CHAPTER 166: THE PRICE OF A SOVEREIGN'S PRIDE

The forest beneath the crags of the central steppes was silent, bathed only in pale, cold moonlight. Deep within the shadow of an ancient oak, Vanya crouched silently, her fingers tight around her twin curved daggers. Beside her, three veteran Shadowblades from the outer clan hunting packs held their breath, their violet eyes fixed on the forest trail below.

"Five beads for a standard Sentinel," one of the hunters whispered, his voice trembling with a mixture of fatigue and manic hunger. "How many for him?"

Vanya’s gaze locked onto the armored figure riding at the center of the squad. He did not wear the standard mithril plate of the Sun-Gilded Sentinels. His armor was forged from radiant, sun-etched gold, draped in a crimson silk cloak bearing the personal crest of the Solarian High Command.

"High Captain Caelen," Vanya murmured, her eyes narrowing. "Lorien’s trusted vanguard commander. The Citadel’s bounty ledger places a high officer's head at thirty Obsidian Beads."

The hunters swallowed hard. Thirty beads. It was enough pure, dark mana to fuel their Moon Flame Art for months, keeping their internal flames roaring and pushing their cores toward another breakthrough.

High Captain Caelen rode proudly, his long sword sheathed at his side, radiating an oppressive aura of solar magic. Six Sun-Gilded Sentinels flanked him, their shields raised, their golden eyes scanning the treeline in visible paranoia. The silent, cold assassinations of the past three days had thoroughly shattered the vanguard’s arrogance.

"They are spooked," Vanya whispered. "Stay tight. Use the void-phase."

Caelen raised his hand, halting his squad. "Keep your light shields up," he ordered, his voice laced with aristocratic disgust and rising fear. "The dark scum are lurking in these woods. High Lord Lorien wants the perimeter cleared before sunrise. If any of those subterranean rats show themselves, incinerate them."

"Too slow, High Elf," Vanya sneered under her breath.

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She dropped her body low into the Flow Step. The dark mist of the Moon Flame Art surged through her channels, her movements instantly blurring into a phantom-like speed.

Crack.

Before the Sentinels could react, four shadows detached from the canopy.

Vanya appeared directly behind High Captain Caelen, her twin daggers flashing like black arcs in the night. The dark energy shrouding her steel bit deep into the officer's neck seam, bypassing his radiant solar barrier before he could even draw his blade. Blood sprayed across his crimson cloak as Caelen gasped, his golden eyes wide with utter shock.

"Ambush!" a Sentinel screamed, drawing his greatsword.

The three dark elf hunters struck like ravenous wolves. They did not fight with noble martial form; they fought with the ruthless, desperate efficiency of assassins hunting a prize. Daggers coated in spider venom slid through armor joints; shadow-arrays muffled the sound of clashing steel; void-step movements left the Sentinels striking air.

In less than two minutes, the forest returned to total silence.

Vanya stood over Caelen’s fallen body, wiping dark blood from her daggers. She reached down, cleanly severing the high captain's head, and placed it into a heavy leather sack beside the six other golden helmets.

"Collect the rest," she commanded coldly. "We return to the Citadel before dawn."

An hour later, high atop the granite battlements of the Obsidian Citadel, Caius stood looking out over the valley. Beside him, Old Bones leaned against the stone parapet, a raspy chuckle escaping his throat as Vanya’s hunting pack scaled the fortress wall and dropped their bloody harvest onto the stone floor.

Caius looked down at the severed head of High Captain Caelen. A cold, satisfied smirk touched his lips.

"Thirty beads for the high captain," Caius said smoothly, tossing a heavy velvet pouch to Vanya. "Plus fifteen for his squad. You've earned your pay."

Vanya caught the pouch, her hands trembling slightly as she felt the sheer, concentrated umbral power radiating from inside. She bowed deeply. "My Lord. The vanguard is in total disarray. Their scouts refuse to march without full regiment formations."

"Good," Caius replied, turning his gaze toward the horizon. "High Lord Lorien wanted a war of extermination. Instead, his pride is being bled dry piece by piece."

Old Bones adjusted his long saber, his scarred face illuminated by the distant glow of solar magic gathering miles away. "He won't wait much longer, My Lord. Losing his high captain and nearly half his Sentinels before reaching your gates, Lorien's rage will consume his judgment."

Caius’s violet eyes burned with a pale, lethal light as he looked back down at the valley.

"Let him come in a rage," Caius murmured softly. "A blind enemy is the easiest one to lead into a slaughter."