My Cheat Skill Lets Me Copy Powers....But only if i kill-Chapter 39: Beneath The Noble Seal

Chapter 38 - Beneath The Noble Seal 

The moonlight sliced through the cracks in the window shutters, painting pale lines across the floorboards of the inn room. Everything was still — too still.

Renji sat at the edge of the bed, shirtless, the cool air brushing over old scars and fresh bruises. His gear lay piled in the corner, still caked with grime from the dungeon, untouched since their return.

On the table beside him, the black insignia of B Rank glinted faintly in the moonlight. It felt heavier than it should. He picked it up, turned it in his hand, then set it down again with a dull clink.

It meant something, once.

Now it just felt like another chain.

His gaze drifted to the bedroll on the floor, neat and undisturbed. Beneath it, the folded letter from Saraphina Valenhardt lay hidden. He hadn't touched it since the day he returned. He didn't need to read it again — the words were etched into his memory.

"I wish for you to remain by my side... as more than just a hero..."

Renji closed his eyes, exhaling slowly.

He hadn't given an answer. He didn't have one.

His fingers tapped against his thigh, restless. He wasn't used to stillness — and silence never sat well with him. His thoughts wandered, unbidden, to the dungeon, the fights, the shadows...

And the Shadowfang.

He saw it clearly — the way it lunged between him and the guardian's blade, taking the hit that would've shattered his ribs. The way it didn't hesitate. The way it died.

He hadn't named it. Hadn't planned to keep it long. It was a tool — a result of his Beast Tamer skill, something to use in battle.

So why did the memory sit like a stone in his chest?

Renji's jaw clenched. He wasn't mourning. That wasn't it. But...

It had listened to him. Trusted him.

And he'd failed it.

He looked down at his hands — still stained faintly red despite the washing. The beast's blood, mixed with the guardian's, mixed with his own.

There would be more. More fights. More losses.

He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, fingers laced together. "You knew this," he muttered under his breath. "This is the path you chose."

A soft knock at the door broke the stillness. Elara or Lena — he couldn't tell. The knock came again, lighter this time, hesitant.

He didn't answer.

Footsteps retreated.

Renji stayed seated, eyes fixed on the floor.

No rest. Not tonight.

His hand drifted to the hilt of his sword beside him, fingers wrapping around the worn leather grip.

He needed a fight.

Anything to silence the noise in his head.

Valkris was muted in the early hours — the clatter and shouting of the day yet to begin. Dawn light broke through mist like silver threads, painting the stone streets in soft grey and orange hues. The city, usually sharp-edged and loud, felt subdued. Restless.

Renji moved through it with purpose, but no destination. His cloak hung heavy over his shoulders, the air damp, cool against his face. Each footfall echoed too loud in his ears, too sharp, despite the quiet around him.

Sleep hadn't come. And the silence inside his head was worse.

His thoughts wouldn't stop circling — the guild's empty praise, the weight of that rank insignia, the image of the Shadowfang collapsing, breath rattling out as blood slicked its fur.

A tool, he reminded himself.

But it hadn't felt that way in the end.

He exhaled slowly, turning into a narrow side street near the edge of the market. The world closed in tighter there — buildings pressing together, the mist clinging like cobwebs.

A flicker in his peripheral vision — slight. A sound out of rhythm.

Someone was following him.

He kept walking, steps slowing, listening.

Still there. Close.

Renji veered into an alley, flanked by stacked crates and boarded windows. The moment his boots hit the cobbles, he pivoted, hand at his weapon.

A figure stood at the mouth of the alley.

Hooded. Cloaked. Motionless.

Renji didn't draw his sword — not yet. His voice was cold, cutting through the fog. "I don't like being followed."

The figure stepped forward, slow, hands empty. "Then we're even. I don't like waiting."

The voice was feminine, low, and controlled — but something in it tensed, like strings pulled too tight.

Renji's eyes narrowed, his stance guarded. "Who are you?"

She stopped a few paces from him, the mist swirling around her boots. Her face remained in shadow beneath the hood, but her posture was familiar. Too familiar.

