Chapter 71: The Blackthorn Reaper (II)
Half an hour before Malrik entered the forest...
In the Vesperion Duchy, inside a luxurious observation hall, the family began to gather—a rare enough sight on its own.
The hall was vast, its walls polished black marble inlaid with silver, its ceiling held high by carved pillars. In the center stood an empty space, waiting.
Then, one by one, they started coming in.
First came a tall, handsome young man, long black hair reaching his shoulders, bright emerald eyes, features sharp enough to look carved rather than born.
He walked slow and unhurried, like a man who had never once needed to rush anywhere. Black robe, silver embroidery, the family crest over his heart—the serpent-dragon coiled around the sky.
This was Alex Vesperion, the eldest son, the First Banner Bearer.
He said nothing. He simply took his place in the front row and stood there, silent.
Next came a young woman with flowing crimson hair that cascaded over her shoulders like a river of fire under the chandeliers. Her green eyes were warm yet sharp, watching everything around her. She wore an elegant burgundy dress, her movements graceful and light, but there was something in her stance that told everyone she was far more than a pretty face.
This was Velrosa Vesperion, the eldest sister, the Second Banner Bearer.
She smiled at Alex, said nothing, and stood beside him.
Then two young men entered together. They resembled the rest of the family—green eyes, black hair, pale skin. But the first had shorter hair, a sharper face, and colder eyes.
The second had medium-length hair, a rounder face, and a friendlier smile than the others. Both wore simple black robes and stood in their places without a word.
These were the Third and Fourth Banner Bearers.
Then came a young man and woman together, their faces bright with barely concealed excitement, their mismatched blue and green eyes gleaming with curiosity.
These were the twins, Darian and Daria, the Fifth and Sixth Banner Bearers.
They took their places with the rest, waiting for whoever hadn’t arrived yet.
The elders entered next, one after another, unhurried, filling the front rows without a word between them. They looked to be in their mid-thirties, smooth-skinned, sharp-featured but their eyes carried centuries of experience. Their true ages were far greater than they appeared.
They took their seats in front of the siblings and said nothing.
Then came a man who appeared to be in his early forties, with long black hair streaked with silver, a stern face, and gray eyes that carried the weight of centuries of rule and combat. His features were sharp, his build broad-shouldered and imposing—the frame of a veteran commander rather than a council elder.
This was the Grand Elder Rhazakar.
He wasn’t alone. Beside him walked a striking woman with gold hair down to her waist and emerald eyes sharp enough to cut. Her skin held no trace of age—anyone meeting her for the first time would have guessed twenty-five. Her seat among the elders said otherwise.
Elder Helena Vesperion. Callled The Lady of Prophecy, and the only person in the hall whose stillness felt deliberate rather than practiced.
Before them stood three elevated chairs. Rhazakar took the right chair, Helena took the left, but both remained standing.
They waited about moment before the door opened.
A tall man stepped through, black robes embroidered with the golden serpent-dragon of House Vesperion, long black hair, emerald eyes, and the kind of authority that didn’t need to announce itself.
Duke Vaelzareth Vesperion. Head of the family. The Sky Devourer.
He crossed the room without hurrying and took the middle chair, between Rhazakar and Helena, settling into it like the space had been waiting for him.
Every head bowed at once—siblings and elders alike—simple, practiced, respectful.
"Hail the Duke, Vaelzareth Vesperion."
The Duke’s mouth curved, pleased, and he waved a hand. "Sit."
Everyone sat.
The twins immediately pulled snacks and drinks out of their storage rings and started passing them around to everyone in reach, like they’d settled in for a match rather than a family meeting, and nobody bothered stopping them.
Rhazakar spoke first, his voice filling the hall, heavy enough that the twins paused mid-bite to listen.
"I didn’t expect the youngest to strike first. Of everyone in this family, I least expected it from him. But he is a Vesperion, in the end."
He glanced left, toward Helena.
"If I hadn’t asked Elder Helena to check on his progress an hour ago, none of us would have seen this coming."
Every eye shifted to Helena, waiting.
"The youngest’s situation is unique and strange. My Law is never wrong, but since the youngest’s awakening, his future has been constantly shifting. In all my life, I have never seen a future change as much as his does."
The Duke smiled, his voice deep and calm."The trial began the moment he stepped into that forest."
He rested one arm on the chair.
"From this point onward...He walks his own path."
Helena raised a hand, and a magical screen bloomed in the center of the hall—the forest at the northern border, near Blackthorn.
The image sharpened. Dense trees stretching in every direction. A full moon laying silver shadows across the ground, still and undisturbed for now.
Then two figures moved into view, fast.
The first was a girl with violet eyes, small horns, and demonic wings folded against her back, a dangerous, delighted smile on her face like she was already enjoying whatever came next.
The second was armored head to toe in black, a featureless silver mask over his face, emerald eyes glowing faintly beneath it. In his hand, a black scythe that looked like it belonged to an older, angrier age.
The siblings reacted first.
The twins spoke over each other, eating the entire time in a way that shouldn’t have fit their frames.
