The Guardian gods
Chapter 549

Chapter 549: 549

Then Kaelen turned his head slowly, eyes scanning the room with icy precision. He expanded his senses, reaching into every corner of the chamber. The wards he had etched into the stone with his own blood still held—no ripples, no intrusions, no eavesdroppers. He exhaled quietly.

Safe.

But that didn’t settle the unease that had begun to gnaw at the edges of his mind.

He looked down at Rattan again—really looked at him. For so long, he had seen this man as a tool. A pawn. Something useful, but ultimately replaceable. But now...

Kaelen’s jaw tensed.

He had underestimated him.

"You were supposed to follow orders," he said quietly, almost to himself.

"To play your role in the grand design. Not... grow."

Rattan wiped blood from the corner of his mouth, still kneeling, still catching his breath.

"I did follow orders," he said, his voice steadier now. "But I also listened. And I saw. You shaped me into something you never expected."

Kaelen’s eyes darkened, the glow behind them dimming with calculation.

"Why would Vellok speak to you?"

There was no insult in the question, only genuine confusion—because until now, Kaelen had believed no one of true power would see Rattan as anything but a shadow at his side.

Rattan bowed his head, his voice carrying weight even in its quietness.

"He believes that once I learned the truth... I would no longer help you lead our people to ruin. Or to extinction."

Kaelen was silent for a long moment. His face betrayed nothing, but his mind raced behind still eyes.

Still on his knees, hands trembling at his sides, Rattan raised his eyes—with aching honesty. His voice shook, not from fear, but from the weight of what he had to confess.

"I was so taken back by all the secrets I had been exposed to," he began, the words heavy on his tongue. "At the same time... I feared for my life. Because I realized... the price for learning that truth was steep."

He paused, breathing in the silence, his chest rising and falling with the burden of memory.

"Vellok offered me knowledge... but demanded my loyalty to the Empire in return. I was told if I refused—if I even hesitated—they would kill me before I could leave the chamber."

Kaelen remained quiet, now seated on his throne like a statue of shadow and authority. Yet his gaze had changed—sharpened, searching. He studied Rattan not as a failure, nor a traitor, but as something more uncertain... something human.

"And in that moment," Rattan continued, lowering his head again, "I chose safety over honor. I disgraced Your Grace by wavering. By doubting the path we walk. Because if what Vellok said was true..."

His throat tightened.

"Then we are leading our people to ruin."

The words rang out with bitter finality.

Kaelen leaned forward slightly, one elbow resting on the throne’s carved armrest, his voice low and distant.

"Then why now?" he asked. "Why tell me this at all? Was this... another of Vellok’s commands?"

The accusation stung like a whip, and Rattan’s body jerked from the pain of hearing it. A choked, grief-stricken sound tore from his throat.

"No!" he roared, tears now falling freely down his cheeks. His fists clenched against the stone floor, his whole body shaking.

"No, Your Highness!"

His voice cracked, but his heart poured through it.

"It was news of the Empire’s recent actions that broke through my fear. That made me come before you, not as a pawn or spy—but as your servant begging for forgiveness."

He wiped at his face, struggling for breath, voice raw.

"They fabricated a lie... about the death of a sixth-stage powerhouse. I saw the evidence myself, the contradictions. The body never surfaced. The eyewitnesses were silenced. That shook me. If they can lie about something so grand, then... who’s to say everything Vellok told me wasn’t crafted from the same deceit?"

Kaelen’s expression hardened again, but not in anger. It was something more guarded—pain masked by poise. A flicker of regret.

Rattan continued, his voice quiet now, pleading:

"Your Highness... I understand now. Your goal was never the annihilation of our people."

He looked up, eyes bloodshot, desperate. "You’ve been fighting not for their destruction—but for their liberation. For freedom from the Empire’s yoke."

Rattan bowed low, his forehead touching the cold stone floor.

"I was a fool to ever doubt it. A blind, frightened fool. But now... I see. And I offer myself to Your Grace—fully, completely, as the man you made me into. Not as a tool, but as a believer. A soldier. A brother in arms."

Kaelen said nothing in response.

