Chapter 436: He Was Right To Hide It

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The city gates loomed ahead with smile still curling lazily from the forges and garrison chimneys, and the faint hum of the mana barrier pulsed in the distance — a soft reminder of Delwig’s constant vigilance.

Arielle made them reduce their pace as she and her team approached the entry checkpoint. Her uniform was torn in a few places, streaked with soot and dried blood.

Beside her, Lyone carried a broken spear that wasn’t his, its metal tip glinting faintly with beast blood. Behind them, Aquila limped slightly, one wing dragging slightly but already knitting together, the golden feathers at its edge glowing with healing mana.

The guards at the gate saluted sharply when they saw her and the captain that had headed out with her. “Captain Zeyne! You made it back!”

Word spread quickly. The Verdant Verge mission had been high-risk; few expected them to return unscathed. Murmurs rippled through the ranks as the team entered — admiration mixed with unease.

The sight of Aquila, still bloodstained, told them the fight hadn’t been easy.

“Take her to the training grounds.” Arielle instructed a pair of healers, her tone brisk but tired. “She’ll heal faster in open air.”

Aquila gave a low, affectionate rumble as the handlers led her away. Lyone exhaled shakily, adjusting his scabbard as Captain Veyne fell into step beside them.

“Think he’ll be here already?” Veyne asked quietly, referring to Damien.

Arielle didn’t look at him. “If he isn’t, he’ll make sure we know when he is.”

She wasn’t wrong.

The atmosphere inside the main command hall was thick — the air heavy with incense and iron.

Maps and holographic essence projections flickered across the great war table, displaying red lines and energy flares that traced the outskirts of Delwig.

At the far end of the room stood General Ivaan, broad-shouldered and quiet, his sharp eyes scanning data as though he could smell deceit in the numbers. Beside him, Captain Apnoch reviewed patrol rotations, his expression fixed in grim concentration.

When Arielle and her team entered, Ivaan lifted his head. “Report.”

Arielle stepped forward, spine straight. “The Verdant Verge has been cleared, sir. We encountered a formation of wild mana beasts — not corrupted, just elemental manifestations. We neutralized them and secured the perimeter. The essence relay ruins we discovered are dormant. No demonic traces detected.”

Her tone was precise. Controlled. But the Gate still burned in the back of her mind — that great sealed structure humming with impossible energy.

She omitted it. Entirely.

Lyone shifted at her side, his expression neutral but tense. Veyne’s hands remained folded neatly behind his back. Their silence was a pact.

Ivaan listened without interruption, arms crossed over his chest. His gaze flicked once to the faint cut across Lyone’s jaw, to the soot streaking Arielle’s gloves, then back to her eyes. “So the mana surge we recorded from the Verge was…?”

“Residual energy from the beasts, sir,” Arielle said smoothly.

Ivaan’s jaw tightened slightly. “And the corrupted essence readings?”

She didn’t blink. “Natural bleed from the terrain, likely a leftover from prior battles. The Verge seemed like it was once a battle zone.”

A low hum of mana resonated from the command crystals around the table — amplifying the silence.

Finally, Ivaan grunted, the sound noncommittal. “Mm.” He turned away, adjusting the map projection. “No corruption, no casualties. Acceptable.”

Apnoch glanced at her. “And Damien?”

Arielle’s answer came easily — she’d practiced it in her head since they left the Verge. “He stayed behind to check and clear what seemed like a small hideout. Said he’d return once the area was safe for secondary checks.”

Apnoch raised a brow but said nothing.

The General waved a hand, dismissing the conversation. “Understood. You’re all to rest until further notice. We’ll reconvene once Damien returns.”

Arielle saluted sharply, grateful for the dismissal, though her heartbeat was still uneven.

They filed out in silence — four silhouettes against the war room’s dim glow.

They hadn’t even gone far when the sky above Delwig trembled.

Citizens shouted and pointed upward as a vast shadow cut across the fading sun. Skylar, the Shadowfang Wyvern, roared, wings beating thunder into the air. Its body shimmered like obsidian silk, scales rippling with threads of dark essence.

Perched atop the wyvern’s neck, Damien squinted down at the city, wind tearing through his hair.

Below, alarm bells began to toll. Mana cannons on the ramparts flared with blue light. The barrier dome flickered — then surged to full power wrapping the city within.

“Tch. Really?” Damien muttered, rubbing his temples. Through their telepathic link, he felt Skylar’s amusement — the creature’s deep, rumbling laughter echoing in his skull.

“Fine,” he muttered. “We’ll play nice.”

He pulled the reins, signaling descent. Skylar spiraled downward, wings folding partially as they cut through the wind. Dust and leaves scattered violently when they touched down on the barren stretch just outside Delwig’s gate.

