Revenge: A Path of Destruction
Chapter 53: A Game of Shadows (1)

Chapter 53: A Game of Shadows (1)

The burden of leadership had set in faster than Thutmose expected. Despite being the designated heir, assuming control of the clan’s administration was more than a simple transition of power.

The bureaucrats—senior officials and influential figures who had long maintained the delicate balance of the Earth Clan’s vast system—were less than cooperative. Delays in approving decrees, hesitation in carrying out his directives, and endless formalities turned what should have been a seamless command into a tangled mess of red tape.

Reports of unresolved disputes piled up. Clan resources were stretched thin from the aftermath of the beast tide, and any attempts to allocate them efficiently met with resistance. Some elders subtly pushed their agendas, withholding key approvals to stall decisions, while others questioned his right to make significant changes so soon after Khepri’s departure.

Seated in the central administrative office, Thutmose exhaled sharply, rubbing his temple. He had expected opposition, but not to this degree. He needed to end it before it turned into full-scale obstruction.

"Call a meeting," he ordered his attendant, his voice cold with frustration. "Summon the prince and princess, including their mothers, the clan’s key administrators, and elders. If they refuse to move forward under my command, I’ll remind them exactly who the Patrician left in charge."

His attendant bowed and swiftly left to carry out his orders. Thutmose leaned back in his seat, his fingers tapping against the armrest. This was an early test of his rule, and he would not fail it. They were gravely mistaken If these people thought they could undermine him simply because Khepri was away.

One way or another, he would make them fall in line.

....

The Earth Clan’s grand meeting hall stood as a symbol of authority, a structure separate from the main mansion but still close enough to remain within the heart of power. The chamber was immense, more of an auditorium than a simple meeting room, with towering stone pillars etched with ancient runes lining its walls.

A vast ceiling stretched above, adorned with intricate carvings depicting the clan’s legacy, from its earliest conquests to its modern reign.

Hundreds of seats were arranged in meticulous rows, all facing the front podium, where two chairs dominated the space. The first was an imposing throne, more significant than any other seat in the room, carved from obsidian and inlaid with golden hieroglyphs—a clear representation of the Patrician’s supremacy. The second chair, though more minor, was no less significant, signifying the authority of the heir.

As the hall slowly filled, the murmur of voices echoed off the high ceilings. The room was only half occupied, with more figures still trickling in. However an unspoken division had already settled over the gathering even before all had taken their seats. Those of the same faction clustered together, their body language rigid, their expressions cold. The air was thick with unspoken hostility as rival factions eyed each other with open suspicion, some exchanging brief, cutting remarks beneath their breath.

Despite the grandeur of the setting, tension crackled like a storm waiting to break.

....

Thutmose entered with steady, unhurried steps, his maid following a single pace behind him. His dark robes, lined with gold accents, flowed with his movement, exuding an aura of controlled authority. He moved with the ease of someone who belonged, and did not need to announce his presence but commanded attention nonetheless. His gaze remained fixed ahead, unbothered by the many pairs of eyes tracking his every step.

The reactions were immediate.

The First Prince, Mankhaure, seated beside his mother Lady Nandi, clenched his fists so tightly that his knuckles turned white, his face a mask of barely contained anger. His mother, the First Wife, reached out and placed a hand on his arm, a subtle yet firm reminder to restrain himself.

Across the room, Neferura sat with her arms crossed, an amused smirk tugging at her lips as if she were watching a particularly entertaining game unfold. The Second Princess adjusted her posture, her expression neutral, betraying no investment in the spectacle before her. Others smiled—some with well-practiced politeness, others with veiled malice, their eyes betraying genuine emotions beneath their facades. The Elders watched with curiosity and caution, their expressions carved from years of political maneuvering.

Still, Thutmose paid none of them any mind.

Without hesitation, he ascended the steps of the podium and took his place in the second chair, his movements calm and deliberate. The weight of countless gazes bore down on him, but he remained unmoved, settling into his seat as if he had always belonged there. His fingers tapped idly against the armrest, the only outward sign that he was aware of the silent challenge lingering in the air.

A moment of tense silence stretched across the hall before Thutmose finally spoke, his voice firm and measured. "I assume everyone here understands why this meeting has been called. The Earth Clan faces challenges that must be addressed swiftly and decisively."

