashamed of.

“Yeah, Max has nothing else to do but watch you!” Bella snapped at her.

My question left Olga momentarily stunned. It seemed she had become so accustomed to my handling reconnaissance that it hadn’t even occurred to her to develop her own shadow scouts, let alone connect to mine while they were on the hunt for the otter. Now, my granddaughter looked embarrassed, unsure how to respond. Ultimately, she made a decision and stated firmly, “It won’t happen again.”

I felt an immediate shift as she connected to the nearest frog scout. If only she had thought to do this earlier, she would have likely figured out who was stealing our artifacts by now. I hoped she wouldn’t forget this essential skill for a necromancer and would begin using it more frequently. She was a very talented and capable mage, but the fact that she often practiced her skills alongside me sometimes became a hindrance in her training. Initially, she would forget about the danger, recklessly throwing herself at enemies, confident that I would save her from any threat.

In the end, Olga managed to overcome her reliance on me only after finding herself in precarious situations a couple of times. Take, for example, the anthill incident, where she and Kira were fortunate that everything turned out well. Now, while Olga had become much more cautious, she still faced other challenges. She often leaned too heavily on me in various matters, forgetting that she could manage just as well on her own. I had a perspective on this. I figured the important thing was that my heiress was teachable and didn’t make the same mistake repeatedly. At most, just a couple of times. So, after making a gentle remark to her, I didn’t dwell on it.

Just then, I noticed a potential victim approaching the trap. Fortunately, I had made the bait energetically powerful enough that the otter hesitated to bite it. Observing through the eyes of my other scouts, I saw that they all began with simpler targets — weak artifacts that were poorly guarded.

But our older friend was now willing to take risks, and she eagerly fell for the hook. As she ran up to the box, she touched it with her paw and froze instantly, unable to escape. After several unsuccessful tugs, panic set in, and she began to squeak plaintively. I had no intention of tormenting her, so I didn’t keep her in that suspended state for long before entering the pantry. The girls hurried after me.

“How did I not figure it out?” Olga lamented. “Water magic… I should have understood!”

“What is that?” Bella and Beatriz exclaimed in unison.

“Water elemental,” I replied.

“Come again?” Isabella asked, but then she shook her head as if deciding it wasn’t important and clarified predatorily, “Does it respond to poison or bladed weapons? I’ll handle it now!” She stepped decisively toward the otter, but I stopped her by placing my hand on her shoulder.

“Bella, wait. Let’s talk first.”

She frowned. “Talk? Does this creature… understand human speech?”

“Of course,” I nodded, “and it can even respond, especially now that it has no energy problems.”

I took a step forward and addressed the elemental directly. “Don’t worry. Do you remember me?”

The otter was still desperately trying to break free from the trap, expending its strength in vain. However, upon seeing me, it calmed down slightly, seeming to recognize me.

“I want to talk to you,” I said again.

The elemental cautiously nodded, and its animal form began to blur and enlarge, transforming into a new shape. As before, when it had tried to thank me, the otter took on the form of a translucent girl, completely composed of water. But unlike our first meeting, it now maintained this form and spoke to us almost freely. Its speech flowed like a bubbling stream. “I helped you,” it said. “Why did you capture me by force?”

Isabella flared up like a match. “You still ask why?! You were stealing in this castle and mocking the guards! And now you act all innocent!”

The elemental tilted its head slightly to the side. “Stea… stealing?” it questioned.

Bella was ready to launch another round of accusations, but I halted her with a gesture and explained to the girls. “It’s not worth approaching a conversation with a magical being using human logic.”

As if to confirm my point, the otter-girl continued, “You offered me a gift. I took it. And then I found many gifts here. I was happy.”

“A gift is something given voluntarily,” I clarified, “but you began taking without asking.”

Confusion swirled in its blue eyes. “I thought it was allowed. Is it not?”

“Of course it’s not!” Isabella interjected, unable to contain her indignation once more. “This fortress now belongs to the Velasco family, as does everything within it.”

“I don’t understand,” the otter replied.

