NOVEL NEXT Chapter 49 After METH
Red Hill – Post-Attack
Red Hill didn't sleep that evening.
As dawn broke, smoke continued to curl from the smashed manors. Soldiers raked through the wreckage of the banquet hall. The unconscious nobles were carried out quietly in guarded carriages, while clerks took inventory of treasures that had "vanished." Witnesses spoke of shadows, flames, and sorcery—but every tale conflicted with the one that preceded it.
The City Lord moved swiftly. By midday, he decreed:
"Redhill was assaulted by radical rebels. Their mission was to assassinate senior officials and destabilize the Empire's authority."
The rumor circulated quickly. Broadsheets echoed the same phrases again and again: terrorist assault, overseas rebels.
No mention of mana crystals. No reference to monsters. No reference to the warriors Reth, Asthia, and Elenya had battled.
The City Guard doubled patrols. Black-robed soldiers stood in every corner. Town criers trumpeted curfews: bells after dark, no assemblies without license, checks at all gates.
From the Capital came a still louder voice. Two High Knights descended to "restore order" and conduct investigations.
Merchants of the South Market whispered that it was all just a ruse. That there had been a more important target. That Red Hill had only been a proving ground for something greater.
But the official narrative excluded any doubt.
The Empire had a scapegoat. The people had terror. The streets had guards.
Capital – Alric's POV
Ser Knight Alric, a former cavalry commander under Asthia at Graykeep, no longer had the scent of horse or sweat about him.
He reclined in luxury now.
Silk-clad walls and braziers crackling with perfumed oil enveloped him. He rested in an ivory chair, his armor traded for embroidered robes, a golden chalice hanging from his hand.
"She believed she was clever," he growled, alone. Harsh, ironic. "Asthia, the ninth flame. Issuing orders like an Empress while just managing to keep a destroyed keep from collapsing."
He swirled wine, letting the firelight dance in it.
"And now? Killed. Buried in Red Hill. Broadsheets cry terrorist attack. The City Lord acts his role. The Empire weaves its tale. A fitting demise for her hubris."
He leaned forward, low voice, smirk set.
"No more Asthia. No more Graykeep. No more games."
Silence lingered.
In a dark corner, smoke hung thick. Someone observed.
Alric laughed quietly. "Even her bodyguard won't crawl out of that ruin. Stubborn, but no man a blast of that magnitude. The Empire buried them both."
Still no answer. Only measured, peaceful breathing in the darkness.
Alric finished his chalice and put it down. Smirk became sharper.
"Red Hill is ash," he said, smugly. "And so is she."
The brazier flames danced, buffeted by a wind that did not happen.
Out of the smoke stepped a shape—tall, shrouded in black, the air thick around it. A metal clink sounded: a pouch of coins came zipping to Alric's feet.
Alric blinced, laughed, and snatched it up. "Efficient as ever," he said. "Payment received."
A voice sliced through the air, low and cutting:
"Payment? You call this payment? You sold blood. You sold your commander. You sold a princess—and for less than a kennel would pay for a hound."
Alric tensed. The chalice abandoned.
The shadow drew closer, eyes obscured. "Do not confuse this for wealth. A leash. Around your neck. Dance when told… or strangle."
Alric forced a smile, holding tight to the pouch. "There is a cost to intelligence. I provided. Asthia's strategies, her schemes, her pride. Red Hill would never have caught fire but for me."
The man inclined his head, interested. "And yet you party in fine silks while your comrades suffer in ashes. You are not even the hound you suppose yourself. At least a hound is loyal."
Flame crawled up Alric's face. He swallowed the insult.
The shadow stayed back, words as daggers, and then broke up into smoke.
The flames of the brazier stabilized.
---
Forest – Reth's POV
The fire had burned down to embers glowing soft red under the stones. The forest closed in around them, heavy with the scent of smoke and pine.
Van stirred, poking at the coals with a stick. His voice broke the silence.
"Curious thing, isn't it… a witch after a princess."
Seris glanced over but remained silent. Her expression was white, eyes staring into the flames.
Reth took a breath, combing his hair back. "I don't understand it either. Why her? And this Witch of Silence…" His eyes darted to Varric. "Who was she? How could she be that powerful?"