"You're Renji Hurozawa," she said evenly.

His fingers twitched. "Answer the question."

"I'm not your enemy." Her tone didn't shift. "Not unless you give me reason to be."

"That's not reassuring."

"I came to warn you."

He stared at her, unmoving.

"You've drawn attention," she continued. "Not just from the guild. Not just from the people in this city. Higher forces are watching. Ones who won't hesitate if you become a problem."

Renji's voice dropped, tone hard. "You're not with the guild. You're not a noble. Who sent you?"

Silence.

She stepped closer. "You're not safe in Valkris. There's pressure mounting from all sides. You need to be careful."

His hand hovered near his blade again. "You've still not told me who you are."

Her eyes lifted beneath the hood — and for the first time, he caught a glimpse. Silver, just like his. Familiar. Almost painfully so.

Something hit the pit of his stomach.

Her voice softened. "Let's just say... I have a vested interest in keeping you alive."

His jaw clenched. "That doesn't answer anything."

She hesitated. Just a breath.

Then: "Call it a debt. One I intend to repay."

Renji took a slow step forward, eyes narrowed, studying her face. Something about her felt wrong — not threatening, but close. Like a memory half-formed, like a dream he couldn't quite recall.

"You look familiar."

A pause. Her shoulders shifted. "Do I?"

"Do I know you?"

Her lips parted slightly, then pressed into a line.

"No," she said, quiet. "Not yet."

Before he could speak, she turned sharply and vanished into the morning mist, her footsteps silent as the fog swallowed her form.

Renji stood there, unmoving, the alley stretching empty before him.

Her voice lingered in his ears.

Her eyes burned into his thoughts.

And something inside him whispered:

Liar.

The guild hall was different today.

Gone was the usual din of clashing tankards, the guttural laughter of adventurers swapping tales and boasts. In its place — a low hum, sharp glances, conversations cut short when the wrong ears drew near.

Renji stepped inside, the heavy door swinging shut behind him with a dull thud.

Eyes turned. Whispers followed.

"There he is..."

"That's the one from the dungeon team."

"Heard he ranked up again. B-rank now."

"Why's he back here so soon?"

He didn't acknowledge any of it. His steps were steady, measured, as he crossed the hall toward the front counter. Conversations dipped, like the air thickened around him.

The receptionist, a sharp-featured woman with her dark hair tied back, met his eyes with a neutral gaze — unreadable.

"You're early," she murmured. "Good. Saves me the trouble of tracking you down."

Renji stopped at the counter, brow furrowing slightly. "Why?"

Wordlessly, she pulled a thick envelope from beneath the counter and placed it between them. The wax seal shimmered silver, pressed with a black crest he didn't recognize.

Not the guild's seal. Not a merchant's.

Noble.

Renji narrowed his eyes.

"Arrived less than an hour ago," she explained, folding her arms. "Delivered by royal courier. They asked for you specifically."

He picked it up, feeling the weight of the parchment, the deliberate elegance. Breaking the seal, he unfolded the letter and scanned the words quickly.

His eyes stilled halfway through.

Lord Valecross requests your presence for a private audience. Your reputation precedes you. Discretion expected. Further details enclosed.

At the bottom — the Royal Court insignia of Lysoria.

Renji folded the letter with a quiet breath and slipped it into his cloak.

Behind him, the murmurs surged again.

"You see that seal?"

"Valecross? That's big. What's a noble want with him?"

"Think it's about the tournament?"

"He's not one of them — doesn't even dress like them."

The receptionist didn't flinch at the rising noise. She leaned forward slightly, her voice dropping.

"You're not the only one being contacted. But this?" She tapped the counter lightly where the letter had been. "They're not summoning adventurers. They're scouting weapons."

Renji's gaze didn't waver.

"Careful," she added, softer now. "Nobles don't invite people into their circles. They pull them in — and don't let go."

For a beat, Renji said nothing. The weight of the hall, the expectation, the envy, the curiosity, all bore down on him.

