Chapter 184: His Next Target

“We need intel,” Raziel answered and pushed his exhausted body off the dirt.

“We cannot fight a war blind. We need to know what happened in the capital while Mordecai deleted the academy.”

He looked at the dark tree line.

The tall pines cast heavy shadows over the wet moss.

They needed a secure location to rest and plan their next move.

“Arawn,” Raziel called out through the communication rune painted on his collar.

He channeled his remaining mana into the magical link to reach the Exorcist hidden in the city.

Static hissed in his ear. The connection struggled to find the specific frequency of the jagged red crystal.

“Arawn, report,” Raziel commanded.

The static cleared for a fraction of a second.

“The supply wagons did not matter,” Arawn’s voice crackled through the rune. He sounded out of breath and frantic.

“Mordecai never needed the extra suppression seals. I wasted my time.”

“Mordecai is dead,” Raziel stated.

The communication link went completely silent.

“I killed the Elector,” Raziel continued.

“The Architect dropped a quarantine box over St. Celeste and deleted the entire zone. We punched a hole through the static and relocated to the northern woods. Give me a status report on the capital.”

Arawn let out a long, heavy breath through the static.

“The capital is burning,” Arawn reported.

“The Inquisition mobilized every single available unit to the outer walls. The Exarchs are locking the city down.”

“Why?” Lucian stepped closer to Raziel and leaned his ear near the collar rune.

“Did they detect the quarantine breach?”

“No,” Arawn answered. “They are not looking for you. They are fighting a civil war.”

Raziel understood the tactical timing of the chaos.

Seraphina manipulated the board perfectly.

The cult leader used the Inquisition’s massive siege on St. Celeste as a distraction to execute her primary objective.

“Prince Ayres,” Raziel said.

“He moved,” Arawn confirmed.

“He marched the Royal Guard into the throne room an hour ago. The King’s personal Paladins tried to hold the doors, but they fought their own men.”

Raziel processed the information in a fraction of a second.

Prince Ayres possessed the corrupted black eyes of the Cult of Saint Sophia.

Seraphina turned the Crown Prince into a sleeper agent months ago using a blood ritual in the crypts beneath the academy.

“What is the status of the King?” Raziel asked.

“King Aurelian is dead,” Arawn stated.

“Prince Ayres slit his father’s throat on the steps of the throne. The Royal Guard executed the loyalists in the courtyard.”

Lucian cursed and kicked a loose rock into the tree line. The noble understood the political disaster unfolding in the city.

The central authority of Phaedra just collapsed.

“Prince Aerion?” Lucian demanded. “Where is the Crown Prince?”

“He is missing,” Arawn replied. “Aerion fled the palace before the gates locked. Odessa Grand and a handful of loyal Paladins escorted him into the lower districts. The Inquisition is hunting them right now.”

Raziel crossed his arms.

He did not expect the necromancers to conquer the throne room before he even reached the city limits.

A weak, raspy cough broke the silence in the woods.

Lara knelt next to the patch of dry moss.

She placed her hands on Mirael’s chest and pushed pure, calming empathic energy into the Oracle’s mind. The blind girl gasped for air and opened her milky eyes.

“She is awake,” Lara announced.

Raziel walked over to the moss and dropped to one knee. He looked at the heavy iron shackles still locked around Mirael’s wrists and ankles.

The master sealers carved deep suppression runes into the metal links to prevent any magic from breaking the restraints.

He shattered the chains connecting her to the execution cross, but the cuffs remained tight against her skin.

He activated the Devourer.

He grabbed the iron cuffs with his bare right hand.

He channeled his Umbral Paragon core and absorbed the residual holy magic locking the metal together.

He drained the suppression runes and fed the raw energy straight back into the iron with devastating kinetic pressure.

CRACK.

The heavy shackles shattered into jagged pieces. The broken metal fell into the wet dirt.

Mirael rubbed her bleeding wrists.

She looked up at Raziel with her blind eyes. She did not cry or panic.

She possessed the cold, archaic composure of a woman who watched the world end across countless cycles.

“He deleted the foundation,” Mirael whispered.

“He tried,” Raziel answered. “I killed him first.”

Mirael tilted her head.

She read the invisible mana currents surrounding his body.

“You opened the seventh door,” Mirael stated.

“I possess the Override,” Raziel confirmed.

Mirael reached out with her ink-stained fingers.

She grabbed the collar of his dark tunic and pulled him closer. Her grip possessed an impossible, desperate strength.

“The board is broken,” Mirael warned.

She forced her Gift of Prophecy straight into his mind through physical contact.

“The Architect lost the cleanup protocol. The entity will execute a full server reset to purge the anomalies.”

Raziel felt the vision hit his brain with blinding force.

He saw the capital city burning in the distance.

He saw Prince Ayres sitting on the throne of swords, his eyes completely black with corruption.

He saw Seraphina standing next to the false king and manipulating the Royal Guard with blood magic.

The vision shifted.

He saw the massive, endless expanse of the Dead Zone.

He saw the red digital static chewing through the unrendered gray voids. He saw the quarantine box expanding past St. Celeste and eating the northern forests piece by piece.

The Architect planned to delete the entire continent.

“How much time do we have?” Raziel asked the Oracle.

Mirael gasped for air and loosened her grip on his collar.

“The Forge,” Mirael answered. “You must reach the Heart of the Forge before the quarantine box swallows the capital.”

She locked her blind eyes directly onto his face.

“The throne room,” Mirael delivered the final objective. “The entrance to the Forge sits directly beneath the King’s throne.”

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