The old man did not reply at once. He sat alone from the fire, back to a root, arms folded. When he did speak, his voice was harsh, like gravel scraped against stone.
"She. is dont konw who she is but she appears ones in some centurys and destroys some cities and disappeare now at this point the empire dosent care about her nobody messes wit her."
Van whistled low.
"???"
Varric stroked his beard and gazed into the waning fire. The embers cracked and burst with trembling shadows on his weathered face. He took a deep, wearied breath, as if he'd been shouldering old secrets for too many years.
No one knows her like I do, lad," he growled, voice low and gravelly. "Serapha, the Witch of Silence… she's like a ghost. Appears every couple of centuries, hits hard, then vanishes. Burns a city, destroys a fortress, then poof. No pattern, no cause—just silence. The Empire? They avoid her. Act as if she doesn't exist. Burn documents, silence survivors. Why awaken a dragon that can devour empires?
He prodded the flames with a stick, sparks bursting like small stars. "I've combed through ancient texts, followed whispers from crazy hermits. Some claim she's a Godspire curse. Some claim she was a mage corrupted by dark magic. Reality? She's an enigma. Untouchable. Unknowable. And if she's interested in your princess… kid, hope it's nothing more than a whim. If it isn't… no blade, no incantation will keep you safe from what follows."
Van whistled and shook his head, his staff creaking. "Sounds like a tale where all the characters die or get lost. You young ones just stirred up a hornet's nest in Red Hill.
Reth ground his teeth, pain shooting through his bandaged shoulder, but remained silent. The forest closed in around them, the wind muttering threats. Seris cast a wary look at him, her expression impassive, but her hand on the hilt of her sword, poised for action.
Reth rolled onto the hard earth, looking at Seris. The firelight danced across her face, defining sharp planes that left her appearing almost unapproachable. He paused, throat constricted, then continued, his voice softer than normal.
"Seris… last night…" He stopped, attempting to read her response.
Her gaze rose, piercing and serene. "Last night? What about last night?"
Reth rubbed the back of his neck, heat burning up to his ears. "When we… when you were fighting in Red Hill. I—uh—I've never seen anyone use a sword that way. Not even in training halls in my hometown. You… you were—well—better than me, obviously." He chuckled awkwardly, touching his bandaged shoulder. "I was thinking… maybe you could… I don't know… teach me? Show me how to use it better?"
Seris tilted her head slightly, silent for a long moment. The forest seemed to lean closer, waiting. Finally, she spoke, her voice low and measured:
"You want to learn?"
Seris studied him for a long moment, the fire reflecting in her eyes. Then, almost imperceptibly, a small nod.
"Fine," she said. "But don't expect shortcuts. A sword doesn't care about excuses, you'll learn discipline, timing… precision. Everything."
"Alright"
Reth let out a breath, his chest still tight with tension and something like relief. The forest lay still now, the embers still glowing softly, shadows stretched thin and long. His shoulder still hurt from their battle, his chest remembering how nearly they had been caught.
Then, suddenly, a soft chime resonated in his head—like the muted clanging of a faraway bell. His eyes grew wide, and a flush swept across his cheeks.
System Notification:
[User Reth. Maximum performance achieved. Target: Witch of Silence overcome (survival guaranteed). Reward: Opportunity gained.]
Reth's eyes froze, blinking.
[You can now choose any single ability from the Ability Pool. Choose well. This is an irreversible offer. Selection is permanent.]
A gleam in the air hovered before him, floating like fluid light. A roster of names and symbols appeared, every one of them softly glowing, suspended in the darkness of the forest:
ABILITY POOL
A gleam hovered before him.
His hand shook a little as he reached toward the first icon, the air thick around him, almost humming with expectation.
Suddenly, his vision widened. It wasn't just the gleam anymore—the darkness around him faded, replaced by a massive, floating screen that stretched from the forest floor to the treetops. Symbols, icons, and names cascaded down like a waterfall of light. Each shimmered, pulsating, some spinning slowly, some flickering like distant stars.
Reth blinked rapidly. Numbers and runes floated alongside the icons, impossible to read all at once.