I had to break it down further. “Elementals have no concept of ownership. To them, it’s all simply part of the world. Common for everyone.”

“Then should we explain it to her?” Olga suggested.

I shook my head. “She still won’t understand fully,” I remarked.

“Then what should we do?” Bella asked. “Lock her up next to this trap forever?”

At this, the elemental twitched again. “No!” she exclaimed. “You can’t hold me by force!”

“That would be cynical ingratitude,” Olga suddenly sided with the otter. “She helped us get into the fortress.”

“Calm down,” I addressed the captive again. “We will let you go, but you’ll have to accept our rules and not touch magical things without permission.”

“That’s not allowed either,” she replied, “it’s tasty. Necessary for us.”

“I didn’t understand,” Beatriz interjected, “did she just honestly say that she will continue to steal if we let her go?”

“She doesn’t even know what stealing is,” Olga answered. Finally, at least one other person besides me began to grasp the core issue.

Isabella had another question: “Why didn’t you take anything from here before?” she asked the otter.

“Hungry,” the elemental replied sadly. “We couldn’t move away from the power line. We didn’t know there was food here. Many, many years of hunger. Almost died.”

“Now I feel sorry for her,” Beatriz said, her emotions surfacing. The head of the Castillos even dabbed at her eyes with a handkerchief, earning surprised looks from the girls. Though they had been ready to tear her apart just a minute ago, our fierce warriors were not accustomed to such overt displays of feeling.

I continued the conversation with the otter in a way she would understand. “So, you want more food?” I asked, steering toward the conclusion I sought.

The elemental nodded.

“Then you can earn it. In exchange for your services to me, I will feed you delicious energy every day.”

“Services? Is that fun?” the girl perked up.

“You definitely won’t be bored with us,” Olga assured her.

“Alright,” the otter quickly agreed, then, thinking for a moment, added, “but I am free. I won’t do what I don’t want to.”

“Wait a second!” Isabella suddenly panicked. “Max, do you want to take her to Richterberg?”

I nodded.

“But if this is a water elemental, won’t its absence here be harmful? In Charmant? What if a drought or some other disaster starts…”

“Aha,” I smiled. “So you do know something about nature spirits.”

“Yes, I remembered... though I thought it was just myths. But now, seeing that it’s not…”

“Don’t worry,” I interrupted her. “The influence of elementals on the local lands has long been approaching zero. They have lost almost all their powers. But now you can try to negotiate with the ‘relatives’ of our otter. If you help them regain their strength, who knows how fertile the fields around Charmant could become?”

Suddenly, the elemental smiled slyly. “And what if we still take?”

“I wouldn’t advise that,” I replied. “Right now, my trap is just holding you in place. But what if it starts to draw energy from you too?”

“No!” she shook her head. “I understand.”

“Will you explain this to your friends?” Isabella’s tone had shifted completely to soft and friendly. Sensing the opportunity, the heiress of the Velascos quickly adapted and began to build connections. She succeeded quite effectively, convincing the otter that they needed to arrange a meeting with the other elementals.

The castle buzzed with activity once more, but this time it felt different. Álvaro and Isabella, not being fools, immediately decided to keep the existence of the spirits hidden even from parts of their own clan. Simultaneously, they began to strategize and plan how to organize joint efforts and coexistence. They called in architects to partially remodel the fortress for their needs and initiated a flurry of activity in the city, reaching out to all the important officials and departments.

With that taken care of, Olga and I found that we had little left to do here. Having resolved this last issue, we prepared to return home with a portion of the trophies and, of course, with the water elemental in tow.

By the way, our little otter had a very amusing name: Dewdrop, or Dewie. She was absolutely thrilled by the journey across the sea. It turned out that she had spent her whole life near Charmant, never encountering a water source larger than a lake or river. Olga and I had to constantly rein her in, as she seemed eager to explore the expanse of the ocean, believing she could cover it all in a single night. When we explained the ocean’s immense size, her eyes nearly widened in shock, and she looked as though she might faint from the flood of emotions.

