Revenge: A Path of Destruction
Chapter 66: Real Game of Shadows Begins

Chapter 66: Real Game of Shadows Begins

Soft light from the chandelier bathed the chamber in a golden hue, casting flickering shadows along the polished obsidian floor. The battle had ended moments ago, and now silence reigned—tense, thoughtful silence.

Princess Merit sat upright in her carved chair, hands laced in her lap, her face unreadable. Beside her, Prince Menkara leaned one elbow on the windowsill, fingers tapping against his jaw in quiet contemplation. Their Shwt stood behind them, still as statues.

"So..." Menkara finally broke the silence, his voice low. "Second-Stage Domain."

He said it like a curse. A truth they hadn’t wanted to accept—but had no choice but to face.

"He didn’t just show control," Merit replied, her tone precise. "He commanded the battlefield. His Domain made the Earth bow to him."

"Like he was born inside the damn earth," Menkara muttered. "And here I thought his talent had a ceiling."

"It did," she said coolly. "We just misjudged the height."

Menkara snorted.

"And the irony? We were the ones who forced him to reveal it."

"Exactly," Merit murmured, tapping a finger to her temple. "The whole point of Mankhaura’s push was to see if Thutmose was hiding something. And now we know."

She let the weight of that truth hang between them.

Menkara turned from the window, his expression darkening slightly.

"Still... I won’t lie. I didn’t expect the pill to hit that hard."

"Neither did I," Merit admitted. "It was supposed to push Mankhaura into overdrive. Unstable, sure, but controllable—visible chaos. Just enough to make Thutmose sweat."

"But it nearly broke the arena," he muttered. "That aura—wild, guttural... something primal trying to rip out of his flesh. Felt like the spiritual plane cracked for a second."

"And yet, Thutmose didn’t budge."

"Which, again, means we won."

Merit glanced toward her Shwt, who had yet to move or speak.

"How’s the data?"

"We’ve collected two dozen readings on the Domain field and the aura fluctuations from the pill. Cross-referencing now. Upload in progress."

"Good," Merit said. "I want a full analysis by dawn. Especially on the changes in Mankhaura mana signature."

"He was testing himself too," Menkara added. "Maybe for the first time."

A short silence fell again.

Then, Menkara’s tone shifted, dropping into something more cautious.

"You think they knew the pill would do that?"

"They told us it would push Mankhaura beyond his limits. They just didn’t specify how far."

"Or how loud the death would be," Menkara muttered.

Merit’s brow twitched the closest thing to the emotion she’d shown yet.

"They have been useful, but unpredictable. That kind of power—unexplained, untracked? We can’t afford to stay blind."

She leaned back, eyes narrowing.

"We keep listening, but from here on out—we try to know who they are."

"Agreed," Menkara nodded. "No more surprises. The next move... is ours."

They locked eyes—one mind split between two cunning souls.

Behind them, the Shwt guards stood silently as ever.

The game had escalated. But they were still in it.

....

Lady Nandi sat still in her high-backed chair carved from enchanted jade in her chambers, her posture as elegant as it was immovable. The lights danced off her ice-blue robes, casting glints of steel in her eyes.

Gone was the raging mother who had attacked Thutmose in a grief-stricken fury. In her place sat a woman of poise—calm, composed, terrifying.

Before she knelt Mankhaura’s Shwt, arms bound behind her back, her body bloodied and broken, one eye swollen shut, her lip split, and dried blood streaking her face. Two clan guards flanked her, gripping her shoulders firmly, while Lady Nandi’s own Shwt stood silently behind their mistress.

"Seems like you had no involvement in my son’s death."

Lady Nandi’s voice was soft, almost soothing. It cut through the room like a blade dipped in silk.

"Still as his shwt."

The wounded Shwt kept her head low, breathing shallowly, lips pressed into a tight line. She didn’t respond. She couldn’t.

"You failed in your duties " Nandi continued, rising to her feet in a slow, graceful motion. "You were his blade, his eyes, his shadow. Your one purpose—your only purpose—was to keep him safe. Even if it meant dying with him."

The Shwt didn’t flinch. Her silence was a confession.

"You failed," Lady Nandi whispered. "And failure, for someone like you, is a sin of the highest order."

Another beat of silence passed. Then Lady Nandi’s voice took on a new weight—measured and cold.

"But I am not without mercy. I will give you one final opportunity to cleanse that sin."

She stepped forward, her gaze sharp enough to carve flesh.

"I want to know who my son was in contact with before the battle. Who whispered in his ear. Where he went when he left the estate during the Patrician’s absence. Track them down."

She leaned in closer.

"Someone used him. Someone fed him that pill. And I will rip them apart with my own hands."

