The Sovereign Chronicles novel Chapter 39

A few days later, Kaelen was practicing his swordplay in the ancient woods nearby when he suddenly heard a massive commotion echoing from the base of the mountain. A massive throng of people had gathered, their voices rising in a chaotic buzz.

Kaelen sheathed the Daevan Blade, wrapping it securely in animal hide, and walked to the ridge to look down.

At the foot of the mountain stood a colossal bounty board. Hundreds of disciples swarmed around it, engaged in feverish, heated debates, while dozens more sprinted over from the courtyards to join the fray.

"The second Grand Hunt of the year! I've been waiting for this!"

"Where's the hunting ground this time?"

"The Sacrificial Peaks! Over four hundred miles from the Sanctum, dead center in the deepest uncharted territories of The Veilwood Forest. I heard the density of Spirit Beasts there is absolute madness. The terrain is a nightmare—raging rivers, sheer waterfalls, and hidden abysses. The mortality rate is going to be way higher than the first Grand Hunt this year."

"The second Hunt is always a bloodbath compared to the first."

"Massive danger, massive loot. That's the rule."

"The Sacrificial Peaks cover a massive zone. It's not just the Spirit Beasts and the lethal terrain. That area is crawling with high-tier Mercenaries and rogue cutthroats."

"What's the minimum requirement to enlist this time?"

"It's written right there. Between Phase Six and Phase Nine of the Spirit Warrior Tier. Hard cap of one thousand participants."

The hundreds of disciples clustered around the board, the air electric with adrenaline and greed.

The Grand Hunt was the Sanctum's official trial by fire for its younger generation. Held twice a year, the hunting zones, the aether tier requirements, and the duration of the expedition constantly rotated to test different limits.

An operation restricted to Phase Six and above, capped at a thousand combatants—this was classified as a major military expedition.

Kaelen slipped into the crowd, peering through the shoulders of taller disciples to study the map and the rules nailed to the board. He had never qualified for a Grand Hunt before. Primarily because he was too weak; stepping outside the sect barriers back then would have just made him a light snack for a low-tier Spirit Beast. So, every year, he would stare at the board from afar, swallow his envy, and go back to scrubbing floors.

"The Sacrificial Peaks?" Kaelen's heart suddenly skipped a beat. He pushed violently toward the front, his eyes tracing the red boundary of the hunting zone eastward toward the edge of the map, until they locked onto a brutally familiar emblem.

The Ironcrag Quarry!

The Ironcrag Quarry! The literal penal colony where his people were enslaved!

Kaelen rapidly calculated the marching distance from the boundary of the hunting zone to the Quarry. His eyes burned with sudden intensity as an insanely dangerous, yet irresistible plan took root in his mind.

"Well, well, if it isn't Kaelen." An initiate recognized him, eyeing him up and down. "Thinking of enlisting in the Grand Hunt?"

His voice immediately drew the attention of the surrounding pack.

"You actually meet the cut-off now. Why not sign your name in blood?"

"Minimum is Phase Six. Kaelen doesn't have the aether tier."

"Who cares about the tier if the killing power is there? He shattered Maelor with a single punch. Who dares say he isn't qualified?"

"Maelor was just arrogant. Put them in the ring today, and Kaelen would be a corpse before the hourglass turns."

The disciples crowded around, eyes gleaming with malicious amusement, aggressively egging him on to sign up.

Kaelen flashed a mild smile. "I'd love to join the slaughter, but I don't have the clearance."

"What do you mean no clearance? Just put your name on the parchment!"

Kaelen deliberately shook his head, sighing dramatically. "In terms of raw power, I fear no one here. Even if Maelor stood before me right now, I'd break his bones all over again. But alas, I am merely a lowly Servitor. The Vanguard administration would never accept my enlistment."

"Oh ho! Arrogant bastard! I'm definitely quoting you directly to Maelor's boys. Hahaha!"

"You actually want in? My Warband can pull some strings to get you verified."

"Give us a straight answer, boy. Do you have the spine to march into the woods or not?"

While some zealots tried to goad him into a death trap, a few offered grim warnings. "Kaelen, drop the act. You surviving Maelor was purely a fluke. You'll die out there."

"I have the spine! I just doubt certain cowards have the guts to let me play." Kaelen laughed dismissively, dropping the bait perfectly before turning and shoving his way out of the throng.

"Did the victory rot his brain?"

"Does he actually delusionally believe he can match a Phase Seven?"

"Quick, go run your mouth to Maelor's camp! Haha, this is going to be a bloodbath. I love it!"

