Reyon lay unconscious in his chamber, the room dimly lit by the soft glow of healing crystals. A team of healers worked tirelessly around him, thy casted restorative magic into his battered body. The air was thick with the scent of medicinal herbs, a testament to the severity of his injuries.
Outside the chamber, a squad of Classers stood guard, their expressions grim and resolute. The corridor was silent, save for the occasional shuffle of boots as they shifted positions. Their loyalty to Reyon had solidified, not just from his recent ordeals, but from the decisive actions he had taken before descending into the underground chambers.
Word had spread among them about the twelve corrupt nobles who had met their end under Reyon's orders. Whispers of Duke Callius's mysterious death in the royal dungeon further cemented their belief in Reyon's capabilities. Though none knew the exact methods, they understood the message: Reyon was a leader who acted with precision and purpose. Their allegiance was no longer just out of duty, but out of unwavering respect.
In the opulent halls of the royal palace, Julie sat by a grand window overlooking the sprawling gardens. A letter lay open on the mahogany table before her, the seal of the Phoenix household prominently displayed. Her eyes gleamed with satisfaction as she read the contents.
Knight Commander Phillips stood nearby, his armor gleaming even in the subdued light. Julie turned to him, a triumphant smile playing on her lips.
"The Phoenix household has responded favorably," she began, her voice laced with anticipation.
Phillips raised an eyebrow. "In what manner, Your Highness?"
"They've agreed to aid us in eliminating the Classers," she replied, tapping the letter. "A marshal from their ranks will arrive with a squad to assist in our endeavor."
Phillips nodded, absorbing the information.
Julie's expression darkened slightly. "Reyon has been a thorn in our side for too long. Using me for his schemes, orchestrating the deaths of twelve nobles, and now, even Duke Callius is dead in our own dungeon."
She clenched her fists. "It's evident that the mage you encountered during the heist of the Jewel of Elise was acting under Reyon's orders. Such audacity cannot go unpunished."
Phillips's jaw tightened at the memory of the heist. "Indeed, Your Highness. Their boldness knows no bounds."
Julie leaned forward, her eyes narrowing. "In just a week, the marshal from Phoenix will arrive. Once they're here, we'll launch our assault on the Classers' headquarters."
A sinister smile curved her lips. "And I will personally see to it that Reyon pays the ultimate price."
Three days later, in the secluded confines of his chamber, Reyon's eyes fluttered open. The ceiling above was familiar, yet the weight in his limbs reminded him of the battles he'd endured. He took a deep breath, feeling the renewed energy coursing through him.
"Ahh," he murmured, stretching cautiously. "Those were quite the fights."
Memories of the underground chambers flooded back—the relentless images, the intense battles, the near brushes with death. He swung his legs over the side of the bed, testing his strength.
"I barely made it out," he admitted to himself. "Had I continued, I would've surely met my end."
Pushing himself up, he paced the room, feeling the steady thrum of mana within him. "Before I return, I need to enhance my control over vectors."
Determined, Reyon spent the next three days in solitude. The chamber became his sanctuary as he delved deep into the intricacies of vector manipulation. Recalling the precise movements and techniques employed by his grandfather's image, he practiced relentlessly.
Mana swirled around him as he traced complex patterns in the air, each motion more refined than the last. The room pulsed with energy, a testament to his unwavering dedication.
By the end of the third day, sweat dripped from his brow, but a satisfied smile played on his lips. His control had reached new heights, and confidence surged within him.
Just as he was about to rest, the door burst open. A Classer member, breathless and wide-eyed, stood at the threshold.
"Leader!" he gasped. "There's activity outside the headquarters. The royal palace has mobilized their army against us!"
Reyon's eyes narrowed. "We should run," the member urged, panic evident in his voice.
A slow, determined smile spread across Reyon's face. "No," he said firmly. "We're not going to run."
He stepped forward, the air around him crackling with newfound power.
"We'll make them regret coming to us."