CHAPTER 308: CH 308: IS IT BETRAYAL? - PART 1

Kyle stood in the cold, dimly lit prison chamber, his arms crossed as he stared down at Christan.

The young man was a mess—sweating, trembling, back pressed so firmly against the stone wall that it seemed like he was trying to disappear into it.

His eyes darted between Kyle and the flickering torches, wide with desperation.

"I didn’t do anything wrong. Someone’s tricking me! You have to believe me, Kyle!"

Christan insisted for the fifth time, his voice cracking under the weight of panic.

Kyle’s expression didn’t shift. Calm, unreadable, sharp. He spoke with the same measured tone that could lull or terrify depending on who was listening.

"You’re speaking too fast. Calm down."

Christan blinked.

"Calm down? You think I can—"

He stopped himself mid-sentence, realization dawning in his eyes. The way Kyle was standing. The way he hadn’t blinked once since entering.

The way his presence alone filled the room like a slow-rising tide, suffocating and unrelenting. Christan swallowed hard.

He calmed down. Not by choice, but out of sheer instinct to survive. His voice was smaller now.

"You’re thinking of killing me."

Kyle didn’t respond to that. He simply took a few steps closer.

The guards standing by the door said nothing—they knew better. Kyle crouched in front of Christan, eye-level now, but still somehow towering.

"You have two choices, either you give up your life, or you tell me where you got that knight from."

Kyle said softly,

"I... I didn’t... I didn’t know it was going to go like that. The corrupted mana, the divine energy—none of that was part of the deal."

Kyle’s eyes narrowed.

"Deal with who?"

Christan’s lips trembled.

"It was someone... someone who approached me weeks ago. He said he could help me prove my strength. He said he could provide someone—someone strong—who would win any fight I was in."

"Name."

Kyle demanded.

"I don’t—he said to call him ’Envoy.’ I don’t know who he really is!" Christan’s hands tightened into fists. "But I can tell you where I met him. It was—"

That’s when it happened.

Kyle felt it before anyone else. The shift in the air. The subtle, sharp sting of divine power rushing into the confined space. His body moved without thought, aura flaring to block it. But it was too late.

A sliver of radiant light, laced with divine malice, pierced through the wall like a lance. It struck Christan in the chest before Kyle’s mana shield could fully form.

"No—!"

Kyle lunged forward, but the light had already finished its task.

Christan choked, blood dribbling from his mouth as he looked at Kyle with a mixture of horror and betrayal.

"I—I didn’t..."

His words died with him.

The guards gasped. One stepped forward, then faltered.

"L-Lord Kyle..."

Kyle held Christan’s lifeless body in his arms, his brows furrowed, mouth pressed into a thin line. The divine residue was still lingering, proof that this wasn’t just a random incident.

Someone—no, something—had silenced Christan. A god, most likely. A god that didn’t want the truth revealed.

Kyle slowly laid Christan’s body down on the floor and stood. His back was straight, shoulders tense with fury.

"Get the court mage. I want a trace on that divine signature. Now."

he said quietly.

"Yes, my lord!"

One of the guards replied and rushed out.

The others remained frozen in place, watching as Kyle wiped the blood off his fingers with a handkerchief, calm but seething.

"Seal this room. No one goes in or out without my permission."

"Yes, my lord."

As Kyle stepped out of the prison, the echo of divine interference still rang in his ears. This wasn’t just about Christan anymore. This was a message.

’We’re watching you.’

Kyle didn’t flinch. He welcomed it. The gods had just declared war again—and this time, it was personal.

The prison chamber was quiet now, the divine light that had pierced through Christan gone as if it had never existed.

Only the lingering traces of divine mana clung to the air, thick and acrid, a reminder of what had just occurred. Kyle stood still, his gaze fixed on Christan’s lifeless body.

One of the guards near the doorway hesitantly stepped forward and cleared his throat. "Lord Kyle... should we inform the others about Lord Christan’s death?"

Kyle closed his eyes for a long moment, his shoulders rising and falling with a tired sigh.

"No. Not yet. I’ll tell them myself. There’s no need to cause unnecessary panic."

He said quietly, opening his eyes once more.

The guards exchanged uncertain glances but nodded. Kyle’s tone was calm, but the quiet weight behind his words demanded obedience.

They backed away respectfully, understanding that their young master would handle this in his own way.

Kyle turned back toward Christan, walking slowly until he stood directly over him. The once-proud brother now lay still, eyes wide open and expression frozen in fear.

Divine energy still lingered around the corpse, shimmering faintly in the low light like fog over still water.

"Fool."

Kyle muttered under his breath—not just at Christan, but at himself. He had come to interrogate, to uncover the truth, to corner the enemy that had crept too close.

But the gods, always watching, always plotting, had acted faster than expected.

’I was careless.’

He knelt beside the body, hand reaching toward the center of the chest where the divine mana was pooling unnaturally.

His fingers brushed the aura, trying to latch onto the source—trying to understand where it had come from.

But the divine power slipped past his grasp like smoke, dispersing before his eyes.

"Damn it."

Kyle growled, rising to his feet. He closed his eyes and focused his senses, trying to chase the direction the divine energy had fled to—but it was no use. It was already gone.

It hadn’t vanished entirely, though. Kyle could feel it, still lingering somewhere in the world, scattered and detached.

There was no anchor for it now. It had done its job. Killed the witness. Destroyed the lead.

Left Kyle with a corpse and no proof.

’It was too clean. Too calculated.’

He clenched his fists, the quiet fury in his heart pulsing stronger than the divine residue in the air.

He stood over Christan for several more minutes, silently promising himself this would not happen again.

He had underestimated just how desperate the divine had become. They were no longer watching—they were actively interfering.

This wasn’t just a loss of a brother.

This was a warning.

’They’re willing to destroy their own pieces now. That means they’re scared.’

Kyle stopped at the threshold, glancing back one last time at Christan’s pale face. There had been a chance—however slim—that Christan had truly been nothing more than a pawn, fed dreams of succession and power by someone who wanted to drive a wedge between the Armstrongs.

And now he was dead before Kyle could get the full truth.

He stepped out into the hallway, the guards parting for him without a word. They could sense the shift in him. A deeper resolve. A colder edge.

The war with the divine wasn’t coming.

It had already begun.

And Kyle knew now—more clearly than ever—that one moment of carelessness could cost lives. Christan had been the price this time. He wouldn’t allow it again.

"Double the guards at the estate. No one goes in or out without direct permission."

Kyle instructed calmly.

"Yes, Lord Kyle."

Kyle continued walking down the corridor, already forming plans in his mind. He would inform the others soon—after the divine remnants were sealed and after Queen finished its scan.

But from this point onward, his enemies would learn—

Mortals didn’t fall so easily.

And gods?

Gods bled too.