Approaching the Stronghold, Val noted countless tents clustered around its base. These makeshift homes belonged to those seeking refuge within the fortress but couldn’t reside inside due to strict regulations. Furthermore, If you are caught staying illegally in the stronghold, you will be thrown out, and inspection happens regularly, so there is no use sneaking inside.
Dressed entirely in black, face obscured by the hood of his windbreaker, Val cut an intimidating figure. The children frolicking around the slum area wisely steered clear of him.
However, a burly thug, sizing up Val’s windbreaker, rose with the intention to rob him, only to be restrained by a more experienced crook.
“Why?”
The experienced crook’s response was simple: if you value your life, don’t bother him. Anyone who could roam among the undead at night and return alive is not to be trifled with.
His keen nose had picked up the scent of the Walking Dead clinging to Val. That’s why he could tell that Val was returning from the land of the dead.
It was still half an hour away from sunrise. At night, no sane person would dare to leave the protection of the stronghold. Yet, Val had done it. What did that make him? It made him a very dangerous person!
“Thanks. You saved my life.”
After hearing what was said, the thug who had stood up to loot Val sat down.
Val cast an indifferent glance at the thugs, causing a shiver to creep up their spines, but he didn’t do anything else. If these bastards had dared to trouble him, he would have killed them, but since they haven’t, he spared them.
He took back his gaze and advanced to the Stronghold’s gates. When he left for the ShadowFall City, Val had flanked over the walls to avoid being detained, but his entrance through the main gate didn’t go unchallenged.
The guard on duty halted him.
The guard scrutinized Val, asking, “State your name and purpose.”
In response, Val pulled back his hoodie, revealing his face. Recognition instantly dawned on the guard’s face.
“Master Val, welcome back,” the guard said, immediately stepping aside to allow him entry.
Val was ushered back into the stronghold, not with a welcoming party but a terse group from the Whitemore family’s private forces. They gripped him firmly and brought him back to the manor rather forcefully, signifying the seriousness and the gravity of the situation.
The reason behind such urgency unravelled soon enough. His father, Joshua Whitemore, had deployed the bloodline users from the family to search for him after he found out that he was missing.
Apparently, he had suspected that Val might attempt to flee from his responsibilities, leading to the family butler, Reignarld, checking up on him in the dead of night.
Val’s absence in his room led to a full-scale search for him within and outside the stronghold.
“Young master, you’ve stirred the hornet’s nest this time. Master Joshua is livid,” Reignarld informed him gravely.
“No worries, Reignarld. His anger will subside soon,” Val responded with unnerving calmness.
Upon reaching the manor, Val was led into a familiar study where Joshua waited, his stern gaze heavy with unspoken questions.
“Where have you been?” he demanded, his voice ringing in the silent room.
“I was in the Evernight Forest, testing the extent of my newfound powers.” Val replied calmly.
Val dared to reveal that he had become a bloodline user as he had already increased his stats to a point where he could fool his father into believing that he had awakened the Whitemore bloodline.
The Whitemore bloodline in the early stages, 1-3, only increased the body’s strength. The increase depended upon the quality of the bloodline. The higher the quality, the more powerful one would be, and the greater the chance that they wouldn’t fall to the corruption of the potions needed to reach level 4. When one reaches such a level with the Whitemore Bloodline, they would develop characteristics unique to the Whitemores.
The declaration dumbfounded Joshua. His jaws dropped, and his mouth opened wide enough for a fly to enter.
He stammered, “You… you have awakened as a bloodline user? But that’s not possible…”
Val replied in a unique way.
Picking up a sturdy, metallic paperweight from the desk, Val casually exerted force, and the solid object crumpled in his grip as if it were made of tin foil. He tossed it onto the table, where it landed with a dull clink.
“Do you still think it’s impossible?” he asked, grinning confidently. 𝑂𝒱𝐥xt.𝗇𝓔t
Joshua glanced at the deformed metal, then back at his son, grappling with the reality of what he was seeing.
His mind raced as he tried to make sense of this revelation, but only one thought came in mind.
‘I fucked up!’
‘I fucked up big time!’
Joshua had already sent word to the Queen, declaring that he would be sending his second son, Val V. Whitemore, to the Northern Frontier. This was no different than a pledge etched in stone, and it had been made even before Val had been privy to this impending assignment. Any promise once pledged to the sovereign was indelible, its withdrawal akin to an act of treason. In the kingdom’s unspoken rules, one could bear any disgrace but the stain of treachery. A man accused of such a heinous act would inevitably face the sternest consequences, perhaps even meeting a premature end.
Joshua harbored no intent to risk such dire consequences for Val’s sake, but a subtle wave of regret still seeped through his stoic exterior at the prospect of casting aside such a formidable asset.
The ability to effortlessly shatter a chunk of metal, exhibited shortly after the Whitemore bloodline’s awakening, heralded a promising future for Val. Provided survival in the impending harsh realities, he was destined to ascend to a level 4 bloodline user without a hitch, so long as he managed to secure the necessary potions to fuel the evolution of the Whitemore Bloodline.
That meant that Joshua had throw away an extremely valuable tool. What a great loss it was!
