Valen stood on the grand balcony of his private wing, the cold evening air brushing against his face. The sprawling estate below stretched endlessly, but it wasn't the scenic beauty that held his attention.
His gaze was fixed far beyond the horizon, where the weight of his ambitions lay. The First Great Opportunity was approaching, and with each passing day, his plans pressed upon him like an ever-tightening noose.
It wasn't enough to be strong. He needed to be unstoppable. That required Essence Orbs—thousands of them—and more importantly, the Prime Essence Orbs, which were far more difficult to acquire.
As he reviewed his plans once again, his thoughts turned meticulous. Every step had been calculated, every variable accounted for. His parents were powerful, yes, but they wouldn't understand the sacrifices required to seize this opportunity.
Even Marcellus, his father, would balk at the bloodshed Valen was preparing to unleash. Aeliana's role remained hidden deep within his mind, a secret he alone would bear until the time was right.
His mind returned to his carefully selected servants. They would carry out the darker parts of his plan, each one chosen for their unique weaknesses and desires.
Valen leaned back in his chair, folding his hands in his lap. The servants would need to be manipulated carefully. He couldn't risk raising any suspicion, not even within the walls of the Aetheris family.
The dungeon would be the perfect place to start. There, prisoners awaited their fate, restrained by the family's Nullbind Shackles. They were hardened criminals, worthless to anyone but Valen.
The dimly lit corridor leading to his father's study seemed endless. Every step Valen took echoed off the stone walls, each sound reminding him of the burden he carried.
His footsteps were measured, each one representing a calculated move in his long game.
Reaching the tall doors, Valen knocked softly and entered without waiting for a response. Marcellus Aetheris sat behind his grand desk, his silver-white hair gleaming in the flickering light of the hearth. Deep blue eyes met Valen's, calm and steady.
"Father," Valen began, his tone respectful yet firm. "I've been practicing my Battle Arts relentlessly, but I've realized that sparring with the servants is no longer enough. I need more… realistic opponents."
Marcellus raised an eyebrow but didn't interrupt.
"I would like to request access to the family dungeon," Valen continued. "I need to face real threats, test my skills against those who have nothing to lose. It will push me further."
There was a brief silence as Marcellus considered his son's request. He finally nodded.
"Very well. The dungeon is yours to use. The prisoners down there have no hope, but they may as well serve some purpose before their end. Just be careful not to draw too much attention to your training."
Valen inclined his head in gratitude, though his expression remained neutral. "Thank you, Father. I'll be discreet."
As he left the study, his thoughts turned to the next phase of his plan. The dungeon would serve its purpose, but he would need more than just prisoners.
The Prime Essence Orbs required something far more... delicate. And for that, he had already chosen his pawns.
The family dungeon was deep beneath the estate, hidden from prying eyes by layers of stone and shadow. As Valen descended the spiral staircase, the air grew colder, damp with the scent of mildew and decay.
Torches flickered weakly against the walls, casting long shadows that danced in the darkness.
Rows of iron-barred cells lined the narrow corridor, each one filled with prisoners—once-powerful criminals and mages, now reduced to nothing by the Nullbind Shackles that kept them from accessing their mana.
Their eyes, hollow and devoid of hope, followed Valen as he passed.
He stopped before one of the cells, where a man lay huddled in the corner, his limbs weak from malnutrition and neglect.
This one had once been a powerful warlord, feared across the empire. Now, he was nothing more than a broken relic of his past.
Valen drew his sword, the blade gleaming coldly in the dim light. "Stand," he commanded, his voice low and precise.
The man stirred, blinking in confusion before he slowly rose to his feet, his chains clinking with each movement.
Valen didn't wait for him to fully stand. In one swift motion, his sword cut through the air, cleaving the man's chest open. The prisoner collapsed, blood pooling beneath him.
Without a word, Valen took out a small vial, reciting the incantation that would turn the man's body into an Essence Orb.
The glow of life force gathered inside the vial, swirling into a condensed orb of energy. Valen tucked it away, already moving toward the next cell.
The process had begun.
In the days that followed, Valen began enacting the more delicate parts of his plan. He had selected three servants who would play pivotal roles in acquiring the necessary Essence Orbs—and more importantly, the Prime Essence Orbs.
He met with them one by one, careful to appeal to their individual desires and weaknesses.
First was Darius, a man who had always craved more than his station allowed. He was ambitious, eager to climb the ranks within the Aetheris household, and Valen knew exactly how to exploit that ambition.
"I need your assistance," Valen said smoothly as they stood in one of the estate's lesser-used chambers. "Help me with my business, and I will see to it that you're rewarded. Wealth, influence—whatever you desire."
Darius' eyes gleamed at the promise. "Of course, my lord. Anything you need."
Next was Selene, a woman whose past made her vulnerable. Years ago, she had been involved in an illegal trade, selling restricted elixirs and many things that will make one question her morals.
Marcellus had spared her life but kept her under close watch ever since. Valen had uncovered this secret, and it was now the key to her compliance.
Selene's hands trembled as Valen approached her in the hallway.
"You have a choice, Selene," he said quietly. "You either do as I ask, or I let Father know about your… extracurricular activities —which you are stilling doing behind your lord's back. I'm sure he would take kindly to a traitor in our midst."
Her face paled, and she quickly nodded. "I'll do it. Whatever you need, my lord."
Internally thinking how he knows about all of her 'activities' as not even the lord is aware of it.
"You'll be responsible for collecting the Prime Essence Orbs," Valen continued, his voice cold.
"It won't be easy. You'll need children—young ones. Make it look like accidents, kidnappings. Whatever it takes. And if you slip up, well…" He trailed off, letting the unspoken threat hang in the air.
Selene swallowed hard, her eyes wide with fear. "I understand. I'll take care of it."
Finally, there was Alaric, a loyal family servant tasked with overseeing the dungeon's secrecy. His role was different from the others, but just as important. Valen needed someone to ensure that none of the activities in the dungeon reached the wrong ears.
"I trust everything in the dungeon is secure?" Valen asked, his tone casual.
Alaric bowed his head. "Of course, my lord. No one inside the family knows of the prisoners' fates, and I'll make sure it stays that way."
"Good," Valen said, satisfied. "Keep it that way, and you'll be well rewarded."
As the days passed, Valen returned to the dungeon frequently, practicing his Battle Arts on the prisoners with ruthless efficiency.
Void Cleave sliced through their flesh with deadly precision, while Lunar Barrage dispatched multiple targets in quick succession.
The dummies he had once used for practice were nothing compared to the thrill of fighting real opponents—opponents who could fight back somewhat, however futile their attempts.
With each kill, Valen grew stronger, honing his techniques until they became second nature. But it wasn't just about perfecting his skills. Every death, every Essence Orb collected, brought him closer to the First Great Opportunity.
But the Prime Essence Orbs were still lacking. The process of obtaining them was slower, more delicate. Selene had already begun her task, but it would take time to gather the required number.
Time was something Valen had. Two years, to be precise. Aeliana was only four years old, and the ritual couldn't begin until she turned six. By then, everything would be in place.
For now, Valen would wait. He would train. And when the time came, he would strike, ensuring that no one—neither Kael nor any other fool—would stand in his way.