Free Web NovelChapter 28: Death of a Legend
Elyra nodded.
Under Xander’s precise logistical arrangements, all of his personal guards had already been systematically evacuated in small, inconspicuous detachments from Tanchapel.
Tanchapel’s physical security layout was notoriously rigid on paper, yet inherently flawed in practice. For a city of its scale, there were always undocumented subterranean channels belonging to the various factions operating in the underbelly.
In fact, Xander had pre-emptively purchased the coordinates of a highly secure sewer extraction route from the old goblin’s operation back at the storehouse, hours before the city watch had even managed to rally their forces from the northern docks last night.
After successfully purging a highly corrosive [Slime Abomination] that had historically choked the sewers beneath the northern industrial quarter, the localized watch details rarely bothered to conduct thorough sweeps of that specific drainage pipeline.
As a direct mechanical result, that forgotten brick conduit possessed a drainage valve with sufficient physical clearance for a fully equipped adult soldier to enter or leave the city limits undetected.
Bane’s Crimson Claw Syndicate held absolute operational monopoly over that specific tunnel network. He and Xander had established a functional enterprise agreement, which seamlessly allowed Xander’s Redoak Vale guards to bypass Tanchapel’s grand gates entirely.
Bearing the lighter, high-value plundered assets from Estate 31, the detachment immediately began their march back toward Greenleaf Outpost and their alternate staging grounds.
Neither Xander nor Elyra harbored a single shred of doubt regarding the absolute loyalty of those men, especially under the rigid leadership of Andre. The young garrison fighters weren’t the type to trigger an internal dispute over battlefield spoils.
"Executing a raid in that manner was entirely too reckless!" Elyra scolded Xander the moment they were behind locked doors, her voice taut with anxiety. "I am well aware of the boiling hatred you harbored toward him. He systematically poisoned the Old Lord, and his execution was entirely justified. But what occurs if the high-tier arcanists of the magistrate’s hall initiate a formal temporal investigation?"
The half-elf retainer was profoundly shaken. She had personally escorted High Official Miro’s daughter back to her residential estate early this morning to maintain their administrative cover.
Yet, by mid-afternoon, every prominent mercenary and trade guild on the continent had received a high-value bounty targeting the head of the Masked Twin Blades. It required very little intelligence to deduce who had authorized the contract.
Following a security breach of this magnitude, the private security details guarding the families of the city hall’s bureaucratic elite had automatically tripled.
"They will extract nothing," Xander replied, a faint, razor-thin smile crossing his face.
He offered no further explanation.
To the people of this era, arcanists stood at the absolute summit of civilization. Their mastery over the laws of reality was precisely why cities such as Tanchapel enjoyed decades of near-perfect internal stability. Most criminals feared steel. The truly intelligent feared divination magic.
Unfortunately for the spellcasters of the present age, the foundations of that certainty had already begun to crack.
Xander remembered it clearly from his previous life.
Approximately six months before the Great Shattering, divination magic across the continent began exhibiting inexplicable irregularities. At first, the failures were rare enough to be dismissed as interference, poor environmental conditions, or natural instability within the temporal spectrum.
Then the incidents multiplied.
Soon, even veteran diviners found themselves unable to reliably reconstruct recent events or peer into nearby futures. Entire magical academies devoted themselves to solving the anomaly, never realizing that the problem did not originate within their spells at all.
The truth was infinitely more horrifying.
The ascendant Deity of Chronos had already begun siphoning away vast quantities of the temporal energies anchoring the Arcane Reservoir itself. The cosmic frequencies that empowered prophecy, foresight, and retrocognition were slowly being drained from the world.
The gods had already made their opening move.
It was precisely because Xander possessed that historical knowledge that he could afford to act so boldly. He knew that the diviners assigned to Miller’s case would encounter interference severe enough to cripple any meaningful investigation.
Reality had already proven his calculations correct.
As for High Official Miro, the bureaucrat wouldn’t dare personally step forward to help identify Xander’s masked persona. The city watch had only mobilized because of his handwritten emergency warrant; if he admitted he had prior knowledge of the target’s movements, he would be professionally ruined for gross negligence of duty.
