A blade cut across the air, a pair of Gold Mancy soldiers falling to their knees as their heads tumbled to the ground.
Theron lightly tapped a foot, his aura so deathly calm that the wind itself didn’t seem to want to disturb his movement. There was a fluidity to the way he stepped, almost like a dance through the air, an attunement with the pulling and pushing waves of the moon’s gravity that rippled through his body.
He could feel the moon more clearly now than ever before, and the strength of the tug made his mind wander in ways and toward ideas and curiosities that made him feel as though he were pulling open a library of books for the first time.
As time passed, cultivation was only becoming more and more fascinating to him. But tonight, he wasn’t willing to indulge that fascination. He only cared to kill.
Theron slipped into the royal palace, his robes swaying with his steps.
Another guard fell as he entered the halls, slipping through the formations as though they weren’t there at all, and that was because they might as well not have been.
In this sort of situation, where an entire Empire’s might was focused on finding one boy they thought had long run away, why would they have their defenses up?
The Imperial Palace’s formations wouldn’t even activate until there was an enemy invasion at their doorstep. And unfortunately for them… that would cost.
Silent but deadly, Theron walked through the halls. The moon might have been high in the skies, but there wasn’t a single soul asleep just yet. It was too early in the night.
But it didn’t matter. They might as well have been.
Even without Veinsong active, Theron was like a stream of Mana passing through the air; it didn’t feel like he had a heartbeat at all. His body was already so concentrated with water that there hardly seemed to be a difference at all.
And then, he appeared by a corridor.
From his investigations, he knew that this was the length of hallway leading to the Imperial Quarters. This was where the Imperial Clan stayed—their extended family, the courtesans and concubines in the Imperial Harem, the main bloodline descendants, and the Emperor himself.
As Theron took a step into this hallway, he felt a pressure bearing down on him. It wasn’t from an expert, but the halls themselves, as though there was a grace of something greater here.
It was a sort of Spirit Mana, a strand of Karma that benefitted all those of the Imperial Line. It held the heart of the Sangun Bloodline, but Theron could already feel it cracking.
The splinters in its pride, the greying of its brightness. Just how many times had the Sangun been forced to lower their heads in their own home in these last several months? How much humiliation had their Emperor suffered?
As Theron moved, the pressure only seemed to increase. But this was precisely what he was here to feel.
The Nightingale Emperor was a true wild card. Theron knew nothing at all about him, and yet he felt that his son—and his daughter especially—were hiding things he couldn’t fathom.
If he was correct, the Nightingale Emperor might be a man he had to worry about in the future. He didn’t like people he didn’t understand.
While the Sangun wouldn’t be able to fill in all the gaps for him, they had already told him a lot about how Imperial Clans held onto power.
This mysterious sort of Imperial Mana hanging in the air… this was important.
Theron suddenly crossed his dagger in front of his chest, his eyes placid as an arrow rebounded off of it. The density of his body increased, his wrist twisting just the slightest bit to the side.
All in one fluid motion, he blocked and deflected the arrow.
Theron’s gaze was still focused ahead, but there was no one to see. There was a long line of shadows, as though the entire palace had been put on ice—though that in itself was peculiar.
It was still many hours from midnight; there should still be Light Mana circulating, or at least candles, if the Sangun Empire didn’t have many Light Mancers to draw up formations for them.
But this arrow had certainly come from someone—and someone powerful enough to point him out.
Of course, Theron wasn’t actually hiding his frame or body, just his breath. Picking him out with the eyes was easy right now; doing the same with Third Eye was next to impossible.
But Theron actually didn’t see anyone up ahead, nor did he feel anyone with his own Third Eye despite how powerful it had grown.
Indeed. It seemed that Imperial Clans couldn’t be underestimated.
Theron reacted in the opposite way one would ever expect. He tapped a foot and accelerated, his body weight plummeting until he felt almost as light as a feather again. He skated across the ground, his feet moving so fast it hardly looked like he was touching the polished marble.
In an instant, he had crossed the hallway, only to reach an ending where blaring sounds assaulted his ears from all sides.
He hadn’t forgotten who he was fighting. The Sangun, so well known for their sound spells… how could they not use them here?
But Theron, with Manaborn Water Resonance, was already capable of negating their effects. Now? He had both the experience and far greater strength.
A rippling wall of water appeared around him in an instant, forming peaks and valleys as the sound waves were trapped within. The churning waters trapped and then reflected the sound waves, causing the formations crafting them to shatter to pieces.
Suddenly, the dark hallway was illuminated, and a small squadron of what must have been 50 or so Imperial Guards—all of Gold Mancy, and each one trained to be the elite of the elite—stood, protecting the Empress, who stood with bow in hand.
But Theron was nowhere to be seen.