The silence stretched, coiling tighter with each passing second. Rattan remained still, knees pressed to the cold stone floor, head bowed in a posture of submission—but his mind was racing.

Then, finally, Kaelen spoke. His voice was even, but there was something unreadable in it, like a blade wrapped in silk.

"Tell me everything Vellok told you."

There was no flare of anger. No suspicion. Just a calm command.

And that, more than anything, made Rattan’s skin crawl.

Still, inside his mind, he chuckled—quiet and victorious.

So I passed... for now.

He let his breath tremble a little for effect, the tears still streaking his cheeks, mixing truth with theater. Raising his head just enough to speak clearly, Rattan began his recounting.

He spoke of the ancient history Vellok had shown him—tales buried beneath Empire propaganda.

Rattan didn’t embellish. He didn’t need to. The truth, as Vellok had laid it out, was already damning enough.

It took time. A long time.

Kaelen said nothing throughout.

And when Rattan finished, he did not dare move or speak. He simply lowered his head again and waited. But his heartbeat was picking up. Despite himself, despite the role he played, anxiety began to gnaw at his gut. He had no idea what Kaelen would do next.

Then—finally—the silence cracked.

Kaelen’s voice returned, soft... but with something new in it. Not anger. Not suspicion.

Surprise.

"Vellok told no lie," Kaelen murmured. "Which is a surprise."

The words hit Rattan like a blade to the chest. His breath caught.

That wasn’t the response he expected. Not at all.

For a moment, he forgot to pretend. His body tensed. He raised his head instinctively, eyes wide, searching Kaelen’s face for meaning.

Kaelen’s eyes were already on him—sharp and calm, studying him not with rage or betrayal, but with the unsettling patience of someone who had expected to hear a lie... and instead had a long-buried truth confirmed.

Rattan quickly looked away, casting his gaze down again, but the damage was done. His slip had exposed his inner thoughts.

Kaelen noticed everything.

There was a long pause before Kaelen leaned back on his throne, lacing his fingers together, elbows resting on the carved arms.

"You didn’t expect that, did you?" he said, voice almost amused. "You thought I’d deny it. Maybe lash out. Claim it was all a fabrication."

Rattan said nothing, still bowed low, the weight of Kaelen’s gaze pressing down on him like a mountain.

Kaelen let out a breath, low and almost reflective.

"The truth, Rattan, is rarely a threat to men like me. It is just... another layer of the war we fight."

A pause. Then, colder: "But him telling no lie doesn’t mean he didn’t leave out some things to convince you," Kaelen said after a long, uneasy silence, his eyes narrowing. "Haven’t you wondered why the ogres were never mentioned in his story?"

Rattan blinked, momentarily thrown. The question hit him like a stone to the head.

"You’re right... why weren’t the ogres mentioned?" he muttered, frowning. "And why didn’t I question Vellok about it back then?"

A strange discomfort crept into his chest. He tried to push it away.

"Was he... influenced by Vellok?" Rattan asked himself, though his own voice lacked conviction. He shook his head firmly. "No, no—my guardian would’ve never let such a thing happen."

Yet the doubt lingered.

Why hadn’t he asked? Why hadn’t it occurred to him that the ogres were strangely absent from a story that was supposed to be about the war between their kind and the mages?

Had he been too caught up in the weight of learning "the truth"? Too proud of finally having the goblin council cornered, finally holding them in check? Had his arrogance blinded him?

His silence said more than any excuse ever could.

Kaelen sighed, disappointment softening his voice. "You still don’t see it. You were too focused on the goblins... but the ogres? We’re just as entangled in this mess. We always have been."

"Ogres and goblins," Kaelen said, "are not enemies. Not rivals. We are kin. Two halves of the same root. This is a part of the truth Vellok did not give you—a truth ’Mother’ holds, and one he chose not to speak."

Rattan looked up slowly, stunned.

Kaelen continued, his tone now edged with grim revelation.

"When the mages created Mother, she was infused with two seeds—two strains buried deep within her blood. One, the Arcane Strain. That gave rise to the goblin mages—your kind. Scholars. Tricksters. Wielders of will and magic."

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