Rising god
Chapter 92: Once again

Chapter 92: Once again

The Darkan army’s search for the vanished Silver captives yielded nothing but frustration. With no trace of the prisoners or their guards, the Darkan Head, his body still wrapped in bandages from the war, ordered the camp to pack up.

The army returned to their city, a five-day march through lands buzzing with tales of their victory. The news had spread like wildfire, reaching even the most remote villages. Newspapers flooded the streets, their headlines screaming of the Darkans’ reclaimed draconic heritage and their triumph over the Silvers. Bards wove songs of fire and blood, and the people speculated eagerly: What would the Darkans do next? This win was too huge to ignore.

Upon their return, the city mourned. The fallen were buried with solemn reverence, their families summoned to the central plaza. Tears fell as the Darkan Head praised the bravery of the lost, bestowing generous compensation to ease their kin’s grief. According to imperial custom, a five-day silence followed, a time for reflection and remembrance.

Yet beneath the mourning, the family grappled with a pivotal question: what now? The restoration of their draconic bloodline marked a new era, but the path forward remained uncertain.

As the silence lifted, preparations began for a grand banquet to celebrate the victory.

Invitations were sent far and wide, to merchants, mercenary guilds, alchemists, clans, and even the Imperial family itself. This time, everyone was invited. The city buzzed with anticipation, its streets adorned with banners of crimson and black, the Darkan colors flying high.

But before the guests began arriving, a familiar figure requested an audience.

"Family Head, Sir Jin is here," a guard announced.

"Let him in," the Darkan Head replied, his voice heavy with resignation.

Baines—known to the world as Jin—strode into the study, his presence commanding yet unassuming. This wasn’t his first visit. Months ago, at a critical juncture, he had requested a holiday, a decision that had baffled the family. Now, he stood before the Darkan Head again, his expression unreadable.

Now, just guess why Baines was here?

"How can I help you?" the Head asked, bracing himself.

"For my contributions, I request another vacation, including the time I couldn’t take last time," Baines said plainly, his voice devoid of hesitation.

The Darkan Head’s jaw tightened. "Again with this?" Frustration simmered beneath his calm facade.

The last time, Baines’s absence had been a logistical nightmare, but this was far worse. The banquet would draw the empire’s elite, merchants, mercenaries, alchemists, and high-ranking officials, all eager to meet the mastermind behind the Darkan victory. Yet, the main character wanted to remain absent.

They wouldn’t listen to him this time. They would say he is avoiding others from meeting him; they could even fabricate something to draw him. The Solaris Empire’s powerbrokers were notorious for such games.

’And I heard he’s just been staying in a motel,’ the Head thought, grinding his teeth. The simplicity of Baines’s habits was maddening. Yet refusal wasn’t an option. Not at this moment.

Without Baines, the Darkans would have faced total annihilation, their legacy chained or erased like the Silvers’. His contributions were undeniable.

"Haa, alright," the Head sighed, the weight of his decision heavier than the war itself. Keeping Baines meant indulging his whims, no matter how infuriating.

Baines nodded and left without ceremony, ignoring the cheers and greetings that followed him through the estate.

As he approached the gates, a group of familiar faces blocked his path, the same survivors who had confronted him during the war, including Smalltooth. "I know you had something to do with the Silvers’ disappearance," The leader of their group growled. "Just return the lair if you don’t want trouble."

Baines’s eyes flicked over them, cold and dismissive. He walked past, but heavy regret gnawed at him. ’I should’ve chained them,’ he thought. He had assumed the war’s chaos would claim them, but their survival was a loose end he couldn’t ignore.

One would think they hid when it was time for war.

"Wick," he murmured, his voice low. "Kill them a day after I leave. Leave no trace."

"Yes, master," Wick replied.

The visitors would be disappointed once more, but Baines didn’t care. Why should he? He hadn’t forgotten about his family just yet. He made Eye replay it regularly to him so he wouldn’t lose his purpose.

"WAAAAIT!" a voice shouted, frantic footsteps closing in. But Baines didn’t slow down, he continued at his steady pace.

’Can’t you just wait, you brat?’ Dolik cursed inwardly. He had sworn to uncover Baines’s secrets this time. The family refused to believe he was merely holed up in a motel, and Dolik was determined to prove them right.

...

Baines took the same carriage, the same route, to the same destination:

Harper Hawks. His legend was discussed in every tavern. Yet, save for the Darkan elite, the Last Front, and the church branch, no one knew his face. His absence from social gatherings shrouded him in further mystery.

At the motel, Baines approached the bartender with Dolik trailing close. A part of Dolik was expecting him to say I’ll go and he’ll respond, saying, I’m here to protect you.

Instead, upon sighting the two, the bartender snapped his fingers.

"Aacckkk!" A barmaid stumbled, ’accidentally’ spilling wine over Dolik’s armor.

"What is this?" Sir Dolik’s face contorted in anger.

"I-I-I’m sorry, sir!" she stammered, leaning in to clean the mess, her figure pressing against him.

"Hm?" Dolik held his breath as those two mounds rested on his body. Dolik flushed, torn between embarrassment and frustration. "I-It’s alright, just be careful," he muttered, pushing her away. His eyes darted to Baines, who was already taking a key from the bartender and heading upstairs. ’Shit, I’ll lose him!’

’This brat...’ Baines was acting as if he didn’t exist. Even though he was to act as his guard, at least there should be a bit of respect.

He rushed to the counter. "Can I get a room, preferably beside his?"

The bartender’s smile was infuriatingly professional. "I’m sorry, customer, but we’re full."

Dolik’s face sank. "You think I don’t see what you’re doing?" he snapped, his voice rising.

"Customer, please lower your voice," the bartender said calmly, whereas the bar was noisy. Dolik’s veins throbbed, but the bartender continued, "That is why we will offer you a room at our newest motel, just across the road." He gestured with an innocent smile.

Dolik’s anger boiled, but he was powerless. Using force would disrupt the Darkan name and would be termed as obstruction of business. Swallowing his pride, he glared at the bartender and stormed out, vowing to keep watch from across the street.

...

Baines entered his room, expecting solitude.

Instead, a figure awaited him, seated in the dim light. A black veil obscured her face, her dark robes blending with the shadows.

’Did they give me the wrong room?’ he thought.

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