Two days after Nihil’s harrowing internal surgery, Silverwood Spire’s throne room was once again filled with Elven elders and commanders. This time, the atmosphere was profoundly different. Gone were the heated debates or accusations of treason. Instead, a heavy silence prevailed—a silence born from the awareness that their world had irrevocably changed. The Inquisition’s attack on their soil, though thwarted, was an unforgivable violation. An unofficial declaration of war from one of the mortal realm’s greatest powers.
Nihil stood at the center of the hall beside Princess Lyraelle. He no longer appeared as a fragile patient. His recovery, after purging the holy contamination, progressed at unnatural speed. Though his Capacity was still recharging, his body had returned to peak condition. He stood motionless, his presence an awkward focal point for the Elven council. He was no longer merely an anomaly or war guest. He was the reason they now stood on the brink of conflict with the Seven Churches.
Queen Aerwyna gazed down from her throne. Her ancient face looked weary, but her eyes were clear and resolute. "The attack by the Church hunters has clarified our position," she declared, her voice echoing through the hall. "They hunt not just the Child of Void. They violate our sovereignty. They defile our forests with their blind faith. This is no longer Nihil’s fight alone. It is *our* fight."
An elder from the Arcanum Council, Elarion’s temporary replacement, spoke. "Your Majesty, this places us in grave peril. Openly opposing the Inquisition is opposing the Empire. We lack the strength to fight both."
"We will not fight them with strength alone," the Queen countered. "We will fight them with knowledge and alliance. And our strongest alliance, like it or not, stands among us now."
All eyes turned to Nihil.
"Nihil," the Queen addressed him directly. "You have proven yourself twice. First, you passed our trial. Second, you spilled blood—your own blood—to protect our warriors from a threat they could not face. The Ancient Law is clear. A life debt is repaid with sacrifice. But today, we go beyond law. We speak of trust."
She gestured to a guard, who brought forth a softly glowing crystal key. "I granted you access to our library. Today, I grant you access to its heart. The Archives of the Keepers of Balance. Where the most secret and dangerous knowledge is stored. Knowledge even Lord Elarion was forbidden to see."
*Nihil’s Thoughts: Analysis. Significant escalation. From limited access to absolute trust. Queen’s motivation: cornered. She knows war is unavoidable, and she’s betting my knowledge of the Void is her only trump card. Logical move. Highly advantageous for me.*
"We know not what you will find there," the Queen continued. "Those records haven’t been opened for millennia. But we believe that to fight an enemy threatening us all, we must understand the nature of all cosmic forces, light and dark alike. Use that knowledge to aid yourself, and in return, aid us."
Nihil studied the crystal key. It was more than he’d hoped for. "I accept," he stated simply.
Lyraelle, standing beside him, felt a wave of relief. This alliance was no longer forced; it was sealed by mutual trust. She watched Nihil, trying to read his expression. As always, his face was a mask of cold calm. Yet for a moment, she saw something in his crimson eyes—not emotion, but the intensity of a scientist granted access to the world’s most advanced laboratory.
*Lyraelle’s Thoughts: He got what he wanted. But what is he truly seeking? Is this just about understanding his power? Or is there another purpose he hides? I’ve seen him sacrifice. I’ve seen him fight. But I still don’t know who—or what—he truly is. Protecting him is my duty. Understanding him... may be my greatest challenge.*
That night, Lyraelle escorted Nihil to a circular door hidden behind bookshelves in the Grand Library’s deepest recess. The door lacked handles or keyholes, only a depression shaped for the crystal key.
"Be cautious," Lyraelle whispered as Nihil inserted the key. "The Keepers of Balance were a mysterious order. They took no side in Light or Darkness. Some of their writings are said to drive the unprepared reader mad."
"Madness is merely a logical response to unprocessable data," Nihil replied, utterly unafraid. "I seek only data."
The door opened soundlessly, revealing a dark, dusty archive room. The air inside felt ancient, heavy with the weight of millennia of silence. Nihil stepped through, and the door closed behind him, leaving him alone with the world’s secrets.
Lyraelle stood before the sealed door for a long moment. She was no longer just a guard. She felt like a sentinel at the edge of an abyss, watching someone willingly leap into it, hoping they’d find a way to fly.
She turned and walked down the dim library corridor. She knew her task had changed. She must not only prepare her rangers to fight Church hunters. She must prepare her kingdom for whatever Nihil might find within that room. She headed for the elite ranger training grounds, her resolve Elf-steel strong. If war came to their home, she’d ensure they were ready. She wouldn’t let Nihil’s sacrifice be in vain.
In a cold, secluded chapel within the Inquisitorial Fortress, Grand Inquisitor Richter Von Braum stared at a large communication crystal hovering above a stone altar. Commander Gideon’s face appeared within the crystal, shadowed by flickering torchlight in his cave hideout. Gideon looked weary, a fresh bandage on his forehead, but his fanatical eyes burned brighter than ever.