"You lot just want to watch the world burn. Kaelen was obviously just trying to save face while backing down."

The mob around the board continued to seethe with excitement. As Kaelen walked away, dozens of disciples immediately sprinted off to relay Kaelen's 'insults' to the Grand Elder's faction, maliciously exaggerating his arrogance to ensure maximum conflict.

Kaelen returned to his warehouse and instantly began his preparations. He dug through the junk piles, extracting shards of discarded iron, and sat down at the grindstone to forge Throwing Daggers. He had cast the bait. With absolute certainty, Maelor and the Grand Elder's lapdogs would be frothing at the mouth. Before the sun set, his name would miraculously appear on the enlistment roster.

The Grand Hunt. The Ironcrag Quarry. I am coming home!

At dusk, Celine threw open the warehouse doors, marching in with panic written all over her face. "Lord Kaelen, are you insane?! You publicly challenged Maelor again? Do you have any idea how many monsters in the Grand Elder's faction you just provoked? Word is they've already bribed the scribes to forge your signature on the roster!"

Kaelen shot up, his hand clamping onto Celine's arm like a vice. "Tell me! What happened in the dark?!"

"Lord Kaelen, you're hurting me!" Celine whimpered, trying to pull back.

"What happened? Speak." Kaelen's eyes locked onto hers, burning with terrifying intensity.

"Nothing! What could possibly happen? You're just imagining things."

Kaelen fell dead silent. He didn't blink. He just stared through her.

Under his suffocating gaze, Celine squirmed. She stammered, bit her lip, and finally broke. "It... it really wasn't a major disaster. Just... a slight complication."

"Speak!"

Celine opened her mouth, but the words caught in her throat.

"Speak."

Cornered, Celine finally whispered, "Three months ago, Tyrus entered closed-door meditation to attempt a breakthrough to Phase Eight of the Terra Warrior Tier. It was meant to be an absolute secret. Somehow, the Sanctum's Overseer in charge of the mines found out. He dispatched assassins to disrupt the aether gathering and trigger a backlash. Tyrus nearly died. It sparked a massive, bloody riot. The entire mining operation ground to a halt as the laborers mutinied."

"And then?" Kaelen's heart seized. Tyrus nearly died?

Eight years ago, during the 'Night of Catastrophe' that annihilated the Stormhold Citadel, nearly all the guards and Enshrined Guardians of the ruling family had been slaughtered or had fled in terror. Only a handful remained, swearing oaths of eternal loyalty in the blood and ash. Tyrus was their leader. For eight years, he had bled and suffered alongside the Kaelen bloodline, never taking a single step back.

For eight years, over two hundred thousand citizens of the Citadel, along with the surviving Kaelen royals, had been chained in the abyssal depths of the Ironcrag Quarry, condemned to brutal slave labor under the whips of the Azure Sky Sanctum. Tyrus had forged a rogue militia from the broken guards to shield Kaelen's orphaned sister and violently defend the 'laborers' from being worked to death.

Tyrus was the absolute last bastion of defense his family possessed.

"Tyrus held the line. He survived the assassination and successfully shattered his bottleneck, advancing to Phase Eight of the Terra Warrior Tier. So don't worry about his life. But the second he emerged from his trance, he marched straight to the Overseer's command tent for blood. Another fight broke out, and Tyrus... permanently crippled the Overseer."

"What happened after that?"

"The Sanctum dispatched an inquisitor. They officially ruled the Overseer initiated the unprovoked attack and dragged him back to the sect in chains without punishing Tyrus. But... shortly after, the Sanctum deployed an actual Elder to permanently garrison the Quarry. You might recognize the name. Elder Malakor. A man infamous for his sadistic cruelty and shadow politics. As for his true purpose... I think you can guess."

Celine looked utterly defeated. For cloistered disciples like her, the brutal proxy wars fought in the mining colonies were an entirely different universe. The Azure Sky Sanctum was heralded as a holy ground for martial arts; its eight thousand disciples were supposedly pure seekers of truth. Yet, a monolithic empire required astronomical resources to function. Thus, they held absolute dominion over massive aether-crystal quarries and frequently deployed elite hit squads to enforce their will.

This was the reality for every major Sanctum. The blood-soaked supply chains were the bedrock of their power.

"Malakor. The Grand Elder's loyal attack dog." Kaelen's fists clenched so hard his knuckles turned white. A standard aether-crystal mine absolutely did not warrant the permanent stationing of a High Elder. Malakor had been sent there for one reason: to crush Tyrus before he grew too powerful to control.