Revenge: A Path of Destruction
Chapter 54: A Game of Shadows (2)

Chapter 54: A Game of Shadows (2)

Alex sat cross-legged on the smooth marble floor of his suite, his posture unwavering, his breath slow and measured. Beside him, Nyxara lay with her powerful body stretched out, her tail flicking lazily now and then.

The faint scent of incense lingered in the air, its presence a subtle reminder of the tranquility he sought. A week had passed since he left the City of Runes for Geb Fortress, and unlike his previous stay, where indulgence had momentarily softened his edges, this time was different.

This time, he had chosen silence. Isolation. Meditation.

The luxurious suite, illuminated by dim golden light, was a testament to wealth and power. Velvet drapes framed the massive floor-to-ceiling windows, through which the sprawling cityscape of the Earth Clan’s domain was visible.

The sleek blackwood and gold trim furnishings, opulent carpets woven from spirit-infused threads, and the soft hum of the controlled climate were all meant to cater to the elite.

Yet, to Alex, it was merely another resting place.

His mind delved into the depths of stillness, the world’s distraction fading away. His chest’s steady rise and fall of matched the rhythm of the unseen energy flowing within him. He let go of thoughts—no vengeance, strategies, or impatience—just the silent embrace of the void.

Then, a voice shattered the silence.

["Alex, the operation has begun."]

Nova’s smooth, feminine tone echoed in his mind, her presence ever-watchful. His eyelids fluttered open slightly, revealing a gleam of fleeting awareness before he shut them once more. He did not need elaboration. No questions were necessary.

He simply exhaled.

And continued meditating.

....

A week had passed since Khepri entrusted the clan’s authority to Thutmose, and in that time, the transition had been tested by scrutiny, resistance, and expectation. Yet, Thutmose had maneuvered through these trials with calculated precision.

From internal disputes among the noble houses to military reinforcement strategies, he had approached each challenge with a tactician’s mind and warrior’s discipline .

For all his administrative burdens, Thutmose never neglected his training. Power, he understood, was not merely held by those who governed well—it belonged to those strong enough to seize it and ruthless enough to keep it.

Seated at his grand desk, his sharp gaze flickered across the final set of documents for the day. The golden glow of mana lamps cast elongated shadows on the walls lined with ancient tomes and strategic maps. The faint scent of parchment and ink mixed with the lingering perfume of Yara, his ever-efficient attendant, who stood behind him organizing signed documents with practiced efficiency.

Setting the last sheet aside, he leaned back slightly, allowing a rare exhale of weariness.

"Any news on Lady Nandi and her children?"

Yara, always poised, placed a sealed scroll onto a stack before responding. "No unusual movements lately, my Lord."

His fingers tapped lightly against the polished wood. That was strange. Too strange.

Nandi was not one to remain passive. By now, she should have been sowing discord among the factions, whispering poison-laced ambitions into the ears of her allies. Her son, Menkhaure, was brash and reckless, the kind of man who would make a move out of sheer pride.

But there had been nothing.

Silence. An unnatural, deliberate silence.

His thoughts were interrupted by the sharp chime of his phone vibrating against the desk. He reached for it without hesitation, his gaze locking onto the notification flashing on the screen.

Then, his expression darkened.

His grip on the device tightened, the air around him shifting as an unseen pressure filled the room. The temperature seemed to drop. A wave of killing intent, restrained but suffocating, bled into the atmosphere.

Yara stiffened, her breath catching at the sudden shift. Though she remained composed, her pulse quickened. She had served him long enough to recognize when something unsettled him.

....

Across the estate, within the regal confines of her chamber, Nubet sat at her ornate desk. Everything in her domain was deliberate—sharp, structured, and methodical. She had been reviewing a political report when the soft chime of her phone interrupted her.

She glanced at the screen.

A message stood out against the sea of notifications:

"I can help you take over from Thutmose and Mankhuara but Thutmose’s and Mankhaura his mother’s influence are already vast,

"But only if you are able to work with your younger brother"

You, Nedit, have the intelligence and strategy to dismantle him.

Alone, you will fail. But together, its possible.

"While Menkara as the insight to understand when one to play their cards—while also kownig when to redraw from a losing game."

"You can later battle it out after eliminating both Mankhaura and Thutmose"

If you’re ready to claim what is yours, click below."

Nubet read the message in silence, her golden eyes narrowing. A slow smirk curved her lips, amusement.

She leaned back in her chair, fingers drumming lightly against the polished wood. "How interesting," she murmured to herself. The idea had merit. She had always known that Menkara if guided properly, could be useful. But who had sent this? And, more importantly, what was their motive?

In his private wing, Menkara lounged on a silk-draped couch, his chamber a stark contrast of extravagance and disorder. The faint scent of expensive wine lingered in the air, mingling with the distant sound of laughter from the courtesans who had graced his evening earlier.

His phone buzzed.

Lazy black eyes flicked to the screen. He read the message once. Then again.

And then, he laughed.

A sharp, mocking sound echoed through the chamber as he tossed the phone onto the table before him. Running a hand through his tousled hair, he exhaled through his nose, amusement flickering.

"Well, well... looks like someone thinks I need help," he mused aloud, shaking his head in disbelief. He wasn’t blind—Thutmose’s power had grown rapidly. Too rapidly. But to suggest that he needed an alliance?

Ridiculous.

Yet...

He reached for the phone again, his gaze lingering on the words. An offer was being made. It’s a tempting one. And if there was one thing Menkara never turned down, it was an opportunity.

He smirked.

"Together, huh?" he muttered, his voice tinged with amusement and intrigue. "Now that’s a joke."