cult of darkness

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Chapter: cult of darkness

The battlefield outside the inn was silent except for the soft rustling of leaves in the cold night wind. Blood soaked the ground where the bodies of fallen assassins lay, their dark cloaks blending with the shadows of the nearby forest.

From the edge of the treeline, an old man in a crimson robe watched the aftermath with calm intensity. His sharp features were pale, framed by shoulder-length black hair streaked with silver. Dark runes glowed faintly across the intricate embroidery of his robe. His deep-set eyes, burning with an eerie red light, reflected both wisdom and malice.

This was Donovan Brazik, one of the Ten Archbishops of the Cult of Darkness—a feared master of dark magic and a manipulator of fate. He stood still, blending into the night, watching the knights of House Alestra secure the area under the command of Knight Captain Cial Dark.

Cial, clad in dark, blood-streaked armor, moved with practiced ease despite the exhaustion weighing on his shoulders. His sword, still faintly glowing from its last magical strike, rested in his hand. His sharp eyes scanned the dark surroundings, always alert.

The faint shimmer of sword aura radiating from Cial's blade caught Donovan's attention. His eyes narrowed, burning brighter. "Interesting..." he whispered. A mortal wielding sword aura with such mastery wasn't something he encountered often.

Without a word, Donovan raised two fingers, dark runes spiraling around them as he activated a Voice Transmission Spell. His voice echoed across magical distances, cold and authoritative.

"The assassins failed. Shall I step in and finish the job?"

A moment of silence followed before a deep, commanding voice responded—calm yet filled with power that sent chills even through Donovan.

"No... There's no need."

The voice belonged to Adam, the Supreme Pontiff of the Church of Darkness, a man whose dark powers rivaled the Pope of the Church of Light. Even through magical communication, his presence felt overwhelming.

"Our real goal was never their lives," Adam continued. "We needed a distraction, nothing more. The nobles will assume this was a political assassination attempt. Let them be blinded by fear."

Donovan frowned slightly. He preferred action over deceit but dared not voice his discontent. "With respect, eliminating the nobles would cripple the kingdom's power structure. The Church of Light won't respond fast enough."

Adam's voice remained steady. "We are not interested in their petty politics. They are pawns. As long as the ducal families remain distracted, they will never discover what we are truly after."

Donovan's expression darkened at the mention of "her"—the mysterious Blessed Girl, chosen by the Lord of Darkness himself. They had hunted her for years, but she always slipped through their grasp.

"Even with all my blessings, I cannot sense her presence," Adam admitted, irritation lacing his words. "The ancient magic of the Dark Forest shields her well."

The Dark Forest—a cursed, ever-changing labyrinth where shadows and beasts ruled. Donovan had led countless search missions there, but they always returned empty-handed—or not at all.

"Our scouts found her last traces near the forest's edge," Donovan reported. "But she could be anywhere by now."

There was a long pause before Adam spoke again, this time in a colder, more calculated tone.

"There is... another matter."

Donovan tensed. "What matter, my Lord?"

"The boy... from House Alestra."

Donovan's eyes widened in surprise. "Ryan Alestra?"

"Yes." Adam's voice turned sharper. "Watch him closely. If you notice anything... unusual, report immediately."

The old archbishop couldn't hide his confusion. Why would the Supreme Pontiff take such an interest in a mere noble heir? He was just a boy—not even of age to command knights. What could possibly concern Adam about him?

"As you command, my Lord. I will keep a close eye on the boy."

The voice transmission abruptly ended, leaving Donovan standing alone in the quiet darkness. He lowered his hand, still deep in thought. His orders were clear, but the implications behind them left him uneasy.

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Far away, in the heart of the Black Citadel, Adam sat upon his dark throne made of twisted black iron and carved with glowing runes of power. Tall obsidian pillars surrounded the vast chamber, faint purple flames flickering in enchanted braziers.

His expression remained unreadable as he stared into the distant void, lost in thought. His dark robe shimmered faintly, its runes pulsing with restrained magic.

The Blessed Girl, hidden deep within the Dark Forest… and Ryan Alestra, a boy who should have meant nothing—yet fate seemed to have different plans.

