Rising god
Chapter 78: Among the List

Chapter 78: Among the List

The night after the massacre of the Treyl family, Baines found no solace in sleep.

He ascended the jagged slopes of the newly acquired volcano at the Dawnless stronghold, its smoldering peak a fitting backdrop for his turbulent thoughts.

Sitting cross-legged beside the molten glow, the heat prickling his skin, he lost himself in a whirlwind of reflection.

Even as the world around him shifted imperceptibly, stars dimming, and the air thickening, he remained oblivious, his mind replaying the day’s bloodshed, the screams, and the unyielding resolve that had driven him.

A familiar voice broke through his reverie. "So, you’ve achieved your first revenge," it said, calm and weathered, carrying the weight of centuries.

Baines turned, unsurprised, to see the old man standing a few paces away, his cloak billowing in the breeze.

"You’re still not going to talk to me?" the old man pressed, his tone a mix of exasperation and sadness.

"I just massacred a family," Baines replied, his voice low, devoid of emotion.

The old man’s expression didn’t falter. "And do you regret it?" he asked, stepping closer.

"No, I didn’t even bat an eye," Baines admitted, his gaze fixed on the glowing lava below.

"Then what’s wrong?" The old man’s question was gentle, probing beneath the surface of Baines’ stoic facade.

"I’m still weak,"

"Obviously," the old man scoffed, rolling his eyes with a dramatic flair. "The other successors would have killed that dragon outright." His words were a jab, but they carried a truth Baines couldn’t ignore.

"So you were spying," Baines accused, his tone dry but lacking malice.

"Baa, challenge me when you reach that strength," the old man retorted, waving a dismissive hand.

Perhaps it was because of their familial bond, or the old man’s candid demeanor, but a rare chuckle escaped his lips, a fleeting moment of levity amidst his brooding.

"Meet my brother," Baines said, his thoughts drifting to Ralph. "I already said I’m not interested in that position."

"Hoo, he’s good too. Third resonance, and an innate ability to commune with weapons, such a rare talent indeed," the old man mused, his eyes glinting with intrigue as he stroked his beard.

"Aren’t you going to meet him?" Baines asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Later," the old man replied with a cryptic smile, his gaze distant.

A silence stretched between them, the crackling of the volcano the only sound until the old man broke it. "You aren’t going to ask me anything?"

"Like what?" Baines replied, his curiosity piqued despite himself.

"Martial arts or something like that?" the old man suggested.

"Will you show me yours?" Baines countered, his tone challenging.

"No," the old man said flatly.

"Then?" Baines pressed, unimpressed.

"I’ll give you advice instead. I hear you’ve been practicing the sword from scratch, and that’s good," the old man began, his voice taking on a lecturing tone. "First, you must understand your style. Is it flexible, heavy, soft, variable, illusionary, or something else entirely?" As he spoke, the atmosphere shifted to mirror his words.

When he mentioned "flexible," the ground beneath them seemed to ripple like water; "heavy" brought a crushing pressure that made Baines’ bones ache; "soft" softened the air into a gentle breeze; "variable" caused the shadows to flicker unpredictably; and "illusionary" conjured faint mirages of the old man’s form.

Baines nodded, absorbing the lesson, his mind cataloging each sensation. The old man continued, "Secondly, I advise you to pick among those numerous skills you have and form your own." The suggestion sparked an idea in Baines; a part of him had been thinking about it, but this only further confirmed it.

After a moment, Baines spoke, his thoughts shifting to broader concerns. "So the family decided to come out before time."

"And isn’t that your fault?" the old man shot back, his tone accusatory.

Baines froze, turning to face him. ’He knows?’

"Tch, how can you be so selfish? Because of you, we came out earlier than planned, and you still reject us," the old man grumbled, his frustration evident.

"What does becoming a successor even get me?" Baines asked, his voice edged with defiance.

"You officially become a flagbearer of the family," the old man replied, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

"And?" Baines pressed, unimpressed.

"What?" the old man blinked, caught off guard.

"Is that all?" Baines’ tone was flat, his disinterest palpable.

’Does this brat know how many would kill for that position?’ the old man thought, momentarily at a loss for words. "Haa, where does he get his stubbornness from?" he sighed, shaking his head. "Alright, later." With that, he vanished, leaving Baines alone on the volcano’s edge.

With nothing left to occupy him, Baines retrieved the Blood Scriptures from his second treasure haul. The potential of blood energy intrigued him, and from what he was seeing, he had only scratched its surface with the Blood Palace. He spent the night on that book.

The next morning, as the first rays of sunlight pierced the smoky haze around the volcano, Wick approached with an urgent message. "The clone has alerted me," he said.

’Oh, that Dolik? What does he need?’ Baines thought.

Before departing, he had left Ralph in charge, tasking his newly acquired knights to train the Dawnless members in martial arts.

Their weakness had been glaringly evident in the recent battle, and he intended to rectify it.

With Wick at his side, he set off, his mind ready to brace what might follow.

Upon reaching Harper Hawks, Baines slipped into the room, and Wick dispersed the clone that had been maintaining his presence.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

The insistent knocking on the door revealed the source of the clone’s alarm. Sir Dolik had been pounding on the door, with his impatience palpable.

Sensing Baines meditating, he had initially retreated, but the urgency of his message drove him back.

The door creaked open, and Dolik stepped back, his instincts flaring.

A dangerous aura emanated from Baines, more potent than a few days ago.

’How long has it been, and he’s gotten stronger again?’ Dolik thought, steadying himself. His tone turned grave. "We were given a one-day limit to return to the family. Something urgent is going on."

Without hesitation, Baines gathered his belongings and followed Dolik. They boarded a carriage bound for the Darkan estate, the wheels rattling over cobblestone roads as they traveled.

Along the way, they caught snippets of news from passing newspapers and whispered conversations. The headline screamed of the Freyl family’s disappearance,.all living beings dead, no survivors, no valuables left. Dolik’s shock mirrored the public’s, assuming this was the crisis unfolding.

"How?" Until they arrived, he was still shocked.

As they approached the estate, the air buzzed with activity. Carriages streamed in, dragons soared overhead from distant lands, and military units marched in disciplined lines. ’Is it just for that?’ Baines wondered, surprised by the scale of the response. The massacre was shocking, yes, but this seemed excessive.

Dolik shared his sentiment, his brow furrowed in confusion.

At the gate, the servant assigned to him bowed low. "Sir Jin, welcome. Both your attention is required in the family meeting." Baines gave a curt nod, noting other butlers greeting arrivals, many sporting the fiery red hair of the Darkan lineage. The atmosphere was heavy, a gloom that dulled even the recognition of his presence.

They entered a grand meeting room, its walls adorned with dragon-scale tapestries, the air thick with tension.

Chairs spiraled around a massive central table where the Darkan head sat, flanked by four 7th-star elders, retired warriors whose weathered faces bore the scars of countless battles.

Three-quarters of the attendees shared the family’s signature red hair, a testament to their numbers. As one of the last to arrive, Baines took a seat at the back, his presence unassuming amidst the gathering storm.

The Darkan head rose, gesturing for the doors to be sealed. Those currently absent would face severe consequences. His voice, a deep rumble, cut through the murmurs. "The Silver Dukedom of the Vodal Kingdom has waged war on us all."

Boom!

The words detonated in Baines’ mind like a thunderclap. The Vodal Kingdom.

They were among the names etched on his list as targets for revenge.