ShadowBound: The Need For Power-Chapter 360: Nothing

"Finally," Sylvathar murmured as he reclined into his seat, the dark green folds of his robe pooling around him. "Soon, I shall be fully restored... and ascend beyond even what I once was."

Across the chamber, at the far edge of the glowing outer rune circle where Sheila’s divine light was still being extracted, stood Morbuan and Eliv. They remained silent, the soft hum of myst filling the air between them and their lord.

"How long until this process concludes, Morenelle?" Sylvathar asked with unbothered grace, his voice cutting gently through the ambient hum.

"Five days at most, my lord," Morenelle answered in her usual even tone, standing as still and composed as a blade on display.

"Five days..." Sylvathar echoed thoughtfully. "Will that be enough to extract everything from the girl?"

"No, my lord," Morenelle responded, her tone unmoved. "However, by the time the fifth day ends, you will have absorbed approximately sixty percent of her divine light. That should be more than enough to restore and elevate you beyond your previous peak."

A slow, pleased exhale slipped from Sylvathar’s lips. "Sixty percent... how perfect. That will keep us well ahead of schedule."

He opened his eyes now—those haunting green irises glowing brighter, like forest fire caught in a breeze. His gaze fell upon Morbuan and Eliv with a quiet, deliberate weight.

"Mage Borges," he said calmly, "tell me... among all the known knights of Amthar, who among them might prove troublesome to my cause?"

Eliv took a small step forward, folding his hands behind his back before answering.

"From the Crescent Kingdom: Caelum Virellan and Sylas Wynrow pose potential resistance. A handful of other mages and knights may try to interfere, but none are of serious concern."

"And from the Tempest Kingdom?"

"Three in particular, my lord," Eliv answered. "Galen Magna, Magnus Yaer, and Mystica Moonstone. They are formidable. Especially Galen—he must not be met lightly. If he enters the battlefield, even our elite would struggle."

Sylvathar sat back again, crossing one leg over the other, a composed air about him. "I see. Continue."

"In the Solara Kingdom," Eliv continued, "none are truly dangerous, save for one—the prince, Tharionson Magna. His bloodline and potential put him leagues above the rest of his court."

There was a moment of silence, broken only by the low pulse of myst flowing through the shrine.

"Caelum. Sylas. Magnus. Mystica. Tharionson," Sylvathar listed aloud. "These five pose the greatest threat. And Galen Magna, you say, is the strongest?"

"Yes, my lord," Eliv affirmed.

"How strong are each of them?"

"Caelum, Magnus, and Mystica are all 8–star mages—high-tiered. Sylas and Tharionson are mid-tier, powerful but more manageable."

"And Galen?"

Eliv paused, choosing his words with care. "I attempted to analyze his core, but I failed. What I saw instead... was like staring into a burning sun. His mystic signature is beyond classification. I am... unable to determine his exact level."

"I apologize, my lord."

Sylvathar turned his head slightly, regarding Eliv with that same unreadable stare. "Then instead of apologizing," he said softly, "you’ll now assure me that Galen Magna will not become a problem."

"Of—of course," Eliv stammered slightly but caught himself. "With myself, Morbuan, and two of our generals, we can eliminate Galen Magna. He will fall before Solara even falls."

"Very well." Sylvathar gave a slight nod. "Then go. Prepare your plan. Don’t show your face to me until you have done what is expected of you, Mage Borges."

Eliv and Morbuan bowed as one. "Yes, my lord."

A swirling portal of myst opened beneath Eliv’s outstretched hand, and both men stepped through, vanishing into its glowing mouth.

Left behind with only Morenelle and the unconscious Sheila, Sylvathar sat in stillness once more. His voice, now quiet and almost intimate, flowed like wind through dead trees.

"Morenelle... inform the army. We move begin five days."

"Of course, my lord," she said with a respectful incline of her head. But after a brief moment of hesitation, she added, "My lord... may I speak freely?"

"Speak," he said, eyes still closed.

"According to what Mage Borges said, Galen Magna may prove a greater obstacle than we initially anticipated. Especially regarding the boy. If Galen considers the child important as you said, then he won’t leave his side once battle begins."

"You’re right," Sylvathar said, slowly opening his eyes. "But the boy is no longer Galen’s priority, for now at least. The boy seems to have a weaker protector than Galen. That buys us time. And besides... with you by my side, there is no need for concern."

A dark grin twisted at the corners of his lips.

"I will lay my hands upon that boy’s core and take the ancient power within him. No matter what stands in my way. And when I do... I will ascend far beyond what even this divine light could provide."

"As you will it, my lord," Morenelle said with another bow.

She turned to leave but suddenly froze, her eyes darkening slightly as a flicker of myst passed through her senses.

"What is it?" Sylvathar asked, still without looking at her.

"The humans," she said, voice disturbingly calm. "They’ve begun searching the Western Region. I believe... they may have caught the scent of your sanctuary."

