NOVEL NEXT Chapter 38: What is the plan
"Nay," Nyxander growled low and even, the sound a steady rumble like distant thunder before the outbreak of a storm. "I once met a group of them when I snuck out of the castle…" The words were full-bodied, confident, while his keen eyes swiveled round the room at the shock marked on every single face therein-including Vacuros. At this revelation by her son, Nihara jerked toward Zephyrion, who stood before her, her eyes full of disbelief and confusion. Her voice shook as she spoke: "Don't tell me what he said is true."
Zephyrion, taken by surprise, quickly looked away, his head bowing under the weight of a secret held too long. His silence spoke volumes, confirming it all to Nihara. "You lied to me?" she whispered, her voice cracking with incredulity. Her hands fisted, teeth gnashing while her eyes welled with tears as the anger boiled like a storm. "Both of you told me he was sleeping. Why did you have to lie to me?" Tears she tried to hold at bay streamed down her face now, telling on the pain behind her anger.
Zephyrion, his face flooded with guilt, stepped toward her to apologize, but she pushed him away with trembling hands. Nihara's anger was a tempest, yet before it could sweep the room, Nyxander intervened, his soft smile acting like the sun piercing through storm clouds.
"Mum," he said, his voice soft but firm, "you really don't have to get so worked up about it. What's important is that I'm here; safe and sound. This need not deflect us from what should engage our attention, really." He cocked his head to one side, giving her a cute, disarming look.
Her rage faltered. The fierce maternal fire in her eyes dimmed, replaced with a reluctant sigh. "Fine," she relented, her voice still heavy with frustration. "I'll let this go, for now." Then, turning her gaze to Zephyrion, she added with icy finality, "But later, someone will have to pay for this."
Zephyrion shivered under her glare; the chill of her words trickled down his spine. Nyxander, however, sensing the tension, hastily put the conversation back on track; his voice went steady in the room. "So, what attempts or steps have you taken toward solving this issue?" He turned his sharp gaze toward old man Obsidar, who was about to respond when Umbrazel spoke instead.
"We have done extensive searches," said Umbrazel, the weight of failure heavy in his voice. "We have even changed the locations where the newborns are kept several times. But none of it yielded results." His tone was tinged with regret, like that of a soldier who relays lost battles because of his failures.
Nyxander's eyes softened. "You don't have to speak that way," he reassured Umbrazel. "They wouldn't have started this without preparation. Clearly, they've planned everything down to the smallest detail." His thumb and index finger gripped his chin as he pondered deep, his mind racing. "It's almost like they appear only when it's time for their operation and vanish the moment they're done."
Old man Obsidar nodded, his face solemn, his voice a reflection of grim understanding. "That would be a fair deduction. It is as though their actions are calculated to a season's turn, yet predictable, untouchable."
Since all primordials were born and raised within the sealed dimension, their experiences were limited to its confines. This isolation was their greatest disadvantage, a shackle that bound them to ignorance.
Nyxander remained deep in thought, his eyes narrowing. "No," he finally said, the decisiveness in his tone there. "If I were in their position, I wouldn't operate so recklessly. I'd build a hidden base, far from sight, shielded from detection. A place with minimal presence, one that can only be found if you know exactly where to look. Then, I'd emerge only when it was time to act."
as each man held his breath, assimilating the sense of his idea. This was followed by the sound of Vacuros, so calm yet inquiring, "Then how would we trace them, especially if they were still here?
All eyes turned to Vacuros, and the weight of his question settled heavily over them. Nyxander, however, broke into a small, knowing smile. "That's simple," he said, oozing confidence. "You might not know this, but my unique skill is body shrinking. I can shrink myself to their size. With that, I can track their movements and discover where they're hiding."
The tension in the room began to ease as his words sunk in, bringing a glimmer of hope. Relief washed over the group as piece by piece, the puzzle they'd struggled with for so long seemed to fall into place.
"After discovering their hideout, we'll crush them at once!" Zephyrion declared, his voice burning with resolve. The others nodded in agreement, their faces determined.
But Nyxander shook his head, his face impassive. "No," he said with finality, the sharpness of his words like a blade cleaving the air.
Uneasy silence lapsed into the room; hopeful faces puckered into frowns. "What do you mean?" asked Umbrazel, furrowing his eyebrows. "Yes, what are you trying to mean here?" the others echoed, doubt creeping into their tone.
Nyxander straightened, his eyes sharp and unwavering. "This isn't a simple game. This is the hunter and the hunted," he said calmly, his voice even, though with a hint of warning.
Perplexed by the statement, they looked amongst one another, their faces asking for an explanation. Nihara spoke up for them all when she asked, "Can you explain what you mean by that?"
Nyxander's voice took on a different tone as he explained in simple, yet profound words: "Think of us as the primordial beasts, and them as the hunters. There are twelve clans, as you all said, and each clan hunts beasts from different locations. We take out one hunter; the rest will go to work. Same with this bunch-they'd most likely have more than one hideout, different places where they operate from.
Old man Obsidar nodded slowly, the gears in his mind turning. "So you're telling me that even if we take down one hideout, it won't solve the problem because the others will still exist?
"Precisely," Nyxander said. "For them to be able to kidnap newborns from all clans at the same time, they must have several bases of operation. Destroying one will not stop them. We have to find all their locations and uproot them at the same time."
