Emperor's harem: Transmigrated with SSS mana talent
Chapter 96: [Duskwither Forest]

Chapter 96: [Duskwither Forest]

Kael followed suit. A clean prick on his fingertip, a drop of crimson on ink.

The contract flared once more—then vanished into smoke.

Bound.

Both were now tied to its terms, whether they liked them or not.

Selvaris barked, "Where is my daughter now?"

Kael’s eyes narrowed. "Don’t shout. Give me my ring."

She snapped back, "Daughter first."

He stared deadpan.

"We’ve signed a mana contract. If we break it, we both die. So hand it over—quick."

She hesitated, fury and fear battling in her eyes, then reluctantly handed him the ring.

Kael turned, ready to leave.

"Wait!" she cursed, grabbing his arm. "My daughter—"

Kael grimaced. "I’ve already sent her to your duchy. Go find her there."

Shock froze her.

She had come all this way, only to find Kael had already sent her daughter home.

Then it clicked: this was why he had arrived late.

The bitter sting of humiliation settled deep in her chest.

Without a word, she turned and fled.

The hidden magicians exchanged confused glances, but at a subtle nod from the Duchess, they moved.

Though unsure of her reasons, they obeyed in silence, shadows slipping after her.

Kael let out a soft snort. "Women are hard to read."

Yue was staring at him.

Kael coughed. "What?"

She simply sighed, her expression unreadable.

Without saying more, Kael pulled his cloak tighter and began walking toward the town square, blending in with the crowd.

He wasn’t hungry—but he was curious.

Curious about what the common folk were doing, thinking... saying.

He reached a modest food stall at the edge of the square and ordered something simple. As he waited, he kept his head low, listening.

A group of men nearby were deep in conversation, their voices hushed yet excited.

"Did you hear? The boy actually became Duke."

"After that mess at the manor? I thought the whole family was cursed."

"Some say the devils themselves were involved..."

Kael let out a quiet laugh, the sound dry and amused.

Soon, his food arrived.

Kael began to eat quietly, his ears still tuned to the voices drifting from the nearby table.

Their conversation shifted.

"Have you heard? More and more people are vanishing near the boundary with the Duskwither Forest."

"Aye," another muttered. "And not just one or two. Whole patrols. Traders. Even a hunting party last week."

"Beasts are getting bolder. Some say they’ve seen creatures that shouldn’t be this far south."

"We’ve already informed the lesser nobles—barons, earls—but no one’s come to investigate."

A heavy silence settled between them before one man asked, voice low, uncertain,

"Should we tell the Duke?"

Kael paused mid-bite, his gaze fixed on nothing in particular.

Suddenly, an old man near the edge of the square stood up, his voice raspy but firm.

"These... these are the signs of a beast tide."

The chatter died instantly.

A few stared in silence. Others exchanged uneasy glances. One man scoffed.

"He’s gone mad. Too much ale and old stories."

But the old man didn’t flinch. He took a step forward, eyes burning with a strange clarity.

"My father lived through one," he said.

"He told me—when a new Beast King is born, the wild stirs.

Beasts grow restless, the forests push outward, and men vanish without a trace. All the signs... they’re here."

Some turned away.

Others muttered under their breath. Fear lingered, but disbelief was easier to wear.

No one listened.

Except Kael.

He leaned slightly toward Yue. "What exactly is a beast tide?"

She didn’t answer right away. Her eyes remained fixed on the old man, as if the words had stirred something ancient.

Then she spoke, voice low and measured.

"It’s not just beasts attacking villages," she said. "A beast tide is nature’s reckoning. When balance breaks, the monsters of the deep wilds pour out... driven by hunger, rage—or the will of their king."

Kael frowned. "And this... Beast King?"

She explained in a low voice,

"Beasts kill each other to absorb mana. When one beast subdues all others in the entire forest, it becomes what we call a Beast King. Generally, these are Rank 5 beasts."

Kael choked on the words. "Rank 5 beast?"

She nodded grimly. "Yes. A single Beast King is powerful enough to destroy an entire kingdom."

Kael swallowed hard, the weight of the truth settling deep within him.

Then, suddenly, a sharp memory surfaced—Elaraa’s warning about something happening next month.

A cold, chilling thought crept into his mind: could these two be connected?

He quickly finished his food, the weight of the looming threat pressing on his mind.

Without hesitation, Kael rose and slipped away from the bustling square.

His next stop was clear—the training grounds.

Apart from learning Dream Dance, Kael also had to master the Rank 3 spells as quickly as possible.

There was no time for slow progress.

Time was running out. He needed to move fast.

###

At the misty northern boundary of Velmora, silence reigned. The trees stood still, the wind held its breath.

Then—footsteps.

A lone figure approached the checkpoint, cloak fluttering softly behind him. His gait was slow, almost lazy, yet carried a weight that made the air feel heavy.

Guards stepped forward. Rank 3 magicians. Hardened veterans.

"Halt," the lead one commanded. "Identify yourself."

The figure didn’t speak. Didn’t stop.

Another guard raised his hand, runes flickering around his fingers. "This is your last—"

The stranger lifted his head. His hood slipped back.

And they saw his eyes.

A terrible stillness followed. Time seemed to freeze. There was no incantation, no glow of magic—just a moment of eye contact.

Then chaos.

The first guard’s scream was cut short as he drove his own blade through his neck, blood spraying across his comrades.

Another burst into flames, his own fire spell detonating from within.

One began laughing hysterically as he clawed at his face, ripping his own eyes out.

Two more turned on each other, swords clashing in frenzied madness—then silence as both fell, throats opened.

The figure passed through the outpost as the last guard collapsed, twitching, froth at his lips.

He never drew a weapon. Never spoke a word.

Behind him, the checkpoint was silent—except for the low drip of blood pooling on stone.

The man stepped over the bodies, now nothing more than twitching heaps of flesh and blood. As he reached the clearing beyond the outpost, he paused.

With a slow, fluid motion, he pulled off his cloak and let it fall to the earth.

His face was calm, youthful—but his eyes were not.

They shimmered.

A deep, unnatural blue, laced with glowing golden runes that pulsed like a heartbeat. Ancient, complex, almost divine in pattern.

Then, just as suddenly, the light faded. The runes vanished. His eyes returned to a dull, human calm.

He took one last look at the blood-soaked outpost, then turned his back to it without a word.

And he began walking—slow, steady steps—deeper into the heart of the Velmora Kingdom.