Chapter 24 Schemes

She picked him up. "Daemien, you missed me." She kissed his cheeks. She carried him in her arms, walking further into the room.

A middle-aged lady came out of the inner room. She wore a blue gown with a white cloth tied around her waist. Her light brown hair was tied back with a white napkin.

"Young Master Phoebe," she greeted, before raising her hands to carry Daemien.

Phoebe smiled at the lady. Then, she turned to Daemien, who had already rested his head on her shoulder. "Aunty Phoebe will be right back." She kissed his forehead before handing him over to the lady.

The baby cried, reluctant to leave her. But the lady brought him away from the chamber room.

Phoebe's smile disappeared; her expression turned into an indifferent one. Her eyes scanned the room. This was the closest room to what seemed like a normal family room. She walked towards the door connecting to the inner room.

The door flung open before she could reach it. Inside the room, a huge bulky man sat on a chair, his back to her. A playful smirk curled on Phoebe's lips. "Who would have believed that a fearful giant would be so gentle, catering for a baby?"

The huge man grunted. "I'm not a giant. Stop calling me that, Phoebe." He didn't turn to face her.

Phoebe walked to his front. She collected the apple that he had been able to bite. She took a bite, chewing slowly. "This is the best apple, Rock." She casually sat beside him.

"I care about the quality of my food, unlike you." He folded his arms across his chest before turning away.

"It seems like someone is angry. How is your baby? He is growing pretty well. I bet you are pumping him with food. Don't tell me you want to make him grow into a giant like you?" She squinted her eyes at him before taking another bite.

Rock turned to her, his eyes narrowed. "He is not my baby, and I'm not the one feeding him. Unlike someone who is too engrossed in her role as a mother. Don't tell me you've grown a soft spot for him?"

"Never. I'm Phoebe, the bringer of death, remember?" Her eyes glowed red.

"Why are you so mad? I was only pulling your legs. Except I speak the truth." He drawled, a playful smirk curling on his lips.

"Let's forget that for now. Has he been showing any potential for having a strong affinity for magic?" Her voice turned serious.

Rock's expression turned serious too. The angry mark running from his face down to his jaw made him look scary. "I've been watching like you requested… For a baby, he is already showing strong potential. If he grows up, he will be one of the strongest mages the world has ever seen."

"I don't want him to be one of the strongest mages. I need him to be the strongest mage the world has ever seen. Only that way can we keep our heads. Master will have us killed if we fail to make him the strongest mage." Phoebe dropped the half-remaining apple on the wooden table.

"We have nothing to worry about. He is the Doom of Star. The reincarnation of the revered demon. He will be the weapon that will raise the Al'Morthals back to glory. We will be the most respected leaders of the cult." His hoarse voice cracked as he stared at Phoebe.

"I believe you, Rock. We have to train him well. And we can't let his sister meet him. Who knows the lies she would spin to brainwash him?"

"Exactly. His sister has already been sent to the House of Whispers. She won't be out for the next ten to twelve years. That gives us enough time to use both of them effectively."

Phoebe's brows knitted into a frown. "But we have a problem," she began. "The Emperors and the High Mages are looking for the missing siblings. They know Daemien is the Star of Doom."

Rock chuckled. "You don't have to be worried about that."

"Why?"

"Because I've already sent wrong intel to them. I told them the child is in a place between Northhelm and the Land of Skulls." At his words, their lips curled into a sinister smile.

"We have found a substitute child for them to kill. However, the problem is, they would be entering into the Northhelm Empire, which could be regarded as an insult. If we pull the right strings, and they are not too far off from the Land of Skulls… I wonder how many of them would be able to return alive."

"Rock, you never told me you were a genius. This is the best plan. Not only would we get them off our trail, but we would weaken the bond they have with Northhelm, and at the same time kill off their best soldiers."

Phoebe laughed maniacally. "This is really the beginning of the rise of the Al'Morthals. And my brother… We would be the iconic figures who make it happen."

Rock joined her in her burst of laughter.

"Let's bring wreckage to the four Empires!"

......

(Back in Eldenria Empire)

Kaelith sat on the ground in a well-lit room. Books surrounded him, almost burying him. His brows furrowed as he read the words written in a large book with a dark brown cover. The image of runes was drawn on the page he was reading.

"Not this one either." He pinched the bridge of his nose. 'My body is too fragile for me to resume the practices from my past life. And that was a demonic cultivation that requires blood and dangerous ingredients. I can't get it here, and I can't practice it under White Lotus' nose. But why is it so difficult to learn from scratch? If only White Lotus hadn't sealed my powers.'

He had been searching for the right book to open his mana stream. Although he was lucky not to have experienced any physical backlash from the forceful seal that was placed on him, his domain had become nothing but a wasteland. And to make everything worse, the day his mother created the domain was the last time he had been there. He had tried countless times to access it but had failed to do so.

"Who knew a wasteland also needed mana to access it." He looked down at the ring on his thumb. This had been the only medium that had been useful to him. 'I need to break out of this stale… I need to grow powerful so I don't see those ugly faces for a long time.' He shoved the book aside with a hiss.

Meanwhile, behind him, the maids stared at him in awe.

"Are you sure he is just one year old?" one of the maids asked.

"Yes, he is," the other maid answered.

"Then, why does he look like he actually understands what is written in those books? He even looks like he is looking for something. Isn't this weird?"

"It is weird. He began to walk when he was six months and started speaking when he was just eight months old—not blabbering, I mean good linguistics—and he talked as if he had been in this world for centuries. Wisdom is his middle name. And I am not actually surprised to see this." The maid folded her arms across her chest.