The air in the Dawinton Palace's main hall was so thick with tension that a normal man would have choked on his own breath. Rayn sat on the central throne, his posture relaxed, yet his presence was like a mountain of unsheathed blades looming over everyone.
Standing before him were the remnants of Ashburg's power structure. Among them was a man whose face was a map of scars and silent loyalty: Chandler Winston.
Chandler was a veteran of the first division, a man who had served under Dawinton since he was twenty years old. Now thirty, his hair was graying at the temples, but his eyes were sharp. He had been a slave, a piece of meat to be traded, until Dawinton had broken his chains and given him a sword. Chandler had served Victus out of duty to his father's memory, but he had watched the town decay under the Sterling influence.
Rayn's crimson eyes settled on Chandler. He knew this man's history. Victus's memories, extracted through the ring and the mental breakdown in the cell, had provided everything.
"Chandler Winston," Rayn's voice echoed, cold and resonant. "You served a man who made this town. You served a boy who tried to sell it. Now, you will serve the man who owns it. You are the Captain of Division 1. Don't make me regret not killing you along with the others."
Chandler knelt, his armor clanking against the marble. "I serve the strength that protects Ashburg. My life was Dawinton's; now it is yours, Lord Rayn."
Rayn's gaze then drifted to two figures standing near the back, looking like children caught stealing from a temple. Kalix of Division 8, the "Sun Protectors," and Vennise of Division 9, "The Prophets."
"And you two," Rayn spat, his voice dripping with venomous contempt. "I know you've been sucking the Sterling family's dicks for years. You were their little puppets, their 'informants' within our walls. Look at you. Ashamed? You should be fucking disgusted. You stood by while demons wore the faces of men and drained this town dry. Be respectful to the seat you stand before, or I'll use your tongues to polish the floor."
Kalix and Vennise bowed their heads so low they nearly touched their knees, their faces burning with a mixture of shame and terror. They were Phase 6 masters, yet in front of Rayn, they felt like ants beneath a boot.
Finally, Rayn looked at Novara. She stood where Freddy once stood, the new leader of Division 7.
"Novara," Rayn said, his voice softening in a way that made everyone in the room shiver. It wasn't a gentle softness; it was the quiet before a hurricane. "I am leaving the town for a while. I have a... harvest to attend to. While I am gone, Ashburg belongs to you."
Novara's eyes widened, tears instantly brimming. "Why me, Rayn? Why leave this weight on my shoulders? I am just... I am not a Sovereign. I am not you."
Rayn stood up and walked down the steps of the dais. He reached out, his hand cold as death, and placed it on her shoulder. To everyone's shock, he smiled—a warm, genuine smile that looked utterly alien on his pale, murderous face.
"When I first entered this shithole of a town, Novara, I saw you. You gave that senior Veora a lesson he won't forget. You fought with a fire I haven't seen in a long time," Rayn whispered. "You remind me of my mother, Valerie. Only a mother can truly look after children with the love and the iron fist they need. I cannot trust anyone else with this house. Take it. Protect it."
The room was silent. Even Vespera watched with a raised eyebrow. Novara let out a sob and pressed her face into Rayn's cold hand.
"I thought you were a heartless monster," she choked out. "But if you trust me this much... then from now on, you are like a son to me. Go. Do what you must. I will make sure your home is standing when you return, or I will die in the ruins."
Rayn nodded, his eyes turning back into chips of red ice. "Everyone out. Now. Vespera, Matthew, Chandler—stay."
As the doors slammed shut, Troy stood at the entrance, his eyes lingering on Rayn. He wanted an answer—the answer to why Rayn had spared him. Rayn caught his eye and nodded once. "I'll tell you the answer when I leave the gates, Troy. Now get out."
Troy bowed and disappeared. Vespera sealed the room with a wave of her hand, a black curtain of Gnosis dampening all sound.
"Matthew," Rayn said, leaning against the throne. "You mentioned a place. A place where people are on the verge of death. A place where I can find the... materials I need."
Matthew frowned, his green aura flickering like swamp gas. "Why do you need such a place, Lord Rayn? Are you planning to feast on the dying?"
Rayn smirked. In his past life on Earth, he'd learned a simple truth: if you wanted power, you either had the capital to buy it or the influence to seize it. Respect was just a mask for fear.
"Please drop the Lord part Matthew and also I have a guest in my ring," Rayn said, holding up the Black Ring. "Her name is Morana. She's a Gambler's Heart, and she's hungry. If I don't feed her the hearts and brains of the strong, I won't have the defeat the Sterling family next month who tries to demolish or town. Now, tell me where the trash is hidden."