At most, he would utilize his private black-market assets to covertly investigate the perimeter while relying on the guild bounty to resolve the Masked Twin Blades.
However, Xander had encountered a minor anomaly of his own while tracking intelligence in a local tavern at noon. He had overheard a group of mercenaries whispering that the city watch had actually apprehended a small cabal of unhinged zealots at the northern docks last night.
Apparently, they were caught red-handed attempting to offer a living sacrifice to the [Blight Sovereign], and practically walked straight into the spears of the diverted patrols. Those cultists truly suffered from atrocious timing.
Naturally, orchestrating a massive dockside disturbance to draw away the watch had been a core pillar of Xander’s tactical blueprint. But he had never anticipated his distraction would inadvertently trigger the capture of genuine heretics.
Yet, this development served as a grim reminder to Xander. Whether it was the fanatical Serpent-Tongue Cult or the unhinged followers of the Blight Sovereign, both dark factions had actively begun accelerating their surface operations across the southern lowlands.
This implied only one thing: the most chaotic, blood-soaked era in mortal history was on the absolute precipice of igniting!
He couldn’t afford to take a single hour of rest. He had to rapidly reclaim his sovereign territory of Redoak Vale!
But before he could mobilize his martial forces, he still had to play the role of the "grieving victim" within the legal framework of the city. After all, following Miller’s total elimination, Xander stood as his sole surviving blood relative. By the laws of the magistrate, he was the absolute legal heir to Miller’s remaining earthly estate. freewёbnoνel.com
Xander was well aware that even when the city hall issued him a formal notification, the vast majority of the merchant’s liquid wealth would have already been plundered by the corrupt administrators, leaving him with nothing but administrative crumbs.
At the very least, those bureaucratic vultures didn’t completely overplay their hand, Xander thought dryly. I half-expected them to fabricate a convenient report claiming Miller’s manor had been entirely leveled by a rogue syndicate of thieves, presenting me with nothing but a chest of cold ash.
By late afternoon, Xander stripped away his blood-stained leather gear and donned a pristine, tailored set of noble vestments. It was time to shift back into the guise of a weak, physically incompetent young lord.
Accompanied by Elyra, he marched directly into the grand administrative wing of the city hall.
As his strategic calculus had predicted, the bureaucratic official overseeing the inheritance registries presented Xander with a single parchment deed: the land rights to Estate 31 within the Wealthy District. The vast hoards of precious pearls, rare relics, and fine coin that once anchored the manor were conspicuously absent from the ledger.
"Lord Xander, please accept my deepest, most sincere condolences for your tragic family loss," the official stated, his tone dripping with transparent insincerity.
Xander perfectly feigned an aura of fragile, trembling weakness, his voice cracking slightly. "Now that my uncle has been systematically butchered... my last remaining blood relative on this continent is gone. When can Tanchapel deploy the Arcane Vanguard to purge the savage gnoll pack currently defiling my ancestral castle? I desperately require the state’s military might to reclaim my birthright."
The official offered a practiced, patronizing sigh. "That request presents... an extraordinary logistical hurdle, Lord Xander. Surely you must see that dark, heretical cultists are actively roaming the lower sectors of Tanchapel, alongside bloodthirsty, rogue executioners like the monster who slaughtered your uncle’s household—the Masked Twin Blades. Our military resources are stretched to an absolute breaking point. I strongly advise that you remain patiently within the secure borders of our city for the foreseeable future. It would be most wise."
Xander allowed his face to fall into an expression of profound, crushing disappointment.
Yet internally, his analytical mind flared with sharp suspicion. Under normal political parameters, now that the bribes funded by Miller had ceased to flow, the corrupt administrators should have had absolutely no reason to deny a military sweep against a pack of marauding gnolls.
After all, Tanchapel and Redoak Vale shared a close geographical border. Allowing a ravenous pack of demi-humans to permanently fortify a strategic stronghold so close to a major trading hub was an objective national security threat to Tanchapel itself. Yet, these officials were still actively dodging the issue.
