Revenge: A Path of Destruction
Chapter 67: What Lies Beneath

Chapter 67: What Lies Beneath

A week had passed since the Earth Domain shook under the weight of a royal duel, a battle that ended with the death of the First Prince, Mankhaura.

At that time, the Earth Clan did what it always did best—controlled the narrative.

All footage of Mankhaura’s breakdown and collapse had been locked away within hours of the battle’s end. The official announcement came two days later: Prince Mankhaura had perished in a glorious duel for succession against the Heir, Thutmose.

The tone was sharp. Purposeful.

"In the face of the Heir’s overwhelming strength and mastery of the Second Stage of his Domain," the clan’s representatives said, "the First Prince fought bravely, but fell in honorable combat. Such is the fate of those who reach for power unprepared."

The underlying message was clear—weakness will not inherit the Earth.

Rumors about Thutmose’s true strength were intentionally spread. The clan fed the fire, encouraging whispers of his rare Domain control, pushing an image of undisputed power. It was not just political maneuvering—it was calculated myth-making.

The people, both inside and beyond Geb Fortress, were meant to feel it:

Fear him. Respect him. Follow him.

As for Mankhaura’s death, the less said, the better.

The truth—his desperate use of a forbidden pill, his chaotic collapse, the moment his body gave out before Thutmose even made a final move—was buried deeper than the sacred tombs.

Still, not everyone accepted the sanitized version of events. but could not voice their opinion, as no one wanted to vanish out of thin air without knowing what happened

During this week, the burial rites for Mankhaura were done.

But the rites for the fallen prince stirred conflict of their own. Several elders and warriors protested, citing his desecration of sacred grounds and violation of clan laws. They argued that he had forfeited the right to be laid among the honored dead in the sacred graveyard reserved for the Earth Clan’s champions—those who gave their lives for the clan, not against it.

But the protests were ultimately silenced.

Whether out of respect for his title as Firstborn, or fear of inflaming tensions further, the Clan Council approved the rite.

And then—just like that—life went back to normal.

A day after the rites, the fortress thrummed again with its usual rhythm. Businesses opened, warriors resumed their drills, and the inner chambers buzzed once more with quiet schemes and whispered politics. It was as if the death of a prince had only been a passing storm.

Because here, in the heart of the Earth Clan...

Only the strong are remembered.

And the weak?

They fade—nothing more than filtered memories drifting into silence.

....

But not everyone remained silent in the wake of Mankhaura’s death—especially not his mother.

The golden light of late morning spilled gently through the curtains of Lady Nandi’s chambers, casting long, dappled shadows across the polished stone floor. In the corner, incense burned low, its fragrant smoke rising like silent prayers to ancestors long past.

Kneeling before was Kasiya, Mankhaura’s former Shwt.

Behind her, two guards stood motionless, silent pillars awaiting a command they dared not predict.

Lady Nandi sat across from her, poised like a storm behind still waters. She wore a robe of deep obsidian—the traditional mourning garb of the Earth Clan—its fabric catching the firelight in sharp, flickering edges. In her hands was a freshly delivered document, the parchment crisp, yet trembling slightly beneath her grip.

Her eyes scanned the lines slowly.

Measured.

Deadly.

Each word carved deeper into her composure, though her fingers never once betrayed her. The further she read, the darker the frown that creased her brow. By the time she reached the final line, the air in the room felt denser and tighter.

When she finally looked up, her voice was calm.

Too calm.

"Everything written here... is it true?"

Her gaze bore down on Kasiya like a crushing weight.

Still kneeling, Kasiya didn’t lift her head. She didn’t dare.

"Yes, my Lady," she replied, her voice steady despite the tension in her shoulders. "All names, movements, and communications were verified. I cross-checked everything. It’s all confirmed."

There was silence.

Then Lady Nandi leaned back slightly in her chair, the document still in hand, eyes closing for a breath.

Her voice barely rose, but the weight of it pressed down like a stone.

"These worms dared to use my son as a pawn in their little game."

The words hung in the air like a curse, cold and deliberate.

A long silence followed. The kind that made the guards shift uncomfortably, though none dared breathe too loudly.

Then her voice dropped lower, almost a whisper-soft, but far more dangerous.

"And I thought I had an iron grip on this clan..."

She tilted her head slightly, eyes narrowing.

"It seems... I didn’t."