Sylvathar chuckled, a dry and amused sound. "These humans never fail to amuse me. But tell me, Morenelle... should I be worried?"

"Not at all, my lord," she replied. "It would take them weeks, perhaps longer—and dozens of skilled mages—to begin unraveling my veil."

"Good," Sylvathar said, resting his head against the arm of his seat. "Then go. Deliver my message. Explain the plan. Make sure all forces are prepared to the last breath."

"As you command."

With a final glance at her master, Morenelle turned and stepped back into the shadows—her figure fading like smoke into darkness.

And once again, Sylvathar sat alone in the echoing chamber, the Demon Lord of Gaia Demons, seated before the unconscious form of the girl who would pave his path to godhood.

***

It hadn’t taken long for the Land of Ruins to be swarmed by knights and mages from all three kingdoms. True to her word, Lucy had informed both Valemir and Tharion, laying out the entire situation with unwavering clarity. She explained everything with deft precision—skillfully removing Liam’s involvement from the narrative without sparking suspicion. Tharion, though initially skeptical, eventually yielded. Lucy’s logic was simply too tight, too sound to ignore.

With the message received, each kingdom deployed their forces. The combined armies were divided into four contingents, each assigned to sweep one of the cardinal quadrants of the Western Region. Every group was evenly structured—knights equipped and prepared to engage any threat, mages holding their strength in reserve for the delicate task of veil detection. A balance between force and focus.

Meanwhile, back in the active zones across the continent, the remaining forces of each kingdom continued the original task—scanning for hybrids, following trails, and responding to sightings. The search had expanded across the map.

Six hours into the continental-wide search, and nothing had turned up. Neither the Land of Ruins nor the active zones had yielded a single clue, not even the faintest trace of Sylvathar’s presence. In the Western Region, frustration was building. Many among the search parties, especially those trudging through the forsaken wastes of the Land of Ruins, began to grow doubtful—some even outright protested. They questioned why they weren’t back in the zones where there was at least some hybrid activity. To them, the Land of Ruins was nothing but barren stone and silent ghosts.

Disorder started to creep in, but it didn’t spiral out of control—thanks only to the presence of commanding figures like Caelum Virellan, Grand Marshal of the Crescent Kingdom; Tharionson Magna, prince of Solara; and Varyn Hone, High Commander of Tempest’s army. These men, each respected and feared in their own right, kept their forces from falling apart. But it was only a matter of time. Even the strongest command begins to fray under prolonged silence.

Ten more hours passed. Night had fallen. The pale moon cast a cold glow over the Western Region as the long search came to a close.

From the northern rim to the southern border, every search team had reported the same result: nothing. No trace of Gaia corrupted myst. No faint signatures. No broken veils or strange energies. Just endless, empty ruin.

As the moon rose high in the sky, the monarchs of all three kingdoms made their final call.

The search in the Western Region was officially over.

Orders were given for all forces to retreat to the active zones and refocus their efforts. The Land of Ruins was declared clean—wasted ground and nothing more.

One by one, battalions vanished through portals or rode back across the shifting wastelands toward home. But not all had left just yet.

A few kilometers from the border between the Western and Northern Regions—near the edge of Crescent Kingdom territory—Mystica stood in silence, her gaze distant as she stared toward the frontier.

She had given everything she could to this search—every spell, every detection technique she knew. And yet, she hadn’t found even a whisper. Not even a false trail. There was nothing. No myst. No traps. No illusions. Just the lingering scars of ancient wars, blackened earth and cursed stone left to rot under an empty sky.

As the wind stirred her cloak, a warm gust followed—heat and fire licking at the air behind her.

"There was nothing in the west," came Galen’s voice, low and calm as he approached, hands tucked casually into his pockets.

"Same with the south," Magnus added, stepping out of the shadows beside Galen. His voice was softer than usual, lacking its usual playful tilt. A quiet resignation sat beneath his tone.

"North was no different," Mystica replied, her voice nearly a sigh. "I wanted to prove Liam right, even just a little. But this place... there’s nothing here. Still, for a while, his intuition gave us hope."

"Maybe," Magnus said. "It still made the most sense. All the signs pointed here. And yet... nothing. We might as well head back and regroup with the others."

Mystica nodded. "Yeah. We should return. Who knows? Maybe we’ll find something while we clean up the mess."

She raised her hand, conjuring a portal swirling with flickering light.

"I’ll catch up in a bit," Galen said, turning away as the flames around his feet began to shimmer. "Don’t worry. I’m not disappearing. There’s just something I need to confirm first. I’ll see you both soon."

He gave a casual wave over his shoulder without looking back. In the next instant, he vanished in a blur of orange flame.

Mystica and Magnus exchanged no words. With quiet understanding, they stepped through the portal, leaving the dead silence of the Land of Ruins behind them.

Updat𝒆d fr𝒐m freew𝒆bnov𝒆l.c(o)m