“It’s a pity that... the services aren’t related to the ocean,” she said regretfully as we left Costa Sirena. “I will miss it.” Dewdrop typically preferred to remain in her otter form, but she only spoke to us in her guise as a girl. Now, she stood forlornly on the shore, reminiscent of the heroine from some dramatic tale.

“Beatriz would cry again,” Olga remarked with a chuckle.

* * *

“You have a surprise waiting for you,” I heard Lifeng’s voice as we neared Richterberg via subway.

“A good one, I hope?” I replied, not expecting a positive response.

“I don’t even know,” the hacker said. “But nothing bad has happened so far.”

Intrigued, I learned from her that this surprise awaited me in my bedroom. Naturally, my first thought was of Octavia. But I was mistaken. Upon entering the room, I found Blanche waiting for me, and she seemed unable to contain her eagerness to share something important.

Chapter 25

“I MISSED YOU, Max,” Blanche said, smiling seductively. “We haven’t seen each other at all lately.” She stood by the window, her red hair cascading in soft waves over her shoulders, gleaming like copper in the morning light. The short woolen dress, the color of boiled milk, hugged her graceful figure, accentuating all her curves. In that attire, she managed to look both comfortably domestic and alluring. Her movements and gestures exuded the same sensual elegance as always, even as she curled up on the couch with her legs tucked beneath her like a cat. In short, she was a quintessential Villon — a life magician, flawless in her perfection.

I walked into the room and settled into my favorite leather armchair. A mug of coffee sat on the side table next to it. I wasn’t sure how long Blanche had been waiting for me, but the drink hadn’t cooled down. The new Princess Villon had taken care to place it on a warmer that maintained the ideal temperature. She looked at me with concern.

“Missed me?” I asked with a smile. “I wouldn’t have thought you had any time for that at all.”

“Not in that sense…” she blushed, then suddenly sighed. “I don’t know about you, but I often think about that night… and I regret that it ended so… ordinarily.”

I raised an eyebrow, intrigued by her admission. This was an unexpected turn of events. Blanche’s vanity had taken a hit that night, and I hadn’t thought she would revisit those moments in conversation. That night, just before the decisive confrontation with the Villons, I had admired her sculpted figure for a fleeting moment as she shed her robe. Then I threw my robe over her shoulders and sent her off to bed with a parting slap on her cheeky bottom. I had my reasons for that approach. The fact that she recalled it now suggested she had not abandoned her plans, but only postponed them until a more opportune time. Blanche had gained more from our alliance than she could have ever expected, seamlessly transforming from an enemy and captive into a full-fledged princess and my ally.

“You’re looking for action?” I asked again. “Is leading the Villon clan really that boring?” I was growing weary of her hints. Some girls viewed rejections as blows to their self-esteem, turning their desire to seduce into an obsession. However, I always considered Blanche to be much more pragmatic than that.

“I just don’t understand…” she evaded the direct question, “am I really that inferior to Katharine? Of course, she was incredibly beautiful, but I…”

“Stop, stop,” I interrupted. “What does Katharine have to do with this?”

Blanche blushed but still responded. “But how… I heard that you were close to her. Yet… I am beautiful too,” she declared, raising her head proudly. “Besides, I have a much better personality. Or do you actually prefer bitches like her? Then I can—”

“I have no doubt,” I cut in again before she could spiral into her imagination. “Believe me, I’m completely certain that the girls of the Villon clan are experts at playing on men’s nerves.”

“But then, why, Max? Haven’t I proven my loyalty?” Blanche seductively stretched, showcasing her long, slender legs. “Isn’t it better to make our union something more serious and deep? Life and death are the two poles on which the whole world rests, and together we could… wait… why are you laughing?!”

“Because I’ve heard similar reasoning before,” I replied. “But believe me, we don’t need to share a bed to remain allies. In fact, I think that in our case, it might even be harmful.”

“But why?” Her voice took on a petulant tone. Like any beauty, she believed she could ensnare anyone, even if it took more than one attempt. Once again, I was convinced I had made the right choice. Blanche was indeed quite different from Katharine in a way I preferred, but she still carried the inherent tendency of her kind to manipulate those around her, whether overtly or subtly. It was part of her nature, much like it was for most witches of the Villon clan. The gift endowed the Villons not only with powerful magic but also with an allure that surpassed what most could hope to achieve. This, naturally, influenced their character.

