The knowledge, a final, poisoned gift from Korgan’s devoured soul, was a brand of ice. The names, the places, the chilling, logistical details of the Valerius family’s monstrous plan. It was all there. Laid out in his mind with the cold, brutal clarity of a military briefing.
The "Plague Spores." A unique, bio-magical agent. A product of a rare, high-level, and deeply illegal dungeon. The "Grotto of Eternal Rot." The spores were not a conventional poison. They did not kill the body. They infected the soul. Upon inhalation, they would take root in a person’s spiritual essence. Slowly, agonizingly, corrupting it from the inside out. Turning ordinary citizens into mindless, raging, plague-ridden husks. A weapon of mass spiritual destruction. An instant, uncontrollable army of the damned.
The target was not the capital. Too close to home. Too risky for the nobles. Their chosen city was Silverstream. A sprawling, grimy, industrial metropolis to the north. A major economic rival to the capital. A place whose suffering the ruling elite would find... politically convenient.
The plan was as simple as it was diabolical. They would unleash the spores in the city’s crowded, lower-class factory district. Ensuring maximum, rapid infection. The resulting catastrophe, the "Silverstream Plague," would be blamed on the heretical, monstrous faction known as The Unchained. Their recent, violent activities made them the perfect, plausible scapegoat. The kingdom would be thrown into a panic. The Inquisition would be granted unlimited, emergency powers. And The Unchained would be transformed from a remote, shadowy threat into the single most hated and hunted enemy of the state.
Edward stood in the serene, magical quiet of the Mana Spring. The world was a place of pain and a dawning, sickening horror. He had just won a war for his people’s survival. Only to discover it had been a mere skirmish. A diversion. While the real, world-altering blow was being prepared in the shadows.
He looked at Sarah. He saw the fear and revulsion in her eyes. The chasm that his own necessary brutality had opened between them. But as he looked at her, the details of the Valerius plot solidified into a single, terrible, and unavoidable choice.
He could do nothing. He could pull his people back. Retreat into the deep wilderness. And allow the Valerius family’s horrific plan to unfold. He could let a city of a hundred thousand innocent men, women, and children die. Their souls corrupted into a tide of mindless plague-monsters. It was the safe, pragmatic, and strategically sound choice. It would protect his people. Preserve their secrecy. Keep them far from the inevitable, kingdom-wide firestorm that would follow. No one would ever know. It was the choice a monster would make. ᴛʜɪs ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ɪs ᴜᴘᴅᴀᴛᴇ ʙʏ 𝘯𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘭•𝙛𝙞𝙧𝙚•𝕟𝕖𝕥
Or, he could intervene. He could take his small, battered, and exhausted army and throw them into the path of this new, terrifying threat. He could reveal their existence to the world. Not as a shadowy rumor, but as an active, military force. He would be walking directly into a trap that was not even meant for him. It was a reckless, insane, and strategically suicidal choice. It was the choice a hero would make.
He was a monster who was trying, desperately, to be a man. And a man, a protector, could not stand by and let a city burn.
The cold, calculating look in his eyes, the look that had so terrified Sarah, softened. Replaced by a grim, weary, and utterly unyielding resolve.
The journey back to Asylum was a tense, silent affair. He did not explain the details of what he had learned. He simply issued the orders. "Break camp. All units, prepare for immediate, long-range deployment. We’re moving north. Now."
His command was met with a mixture of confusion and a weary, unquestioning obedience. The Unchained were warriors. They did not need to understand the why. They just needed to trust their king.
But Sarah was not one of his warriors. When he returned to the war room, his broken arm now crudely set in a sling, his face a mask of grim, resolute purpose, she was there. Waiting. The fear was still in her eyes. But it was now joined by a quiet, searching concern.
"What is it?" she asked. Her voice was soft but firm. "What did you learn? What’s happening?"
Selene and Fenris were there as well. Their faces were a mirror of the same, unspoken question.
