CHAPTER 77: FATHER AND SON

The morning sun cast long shadows across the Kaiser estate’s cobblestone courtyard as Finn approached the main house with purposeful strides.

His weathered boots struck the stone with rhythmic precision, each footfall echoing off the estate’s towering walls like a countdown to something inevitable.

"THUD!"

"THUD!"

"THUD!"

The sound carried through the morning air, drawing the attention of servants who quickly stepped aside. Even after weeks of living at the estate, Finn’s presence commanded a mixture of respect and wariness.

His scarred face and the subtle aura of barely contained violence that surrounded him marked him as someone not to be trifled with.

Duke Alaric Kaiser stood on the main balcony overlooking the training grounds, his golden eyes tracking his son’s progress as Jack worked through another of Sera’s brutal conditioning routines.

"CRACK!"

"WHAP!"

"THUD!"

The sounds of combat training echoed across the courtyard as Sera put Jack through his paces. Even from this distance, Alaric could see the transformation in his son’s movements.

Finn’s approach broke the duke’s contemplation. The former chosen one climbed the steps to the balcony with steady purpose, his one good eye reflecting the morning sun like polished steel.

When he spoke, his voice carried the grim satisfaction of a hunter who had finally tracked his prey.

"My lord," Finn said, offering a respectful bow that somehow managed to convey both deference and equality. "I have news about our mutual friend George."

Alaric’s expression darkened at the mention of the escaped prisoner, dark mana swirling more aggressively around his form. The duke’s jaw tightened as old anger stirred in his chest like embers being fanned into flame.

"Speak," Alaric commanded, his voice carrying the authority of absolute power barely restrained.

"Three territories over," Finn replied, his scarred features settling into grim lines. "The bastard’s been clever about covering his tracks, but not clever enough. He’s got a family now, a woman and two children who don’t know what kind of monster they’re sheltering."

"CRACK!"

The sound of Alaric’s knuckles popping filled the air as the duke’s hands clenched into fists. Dark energy writhed around his form like living shadows, making the morning air thick and oppressive.

"Moving on, you said?" Alaric’s voice was dangerously quiet, the kind of tone that made experienced warriors reach for their weapons.

"Within the next few days," Finn confirmed. "If I leave now, I can intercept him before he disappears again. This might be our only chance to settle the matter permanently."

Alaric nodded slowly, his golden eyes reflecting the cold calculation that had made him one of the most feared nobles in the kingdom. "Do what needs to be done, Finn. Lady Genevieve’s... displeasure with his continued existence has been quite clear."

George had made his choice when he fled justice, and that choice had consequences that transcended simple imprisonment.

"I’ll need to leave immediately," Finn said, already turning toward the stairs. "Every hour of delay increases the chance he’ll slip away again."

"Take whatever resources you need," Alaric replied with finality. "Horses, gold, contacts in neighboring territories. Whatever it takes to end this matter permanently."

Finn’s smile was sharp as a blade’s edge, all teeth and promised violence. "Understood, my lord. George won’t be a problem much longer."

The former chosen one descended the stairs with the same purposeful stride that had brought him to the balcony, his form disappearing into the estate’s interior as he prepared for a journey that would end in blood and justice.

Alaric remained on the balcony, his gaze returning to the training grounds where his son continued to push the boundaries of human endurance under Sera’s merciless guidance.

The sight filled him with a mixture of pride and concern that had become increasingly familiar since Jack’s awakening.

"WHOOSH!"

"CRACK!"

"THUMP!"

The sounds of intensive training continued to echo across the courtyard, punctuated by Sera’s sharp commands and occasional corrections delivered through the pointed end of her practice spear.

It was perhaps ten minutes later when Jack finally broke free from his training session, approaching the balcony with a confident stride.

Sweat beaded his forehead and his training clothes were soaked through, but his breathing remained controlled despite the obvious exertion.

"Father," Jack called up, his voice carrying clearly across the morning air. "Do you have a minute? There are some things we need to discuss."

Alaric gestured for his son to join him on the balcony. When Jack reached the balcony, the duke could see the subtle changes that weeks of intensive training had wrought.

His son’s frame had filled out with the lean muscle of a warrior.

"What’s troubling you, my boy?" Alaric asked, though something in Jack’s expression suggested he already had a good idea of what was coming.

Jack moved to stand beside his father at the balcony railing, his gaze sweeping across the estate grounds with the automatic vigilance that Sera had beaten into him through countless hours of situational awareness training.

"Last night," Jack began carefully, "I was approached by some unusual individuals. Religious fanatics from Sanctorium who seem to believe I’m some kind of prophesied divine avatar destined to reshape reality."

Alaric’s expression darkened considerably, dark mana swirling more aggressively around his form as implications clicked into place in his mind. "Children of the White Lightning," he said grimly. "I should have expected this. News of your dragon slaying has spread far beyond our borders."

"You know about them?" Jack asked, though his tone suggested he wasn’t entirely surprised.

"Religious extremists who believe that lightning users are divine instruments sent to fulfill ancient prophecies," Alaric replied with distaste. "They’ve been growing bolder in recent years, claiming that the end times approach and that their chosen saviors will emerge to guide the faithful through cosmic tribulation."

The duke turned to face his son directly, his golden eyes blazing with parental concern mixed with political calculation. "What did they want from you, specifically?"

"They want me to travel to Sanctorium," Jack said, his voice steady despite the magnitude of what he was revealing. "To visit their Sacred Observatory and learn about supposedly ancient prophecies that detail my cosmic destiny."

"CRACK!"

The sound of Alaric’s knuckles popping echoed across the balcony as his hands clenched the balcony causing cracks in the marble structure. Dark energy writhed around him like living shadows, making the morning air thick with barely contained violence.

"Absolutely not," the duke said with finality. "Religious fanatics who kidnap young nobles and fill their heads with delusions of divine purpose. I’ve seen what happens to people who fall under their influence. They become tools for agendas they don’t understand."

"I’m not planning to follow them blindly," Jack assured him. "But they knew things, Father. Details about the assassination attempt from my childhood that should have been family secrets. They spoke of Valderon the Usurper as if he were still active, still sending agents to interfere with supposed prophecies."

Alaric went completely still, every muscle in his body tensing like a coiled spring. When he spoke, his voice carried the deadly quiet of barely restrained fury.

"What exactly did they say about Valderon?"

"That his spirit endures, bound by chains of ambition and hatred that transcend mortal limitations," Jack replied, watching his father’s expression grow increasingly grim. "That he sent the assassins who tried to kill me, using a blade forged in the Voidlands and blessed by entities that should not be named."

"RUMBLE!"

"CRACK!"

"HISS!"

The sound of dark mana responding to Alaric’s emotional state filled the air, making nearby windows vibrate in their frames. The duke’s face had gone completely white, his eyes wide with a mixture of shock and terrible understanding.

"This changes things," Alaric whispered, his voice barely audible despite the silence that had fallen over the courtyard. "If Valderon’s influence persists..."

He trailed off, clearly processing implications that Jack couldn’t fully grasp. When the duke spoke again, his voice carried the weight of absolute authority.

"You cannot travel to Sanctorium alone. The political ramifications alone would be catastrophic, but if these cultists possess information..."

"There’s something else," Jack interrupted, his voice taking on a more urgent tone. "The dungeons, Father. I can sense them. It’s part of my abilities as a chosen one. I can tell exactly how many enemies are contained within any dungeon in our territory."

Alaric’s attention snapped back to his son with laser focus, recognizing the shift to more immediate concerns. "What do you sense?"