Chapter 68: Call Me Shadow
The heavy velvet drapes hung pulled tight across the grand arched windows of the royal bedchamber, shutting out Dulthmune’s cool night air. Three candles flickered atop a dark mahogany table, throwing long, restless shadows across the stone walls.
Niel sat at the head of the table, stripped of King Vance’s regal outer robes, dressed only in simple black linen. Across from him, Lydia spun a short silver dagger between her fingers at a mesmerizing pace. Draken leaned against a heavy stone pillar, arms crossed over his broad chest, dark wings tucked tight against his back to keep clear of the furniture.
"The war with Kelter’s already moving," Niel began, voice low and measured. "Duke Reginald’s greed working from the inside, our tariff refusal pressing from the outside — both kingdoms crumble into chaos within months. Once Vance and Kelter’s king are gone, Dulthmune and its neighboring territories are effectively ours."
Draken grunted, shifting his weight. "And once both kingdoms fall? We march straight on Warstone next?"
"No," Niel said, resting his chin on steepled fingers. "That would be a mistake. Warstone was a statement, but it also put every major power on alert. The moment Dulthmune and Kelter fall, we disappear."
Lydia caught the spinning dagger mid-air, snapping it still by the hilt, blue eyes narrowing slightly. "Disappear for how long?"
"Six months," Niel said flatly. "After the twin kingdoms fall, the three of us separate. No attacks under the Sinners’ name. No shows of power."
Draken’s brow furrowed. "Separating? Why hand them breathing room when we’ve got momentum?"
"Because we’re stepping into a much deeper, far smarter tier of society now," Niel said, gaze sharpening. "Warstone’s knights and S-ranks were brute force. But the high councils, the ancient orders, the true rulers of this continent — they operate on information, espionage, political leverage. Underestimating them just because we survived our introduction would be genuinely foolish."
Lydia tilted her head, weighing it. "So the six months isn’t a retreat. It’s an intelligence phase."
"Exactly," Niel said. "We scatter, blend into different corners of the continent, and gather what we need — trade routes, hidden alliances, power structures, secrets. When we reassemble, we won’t just be crashing another party. We’ll know exactly how to tear their whole society out by the roots."
"I can work with that," Lydia murmured, sheathing her dagger with a soft click. "Gets boring if we just blow everything up regardless."
"One more thing," Niel continued, leaning into the candlelight. "If we’re building the Sinners into something capable of reshaping this world, the three of us won’t be enough to hold the territory we take. We need allies — but chosen carefully. At most, three more. People whose abilities or influence fill in what we’re missing."
Draken let out a rough laugh. "Finding three people worth trusting sounds harder than taking down Kelter."
"We don’t need trust, Draken. We need shared ambition and real capability." Niel’s voice stayed even. "Three allies. No more, no less."
Clap. Clap. Clap.
A slow, deliberate rhythm of applause rose from the darkest corner of the room.
The atmosphere in the chamber shattered instantly. Draken’s eyes flared gold, pupils narrowing to slits as his wings snapped open, his frame dropping into a defensive crouch. Niel’s eyes flickered crimson, spatial mana surging around his fingertips, ready to compress that entire corner of the room to dust.
Before either could strike, Lydia moved — faster than either of them.
She thrust her palm toward the shadows, triggering Attraction and Repulsion. A dense, invisible gravitational cage slammed down over the dark corner, locking air, space, and matter into an immovable, crushing grip. The stone tiles beneath the shadow cracked under the sudden pressure.
"Don’t move," Lydia said, voice flat, ice cold, blue eyes glowing with raw power. "Or I crush your lungs."
Stepping out of the localized gravity trap, as effortlessly as breaking through thin glass, was a slender figure wrapped in sleek, seamless black. A dark cowl draped his shoulders, a high collar hiding the lower half of his face, leaving only a pair of sharp, mocking dark eyes visible in the candlelight.
"My, my," the man said, his voice smooth, carrying a faint, ghostly resonance. "A remarkably warm welcome for a prospective partner."
Lydia’s eyes widened fractionally. *He’s moving through my repulsion field?*
She pushed the output higher instantly, meaning to lock his limbs entirely — but a fraction of a second before the crush landed, his form dissolved into fluid, ink-black shadow.
The gravitational force slammed uselessly into empty stone, shattering the tiles to fine powder.
A heartbeat later, the shadow swept across the floor at blinding speed, sliding straight through the spatial barriers Niel had raised without pause, coalescing near the grand arched window on the far side of the chamber, rising smoothly back into human shape.
The man leaned against the window frame, arms crossed, entirely unbothered by three deadly monsters glaring straight at him.
"Fascinating," he murmured, dark eyes glinting with genuine amusement as he studied Niel. "Gathering intelligence, lying low for six months, building a quiet syndicate — I’m thoroughly impressed with the vision here. Villains with actual brains are a rare find these days."
Niel rose slowly from his chair, hand resting near his hilt. "Who are you, and how did you slip past the guards outside?"
"Guards?" The man laughed, light and airy, the sound seeming to come from everywhere and nowhere at once. "Guards watch the doors, my friend. Shadows belong to the room itself."
He pushed off the window frame, offering a sweeping, theatrical bow, black cloak fluttering like raven’s wings in the moonlight pouring through the glass.
"You mentioned looking for three allies to round out your little organization," he said, straightening, meeting Niel’s gaze directly. "Consider your first slot filled."
Lydia stepped up beside Niel, fingers twitching near her belt, gravity mana still humming with barely restrained danger. "You still haven’t given us a name."
The intruder smiled beneath his collar, eyes narrowing into sharp, confident crescents as he melted slightly back into the shadow of the window frame.
"You may call me Leonard Freeman," he said smoothly, voice dropping to a phantom whisper as the darkness wrapped around him. "Or, if you prefer what the underworld calls me... call me Shadow."