Her eyes snapped open, sharp as obsidian blades, and whatever sorrow might’ve lingered in them before had long since died. Now, there was only fire. Controlled. Contained. But burning.

She stood slowly, with a grace that belied the storm simmering beneath her surface. Even the guards, trained not to flinch, instinctively stiffened at the shift in the air. The atmosphere grew cold, unnaturally so—like the earth itself had stopped breathing in her presence.

The calm in her expression remained, a porcelain mask of poise.

But behind it... something ancient stirred.

Something primal.

"They think they can toy with me," she said, voice steady as stone. "Use my son. Watch him fall while they sit in the shadows and pull strings..."

Her hand clenched. The edge of the parchment she still held crumpled with a soft crackle, crushed beneath the strength of her fingers.

"Let’s show them," she whispered, lifting her gaze to the far wall with a look that could freeze lava.

"Let’s show them who I truly am."

She turned toward the window.

"Kasiya," she said without turning, "you did well. Your failure in the past has been... adjusted by your loyalty now. But this is only the beginning. I want you to do something for me but for now, go and rest, I am sure you need it."

Kasiya stood and bowed as she made her way out of the chambers.

Nandi stood up and made her way to the balcony of her chamber, looking at the garden flowers for a few moments as she bathed in their glory. "I want you to find out if that document is true," she said."Also, send someone to keep an eye on her "

"Yes my lady" as her shwt also made her way out of the room

Nandi said nothing as she left, but after a few minutes of looking at the flowers she looked up "Looks like a new age is coming up", she said while admiring the beautiful blue sky.

Before whispering something, that will forever be lost in time

....

Silence hung over Thutmose’s private office like a sacred shroud in the heart of the Earth Clan’s administrative wing.

The room was sleek and austere—minimalist in design, yet steeped in authority. Shelves lined with ancient texts and modern scrolls hugged the stone walls, while a single wide desk of polished obsidian sat at the center, stacked neatly with files and parchment.

Thutmose sat behind it, head slightly bowed, eyes scanning over a thick document. His pen moved with rhythmic precision, every stroke deliberate, every signature placed without hesitation. The only sounds were the steady flipping of pages and the soft scrape of ink across paper.

Then the door opened—quietly, respectfully.

His Shwt entered without a word, her steps measured, purposeful. She crossed the room and came to a halt behind him, hands clasped behind her back, posture straight, presence unobtrusive.

Minutes passed in silence.

Finally, without lifting his gaze from the paperwork, Thutmose spoke.

"Any update on our mysterious helper?"

His voice was low, and unreadable, like someone asking about the weather before a storm.

The Shwt responded immediately, calm and composed. "None, sir. We’ve exhausted all internal tracking methods. Every trail ends in a dead zone. It’s as if the sender doesn’t exist... like a ghost."

She paused, then added, "However, we’ve already contacted the Black Hackers. They’ve agreed to assist. We’re awaiting their initial diagnostics."

Thutmose didn’t reply. He kept signing, flipping the next page, reading.

Another moment passed.

Then, again, without looking up: "What about Lady Nandi?"

"She’s... quiet," the Shwt answered. "Too quiet."

A faint rustle of parchment followed.

"She hasn’t made any moves or requests, and her usual network has gone inactive. If anything, the silence is what’s most suspicious. But from what we’ve gathered, the mysterious helper has successfully planted seeds of blame on the Third Prince and the Third Princess."

Thutmose’s pen paused mid-stroke.

"She knows," the Shwt continued. "Lady Nandi has already discovered the implication."

Thutmose finally turned slightly, his sharp eyes flickering toward her.

A brief moment passed between them—nothing spoken, but something exchanged.

Then he returned to his work and resumed writing, as though the conversation had never occurred.

The Shwt said nothing more. She simply stood behind him, like a shadow—silent, alert, waiting.

As the hours slipped by in silence, the only sounds were the rhythmic scribbling of pens and the soft rustle of files being turned. Finally, Thutmose spoke up, saying, "I have an important task for you, and I believe you are well-suited to handle it."

"This is a matter of near secrecy. I would like you to select a few men from our faction. I will provide my royal seal for you to choose four elite warriors, but not the very top ones—just those who are observant enough that no one will raise an eyebrow if they leave for a few days."

"What do you need from me?, Lord Thutmose" as she knelt to receive her mission