"I won't tell you where they are," Matthew said, his voice laced with a mixture of shock and defiance. "Even on the brink of starvation, those people continue to aid the surrounding kingdoms with their harvests and craftsmanship. They are selfless to a fault. Do not even think of turning them into your prey. Instead of them and immediately Matthew's face contorted with a sudden, violent rage. His aura exploded, a thick green smoke filling the hall, smelling of pine and rotting earth.
"If it's the Sterling's filth you want, I'll give you a map!" Matthew roared, his voice shaking the chandeliers. "There is a place in the Deep Forest. It's a cancer. Ten thousand bandits, mercenaries, and Sterling-funded cunts. They've been strangling Ashburg for years. They intercept our seeds, steal our farming tools, and slaughter our merchants before they can reach the border. They want to starve us economically until we have no choice but to beg the Sterling King for scraps."
Matthew slammed his fist into the table. "They only exist because we weren't strong enough to wipe them out. Dawinton tried, but he was held back by the other towns' combined pressure. But you? You're a monster who doesn't give a fuck about diplomacy."
Rayn's smile grew wider. Ten thousand. That wasn't just a menu; that was a goddamn buffet. "Ten thousand enemies of the state? Matthew, you're a godsend."
"But be careful," Matthew warned, his aura settling. "The reason they haven't been wiped out our town people because we are protected by a shadow. Dawinton had a secret weapon—someone who protected this town from the dark when we couldn't. He was Dawinton's adoptive son. Victus's older brother."
Rayn froze. The "Clock-Maker" gears in his mind—the ones he'd been stealing from the ring—stuttered. "Victus has a brother? Why wasn't he at the election? Why didn't he claim the throne?"
Chandler Winston spoke up, his voice heavy. "Dawinton kept him anonymous. He is a ghost, Rayn. A man whose name was erased from the records to act as Ashburg's ultimate hidden blade. Only Dawinton and Freddy knew his true face. Even Victus only knows him as a shadow that occasionally saved his life."
Rayn laughed, a sharp, barking sound. He remembered Freddy mentioning a "friend" who was the strongest in town. The pieces are falling into place.
"Well," Rayn said, eyes flashing. "If he's the strongest, I look forward to meeting him. But first, we need more hands for the harvest."
He looked at Vespera and Chandler. "Go to the dungeons. Release Victus and Freddy. Bring them to me."
Matthew surged forward, his face turning purple. "Are you fucking insane, Rayn? Releasing them is suicide! They'll stab you in the back the moment you turn around!"
Rayn didn't even look at him. He started walking toward the door, his stride long and confident, like a lion moving through the grass to talk to a pack of trapped hyenas.
"If they try to stab me, Matthew, I'll rip their arms off and hang them from the town square as a showcase," Rayn said over his shoulder. "I don't need their loyalty. I just need their hatred. And I'm going to use that hatred to burn ten thousand bandits to ash."
The jail of Ashburg was a subterranean nightmare. The air was thick with the smell of urine, rust, and the metallic tang of old blood. Rayn walked down the stone stairs, his boots echoing with a rhythmic thud-thud-thud that sounded like a funeral drum.
He reached the deepest cell. Inside, the "Golden Prince" Victus and the "Old Merchant" Freddy were huddled in the damp darkness. They looked pathetic—stripped of their robes, covered in grime, their spirits broken.
Rayn stood before the iron bars, his crimson eyes illuminating the dark.
"Victus. Freddy," Rayn said, his voice a low, vibrating hum of power. "The world is moving on without you. The Sterling King is coming to kill your 'worthless' family, Victus. And Freddy... the town you tried to sell is about to be besieged by ten thousand bandits."
Victus looked up, his ocean-blue eyes dull and hollow. "Just kill us, Rayn. There's nothing left."
"Kill you?" Rayn laughed, the sound bouncing off the damp walls. "And waste two Phase 6 masters? Don't be a fucking cunt. I'm giving you a choice. You can rot in this piss-soaked hole until the Sterling King arrives to snap your necks, or you can come with me."
He leaned in, his face inches from the bars. "We're going to the Deep Forest. We're going to harvest ten thousand hearts. You help me kill every single one of those Sterling-funded bastards, and maybe—just maybe—I'll let you live to see the look on Victor Sterling's face when I bring his empire down."
Freddy stood up slowly, his joints popping. He looked at Rayn with a new kind of respect—the respect one monster has for an even bigger one.
"Ten thousand, you say?" Freddy rasped. "That's a lot of blood, kid."
"It's not enough," Rayn replied. "But it's a start."
Rayn turned to the guard. "Open the fucking doors."