His gaze swept across the room, locking eyes momentarily with several key figures before continuing. "First, there has been unrest among the people due to a recent battle. Due to the causalities and death count they have begun to question our strength. This is a weakness we cannot afford, especially in times of uncertainty. I would like to implement measures to reaffirm our unity and ensure the clans and citizens living in the Earth domain know what we are still capable of."

A ripple of murmurs passed through the assembly, shifting glances exchanged between lesser clan representatives and the more influential members of the Earth Clan. The underlying tension in the room grew thick, but Thutmose remained unfazed.

"Second," he continued, his voice unwavering, "our defenses and resources in the regions have been stretched thin due to the battle and reconstruction activity in the continent. He said while looking around the hall to observe most of their reactions.

Let me clarify—those who believe the Earth Clan is vulnerable will soon realize their mistake. Reinforcements will be deployed, and our response to provocation will be swift and absolute."

Another wave of murmurs broke out, some nodding in approval while others exchanged wary glances. The Elders, seated in their elevated positions, remained silent, their expressions unreadable. Some looked on with intrigue, others with skepticism, yet none interrupted him.

"Lastly," Thutmose continued, his tone growing sharper like a blade drawn from its sheath. "There have been whispers of doubt regarding my authority in my father’s absence. Some of you have already started shifting your allegiances, waiting to see how the wind blows. Let me assure you all—anyone who seeks to sow discord or challenge my position will be gravely mistaken. You may try..."

His gaze swept across his siblings, holding their eyes in silent warning, before stopping on Menkhaure and Lady Nandi, his expression unchanging.

"...just know that every action has a repercussion and if things escalate beyond recognition it’s in my authority to use the Mesniu."

The Mesniu, as they are known, are the elite warriors of the clan. Even the so-called elite fighters who battled during the Beast’s Tide cannot compare to them. The Mesniu can only be commanded by the Patricians as they guide the clan and primarily carry out the clan’s more unsavory tasks.

His words hung heavy in the air, a silent challenge to any who dared to oppose him. Some faces hardened, while others remained impassive. Mankhaure’s fists tightened once more, but he held his tongue. Neferura merely tilted her head, her smirk never fading. Menkara, seated in the shadows, showed no outward reaction, but the way his fingers drummed against the table was enough of a tell.

Thutmose leaned back slightly, his expression unreadable. "Now, let us discuss the solutions to these issues. Those with concerns may speak, but know this—I will not entertain pointless grievances. We are here to build the Earth Clan’s future, not to dwell on petty ambitions."

The room remained silent for a few heartbeats before the first voice rose to respond.

—

The meeting continued for some time, various voices rising and falling, yet Thutmose maintained control, skillfully directing discussions and neutralizing opposition with well-placed words. By the time the gathering concluded, people filed out in clusters, whispering, but most already supported him. Even those who hesitated now saw the inevitability of his leadership.

....

Menkhaure stormed through the corridors, his maid trailing behind him in silence. His footsteps echoed sharply against the polished stone floors, his breaths coming in short, controlled bursts. The moment he reached his private chambers, the fury bubbling beneath his calm exterior erupted like a volcano.

With a vicious snarl, he grabbed the nearest vase—a priceless art from the clan’s vault—and hurled it against the wall. It shattered into hundreds of glittering fragments, but the destruction did nothing to soothe the rage twisting inside him. He swung his arm across the desk, sending documents, and a tray of untouched wine crashing to the ground.

"That bastard! That insufferable, arrogant bastard!" he roared, his voice thick with rage. "Taking what’s mine! Acting like he owns this clan! He thinks he’s untouchable just because Father named him heir? I will make him regret it!"

His attendant remained motionless, eyes fixed on the floor. There was no point in interfering. Menkhaure’s temper was like a storm—impossible to stop once unleashed.

After a few more moments of wrecking his chamber, he finally collapsed into a chair, chest heaving. His fingers raked through his hair as he let out a long, shuddering breath.

Reaching into the table, he pulled out his phone. A distraction was needed. He scrolled through his contacts, ready to call his friends.

"I need them to prepare the girls. I need to unwind," he muttered to himself, already anticipating the hedonistic escape he craved.

But before he could even dial, his screen flickered. A new message appeared.

Do you want to bring Thutmose to his knees?

His breath caught. His fingers hovered over the screen, eyes narrowing at the cryptic text.

The rage inside him stilled—replaced by something darker.

Search the lightnovelworld.cc website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.