"Report, Commander," Richter commanded, his voice cold and emotionless.
"Primary mission objective failed," Gideon rasped. "Target was not captured or destroyed. The Elves intervened."
Richter showed no anger. He merely waited.
"However," Gideon continued, "the mission succeeded in its secondary objective. We gathered invaluable combat data. We confirmed the nature of the anomaly’s power."
"Elaborate," Richter ordered.
"He wields no magic as we know it, Lord Grand Inquisitor. His power is the antithesis of Holy Light. Direct contact between our artifacts and his essence caused mutual annihilation reactions. It hurt him. Severely." Gideon paused. "He is also a cunning tactician. He didn’t confront our strength head-on. He manipulated the environment, turned the battlefield itself against us, and sacrificed his own body to break our ritual. He is dangerous not just for his power, but for his intellect."
*Richter’s Thoughts: Clever? Of course he is. Demons are the cleverest of all. He uses twisted logic to mimic the Creator’s design. But his intellect is his weakness. Something logical is predictable. Something predictable can be trapped.*
"What do you require, Commander?" Richter asked.
"Our current artifacts are designed for direct assault," Gideon answered. "Effective, but the target is too agile. His spatial abilities let him evade direct hits. We need something different. Not a sword, but a net. I request authorization to deploy a **Pillar of Purification**. An artifact that, when activated, doesn’t explode, but creates a persistent holy zone over a wide radius, constantly suppressing and degrading all opposing energies within it. Inside that zone, his spatial abilities would be severely hindered, and his regeneration would cease entirely. Inside that zone, he cannot run."
Richter smiled thinly, a smile no one would ever see. "Request granted. The Pillar will be dispatched. Do not fail again, Gideon. The Light’s patience has limits."
Gideon’s face hardened. "By the Light, the Heretic *will* be Purified."
The transmission ended. Richter stared at the empty altar. He knew Gideon would succeed eventually. But he also knew relying on one man was folly. He needed a second front. He took a smaller comm crystal and whispered a name into it—the name of a sleeper agent within Duke Alaric’s faction. It was time to activate all assets.
Simultaneously, in a hidden safehouse beneath Solara Magna’s noble district, Velka Nocturne read a newly arrived encrypted message. It was from Elara, sent through their covert channel.
The message was brief, but its contents chilled her blood.
[NIHIL ATTACKED. INQUISITION ELITE UNIT. SEVERELY WOUNDED BUT STABLE. THEY USED HOLY ARTIFACTS THAT DIRECTLY COUNTER HIS POWER. NEED ALL DATA YOU HAVE ON ’THE PURIFIERS’. WEAPONS, TACTICS, WEAKNESSES. URGENT.]
Velka clenched her fists until her knuckles turned white. Richter. Of course it was Richter. The damned Inquisitor would never stop.
Duke Alaric, studying a political influence map of the city, saw the look on Velka’s face. "Bad news?"
"The Church has moved," Velka stated, her voice ice-cold. "They attacked Nihil in Silverwood."
Alaric frowned. "That accelerates everything. If they capture him, Richter gains unprecedented influence. He could use that ’victory’ to declare holy war on anyone deemed ’impure’—including us."
"We can’t help him directly there," Velka said, her mind racing. "But we can cut the legs out from under them here. Elara needs intel on the Purifiers. That kind of intel is likely stored in one of the Church’s most heavily guarded internal archives."
"The Cathedral Fortress of Light," Alaric said grimly. "Infiltration is suicide."
"Not with a large enough distraction," Velka countered, her eyes gleaming dangerously. She pointed to a spot on Alaric’s map. Not a Church asset. A lavish manor. The seat of **House Theron**.
"Cedric Theron," Velka said. "The Church’s most vocal supporter among the young nobility. He’s also your bitter rival... and holds a personal grudge against Nihil since the academy days. My sources say House Theron just received a shipment of new defense artifacts from the Church as a ’reward’ for their loyalty." Nᴇw novel chapters are publɪshed on novelꜰire.net
Alaric began to understand. "You want us to..."
"We leak false intel to Valerius Nocturne’s spies that we plan to steal those artifacts from House Theron," Velka explained, her plan forming rapidly. "My father, who despises Theron, will let it happen or even covertly assist. Theron, arrogant as he is, will bolster his defenses, drawing guards from other assets. And the Church, eager to protect a valuable ally, will dispatch some of their Templar Knights to Theron Manor."
She locked eyes with Alaric. "Everyone will be looking at House Theron. And while they’re all dancing to our shadow-play, my best agents slip into the Cathedral Fortress through the back door and retrieve what we need. We’ll turn the ambitions of all our enemies against each other."
Alaric looked at Velka with newfound admiration. She was no longer just a girl seeking vengeance. She had become a ruthless strategist, much like her father. "That is an extraordinarily dangerous plan," he said.
"We live in dangerous times, Duke," Velka replied. "It’s time we stopped reacting and started dictating the game."
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