CHAPTER FIVE — AFTERMATH AND ASCENT
The capital of Valtarus did not sleep for three days.
Even after the Beast Tide died, the walls still dripped with dried monster blood, the battlements cracked under enormous strain, and the city's streets smelled of smoke, iron, and burned flesh.
But three days brought order.
Structure.
Discipline.
War-time unity.
The great bells finally fell silent.
Carpenters rebuilt shattered watchtowers.
Blacksmiths' forges ran nonstop, repairing armor and weapons.
Priests—not of the Radiant Church, but of the local ancestral shrines—tended to the wounded.
And the people whispered in the streets with trembling awe.
About the prince who killed a Titan.
About the black-winged figure who descended like a calamity.
About the thousand shadows that defended towns across the kingdom.
No matter where one walked—markets, taverns, alleys—the whispered reverence was the same:
"The Demon Prince saved us."
Arcturus heard them all.
He walked through the capital's outer districts silently, hood pulled forward, blending into the crowds just enough to observe them without causing panic. His changes—those glowing rings in his eyes, the unnatural beauty, the silent aura—were difficult to hide.
Children peeked from behind shop stalls.
Mothers pulled their children closer.
Men whispered, "Look away, that's him!"
Old shopkeepers bowed instinctively.
Arcturus's expression softened.
"I am not here to frighten you," he murmured, though none could hear him.
He visited the memorial square where families laid flowers for the fallen. He saw a young girl placing a wilted blossom beside her mother's grave marker.
She whispered, "Thank you, Demon Prince… thank you for saving us."
He stood a few paces behind her.
Something warm … something forgotten … stirred beneath his blood-soaked power.
He left the square before anyone else noticed him.
THE ROYAL WAR ROOMThe inner palace was a fortress within a fortress: shining marble, towering steel doors, banners dripping with the silver wolf sigil of House Valtarus.
Inside the war room, a massive oval table dominated the chamber. Maps were strewn everywhere. Markers, tokens, scrolls, sealed reports—chaos organized into military efficiency.
King Aldric stood at the head of the table, cloak thrown over one shoulder, armor partially removed but still intimidating.
Alistair sat to his right, arm bandaged, fatigue etched across his face. He'd barely slept since the siege.
Commander Bradwen and Captain Rowan stood on the opposite side, accompanied by the kingdom's senior advisors.
The moment Arcturus entered, the room quieted.
Not from fear—
but from the gravity of his presence.
Even Aldric's hardened generals straightened unconsciously, as if a mountain had walked into the room.
Aldric gave a small nod.
"My son."
Arcturus stepped forward, placing a scroll on the table.
"These are reports from my clones across the kingdom."
Alistair raised an eyebrow. "Already…? You sent them out barely a day ago."
Arcturus simply tilted his head.
"They do not tire."
Rowan muttered under his breath, "Neither do you, apparently…"
Arcturus unfolded the scroll.
The parchment contained a map of the entire kingdom—marked with symbols showing monster corpses, cleared areas, safe routes, and towns that had been defended.
Mark by mark, village by village.
"You," Aldric murmured, "cleared… all this?"
Arcturus nodded.
"And the cities?" Alistair asked.
"Defended," Arcturus said. "None fell."
Rowan's jaw dropped.
"None… fell? Six were being overrun!"
Arcturus looked at him steadily.
"They are intact now."
Silence followed.
The weight of the statement needed no elaboration.
Aldric cleared his throat.
"Before we proceed to external threats, we must address the internal rot." He gestured to several thick ledgers stacked to the side. "These were seized from the Eastern Noble faction."
Alistair slid one open—pages upon pages of transaction records, hidden alliances, smuggling routes, bribes, Church payments, and sealed correspondences.
Commander Bradwen swore under his breath.
"This… this is enough to execute every major noble family in the east."
Aldric snorted.
"And we already executed the worst of them."
Alistair rubbed his forehead.
"Father, we need to reorganize the entire noble system. Half the eastern lords were either traitors, Church puppets, or cowards."
Rowan added: "The people there are leaderless. And furious. They'll revolt if we don't stabilize the region."
Arcturus's eyes flickered.
"Give me the land."
Alistair blinked. "What?"
Arcturus walked to the map and placed a finger on the eastern province—several cities, multiple farmlands, three ports, four mountain passes.
"I will rebuild it," he said. "My way. Efficiently."
Aldric studied him.
"Why?"
Arcturus's voice was calm, but carried an undercurrent of iron.
"Because they betrayed us. And because someone must turn that region into something better than a nest of corruption."
Aldric nodded slowly.
