CHAPTER 137: RIVERFALL LORD SHOCK

"And this Crown Prince Damien—how did he manage to kill a Channel Forging Realm expert?"

The voice was calm, almost thoughtful, yet each syllable carried the weight of a blade unsheathed in a dark room.

"First some incompetent Gold Rankers, and now a Channel Forging Realm expert."

The speaker chuckled softly, though there was no amusement in her eyes.

"I’m very curious to know how a mere Iron Ranker could achieve such a feat. If we can extract his secret... ah, the Blood Fang would soar to new heights."

A gleam flickered in her gaze, sharp and hungry.

"It won’t be long before the entire Wasteland bows before us."

Meanwhile, the man before her—the so-called Lord of Riverfall—was trembling like a sapling caught in the clutches of a hurricane. His shoulders quaked beneath his robes, his knees threatening to buckle with each word she uttered. His face had turned a sickly shade of white, drained of all color.

He wasn’t listening anymore.

Not really.

What mattered wasn’t her ambition. It wasn’t the Blood Fang’s dreams of domination. No—what mattered was that he, a mere city lord, was standing in the presence of one of the Seven Lords of the Blood Fang Gang.

A being who stood at the pinnacle of power in these lawless lands.

A Channel Forging Realm cultivator—a realm so distant, so untouchable, that someone like him could only gaze upon it from the depths of irrelevance. His spiritual field, though respectable by the standards of his peers, was a candle before the sun in comparison.

He dared not meet her eyes.

He dared not breathe too loudly.

Even the air around her seemed heavier, thicker, charged with some invisible pressure that made his lungs work twice as hard for half the breath.

And yet... the name she mentioned still echoed in his mind.

Crown Prince Damien.

Of course, he had heard of that name.

Who hadn’t?

Even those living under a rock in the deepest corner of the wasteland would have heard the rumors—

The lone youth who walked through the might of the Blue Hammer Empire like a blade through snow.

The man who shattered armies, who emerged from battles not just alive but untouched.

A walking calamity wrapped in royal robes.

Riverfall Lord had admired him—secretly, from afar.

Awe.

Envy.

A twinge of fear, perhaps.

But now...?

Now, faced with the Blood Fang’s interest in that very same prince, admiration gave way to dread.

He was caught between titans.

Should Damien survive, should he somehow endure the Blood Fang’s gaze, he would become something far more terrifying than he already was.

And should he fall?

Then the Blood Fang would consume whatever secret made him so formidable—and use it to conquer the lands he once sought to change.

A knot formed in the Lord’s stomach.

His tongue felt dry as sand.

What will become of Riverfall...? Of me?

Unconsciously, his throat bobbed.

He swallowed hard, as though trying to keep down the rising terror in his gut.

On one side stood the fearsome lord of the Blood Fang Gang, a being whose mere presence could twist the air with silent menace. On the other, the rising star Damien—unpredictable, enigmatic, and terrifying in his defiance.

Caught between these two titans, Riverfall Lord felt like a brittle leaf swaying on a cliff’s edge.

His future had never looked bleaker.

For now, he had no choice but to bow, to wag his tail like a faithful hound before the Blood Fang Lord, praying that this fleeting act of submission would buy him time. Maybe favor. Maybe survival.

He dipped into a low, respectful bow, then turned and took his leave, his every step measured and silent.

Click.

The heavy door closed behind him with a faint metallic snap. As he stepped into the corridor beyond, the air felt a little lighter—though only just. The hallway was lined with guards, all armored in Riverfall’s crest, eyes sharp and expressions unreadable.

But as their gazes met his, the stern façades cracked ever so slightly.

Concern glimmered behind those hardened eyes.

They had sensed it—something was off.

Riverfall Lord paused, taking in the grim smiles on their faces. They weren’t just guards. They were his men—loyal, tested, and bound to him not just by duty, but by shared history. Their silent concern warmed a part of him he had almost forgotten.

For the briefest moment, a flicker of warmth passed through his chest.

He forced a gentle smile onto his face, a subtle but reassuring gesture.

A silent "I’m still standing."