The impact was enough to shake the watchtowers.

Guards scrambled to their posts, crossbows and rifles leveled — until one of them shouted, voice cracking, “It’s the Mercenary—Damien!”

The tension broke instantly. The barrier’s glow dimmed and then dissolved, its hum fading as the great iron gates creaked open.

At the gate’s mouth stood Arielle, Lyone, Aquila, Captain Veyne, Apnoch, and General Ivaan — drawn by the alarm.

Arielle was the first to speak. She folded her arms, her tone caught somewhere between relief and exasperation.

“You couldn’t just knock?”

Damien hopped off Skylar’s back, landing lightly. “Didn’t think they’d mind a little wake-up call.”

The wyvern snorted behind him, the blast of air scattering sand. Arielle resisted the urge to smile.

General Ivaan approached slowly, every of his step deliberate. His eyes studied Damien — the soot on his clothes, the faint scorch marks on his gloves, the steady pulse of shadow essence that clung to him like a second skin.

“Would you mind reporting?” Ivaan said evenly.

Damien met the General’s stare without flinching. “Forest’s clear. I secured the remaining beasts and collapsed a small base I found to prevent future incursions. No signs of demonic activity. No residual essence that could threaten Delwig.”

His words were calm, measured. Perfectly aligned with the story Arielle had just told inside the hall.

Almost too perfectly.

Ivaan’s gaze drifted to Lyone, then to Aquila, who watched in silent alertness beside Arielle. Every detail — from their synchronized accounts to their wary stances — told him there was more left unsaid.

Finally, he exhaled softly and nodded. “Good work, then. Get some rest.”

Arielle bowed. “Thank you, sir.”

Apnoch’s voice cut through the quiet. “You heard the man,” he said, clapping Damien lightly on the shoulder. “Go rest before you start another earthquake.”

Damien gave a dry snort but complied.

He glared at Ivaan A little too long with a slight frown. Something about the man’s demeanor seemed off.

But he waved it aside. “Cancel all summons.” Damien commanded mentally.

A flick of his hand dispelled Skylar in a swirl of black flame, and across the field, Aquila dissolved into a cloud of gold feathers that scattered like sparks before fading.

The group turned toward their lodging, the weight of unspoken truths following them.

As they walked, Lyone cast a sidelong glance at Damien. “Think he believed us?”

Damien smirked faintly. “He believes what he wants to believe. That’s good enough for now.”

Arielle said nothing. She just kept walking, though her fingers twitched at her side — betraying her unease.

Behind them, Apnoch and Ivaan made their way back through the city’s inner corridors. The sound of marching boots echoed through the stone halls, the faint shimmer of mana crystals lighting their path.

“They seem shaken,” Apnoch observed. “Even for survivors.”

Ivaan gave no answer for a long time. “I don’t think reports match the readings we picked up this morning,” he said finally. “The mana surge from the Verge carried resonance far older than wild beasts. There has to be something else.”

Apnoch frowned. “You think they’re hiding something?”

“I think,” Ivaan said slowly, “they found something they don’t yet understand.”

They reached a junction in the hall. Ivaan stopped, his expression thoughtful. “Go keep an eye on the barracks. Make sure no rumors spread. I’ll handle the rest.”

Apnoch saluted sharply and departed.

Ivaan turned down a narrower passage — one that led toward the watchtower where Apnoch and Damien had uncovered the impostor guards’ secret just earlier. His boots rang softly against the stone, each step echoing like a promise.

The tower was half-dark, half-repaired. The scent of dust and alchemical sealant lingered.

To Ivaan’s mild surprise, Captain Veyne was already there, overseeing reconstruction efforts. The man looked up sharply when he heard the General approach.

“Efficient as always,” Ivaan said.

Veyne straightened. “Just making sure this place doesn’t crumble again, sir.”

The General’s eyes gleamed faintly in the torchlight. “Tell me, Captain… what exactly did you and your team find in the Verdant Verge?”

Veyne froze for a heartbeat — barely — before giving the same report Arielle had rehearsed. But Ivaan’s silence stretched like a blade against his throat.

At last, Veyne exhaled, his composure cracking. “There was… more. A structure buried beneath the ravine. Circular. Sealed by a barrier stronger than anything I’ve seen.”

Ivaan’s gaze sharpened. “A gate, then.”

Veyne’s throat bobbed. “…Yes, sir. Damien thought it best we keep it quiet until we understood it better.”

The General’s expression didn’t change, but the air around him seemed to still. “He was right to hide it,” Ivaan murmured. “From most. But not from me.”

He turned toward the window slit, where the forest’s distant green shimmered faintly. “If that gate exists, then it makes things easier. For me.”

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