I was not concerned about their manipulations. Had I been susceptible to them, Katharine would have subdued me a thousand years ago. Regardless of my feelings for her now, she had always been one of the most seductive women in the world and had plenty of time to learn how to wield that power.

So I decided to be honest. “Blanche, my… rich experience with the Villons has taught me a valuable lesson. If I plan to do business with you, then our relationship must remain strictly professional. Otherwise, nothing good will come of it.”

“I would never take advantage of that!” Blanche exclaimed, her fervent denial revealing her intention more than she realized.

I smiled and replied amicably, “Do you want people to say behind your back that the new Villon princess received her title via the couch? What do they say now? Pumping…”

“Stop it, Max!” she blushed.

“I’m just pointing out what your opponents will undoubtedly say,” I pressed. “If that happens, your authority will be worth nothing. I need you as a leader and ally, not as a girl for bed pleasures.”

Blanche frowned and fell silent. I could almost see the gears turning in her head. My response clearly did not satisfy her, but she recognized she was not in a position to insist any further. I knew well that if I elevated her to a position of power, she might try to ride my coattails and dangle her lovely legs as a means of influence. I wouldn’t promote her to the rank of princess just so she could offload her responsibilities onto someone else. Let her work for the good of the clan, I thought, especially since she wouldn’t maintain her place if she stopped striving forward.

“So why did you come?” I reiterated my question. “Did you really miss me?”

Blanche suddenly became serious, adjusted her dress, and moved to the edge of the sofa. “It’s hard for me to explain this in a few words,” she admitted, a crooked smile on her face. “But I have serious problems. I was hoping to handle it myself, but…”

At first, Blanche’s story struck me as complete nonsense. Some battered Villons were attempting to battle the new clan with… lawsuits? After we had eliminated all their battle mages, they not only dared to keep flailing, but chose such a frivolous method of resistance. Yet, having become more acquainted with the workings of the Richterberg municipality, I had grown less condescending toward bureaucracy. It appeared that the current generation of people and mages preferred to wage their battles through financiers and legalists rather than with spells and steel. I interrupted Blanche mid-sentence and summoned Linda Aster to the residence, along with representatives of the Bergman family, through whom our products were supplied.

Of course, the use of dietary supplements that reduced the impacts of abomination on the body and the advanced cosmetics “The Youth of Villon” wasn’t restricted to Richterberg. The Bergmans had established reliable trading partnerships across the lands of nearly all clans. Recently, only the logistics had changed. All supplies now passed through Costa Sirena, but the new clan’s products continued to provide our coalition with a steady and substantial income. Blanche didn’t seem thrilled about the idea of a meeting. In light of what had transpired, this new round of negotiation felt less unexpected. Perhaps she wanted to lay the groundwork to ensure her position as princess remained strong, regardless of the situation. Typical of a Villon.

I gathered everyone in the conference room of the IT laboratory, the most suitable place for such discussions. “Why didn’t you reach out to Linda Aster yourself?” I asked Blanche while we awaited the arrival of the other participants.

Blanche lowered her eyes. “I didn’t want to get into this too much. Besides, it’s not easy to meet with her, you know. I tried to arrange a meeting, but we couldn’t align our schedules. Your lawyer’s day is literally booked down to the minute. You’re the only one she’s available for at a moment’s notice,” she said regretfully. “I can’t always adjust either. After all, a whole clan has fallen onto my shoulders.”

“Not a whole one yet,” I noted.

Blanche grew nervous again. “Yes, and I don’t want to let anyone down — not you or my clan. But I’ve never dealt with administrative work on this scale before. It’s… not easy.”

I nodded, and Blanche, sensing I might misunderstand her, quickly added, “But that doesn’t mean I’m not coping or unhappy with my new status! Not at all. I’m doing everything I can to improve every day!”

“It’s not as simple as you thought?” I smiled.