"It will be yours."
Arcturus bowed his head slightly.
"Accepted."
Alistair exhaled in relief. "The people in the east will follow anyone who saved the kingdom. They'll worship you."
Arcturus's eyes softened faintly.
"I do not need worship."
Rowan muttered, "You're going to get it anyway…"
Aldric slammed a fist onto the table, drawing attention.
"Now. The Radiant Church."
Everyone tensed.
Arcturus remained still.
Aldric gestured to Arcturus.
"Explain what you learned."
Arcturus stepped forward.
"The Radiant Church is not merely a religious institution. It is a nation. A hidden empire."
He projected an image of the continent—embedded into the shadows.
It startled everyone.
Even Aldric.
"Using their temples," Arcturus continued, "they control trade, politics, marriages, education, and magic across at least eight kingdoms."
Alistair frowned.
"And yet they hide behind the guise of pacifism."
Arcturus nodded.
"A convenient lie."
He lifted a sealed scroll.
"And I captured every conspirator from their local cathedral."
Aldric leaned back, shocked.
"All of them?"
"Yes."
"What did you do with them?" Alistair asked.
Arcturus's tone was matter-of-fact.
"I extracted everything."
The room went still.
Arcturus continued:
"Their armies number in the hundreds of thousands. Their Paladins are heavily armed. Their Inquisitors are corrupted by divine power. They own vaults of artifacts and forbidden relics."
Alistair's eyes narrowed.
"And they want our kingdom."
"They want me," Arcturus corrected softly.
Aldric straightened.
"Then they will have a war."
Arcturus shook his head.
"Not yet."
The king blinked.
Arcturus gestured, and the air around him rippled as several clones stepped from the shadows—silent, disciplined, perfectly identical.
"I will send clones to all kingdoms."
Aldric stiffened. "All kingdoms…?"
"Yes."
Arcturus continued:
"They will infiltrate guilds, ministries, courts, and temples. They will steal documents, sabotage influence, and eliminate Church plants."
Alistair stared.
"You're… building a continent-wide intelligence operation."
Arcturus met his brother's gaze.
"With perfect agents."
One of the clones stepped forward.
"We require only orders."
Another clone bowed.
"We will not fail."
Aldric tried to process it.
"You're creating… a spy empire across nations."
Arcturus nodded.
"And one more thing," he added quietly. "The conspirators who aided the Church… from the merchant guild? Bandits? Spies?"
He snapped his fingers.
A bag dropped from the shadows.
It hit the table with a sickening thump.
Aldric stared at it.
"What's inside?"
Arcturus answered simply:
"Every head."
Rowan turned green.
Alistair grimaced.
Aldric placed a hand over his eyes in exhausted anger.
"By the ancestors…"
Arcturus added:
"I extracted information first. Then cleaned up."
Aldric inhaled deeply, then nodded.
"Well done."
REBUILDINGFor the next hour, the council planned:
Seizing traitor lands
Appointing temporary governors
Establishing military zones
Beginning mass recruitment
Reinforcing borders
Building new watchtowers
Tripling patrols
Aldric concluded:
"Next spring, we march east and bring the rest of the traitors to heel."
Arcturus nodded.
"I will prepare for that."
He stepped back—and his clones faded into the walls like whispered ghosts.
ARCTURUS'S QUIET VIGILAfter the meeting, Arcturus walked alone through the capital.
He moved through marketplaces, observing:
Magitech lamps powered by mana stones.
Street performers weaving wind magic.
Artisans crafting enchanted jewelry.
Children playing with simple element stones.
He visited weapon shops, bakeries, taverns, training yards, gardens, libraries.
He listened.
He watched.
He learned the world.
His expression softened again when he passed families reunited.
He paused as two soldiers hugged their children.
He watched a baker hand out free bread to orphaned kids.
He saw a young boy practicing clumsy sword swings in the street.
Arcturus whispered:
"I will protect this."
But as he stepped into a public square, people froze.
A sudden hush fell.
Then—
"Demon Prince…"
"He's here…"
"Look away…"
"N-No—bow! Bow to him!"
Arcturus's heart tightened slightly.
He turned away.
"I cannot live openly among them."
He disappeared into shadow.
Reappearing atop a rooftop overlooking the entire capital.
The moonlight glinted off his rings of crimson glow.
He inhaled.
"I cannot be their hero."
He looked toward the palace, where his father and brother worked tirelessly to stabilize the kingdom.
"But I can be their shield."
His wings unfurled behind him.
"I will be the shadow protecting their light."
And the Demon Prince vanished into the night.