Chapter 43: A Figure In The Dark
Somewhere in Warstone, the sun had already begun to set when a carriage stopped in front of the Grand Cathedral, and Cael stepped down, moving into the building.
He made his way to the hall without needing a guide, pushed the door open, and stepped inside — five curtains rising tall around him.
"Cael. You made it."
The voice ahead spoke first — the Supreme Saint.
"I came the moment I received the call, your lordship. Why was I summoned?" Cael replied, bowing.
"He never returned. The adventurer you recommended seems to have gotten cold feet," the Supreme Saint answered.
Cael’s head lifted, surprise flickering across his face. He didn’t know much about the man, but from what little he’d seen, he’d struck him as brave. Perhaps the encounter with the White Order had shaken him more than expected. He only wondered briefly before answering.
"If I may ask, your lordship — what mission was he given?"
"To slay the black dragon in the east," the Supreme Saint replied.
"The black dragon? But why, your lordship?" Cael blurted, unable to stop himself. For decades the dragon had only ever been driven off or harmed, never hunted to kill — it was the last of its kind, protected by Warstone law as an endangered creature. Now, suddenly, they had a reason to end it. The answer came without delay.
"We’ve protected and preserved that creature for over a century, and in return, all it has given us is bloodshed. Countless lives lost, warriors sacrificed to keep it safe. How many more must die before we accept it’s not a treasure worth preserving, but a threat?"
The reasoning sat wrong in Cael’s mind, uneven, illogical. Why wait over a hundred years to reach that conclusion? Why let families be slaughtered, villages razed, year after year, before finally calling it a threat? Something didn’t add up — unless there was a second agenda buried beneath the first. The White Order clearly had something running in secret.
But Cael held his tongue. Whatever it was, so long as it didn’t pull him in, he could live with not knowing.
"Understood," he said. "Apologies for questioning you, your lordship."
"No need to apologize," the voice replied. "Though we could use another capable adventurer — if you find one available by tomorrow morning, send them that way. It would help."
"I’ll do my very best, your lordship," Vael — Cael — replied. Deep down, part of him hoped he wouldn’t have to involve anyone else at all, but the thought passed quickly. For his own sake, and his family’s, he’d keep playing along.
Cael lifted his head and turned to leave, footsteps slow and deliberate across the hall. He’d long wished he could walk away from the heroics, the Church, the crown, and simply focus on his home — but he knew better. If he tried, the past would only catch up faster. He’d end up a disgraced hero, and his daughter would bear the weight of it. That was a risk he wasn’t willing to take.
He climbed into his carriage, and it rolled off into the evening.
---
Elsewhere in the city, Niel walked the darkening streets as the sun dipped low, heading toward the motel. When he saw a familiar carriage roll past him, he recognized it instantly—Cael’s.
"Cael. I wonder where he’s heading this time around, or if he’s coming back." He paused, looking in the direction the carriage was coming from—the grand cathedral.
It was only then that the church mission surfaced in his memory. He worked backward, recalling Claire’s warning that he’d been unconscious two full days — which made this the third. The day the mission was due.
"Damn it. I forgot."
Niel blurted to himself, glancing west toward the Grand Cathedral, then east, then up at the fading sun. Was it already too late to go? And if he returned to the cathedral now, what excuse could he possibly offer?
Before he could work it out, Claire chimed in.
Claire: You could just go tomorrow. We finish the mission and come back with it done, partner. Tell them you went ahead as planned. As long as it gets done, no one should question it.
That’s not a bad plan, Claire. I’ll head out first thing tomorrow, wrap it up, then swing back to the cathedral. Sharp thinking.
Claire: Good. I’m catching up!
Don’t push it.
Niel kept walking, heading for the motel he’d rented.
---
As Cael’s carriage rolled through the streets of Warstone, he stared out at the sky sinking into darkness, his thoughts drifting somewhere far away. There had been a time, once, before the family, before the guilt — when he’d simply been happy. His team. His fight.
They’d all been A-ranks when they met, pushing through battles that should have killed them, climbing past even S-rank until the title of hero was theirs by right. And still, greed and political pressure had led him to betray a comrade. Now the truth trailed him wherever he went, patient and unhurried.
As the sun slipped away entirely, Niel’s words from the pyramid surfaced again in his mind.
"Three things cannot be long hidden. The sun, the moon, and the truth."
Something in him felt watched, always — as if some reckoning were already on its way, unstoppable. He wished, not for the first time, that he’d never tangled himself up in Church or crown politics. He could have had this same life, this same comfort, without the guilt gnawing at him, without this constant, formless dread.
He watched the city sink deeper into night and murmured, "I hope you can forgive me, Aurelian. I was a coward back then. You didn’t deserve any of it."
The words came out barely above a whisper, carrying the full weight of everything he hadn’t said aloud until now.
They hadn’t traveled far when his eyes caught a hooded figure standing in a dark side street. For a moment their gazes locked — then the carriage rolled past.
He was out of it and chasing the figure into the streets before he’d fully decided to. The figure moved fast, cutting through every corner it could find.
By the seventh turn, Cael had lost it entirely. He slowed to a walk and activated his unique skill, Foresight — letting him sense motion and presence within a hundred-foot radius.
The moment it activated, he felt the strike coming from behind. He spun, triggering Blood Manipulation, and fired a beam of hardened blood from his fingertips at the attacker.
The beam struck the figure and split cleanly in two, as though it had hit an invisible wall. The figure closed the gap fast, throwing a series of swift punches he barely dodged. He caught one mid-strike and tried to slam the figure to the ground — only for it to plant a foot and answer with a kick from the other leg that forced him back.
He surged forward again, and this time the figure caught him, pinning him against the wall — one hand braced on his back, his body crushed to the stone, a blade pressed to his throat.
"Still as strong as ever," Cael muttered, turning his head just enough to see. "Lydia."
"What do you want?" Lydia asked, not loosening her grip.
"Just to talk. As you can see, I came alone," Cael answered.
She held him there a moment longer before finally releasing him. He straightened, brushed himself off, and studied her. "How have you been keeping, Lydia? You look like you’re still in good shape."
"I don’t owe you an explanation. Say what you came to say, and I’m gone."
Cael let out a short laugh, tired but genuine. "Still just as hotheaded. Anyway — I’ve got a job for you, if you’re interested."
"How much, and who am I killing?" she asked, sliding her blade back into its sheath.
"Money-minded as always, I see. Fifty gold for the job," Cael replied.
Lydia’s face drained pale with shock. "What am I killing — an entire village?" She paused, weighing the number properly. "Wait. Is this a demon heir?"
"Neither," Cael said, shrugging. "It’s a Church job. You’d head east for something they’re calling simple."
Her expression shifted from shock to irritation in the space of a breath. "The Church? Why would I lift a finger for them?" She stopped, turning the thought over — the Church paying to have something killed never sat right with her. "What exactly does the Church need an assassin for, and what are they trying to bury?"
Cael sighed, stepping closer. "I don’t know the full story behind it. I don’t have all the details. But I do know it’s something you could handle easily in a day. So — are you in?"
She studied him for a long moment, arms crossed, one hand resting under her chin, head tilting slightly. "Let’s say you genuinely don’t know the reason yet. Are you also going to tell me you have no idea what the job actually is?"
"That much, I do know." He let the silence hang a beat before finishing. "The mission is to kill a dragon."