ShadowBound: The Need For Power
Chapter 338 - 338: Royal Summit Concluded

After Queen Lucy proposed the continental academy lockdown, both the Crescent and Solara delegations agreed—despite the obvious consequence: widespread panic. The news, if delivered without care, could incite fear across the kingdoms. To prevent unrest and avoid tipping off the hybrids, the three kingdoms agreed to circulate a fabricated, yet convincing, cover story.

It was a concise and calculated statement, drafted by King Valemir himself—fitting, since his daughter stood at the heart of the crisis.

The message read:

"Following recent concerns regarding magical facility standards, all academies will undergo a continent-wide lockdown to implement advanced security protocols and shielding wards. This is a proactive step to ensure the long-term safety of our future mages and knights."

Why did they believe this would work?

Because it framed the decision as responsible, united, and precautionary—not reactionary. It projected strength and control while concealing the truth. No whispers of hybrids. No sense of looming war. Just routine safety measures. It gave them breathing room.

And with that space came opportunity.

The lockdown meant professors and instructors—no longer tied down by academic responsibilities—could join the hybrid hunts. It would triple their manpower, increase search efficiency, and tighten the kingdom's defenses.

But the monarchs weren't naive. They knew the risk of hybrids hiding among their very own staff. Which meant: sweat before certainty. Every ally would need to be watched just as closely as every threat.

Another complication surfaced. With more joining the task force, the demand for detection crystals would skyrocket. Dove's current prototypes had a fatal flaw—they couldn't detect hybrids behind high-tier suppression fields or spells. If they wanted a serious hunt, they'd need an upgrade.

So Dove, albeit reluctantly, agreed to reveal her crafting methods—opening the process to trusted experts across Amthar. The goal: enhance, replicate, and accelerate. Not because she loved sharing her secrets, but because the sooner this nightmare ended, the sooner she could vanish to a quiet beach and forget it all.

As plans solidified, the Crescent Kingdom made one final request: Sheila would be returned to their capital and kept under heavy protection. However, her older brother, Prince Percy, would remain behind. Valemir, worried for his son, made a personal plea to Queen Lucy—ensuring Percy wouldn't be placed in direct danger.

With the summit nearing its end, Caelum and Sylas pledged to sweep all of Zone 1 by the following day. Their mission: secure the Crescent royal family's surrounding region.

Galen stepped forward next, offering to handle Zone 8 personally. Of the three detection crystals in Tempest's possession, he would take one. The remaining two, he said, could be assigned to whomever Queen Lucy trusted with overseeing Zone 9.

From the Solara delegation, Tharionson and Mois volunteered to check Zone 15, ensuring no stones were left unturned near their borders.

With all territories accounted for, the three kingdoms made a solemn vow to defend one another through this crisis. The official lockdown announcement would be broadcast the next day.

Thus, the Royal Summit was concluded.

***

Galen was the first to leave—even before the summit officially concluded. The moment he declared he'd handle Zone 8, he was gone. No fanfare. No goodbye. No interest in hearing the parade of empty phrases like "for the unity of Amthar" or "together, we shall endure."

He especially had no desire to look at his father's face… or Valemir's.

The only reason those two kings were still breathing was because their families—those who didn't deserve to suffer—depended on them. If not for that, Galen would've ended them the moment Valemir said those cursed words:

"It justifies survival... and your father—he knows that better than anyone."

His boots echoed against the polished floor of the Tempest Palace's eastern hall as he moved with purpose. He wasn't wandering—he was hunting. Not for hybrids, not yet. For Liam.

Since his return from the Nether Realm, Mystica had filled him in on every cursed thing that went down during his absence. Galen had no plans of scanning an entire zone with just a faulty crystal when the perfect hybrid detector was already walking around—Liam.

He was about to turn the corner when a familiar voice, one he hadn't heard in years—at least, not since the summit began—called out to him.

"Brother."

Galen turned his head slowly, eyes half-lidded with disinterest. There, jogging toward him with a grin, was Tharionson—his younger brother.

Galen stood still, arms relaxed at his sides, watching his brother approach with that same unreadable gaze. When Tharionson finally caught up, he stopped a few feet away, slightly out of breath.

Galen blinked. "Why the hell are you panting? You barely jogged ten steps."

Tharionson scratched the back of his head sheepishly. "Well… I've been calling your name for a while now. Thought you were just ignoring me, but guess you were locked in."

Galen gave a small exhale, almost a sigh. "Was just thinking about where to begin the scans. Must've tuned everything else out." Then, more calmly, "My bad."

"No need to apologize," Tharionson said with a chuckle. "It's a habit of yours, isn't it? You always zone out when you're deep in thought."

For a moment, Galen stared at his brother—really looked at him. Same smile. Same light in the eyes. A face untouched by their father's rot. 'Glad the old man didn't mess him up after I left,' he thought.

'I hated leaving him behind, honestly. But staying would've meant blood on the walls. I had to go. And hell, he had mom… lucky brat.'

His lips twitched into a faint smirk.

"Anyway," Galen muttered, breaking the silence, "what're you doing trailing after me? Don't you have king-and-queen babysitting duty or something?"

Tharionson shrugged. "Not really. The Royal Knights are covering it. Mois is with them too. And besides…" His voice dipped slightly. "I see them every day. But you?" He smiled faintly. "Last time we talked… it's been fourteen years."

Galen's smirk dulled, just slightly. Fourteen years. He didn't need the reminder—but there it was anyway.

"Yeah," he muttered, voice low but firm. "Fourteen long-ass years."

Tharionson chuckled softly, though something heavier lurked beneath the sound—a quiet weight neither of them named. "You look the same," he said. "Just… dimmer."

Galen gave a shrug. "Still breathing. That's all life's offered me, and I've taken it."

Tharionson's gaze dipped, then rose again—steadier this time. "I missed you, y'know. After you left… Mom tried to play it cool, but she missed you too. Badly."

Galen's jaw clenched at the mention of her. "Yeah," he said. "I saw her in the summit. Could tell she was holding everything in. How's she doing?"

"She's still strong," Tharionson replied with a light nod. "Still raises hell when the tea's too sweet."

That pulled a small, rare laugh from Galen—a breath of air that sounded like it hadn't seen daylight in years.

"She's always hated sweet things," he said.

"She made an exception for you," Tharionson added with a knowing look.

Galen glanced away, his eyes finding refuge in the stone walls. "Don't go there."

Tharionson respected the line. The silence that followed wasn't tense—it was just... real.

After a few steps, Galen broke it. "Wish we had time to talk like we used to. But with this whole hybrid mess? Ain't happening."

"I know," Tharionson said with a faint nod. "But after it's over? I mean… you are Galen."

Galen looked at him over his shoulder, brows raised. "And what exactly does that mean?"

Tharionson smirked. "It means we've got a fighting chance. Because you're still the strongest damn blade Amthar's got."

That made Galen chuckle under his breath. "Still sharp with the compliments, huh?" His voice softened slightly. "But yeah… you're not wrong. I'm Galen Magna."

"Damn right you are."

They walked a few paces more before Galen reached the hall's end. He stopped just before the turn, then cast a glance back.

"Oh—and Junior?" he said with a crooked smirk. "You're twenty-five. Get yourself a woman. Enjoy life a bit before it gets you killed. It's good for the muscles."

With that, he disappeared around the corner, coat trailing behind him like a shadow untethered.

Tharionson stayed where he was, a slow smile forming as he shook his head. "Still the same stubborn bastard," he murmured. "Good to chat with you again… big bro."

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