Then, he turned to one of the nearest soldiers, lowering his voice just above a whisper.

"Are there any updates from Valthorn?"

The soldier straightened, shaking his head solemnly.

Riverfall’s expression fell.

His jaw tightened with quiet frustration as he slowly shook his head. Still no word...

But just as the soldier turned to return to his post, he hesitated.

Something lingered behind his eyes.

Riverfall noticed immediately.

"Speak," he said, voice low but firm.

The soldier didn’t answer. Instead, he stepped forward and reached into the side of his pack, retrieving something wrapped in protective cloth.

With careful hands, he unrolled it.

A long, elegant scroll glinted beneath the torchlight. Not just any scroll—a gilded one, rimmed with silver markings and covered in layers of protective enchantments.

Riverfall’s breath caught.

His eyes narrowed as a single word slipped from his mouth like a prayer—or a curse.

"The Revolutionary Order... of the Divine Researcher Guild."

The golden insignia at the top of the scroll was unmistakable: a radiant sun behind a serpent coiled around a sword—the mark of the Divine Researcher Guild.

His heart began to pound.

The Revolutionary Order was not something issued lightly.

In fact, it was among the rarest and most closely guarded decrees known to the continent—only authorized when the Guild had discovered something so groundbreaking, so utterly world-altering, that its very existence could shift the balance of power.

A new type of metal.

A lost divine formula.

A source of boundless energy.

Something akin to electricity.

And now... they had issued one again.

Here.

Now.

Riverfall Lord’s fingers hovered near the edge of the scroll, but he didn’t touch it.

Not yet.

His mind raced.

What could the Divine Researchers have uncovered?

And why now—when Damien was rising, and the Blood Fang had begun to move?

He could feel it.

Something monumental was about to shift beneath the surface of this world.

And he had just been handed the first piece of it.

According to the ancient historical archives, the last time a Revolutionary Order was issued by the Divine Researcher Guild was precisely 2,100 years ago—on the day when the Mage Path was fully discovered and unveiled to the world.

That discovery had changed the very course of civilization.

And now, it was happening again.

Riverfall Lord’s hands trembled uncontrollably, but his eyes burned with an almost feverish light.

In that moment, all fear evaporated—the looming threat of the Blood Fang Lord, the delicate web of political tension, the blade hanging over his head—none of it mattered anymore.

All that existed in his mind was the Order—a decree that could rewrite the foundations of power and usher in a new era.

Boom!

A sudden burst of thunder cracked through the sky like a war cry from the heavens.

In a blur of motion, Riverfall Lord moved. His figure surged forward with the fluidity of water cascading down a mountain slope—swift, unstoppable, and full of purpose.

In the blink of an eye, he appeared before the soldier and reached out with reverent care.

His fingers, usually hardened by decades of rule and battle, now trembled as they gently took the scroll from the soldier’s hands—as if he were handling the heart of a god.

Slowly, he unrolled it.

And then—

A sharp gasp escaped him, high-pitched and involuntary.

"Storage ring!"

His voice cracked under the weight of disbelief.

His eyes scanned the ornate lettering over and over again, unable to look away.

The deeper he read, the more his expression contorted. First shock, then wonder, then outright disbelief. By the end, his mouth was slightly agape, and he staggered back a step as though struck by an invisible force.

"It’s... impossible!"

His voice was hollow.

His hands tightened around the golden scroll, knuckles pale.

There was no way this was true. No way such a thing could exist. The very concept defied logic, defied every known law of spatial manipulation.

A storage artifact that required no spiritual connection.

A ring that could store not just objects—but time-sensitive constructs.

A relic said to bypass spatial law restrictions entirely.

He had read about such things only in the myths of the Pre-Era—a time before the first documented civilizations even learned to harness Amma.

He wanted to dismiss it. Laugh it off as a mistake.

But the scroll was heavy in his hands. Its metallic framework pulsed faintly, sealed with the official crest of the Guild, impossible to counterfeit.

This was real.

A hush fell upon the corridor.

Riverfall Lord stared blankly out of the nearby window, the sky dark with storm clouds, his thoughts caught in a whirlwind.