He turned from the counter without another word.

As he crossed the hall again, every step echoed louder than it should, every glance like a blade at his back.

Another summons. Another game.

And Renji wasn't sure who the players were anymore.

The alley behind the Valkris guild hall was narrow and damp, lined with crumbling stone walls and the faint scent of oil from nearby lanterns. The city's life barely reached this place — no chatter, no laughter. Just the distant clatter of hooves and the occasional clang of a blacksmith's hammer.

Reina stood still, shrouded in her cloak, the hood casting her face in shadow. Her silver eyes gleamed faintly beneath it, fixed on nothing — her mind elsewhere. Her fingers twitched against her side, restless.

Renji's face lingered in her thoughts — the way he'd looked in the alley when she approached him. The suspicion in his eyes, the way he'd sensed her without knowing.

And now he was in their sights.

Footsteps echoed down the alley — measured, controlled, each step precise. She didn't need to turn to know who it was.

A figure emerged from the shadows — a tall man in midnight-blue robes, a silver insignia of the Lysorian court pinned to his chest. His face was smooth, expressionless — the kind of man who never wasted words or breath.

"You've been quiet, Agent Reina."

Her reply was crisp, but low. "No movement. Until today."

He stopped beside her, hands behind his back, eyes scanning the skyline. "Then speak."

"Renji received a summons. From Lord Valecross himself." Her tone sharpened. "It wasn't discreet. The guild saw it. So did I."

The agent's brow twitched, the closest he came to surprise. "Faster than expected. Valecross moves boldly."

"He's drawn attention," she murmured, half to herself. "Too much. Too soon."

The agent turned to her, his eyes dark. "You were instructed to observe, not to judge the pace."

Reina tensed. "He doesn't know anything. He didn't ask for this."

"No one ever does," the agent said quietly. "And yet, here we are."

Silence stretched between them.

"He'll be at the meeting," she continued, voice tight. "What are the king's orders?"

The agent stepped closer, lowering his voice. "Observe Valecross. His interest is... opportunistic. If he steps beyond his station, you will intervene."

R𝑒ad latest chapt𝒆rs at freewebnovёl.ƈom Only.

"And Renji?"

A pause. The air seemed colder.

"If he complies, he's a tool for the crown. If he resists... we find other uses for him."

Reina's fists clenched beneath her cloak. "He's not just a tool."

The agent's eyes sharpened. "You forget your place."

A beat of silence.

Then his voice softened — dangerous. "Family ties are irrelevant, Agent Reina. You serve the kingdom. The king's will is absolute."

She didn't respond. Couldn't.

The agent straightened, his cloak fluttering as he turned. "Stay close. Don't reveal yourself. Should Valecross fail... the king has other plans."

He vanished into the mist, leaving only the echo of his footsteps behind.

Reina stood alone, heart pounding.

Her breath caught in her throat as she looked up toward the moonlit sky.

Renji was walking into a trap he couldn't see.

And she wasn't sure if she was there to protect him... or lead him deeper in.

The streets of Valkris had settled into an uneasy calm, the late hour cloaking the city in shadow and fog. Lanterns flickered in windows, and the sound of distant boots echoed along the stone roads.

Renji stepped out of the guild hall, cloak drawn tight, the noble's letter tucked beneath his arm. His mind was a storm — unanswered questions, rising tension, and a future that felt less like a path and more like a trap.

He moved through the streets, unaware of the eyes following his every step.

Above him, perched on a rooftop across the square, three figures knelt in silence. Cloaked in black, faces masked, they watched like statues.

One of them tapped a crystal embedded in his gauntlet. It flickered with soft, violet light.

"Target has accepted the summons," he whispered, voice barely more than breath. "He's moving. Orders?"

A long pause. Then a voice crackled through the crystal — low, cold, and amused.

"Let him reach the capital. Let them crown him their champion."

A beat of silence.

"Then we kill him. On their stage."

The crystal dimmed.

The shadows shifted.

And Renji vanished into the night, unaware of the blades now closing in.