THE GENERAL'S DISGRACED HEIR

Nivan's body crashed violently against the unforgiving ground, a soldier's grip iron-clad around his arms, pinning him down. Panic clawed at his mind. "What happened? How did it all go wrong?" His thoughts raced in desperate circles. Had someone betrayed them? But how could that be? They had never been caught before—always one step ahead, always out of reach. Yet now, everything crumbled in the blink of an eye. It was as if the enemy had been waiting for this exact moment.

A sickening realization struck Nivan as he watched one of his comrades take a brutal kick for resisting. "No... it can't be her," he thought, horror dawning in his mind.

Lady Seraphina's entrance into the picture had been the turning point. Had she really been the one to set them up? If that were true, then Gareth wasn't the mole after all. But if not Gareth, then what had become of him? A cold shiver crept down Nivan's spine, chilling him to the core.

David, observing the scene from a distance, felt a wave of relief wash over him. In the novel, David had met a grim fate, and the spies had never been captured. Yet, something felt off. In the later chapters, Sendric had stumbled upon a horrifying scene—bodies withered like ancient corpses, drained of life, and among them was Gareth. The mystery of their deaths had never been solved, leaving a dark shadow over the story and heralding the first signs of the great cataclysm. "This doesn't feel right," David mused, his thoughts troubled.

Before he could delve deeper into his concerns, a light pat on his back pulled him from his reverie. "The Shadow of Light—catchy," Mage Marvel teased with a grin.

David flushed, rubbing the back of his neck. "Ah, yes, quite embarrassing," he admitted, though the name was growing on him- Light.

"Don't get cold feet now," Mage Marvel encouraged, his tone light. "I remember when your elder brother earned his name among the soldiers—Blood Whale." Despite Kaiden's reputation for bloodthirsty lunacy, at least one member of the family had a name associated with positive honour.

"Embrace the victory, my boy. You did splendid work," Mage Marvel continued, his praise sincere.

David, modest as ever, shook his head. "Not at all, sir. If it weren't for your dispel magic, we wouldn't have caught them all."

But Mage Marvel was insistent. "Remind me again—who uncovered that we had spies in the first place? Who revealed their spatial relic and devised a plan that led to zero casualties?" He listed David's accomplishments one by one, leaving David unable to brush off the praise any longer.

If everything continued to go according to plan, the next step would be to prove his strength to the entire family and ensure that the other houses thought twice before crossing him. Only then would he have the influence to meet the Archon of Warfare. But David knew that in the grand scheme of the universe, order was essential. For every stone held in place, another had to fall to maintain balance.

"Master David!" a soldier called out from a distance, his tone laced with concern.

David moved with purpose through the dimly lit grounds, his eyes locking onto a soldier who had one of the captured spies pinned down, his knee pressing firmly into the man's chest. As David approached, his initial intention was to ask about the situation, but his attention was quickly drawn to something unusual on the spy's forehead. The sight made David's stomach churn.

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The soldier noticed David's focused gaze and quickly explained, "I was restraining him when this mark appeared out of nowhere. It wasn't there before, but now it's starting to glow."

David's eyes narrowed as he studied the mark—an ominous symbol resembling an eye surrounded by flickering flames, faintly glowing as if pulsing with some dark energy. A deep sense of unease settled in David's chest, a gnawing feeling that something was terribly wrong.

"You," David's voice was cold, his hand gripping the hilt of his dagger as he pointed it at the spy. "What's that on your forehead?"

The spy's eyes widened in fear and confusion. "What do you mean? I don't understand," he stammered, his voice trembling.

"Don't lie to us, scum!" the soldier barked, raising his fist, ready to strike. The spy flinched, his fear palpable.

"I swear, I don't know!" the spy pleaded, desperation leaking into his voice.

"Yeah, right," the soldier sneered. "Let's see how long you can bluff with your teeth knocked out."

Just as the soldier was about to deliver a brutal punch, Mage Marvel appeared, his presence commanding immediate attention. "Stop," he ordered, his voice calm yet authoritative. "He's not lying."