“Yes,” she nodded. “Not simple at all. You see, the war in the capital was mostly survived by scientists and medical professionals. Under my leadership, it turned out to be just them — no warriors or even lawyers, which we sorely need right now. I found only one economist, and he’s not the best. So I’m facing an acute personnel shortage. I have to be like a tailor, a reaper, and a performer all at once,” she joked sadly. “I’m spinning like a squirrel in a wheel, but in many ways, I’m just treading water,” she concluded honestly.

“I appreciate your sincerity,” I praised her. “Let’s figure out how to solve your problems.”

* * *

Linda and the Bergmans arrived in just half an hour, having long mastered the subway system. Upon receiving my invitation, they dropped everything and quickly descended into the underground. Only two of the northerners came to the meeting, but they were the most crucial for our discussion: Lawyer Johan and Economist Kristina. After exchanging greetings and pleasantries, we dove straight into the matter at hand. Instead of the convoluted explanations Blanche had attempted, she asked her assistant to bring in the necessary documents. Now, in front of Linda and Johan lay a substantial stack of lawsuits that had been piling up against Blanche and the Villons.

After spending some time examining the documents, Linda finally articulated the essence of the problem. “Interesting…” she began, “a unique situation. There are now two Villon clans in the world.”

“How’s that?” I said.

“After Katharine’s death, her clan ceased to exist, and Blanche immediately created a new one with the same name.”

“Yes, but one of the Villons who did not participate in the war and wasn’t in the capital managed to register another clan with the same name in Villon-de-Tour.”

“Did this happen simultaneously?” I frowned.

“Not quite. He simply challenged the legality of Blanche’s claims, and the local court sided with him. Other courts in various cities supported that decision as well. I’m not surprised. The clan advisors of the Villons are still there, and the Richters aren’t particularly favored.”

“So, Blanche is recognized as a princess only in Richterberg?” I asked directly.

“Exactly,” Johan nodded. He hesitated, appearing reluctant to continue, but I grasped the implications. The very existence of Richterberg lacked a solid legal foundation in the outside world. For many hundreds of years, the city had been referred to in all documents as the Capital. Now my enemies had successfully exploited this.

“Our problem is called Nicolas Villon,” Linda announced after reviewing the documents.

“I am a little acquainted with him,” Blanche explained. “He was one of the leading lawyers of the clan. He very skillfully won several difficult cases for Katharine. It’s no surprise that he took action at a time like this.”

“Alright,” I nodded. “That’s clear. Now explain to me exactly how he’s managed to interfere with our business.”

Blanche began to recount the story again. It turned out that Nicolas had contacted her almost immediately after the war, offering his services as a mediator for conducting business outside of Richterberg. Of course, it wasn’t for free — he wanted a “modest” twenty percent cut. Blanche had shot down such an enticing offer right off the bat, and at the time, she hadn’t thought much more of it. However, Nicolas wasn’t one to take no for an answer. That’s when he set his plan in motion. He challenged the legality of the creation of the new Villon clan, subsequently registering it for himself. He encountered no significant obstacles in doing this because he was operating in his own territory, where he enjoyed considerable support from the machinery of state.

Then, he made another attempt to negotiate with Blanche. This time, however, his demands had escalated to seventy percent for mediation — an amount that no sane person would agree to, and despite her shortcomings, Blanche still possessed her wits. But the second refusal seemed to finally offend Nicolas. He began to apply pressure from all directions. In just a couple of weeks, this relentless Villon had managed to block all the accounts of the old clan outside Richterberg, while also interfering with our ability to sell our goods — specifically, cosmetics and dietary supplements from Youth of Villon. He even succeeded in getting our products recognized as counterfeit, claiming they were fakes despite all our certificates and the fact that a significant portion of this production belonged to the Bergmans.

The Bergmans themselves had only just learned about this development. Blanche had kept the news from them until the last moment, hoping to resolve the situation on her own, or perhaps to pass the blame onto me. I wanted to bend the self-assured girl over my knee and give her a good spanking. What held me back was the thought that Blanche might interpret it as part of my flirting with her, and even worse, that she might actually enjoy it. Instead, I settled for a lecture on the importance of trust when working with partners, in which the somewhat surprised Bergmans actively supported me. Most of all, though, they were waiting for my further instructions.

