Absolute Sovereignty-Chapter 8: The Road of Thorns

The Umbral Heralds led the procession like wraiths, their black-armored steeds kicking up dust that refused to settle. At the center, Kaelen rode flanked by Garron and Caldris's greenest soldiers, while Lady Selene trailed at the rear, her Velarion escort glowering at anyone who dared come too near. The air itself was heavy with tension—thick enough to choke.

Garron leaned sideways in his saddle, his voice low.

"Those Heralds give me the shivers. I saw one blink without moving its eyes yesterday."

"Don't stare," Kaelen muttered. "They're not here to guard us—they're here to report."

"Report what? How many times you scratch your arse?"

"How many times I don't."

At the edge of Kaelen's vision, the System's interface flickered against the backdrop of pine forests lining the Silvershade Road:

[Corruption: 0.7%]

[Soulcraft Progress: 31/100]

[Environmental Threat Detected: Ambush probability - 67% within 3 miles.]

Kaelen nudged his horse closer to Selene. "Tell your men to check their saddle straps—the road ahead is... uneven."

She didn't look at him. "I don't take orders from drunkards."

"Then take them from a pragmatist. Velarion's horses spook easily, don't they?"

Her jaw tightened, but she raised a gloved hand. Her escort slowed, fingers drifting toward their weapon hilts.

Then it came—a hail of arrows. Bandits erupted from the tree line—a ragged mix of deserters and highwaymen, their faces masked by grime and desperation. The Umbral Heralds remained motionless, silent witnesses as the first volley of bolts thudded into Caldris' shield wall.

"Shields!" Garron bellowed, flames flickering at his fingertips.

Kaelen stood his ground, his Soul Sight dissecting the chaos. Silver threads of magic coiled around three attackers—a Torch-tier earth mage and two Ember-tier archers. Weak. Hungry.

Amid the clamor, Selene's voice rang out as she parried a bandit's axe. "Do something, prince!" Her tone dripped with mockery.

He dismounted with a practiced stumble. "I'm trying!"

A bandit lunged, dagger aimed for his throat. Kaelen "tripped" backward, his hand brushing the man's boot.

This content is taken from freёnovelkiss.com.

[Soulcraft Activated: Husk]

In that moment, the bandit's soul tore free—a frayed wisp of gray—and he collapsed mid-swing. Kaelen absorbed the meager energy as the System updated:

[Soulcraft Progress: 34/100]

[Corruption: 0.8%]

[Memory Degradation: Faint recollection of childhood riding lessons.]

"Unlucky bastard," Garron muttered, incinerating an arrow midair.

Selene fought like a seasoned warrior, her sword trailing alchemical fire. Yet Kaelen noticed her glances—first at the Heralds, then at him—testing. He played his role perfectly: the bumbling prince who "accidentally" kicked a rock into an archer's knee, who "panicked" and toppled a wagon to block an earth mage's fissure. Each move, hidden in the chaos and every soul consumed in the fray, was designed to confound the Heralds' analysis.

When the last bandit fled, Selene stormed toward him, her blade singeing the grass. "Your incompetence nearly got us killed!"

Kaelen wiped an imaginary bead of sweat from his brow.

"But it didn't—thanks to your brilliance, my lady."

She stared at him, searching for irony. Finding none, she spat, "Stay out of my way."

At that moment, the Umbral Heralds stirred. Their leader's voice rasped, "Continue."

Dusk found them in a rocky clearing, the Heralds posted like silent sentinels at the forest's edge. Garron stoked a small cookfire, his focus ring glowing as he roasted stolen bandit rations. "Never thought I'd miss fig wine," he grumbled.

Kaelen sat apart, sharpening a dagger. Soon, Selene approached, her shadow stretching long over him. "You moved oddly during the ambush," she observed.

"Fear does that."

"Fear doesn't make men lucky," she countered, kneeling so her voice cut like a blade. "What are you hiding?"

He met her steady gaze. "The same thing you are."

For a heartbeat, her guarded mask slipped—a flicker of unease—before she scoffed, "You're a fool."

"And you're smuggling alchemical cores in your saddlebags," Kaelen replied softly. "Enough to level a fortress. The Heralds haven't noticed. Yet."

Selene's hand shot to her sword. "You—"

"Relax. I'm not your enemy." He nodded toward the unmoving Heralds. "They are."

She studied him as the firelight carved sharp angles into her features. "Why keep my secret?"

"Because Velarion's crops aren't the only thing failing. Your magic is, too."

Her silence confirmed his suspicion. "The cores are just a stopgap. Without Caldris' grain, your people starve; without your enchantments, we're defenseless. It's mutual destruction."

Selene stood, her voice cold. "Dont speak of this again"

As she walked away, the System flickered:

[Selene of Velarion - Loyalty: 15% (Cautious Interest)]

Later that night, Kaelen took first watch, leaning against a pine as Garron snored beside the dying fire. The Umbral Heralds remained unmoving, their hollow eyes fixed on nothing. A twig snapped, and Selene slid down beside him, her sword resting across her knees.

"Can't sleep?" Kaelen asked softly.

"Can't trust," she replied, glancing at the still Heralds. "They're not breathing."

"They don't need to."

"You know what they are."

"I know what they're not—humans." Kaelen picked up a small pebble and tossed it. It passed through a Herald's helm, revealing flickering darkness beneath. "Ghosts with orders."

Her voice dropped. "Why are you really going to the Conclave?"

"Same reason you are—to survive."

"You'll fail. The emperor seem to really want to devour you"

He smiled. "Then I'll taste terrible."

She stood, pausing. "If you betray me, I'll kill you myself."

"Noted."

As she retreated, the System updated:

[Environmental Threat Updated: Ambush probability - 89% within 1 mile.]

[Recommendation: Restore 5% Soulcraft Progress for combat readiness.]

Kaelen gripped his dagger. The road ahead was long, and the shadows were hungry.