Chapter 109: Orel the Wonderful Guardian

Instead of the characteristic pulsing light of the Life tracking orbs, the one on the pedestal could only be described as a glitch. Every second, the light scattered across its surface would dissapear completely, leaving an abyssal darkness before they would appear a millisecond farther from its original position in a denser, more clustered manner.

“This isn’t the same Life orb of your child, Eve,” Orel muttered, his deep silver eyes reflecting solemnity.

Evendur’s heart lurched at the statement, but his expression remained wooden. “That much is clear. The question that refuses to leave the crevice of my mind is whether or not this… Thing poses any threat to me or the kingdom.”

Orel stared at him strangely. “For someone who’s child has been taken over by an unknown creature, you seem oddly calm.”

A low breath left Evendur’s nostril before he replied, “He was already dead from the moment he decided to bring shame to my family by assaulting the Princess before the marriage could be finalized, and that’s ignoring his unbefitting actions towards my staff prior.”

“We both know he did all of that to gain your attention,” Orel replied calmly.

“If he wanted my attention, he would have focused on his cultivation and become someone worthy of it.”

Evendur walked away from the vault, and as if the walls could sense his departure, the dispersed particles detached from their previous positions and closed the space.

Orel sighed and massaged his head with a tired expression. “Your words say one thing yet your soul says another.”

“My heart is unaffected, Orel. After all, I was the one who ordered his exile and death,” he shot back.

Laying on the bed leisurely, Orel remarked, “I have a feeling you consciously messed up that action by not completely burning his body and leaving the Ring on his finger,” he paused for a moment.

Then, his hand traced a slow, deliberate circle through the air.

A vibrant projection shimmered to life above him, colors twisting and folding into a tangible form. It revealed a colossal arena, its walls scarred and cracked, as though hundreds of battles had been waged within its confines.

At the center stood a lone figure, silver hair cascading over his shoulders, catching the faint light like liquid metal. Around him, chaos reigned: shattered stone, twisted metal remnants of broken weapons, and scorched patches that burned even in the projection. The air seemed to vibrate with the echoes of destruction, as his adversaries exploded in brilliant light.

“And as a result, create whatever that is.”

Evendur’s wooden facade finally splintered, falling away to reveal a face paralyzed by shock and something far darker. He was well aware of the Ghost’s appearance at the Grey-Rock border; he had watched every moment of the Arena’s collapse through the Tetrarchy’s live transmission before their signals, and their lives were permanently extinguished.

He made a quiet promise to himself: that information would die with him. Not even the Alavric would know. To ensure it, he commanded the spies scattered across Grey-Rock to systematically eliminate every spectator who had managed to crawl from the Arena’s wreckage.

What he hadn’t anticipated was someone intercepting such a crystalline projection; the image was even sharper than the transmission the Tetrarchs had sent him. Through that clarity, he saw a truth he couldn’t bury. He saw a face possessed by a coldness no boy that age should ever know, eyes so dark they could only be described as abyssal, and a stance that created the haunting illusion of someone carrying a crushing weight upon his shoulders.

The boy’s features bore a stark, undeniable resemblance to his own, yet in every other way, they were strangers. He was the living embodiment of Evendur’s regrets, his uncertainties, and his hatred—and the final, lingering trace of his wife’s love.

He was Daren Redwyn.

“To think I’d see you this shocked,” Orel chuckled. “Quite a fun realization, I must say.”

Evendur clenched his teeth, his jaw tightening for a fraction of a second before he took several subtle, measured breaths to steady himself.

“How did you get this?” he asked. His voice, though controlled, lacked the cold, commanding bite that usually kept men at a distance.

Orel gave a careless wave of his hand, and the projection dispersed like dust caught in a sudden wind.

“You forget,” Orel said, his voice dropping to a low, dangerous hum that seemed to vibrate the very air between them. “I have the ability to break through to the Resonance Lord Realm any time I want.”

Evendur kept quiet. How could he forget? Orel had been two major realms above him since the day the Patriarch assigned him as his guardian. He was a mentor in the truest sense, but a strange thing had happened when Orel reached the Dissonant Realm—the most unstable stage of cultivation.

Instead of pushing for the pinnacle, Orel had simply stopped. He chose to halt his own advancement, focusing instead on teaching Evendur everything he knew until the younger man eventually broke through to that same, volatile rank. Evendur never let the parity go to his head; he knew that even if they shared the same realm, a battle between them would end in his own defeat. Beyond that, the respect he held for the man was too profound to ever attempt the dominance he exerted over his foes.

When he had once asked why Orel refused to ascend further, the older man had given a hauntingly simple reply:

“There are too many unknowns in this realm, Evendur. For instance, why is the Dissonant Realm so inherently unstable? The mysteries accompanying each breakthrough are suffocating. Had I realized this sooner, I would have stayed as far back as the Harmonic Realm, ensuring a total mastery of the foundation before ever daring to step forward.”

Evendur had only partly understood at the time. He hadn’t halted his own progress to follow in his Master’s footsteps; instead, he pushed forward, and after a century of calculated struggle, he finally broke through to the Resonance Lord realm.

“Anyway, those annoying birds will be back for me soon,” Orel said, leaning forward as his playful demeanor sharpened into something more pointed. “So, as your wonderful guardian, tell me one thing you want. Do you perhaps want to know where your son is? Or do you want to know what he’s become?”

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