“To be honest,” Johan spread his hands, “I’ve never encountered such an ambiguous situation.”

“Let’s be straightforward — nothing like this has ever happened in world practice,” Linda stated decisively.

“Although I’m not a lawyer,” Kristina chimed in, “even I understand that finding a solution won’t be easy.”

“Uh-huh,” Blanche shook her head sadly. “Especially without leaving Richterberg…”

I smiled. “What are these gloomy speeches? So some upstart has bested you, so what? Fold your hands and give up?”

“But what should we do?” exclaimed Princess Villon, throwing her hands up in exasperation.

“Let’s see,” I smirked. “For now, I would like to talk to this talented young man.”

* * *

“I have a bad feeling,” frowned Gabrielle Villon, Nicolas’s assistant, as news arrived that the local court’s ruling had been accepted in several other cities. Soon, their clan would be recognized around the world, unlike the one created in the capital.

“Don’t frown, Gabi,” Nicolas replied cheerfully, propping his feet, shod in expensive handmade shoes, on his desk. “Wrinkles spoil your beauty.”

Gabrielle waved her hand dismissively. Even frowning and without makeup, she was more beautiful than most women in this world, like all the representatives of the Villon lineage. Nicolas certainly wasn’t lacking in attractiveness either, though nature had given his appearance a few unexpected quirks. Tall and lanky, he moved with the effortless grace of a predatory bird, and his slightly protruding ears, which might ruin anyone else’s looks, instead contributed a boyish charm to his face. His dark red hair was styled in a trendy cut, and mischievous sparks danced in his green eyes. Yet beneath the façade of a frivolous dandy lay a mind as sharp as a razor.

“I understand why you are afraid. Why others, our allies, are wary,” Nicolas continued. “But don’t forget, we’re dealing with a dinosaur from an old era. A dinosaur cut off from the world by pockets of abomination. It will never reach us. And in this legal war, we hold all the trump cards. The Richters and that silly Blanche will have to come to terms with the loss of part of their assets.”

“The Salazars also thought that no one would reach them,” Gabi muttered.

“Pff…” Nicolas scoffed dismissively. “There’s no evidence that the Richters directly participated in their downfall. They lost to the Sirens. So don’t worry. Even if he ever escapes the capital, by that time we will have already managed to withdraw all the coins and dissolve into the vast modern world, which this fossilized artifact of antiquity doesn’t understand at all.”

The next books of the series!

The Dark Healer (Book #10)

The Dark Healer (Book #11)

End of Book Nine

Thank you for reading The Dark Healer!

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About The Authors

Alex Toxic

Alex Toxic was born in 1978. He liked reading and playing video games from childhood. These two hobbies found ideal common ground when the LitRPG genre arrived.

Alex dreamed of becoming an author but the profession seemed just too complicated to him. So he began working first as a journalist, then as a TV anchor and then as a documentary filmmaker.

There came a point when Alex had run out of books he wanted to read. The authors simply couldn’t write new ones fast enough. The only way out was to write a book of his own. That’s how he launched into the passion that would with time become his primary profession.

Alex believes that the most important thing in a book is its main character. He or she has to be strong and unrelenting in the face of whatever challenge arises in their path, and they must always triumph.

Nadya Lee

Ever since she was a little girl, Nadya Lee knew exactly what she wanted to be: either a President, a singer, or an author.

The first option just didn’t work out for some reason :-)

The second option eventually became her hobby. Nadya still loves singing and does it at every opportunity, accompanying herself on a guitar.

Likewise, writing remained her hobby for quite a while. Nadya wrote poems, articles and even fanfics, keeping an occasional blog on various subjects including book reviews. Books and videogames have always been an important part of her life.

Then one day she just woke up in the morning and decided she’d procrastinated enough. Time to put pen to paper.

So here she is, hoping that her audience might enjoy reading her books just as much as she enjoyed writing them.