Chapter 8 – The Whisper Beneath the Calm
The warm glow of candlelight accompanied Chris as he returned to his chambers. The dinner had been rich, the atmosphere oddly comforting despite the many unspoken tensions dancing beneath every interaction.
The plush mattress, soft silken sheets, and the lull of distant crickets made it impossible to resist the weight of exhaustion. For the first time in what felt like lifetimes, Chris drifted into a deep, peaceful sleep.
A sleep untainted by war.
No screams.
No blood.
Just the whisper of wind and warmth of dreams.
The next morning, rays of golden sunlight filtered through tall windows as a maid helped him dress in a fine dark-blue robe with silver accents. After a light breakfast served with calming herbal tea, Chris rose from his seat.
"I'd like to request a private audience with the Duke," he told the butler calmly.
The old man's eyes flashed with curiosity, but he bowed respectfully. "At once, Young Master."
Inside the Duke's Study
A large room filled with towering bookshelves, maps of the continent, and mana-imbued artifacts. Duke Reinhardt stood by the window, hands behind his back, lost in thought.
"You may enter," he said as Chris was led inside.
The moment the doors closed, Chris dropped all formality. "Father. There's something I need to tell you. The truth about what happened to me a year ago."
The Duke turned, eyes narrowing. "Go on."
Chris exhaled slowly. "I wasn't injured due to a failed advancement. I had successfully completed the resonance for the Third Circle… but just before it stabilized, I was attacked. The spell formation shattered. My magic went wild. The backlash threw me into a coma."
For a few long moments, silence filled the room.
Then—
Boom.
The Duke's clenched fist slammed the desk, splintering its edge with sheer force.
"To think someone would dare… not only attack my son, but do so in my own castle...!" Reinhardt's voice was a controlled growl, thunder rumbling beneath calm waves.
Chris nodded. "I didn't want to believe it either. But someone inside the castle orchestrated it. No one from the outside could've reached me during advancement. The defenses… the wards…"
"Impossible," the Duke muttered. "Unless… it was an inside job."
Chris's eyes locked with his father's. "There's more. During the year I was in a coma… my younger brother advanced to the Second Circle and took my place. Now, the majority of our vassals support him as heir."
The Duke's expression darkened further, a storm hidden behind regal restraint. "You're suggesting Elias could be involved?"
"I don't have proof," Chris said calmly. "And I don't want to act on suspicion. But I intend to get stronger, Father. Stronger than I ever was."
"And how do you plan to do that?"
Chris's voice turned firm, resolute.
"Grant me access to the Arcana Library."
The Duke stiffened. That was no ordinary request. "That library is older than our family's history within the Empire. Only I—and those I permit—can enter. Even the Emperor once requested scrolls from it."
Chris stepped forward. "I need knowledge. Forbidden spells, lost theories, hybrid pathways, rune synthesis… Anything that can give me an edge. Not just to restore my name—but to prevent the end of the world."
Reinhardt raised an eyebrow. "The end of the world?"
Chris paused. He couldn't say too much—not yet. But he spoke from the heart. "Something is coming, Father. Something darker than we can imagine. The Outer Gods are not myths. The Age of Destruction… will begin within five years."
The Duke's gaze was long and unreadable. Then, slowly, he nodded.
"Very well. I will authorize your access. But know this—if what you say is true, you will walk a dangerous path. And once you step into the Arcana Library, there is no turning back."
Chris nodded once. "I never planned to."