Edward looked at them. His inner circle. His new, dysfunctional family. He could not lie to them. He could not lead them into this new, suicidal conflict without telling them the truth.
He told them everything. The Plague Spores. The city of Silverstream. The Valerius family’s monstrous, cynical plan.
When he finished, the room was filled with a heavy, stunned silence.
Selene was the first to speak. Her voice was a low, incredulous hiss. "You’re insane," she stated. Not an insult. A simple, clinical diagnosis. "Absolutely, certifiably insane. This is not our fight, Edward. Silverstream is a city of the system. A city of people who would see every single one of us burned at the stake. They would call for your execution while you were trying to save them. To intervene is to throw ourselves into the fire for a city of strangers who hate us. It is a foolish, sentimental, and completely unjustifiable risk."
She was right. Every word she spoke was the cold, hard, pragmatic truth.
"Let it burn," Fenris growled. Her voice was a low, savage rumble. Her loyalty was to her pack. To The Unchained. The world of men, the world that had cast her out, could choke on its own ashes for all she cared. "It is not our hunt."
She was also right. It was a sentiment that would be echoed by every member of their fledgling, outcast nation.
Edward looked at Sarah. He expected her to agree. To plead with him to choose the safe path. To protect his people. To protect himself.
But she didn’t. She looked at him. And the fear and the disillusionment were gone. Replaced by a new, brilliant, and fiercely proud light. The rift that had opened between them was suddenly, miraculously, gone. She was seeing him again. Not as the monster. But as the boy who had shoved her out of the path of a goblin’s spear. The man who was willing to sacrifice everything to protect the innocent.
Her faith in him, which had been shaken, was now restored. Stronger and more absolute than ever. She didn’t say a word. She just gave him a single, small, and infinitely meaningful nod.
And in that moment, Edward knew he had made the right choice. Her faith was worth more than all the strategic advantages in the world.
"This is not a choice," he said to Selene and Fenris. His voice was quiet. It carried the unyielding weight of a king’s decree. "We are not the Iron Vultures. We are not them. We do not stand by and allow the innocent to be slaughtered for political gain. We are The Unchained. And that means we fight for everyone who is caught in the gears of this cruel, broken system. Whether they are one of us or not. That is the principle upon which this faction is built. If we abandon that, then we are no better than the monsters we are fighting."
Selene stared at him. A long, searching look in her golden eyes. She saw not a foolish, sentimental boy. But a leader. A king. Drawing a line in the sand. Forging an identity for his people that was based on something more than just survival. A slow, reluctant, and almost admiring smile touched her lips.
"This is going to be a catastrophe," she sighed. A sound of profound, theatrical exasperation. "But it will, at the very least, be a gloriously entertaining one." She tapped her wrist bracer. Her professional, spymaster persona returning. "Fine. If we are to engage in this lunacy, we will do it properly."
Her intelligence network, the shadowy web of the Crimson Syndicate, was already at work. "The spores are being transported from the Valerius family’s northern estate to Silverstream via a heavily armed caravan," she reported. A holographic map of the northern territories appeared over the table. "They are avoiding the main roads. Taking a route through the desolate, open country of the Gray-Ash Plains. They expect no resistance."
Her fingers danced across the map. "They are well-equipped. An escort of at least fifty elite knights. All secretly loyal to the Valerius family. All veterans of private, corporate wars."
She zoomed in on the icon for the caravan’s command unit. A new, chillingly familiar face appeared. Chris.
He looked different. The arrogant pride was gone. Replaced by a hollow-eyed, obsessive intensity. His arm, the one Edward had broken, was now encased in a black, metallic, and vaguely sinister-looking brace. It seemed to pulse with a faint, chaotic energy. He was no longer the S-Rank prodigy. He was a disgraced, dishonored, and deeply vengeful man. Given a new, dark toy. And a chance to reclaim his lost honor by overseeing his family’s most monstrous act.
"And," Selene concluded, her voice a low, grim whisper, "it appears your old rival is leading the welcoming committee."