The Shwt’s only answer was a faint nod. She would not beg for forgiveness. She didn’t need to. Her orders had been given.

"One week," Lady Nandi said coolly. "Bring me names. Or don’t come back."

With a flick of her hand, she gestured to the guards. "Get her out of my sight."

The guards hauled the battered Shwt to her feet and began dragging her from the room. Her feet left streaks of blood across the pristine marble.

As the doors slammed shut behind them, Lady Nandi remained still, eyes focused on the flickering flames in the hearth.

And then, almost too softly for anyone to hear, she murmured,

"Don’t worry, my boy... Mama will avenge you."

....

The door to the princess’s chambers creaked open, allowing a gentle wash of moonlight to spill into the room. Ornate gold lanterns flickered to life as Princess Neferura stepped inside, her long royal-blue cloak brushing softly against the polished floors. Behind her followed a slim, dark-haired woman in a black uniform—her Shwt.

Neferura said nothing at first, gliding gracefully across the chamber until she reached a cushioned chair shaped like a lotus bloom. She sat, crossing one leg over the other with slow, deliberate elegance. The Shwt remained behind her, arms clasped behind her back.

"Sit," Neferura ordered gently.

The Shwt didn’t, but Neferura didn’t press the issue. Instead, she rested her cheek against her fingers and finally spoke.

"So, Hameera," she said, giving her Shwt a sideways glance. "What’s your opinion on the battle? On what we just witnessed?"

Hameera bowed her head slightly before answering. Her voice was calm but not without weight.

"I believed we already understood the extent of Prince Thutmose’s strength. But... what he showed tonight was beyond anything we’ve seen before. A second-stage domain—something we did not expect. And yet, even with that overwhelming power, the most surprising factor was Prince Mankhaura... and the pill he used. The aura it released... it was chaos incarnate."

Neferura’s expression didn’t change, though the corner of her lip lifted slightly at the mention of Thutmose’s domain.

"Yes," she said. "Quite the performance, wasn’t it?"

She tapped a finger against her chin, her voice smooth like silk brushed over thorns.

"But none of it was random. That entire battle—every moment of it—was a calculated ploy to expose Thutmose. And it worked. We now know more than ever... and it confirms one thing."

Her smile deepened.

"One of my dear little siblings is getting bold."

Hameera stiffened slightly, then spoke—hesitant, but firm.

"With all due respect, Princess... did you not just lose your brother?"

Neferura slowly turned her head to meet Hameera’s eyes. There was no pain in her gaze—only detachment.

"Mankhaura and I were never close. Same mother, yes—but there was no bond. He was loud, impulsive, obsessed with power yet blind to the strings tied around his limbs. He became a pawn in someone else’s game... and that is the price of foolishness."

Hameera lowered her gaze, sensing she may have overstepped.

Neferura leaned back in her chair and exhaled softly.

"But even a fool’s death can serve a purpose. And now I want to know who benefits."

She tilted her head, eyes narrowing with thought.

"Mankhaura left the estate several times during the Patrician’s absence... discreetly. Someone was whispering in his ear, guiding his hand. Find out who. Trace every step he took. I want names, faces, intentions."

She turned her full gaze to Hameera.

"Do sure not to disappoint me."

Hameera bowed.

"As you command, my princess."

As the Shwt vanished into the shadows to carry out her order, Neferura sat in silence, fingers steepled beneath her chin. Her mind was already five steps ahead, plotting, watching, waiting.

’Let’s see which one of you is it.’

....

A day after the grand battle the news about Mankhaura spread like wildfire.

Prince Mankhaura... dead.

The official statement from the Earth Clan hadn’t even been released, and yet across the Earth Domain, whispers flowed through the streets, markets, training grounds, and courts.

"They say he collapsed in his blood after taking some forbidden pill..."

"A battle for succession? Against the heir himself?!"

"I heard Thutmose didn’t even move—just watched as the First Prince destroyed himself."

It was chaos—controlled only on the surface. Inside the fortress, the clan scrambled to root out the leak. Interrogations began in secret. Communications were shut down. Portals in and out of Geb were monitored. But the information had already taken root in the public consciousness, festering with every retelling.

In the elite region of Geb, far from the commotion and political storm, a tall hotel stood like a jewel carved from obsidian and gold. It towered over lesser buildings like a silent god. Few could afford a stay within its walls—fewer still had the power to walk its halls without being questioned.

Inside a high-level suite, bathed in soft natural light filtered through golden curtains, a young man sat cross-legged on a meditation mat.

He was motionless, silent... until his eyes opened.

They glowed faintly with restrained energy.

Alex exhaled softly.

His voice, when it came, was a murmur to the empty room. Smooth. Calculated.

"And just like that... the game reaches its climax."