Umbrazel's voice broke the silence, his question hanging in the air like a lingering shadow. "So what's the solution?"
Nyxander's voice did not quiver as he replied, "We infiltrate their hideouts, figure out where all their bases are, and then strike. Only then can we end this once and for all."
As clear as his plan had gotten, the atmosphere in that room tensed again. Reluctance shone from each face. No one was ready to put Nyxander's life at stake for such a risky mission.
Nyxander exhaled loudly, and though he tried to keep it concealed, his frustration seeped through. "I don't want to do this either, but someone has to. And no one else is qualified but me."
Before he could further persuade them, Nihara interrupted, her voice firm and yet trembling with emotion. "Even if you insist, we can't risk your life by sending you into the unknown. It's too dangerous."
The room rumbled in mutual agreement, their protectiveness palpable. But not a word from Vacuros-he watched Nyxander, his face unreadable.
Nyxander's patience cracked and his voice rose with quiet intensity. "You can't all be this stubborn. Remember what our ancestor left to us: a birth pool to bring our kind into the world, a nation forged through his sacrifices, and a training ground to defend ourselves. He gave his life without hesitation so we could thrive. How many of you have stopped to consider why he went to such lengths? Maybe he foresaw this day.
His words struck the room like a lightning bolt, shaking them to their core. The weight of his speech pressed down on them, the truth in his words undeniable. For a moment, no one spoke, the silence filled with the echoes of a long-forgotten legacy.
Even with all Nyxander had said, their hearts remained as hard as forged steel, unyielding to the fire of his words. Old man Obsidar's voice broke the silence like the slow creak of an ancient door. "We're sorry. We've tried to separate our emotions from our duty, but it seems impossible." His tone carried the weight of generations, a mixture of regret and resolve.
We can't let you go into something unknown, into a path where neither your success nor your safety can be guaranteed," Nihara added, her voice shaking with maternal apprehension. Her eyes softened while the words were firm, unmovable as the roots of a great tree.
Nyxander buried his head in his right hand; the frustration, building up like a storm, seemed to burst. Heavy silence wrapped the room from everywhere and felt as though even air had taken its share of breath. People just sat, trying to untwine the mesh of emotions and logics woven in hearts that weighed down like the falling roof of a cave.
Then, as if cut by the edge of a blade, a voice, silent up to that moment in the discussion, cut through the quiet. "What if I support him from behind the scenes?"
Heads jerked up like startled deer that suddenly hear a hunter's step. All eyes looked at Vacuros, whose words came with an eerie calm that broke the stalemate.
Wha… what do you mean by that?" Umbrazel stuttered, shocked, and disbelieving, hardly managing to say the words.
Vacuros leaned forward, his sharp gaze sweeping across the room like a hawk surveying its domain. "If he's set on infiltrating their hideout, then so be it. But since I've got little to do, I'll stay hidden in the shadows, watching over him. If necessary, I'll intervene or call for backup. It'll reduce the risk of him falling into danger." His words were delivered with the precision of a dagger, clear and cutting.
Scarce had he spoken than the air itself would seem to change. The eyes of every pair focused on old man Obsidar, as though the final decision had fallen to those shoulders now weathered.
Obsidar cleared his throat-the sound like gravel rolling down a mountain. He clutched his walking stick more tightly, the veins on his massive hands bulging like roots breaking through dry earth. "Humph," he grunted. "Since it has come to this, we have no choice but to agree." His gaze swept over the two young men, his eyes heavy with both hope and caution. "Go. Prepare yourselves. In two weeks, you'll carry out the plan."
Nyxander's face had lit up with uncontainable joy, his grin wide and childlike. He leaped toward Vacuros, a flying boulder of man, but Vacuros sidestepped him and sent him crashing to the ground with a force like a minor earthquake that shook through the room.
"Don't get me wrong," Vacuros said coldly, though the faintest hint of amusement played on his face. "I'm not doing this for you. I just want to get back at those bastards, and kill some time." His words were sharp, but the edges of his resolve betrayed a hidden loyalty.
The room buzzed a little further with words of discussion before the meeting dissolved, each to their separate way in preparation for the weight of what was to come.
Two days later, In the prepared chamber deep within the quiet of the castle, the mood was somber. The space slightly smelled of polished stone and ancient energy, as glowing traces upon the walls seemed to wink weakly in the dim light. Old man Obsidar, Zephyrion, and Umbrazel began in the center of the room arranging carefully the essentia crystals that Nyxander brought with him. Soft, the crystals shivered in a gentle, flickering dance, like pieces of frozen starlight.
They formed two circles, one inside the other, both of them perfect in placement. The crystals within the outer circle formed a square with the sharp symmetry of their edges. The old man Obsidarta slowly walked around this formation, his steps very deliberate, his eyes focusing on each and every detail as would an artist while examining a masterpiece.
He straightened his back, the ancient strength in his frame as unyielding as the stone walls around them, after he had completed his inspection. "Alright," he said, his deep voice breaking the silence like a tolling bell. "We can proceed." His words were tinged with quiet authority, the kind that did not leave room for arguments or hesitation.
The air in the room grew heavier, humming with latent power from the crystal arrangement. It felt like even space was holding its breath, waiting for the next step, the next ripple in the unfolding plan.