David shot Mage Marvel a questioning look. "How can you be sure?" he asked, wondering if the old mage had some spell to detect lies. If so, that could be both useful and dangerous.

"He's talentless," Mage Marvel revealed, the words hanging in the air like a cold wind.

David frowned, puzzled by the mage's assertion. "A normal human? That doesn't answer the question," he pressed, still unsure where Mage Marvel was leading with this.

Mage Marvel's expression darkened. "That thing on his head... it feels ancient and dark. It's not something a man like him could wield or even comprehend."

David felt a chill run down his spine. The word "dark" echoed in his mind, triggering a memory. Yue, that strange child, had once spoken to him about different types of energies in Ternion. David had read about some not known, in the novel, particularly one type that was feared and hated by many—Corrupt Mana.

"Mark... corrupt mana..." David muttered, piecing the clues together. He felt on the brink of understanding when suddenly, another soldier called out to him urgently.

"Master David! There's a mark on this spy's head, and it's glowing!" The soldier's voice was filled with panic. Almost immediately, another soldier reported the same, followed by another.

David's heart pounded in his chest as the puzzle pieces clicked into place. "Dead bodies... corrupt mana," he said aloud, drawing a confused glance from Mage Marvel.

Then it hit him like a tidal wave. The horrifying realization of what was about to happen crashed over him. "Shit! Kill them all, now!" David's voice thundered across the garden, filled with urgency and dread.

The soldiers hesitated, their confusion evident. Even Mage Marvel seemed taken aback. The spies were supposed to be interrogated, not slaughtered. But David's aura flared with intensity, his resolve unwavering. He didn't have time to explain.

"Goddamn it, kill them now!" David roared, his words carrying a weight that made the air itself seem to crackle with tension. Without waiting for further orders, David drove his dagger into the heart of the spy beneath him, the man's eyes widening in shock before the light in them faded forever.

Seeing David's fierce determination and sensing the danger, the soldiers sprang into action. They began to cut down the spies with brutal efficiency. The pleas for mercy fell on deaf ears as the soldiers carried out David's command. One spy begged, tears streaming down his face, but a soldier's sword silenced him with a swift, merciless strike to the head.

Mage Marvel watched the carnage, his face grim. "Is something wrong?" he asked, still trying to grasp the gravity of the situation.

David wiped the blood from his dagger, his eyes scanning the bodies littering the garden. "I'll explain later," he replied, his voice steady despite the chaos. "Right now, we need to make sure none of the spies remain alive."

The garden was filled with the agonized screams of the dying, but something was wrong. Despite their deaths, the glowing marks on the spies' foreheads hadn't dimmed. If anything, they grew more intense, glowing violently as crimson threads of some malevolent energy began to seep from the spies' mouths.

David's blood ran cold. "We missed one. Find him!" he commanded, his voice laced with urgency. The soldiers scattered, searching desperately for the last remaining threat, knowing that their survival depended on it.

Meanwhile.....

Garrick clawed desperately at the ground, dragging his broken and battered body away from the agonizing screams of his fallen comrades. Each movement sent waves of pain through him, his chest gaping from the wound David's dagger had left behind.

Regret gnawed at his mind—why hadn't he listened to his instincts and abandoned the mission? The thought of dying like this terrified him beyond measure, but the grim reality was sinking in. He was dying.

As he struggled to crawl further, a strange warmth spread across his forehead. The sensation quickly morphed into a searing burn that tore a scream from his throat.

"Aaargh!"

Garrick writhed in agony, dark crimson mana swirling around him, seeping into every pore of his being. His eyes rolled back, turning white as he began to suffocate under the oppressive weight of the corrupt energy.

David, hearing Garrick's tortured screams, locked onto him. With the speed of a predator, David activated [Wolf Grace], sprinting toward Garrick, his daggers drawn and ready to strike. "I'm not going to make it," David muttered, the tip of his blade nearing Garrick, who now hung suspended in the air, radiating corrupt mana that sent a chill through everyone who felt its malevolent presence.