Adam's lips curved into a cold, knowing smile.

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With the battle finally over, Alena and Lady Evelyn sent their children to their rooms. They needed rest after such a dangerous encounter. Once the children were gone, the two noblewomen gathered with Knight Captain Cial Dark and the senior mages from House Gracia to discuss the attack.

The atmosphere was tense. The flickering light of the room's lanterns cast long shadows on their serious faces. This was more than just a random assassination attempt—they all knew it.

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In one of the inn's rooms, Ryan Alestra walked quietly down the hall after talking briefly with his sister Aria and Camilla Gracia about the attack. He assured them everything would be fine before heading to his own room.

The moment he shut the door behind him, his expression darkened. His usual polite and calm demeanor vanished, replaced by a serious and calculating look.

He stood still for a moment, letting the silence of the room settle around him. His mind replayed the events of the ambush over and over again.

"Darkness magic..." he muttered grimly.

The assassins that attacked them clearly used darkness magic, a power only those with Divine Blessings or rare magical constitutions could wield. Judging by the number of assassins and their skill, it was obvious they were members of the Cult of Darkness.

Ryan clenched his fists. His mother, Alena, and Lady Evelyn must have realized this too. That explained why they were holding such a long, serious discussion with Cial and the Gracia mages.

But even that wasn't what worried Ryan the most.

His mind returned to a specific moment during the attack.

"There was someone... watching us."

It wasn't just the assassins. There had been another presence—someone far stronger and more dangerous.

"A Grand Mage... and a powerful one at that."

Ryan remembered the faint traces of communication magic he had sensed during the battle. At first, he hadn't noticed anything unusual. Whoever was watching them had used advanced concealment magic, masking their presence perfectly.

In fact, if it hadn't been for Ryan's unique mana control blessing, he would've never noticed the spell at all. He only sensed the presence when the mysterious mage activated voice transmission magic—a high-level spell used for long-distance communication.

Even then, the magic was so well-controlled that he couldn't trace where it came from. The level of skill required was terrifying. It meant only one thing—the person watching them was at least a Grand Mage.

Ryan sat on the edge of his bed, resting his elbows on his knees.

"If they wanted us dead, we wouldn't have survived."

He hated admitting it, but it was true. His current strength wasn't enough to fight someone of that level. Not even close.

"I need more time... and power."

His mind raced with possibilities. If he could master Runic Magic and study the Laws of Space, he could unlock Domain Magic—a power only wielded by Archmages and Divine Champions.

Until then, he had no chance of winning against someone that powerful.

At least for now, the mysterious mage hadn't made any hostile moves. They had only been observing from a distance, not attacking. That alone gave Ryan a small measure of relief.

"They won't follow us to the Alestra estate," Ryan muttered. "There's a branch of the Church of Light stationed there."

Even the Church of Darkness wouldn't risk attacking near such a powerful stronghold. Not unless they were ready for an all-out war.

"Let's hope nothing goes wrong... Things will get complicated if they do."

He sighed, running a hand through his white hair. His expression remained grim.

There was also something else,

His memories.

They came in vivid fragments, filled with arcane knowledge, battle experience, and forbidden magic.

He could remember ancient spells, combat techniques, and even historical events that no ordinary person could know.

In many ways, these memories helped him grow stronger. His understanding of magic, combat, and strategy advanced rapidly because of them. But they came with a heavy price.

A sharp pain throbbed in his head, making him wince. The memories were too vivid—too intense. It felt as if he had lived through them himself.

"What... is happening to me?"

He clenched his fists, frustration boiling inside him. He couldn't afford to lose control—not now. He needed to figure out what these memories meant—and how to master them—before they destroyed him.

With a deep breath, Ryan lay back on the soft mattress, staring at the wooden ceiling. His mind remained restless, his thoughts swirling like a storm.

His family, the mysterious mage, his strange memories... Too many dangerous forces were moving in the shadows, and Ryan was at the center of it all—whether he wanted it or not.

"I can't let my family get involved..."

His eyes slowly closed as exhaustion finally overtook him. Despite the calm, confident front he showed others, Ryan Alestra knew one thing for sure—his life was far from normal.

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