"Is that our weak, fragile little mage brother?!" Darian said, mouth full. "That armor and mask don’t suit him at all!"
"They suit him perfectly!" Daria shot back, mid-bite. "He looks terrifying! And that scythe is amazing—who gave him that?"
She looked around at the others.
Velrosa shook her head. "Not me."
"Nor me," Alex said.
"Not from us," the Third and Fourth said together.
"Maybe the treasury?" Daria offered, still chewing.
Elder Eldric, head of the treasury, cut in from the side before anyone else could agree with her. "It wasn’t. I would know. That weapon was never ours, and never passed through my hands."
A quiet passed through the room, longer than it should have taken to process one missing weapon. Nobody said it out loud, but the same thought had landed on everyone at once—wherever Malrik had gotten it, it hadn’t come from them, and that alone was worth sitting with for a moment longer than felt comfortable.
"Wait, isn’t that the girl he called his maid?" Darian said, still chewing. "That troublemaker lied to his own brother. When I see him, I’m teaching him a lesson."
Daria glanced at the screen and nodded. "I told you there was something strange about—"
"Don’t talk with your mouth full," Velrosa cut in, giving her a look that had more mother in it than sister.
Daria swallowed fast. "Sorry."
She turned back to the screen, a grin sneaking onto her face. "But look. She really does follow his orders. Technically, she is his maid... though I’d say their relationship is much deeper than that."
The elders watched the siblings argue back and forth but said nothing, content to let them stumble toward their own conclusions rather than hand them one outright.
After a moment, Velrosa spoke again, eyes still on the screen. "Those things he summoned. They don’t look dead to me."
"They’re not," the Third said, eyes narrowing. "I’ve never seen a corpse with that much vitality. No wounds, either. And they’re strong. Not ordinary at all."
The elders and the Duke watched in silence, running their own theories behind still faces, giving nothing away even as their eyes stayed locked on the screen, unwilling to blink first.
"His strength," the Fourth murmured, gaze fixed on Malrik. "That shouldn’t be possible."
"Neither should his speed," the Third added.
Velrosa was quiet for a moment. "He only just reached Awakened Rank. Even with talent like his, that kind of movement doesn’t make sense."
Daria tilted her head. "A combat Skill?"
"No." Alex answered before she’d finished asking. "A Skill can boost the body for a while. Not like that."
The hall went quiet for a beat, everyone turning the question over on their own.
"Then an artifact," the Fourth said.
"The scythe?" Darian guessed.
The Fourth shook his head slowly, eyes still fixed on the black armor. "If it’s an artifact, it’s that."
Nobody answered him. Nobody had a better guess, either, and for once even the twins had nothing to add.
Every eye stayed on the screen, watching the black shape move through the fighting, quick and certain in a way none of them recognized from the boy they thought they knew. Malrik had already broken every expectation they’d walked in with, and it was becoming clear the night wasn’t finished doing that.
The Spider Queen stepped into view, her hybrid form emerging between the trees.
Daria clapped, eyes lit up, forgetting the snack in her other hand entirely. "I’ve never seen a Morveth like her! She’s kind of beautiful. Definitely not normal."
The Queen raised her arms, and fifteen black flowers tore up out of the ground.
Daria’s eyes went wide around another bite. "That’s terrifying. Has to be an Epic-tier Skill."
Velrosa smiled faintly at the screen. "Our little troublemaker’s been hiding a lot from us."
Fenrir appeared next, his whole body shuddering before it split into thirty identical copies.
Darian nearly choked on his food, coughing once before he managed the rest of the sentence. "That’s not just a shadow wolf! Look at that!"
The excitement didn’t last. The massive commander—Gravios—slammed both claws into the ground, and an invisible wave rolled out from the impact. The wolves slowed mid-stride. The Spider Queen’s spiders barely moved. Even her webs looked heavier hanging in the air.
The siblings stopped eating, snacks forgotten halfway to their mouths.
"What Skill is that?" the Third asked.
"Support type," the Fourth said, eyes narrowed. "Rare. Powerful. Slows everything in range."
"Interesting. He’s integrating a small part of his Law into his Skills. It seems his Law is highly compatible with his Skills as well," Velrosa said with a faint smile.
"Let’s see how the youngest handles this," Darian said, still devouring his meal.
But Malrik didn’t move. Instead of charging in, he pulled back, settling somewhere clear of the fighting, and simply watched his summons handle the commander instead, arms folded, patient as a man studying weather.
"What is he doing?" Velrosa asked, confused. "Why isn’t he backing up his own army?"
Daria stopped eating entirely. "Is he retreating?"
"No." Alex’s voice stayed calm, certain. "He’s watching."
Nobody argued with that. Nobody fully understood it either. From where they sat, it looked like retreat—except his eyes never once left the commander, tracking him the way a hunter tracks something it hasn’t decided how to kill yet.
Back in the forest, Malrik’s whole focus stayed on the fight. Every movement. Every shift in mana. Every Skill the commander used, tracked and weighed, filed away for whatever came next.
He had no idea he was performing for his entire family. Every card he revealed down there was becoming a scene in a show he’d never meant for anyone to see.