Could it be that another high-tier player within the city hall is actively eyeing the secrets of Redoak Vale, completely independent of Miller’s old network?
Xander’s intelligence metrics were entirely too high; he instantly deduced the hidden variables shifting behind the bureaucrat’s refusal.
However, he had never truly intended to rely on the corrupt steel of Tanchapel’s city watch to fight his war. Launching this formal inquiry was merely a mandatory script to maintain his noble cover, while simultaneously serving as a diagnostic probe to test the political waters. It seemed there were still multiple hidden hands attempting to manipulate the layout of the region.
Xander cast a brief, mental glance toward his translucent system layout, noting that his core directive remained entirely unchanged:
[Main Quest Active: Reclaim Your Territory]
[Time Parameters Remaining: 18 Days]
The moment they exited the heavy brass doors of the city hall, Xander immediately began calculating his next tactical progression.
Following last night’s high-velocity raid, slaughter, and systematic looting, Xander had successfully extracted a staggering amount of liquid capital from Miller’s private vaults. The collective valuation of the recovered treasures exceeded well over [100,000 Silver Pieces]!
His Redoak Vale garrison had successfully evacuated roughly one-third of the most lightweight, high-value gemstones during their ten-minute window. The remaining bulk of the heavier silver trade bars had been liquidated straight to Bane of the Crimson Claw Syndicate at a steep discount, utilizing his identity as the Masked Twin Blades.
The old goblin broker was exceptionally crafty. He possessed an innate, survivalist understanding of exactly which entities to exploit and which powerhouses to placate.
Because Xander’s physical frame had radiated an incredibly oppressive, lethal killing intent during their transaction, Bane had actually offered a remarkably fair trade ratio.
Furthermore, after witnessing the sheer lethality of the operation last night, the goblin broker had deduced that Xander commanded multiple Tier 2 Phantom Assassins as personal assets. In the high-stakes underworld of the black market, brokers operated on one absolute golden rule: never, under any circumstances, cross a master coordinator of assassins.
The old goblin had enthusiastically declared that Sir Masked Twin Blades was now considered a premier V.I.P. commercial partner of the Crimson Claw Syndicate, completely independent of the massive state bounty currently resting on his masked persona.
As a direct mechanical result of these liquidations, Xander currently commanded a personal treasury totaling [50 Gold Pieces]. When converted down into standard trading silver, it amounted to a massive war chest of [50,000 Silver Pieces].
That level of funding was more than enough to finance the immediate contract of an elite, high-tier party of freelance adventurers!
"Take this. Exactly thirty thousand silver pieces," Xander stated flatly, sliding a heavy, enchanted leather pouch into Elyra’s hands as they navigated a secluded street.
His expression turned deadly serious.
"March directly to the central Adventurer’s Guild hall and begin screening candidates. I require individuals who have fully achieved a validated, official Class status. Prioritize combat veterans with documented frontline experience, tactical squad leaders, heavily armored vanguard fighters, and mercenaries who possess their own high-grade weapons and armor. Recruit a detachment of precisely twenty elites. As for the individual contract bonuses, allocate the coin as you see fit."
The half-elf butler offered a crisp, resolute nod. Xander held immense confidence in Elyra’s administrative competency; she would execute the recruitment parameters flawlessly. If he intended to execute a successful siege to reclaim Redoak Vale, he required raw, professional steel. Relying solely on his newly equipped militia boys wasn’t a viable tactical solution.
"Young Master Xander... what are your immediate operational movements?" Elyra inquired softly.
"Me?" Xander’s lips curled into a cold, predatory smile. "I am setting out to conduct a personal reconnaissance sweep of the Redoak Vale perimeter. A proper commander always secures his own scouting data before marching his army to the field."
The bleeding rays of the setting sun cast a brilliant, amber illumination across the soaring spires of the Holy Light Citadel on the far East Coast.
Upon the highest, restricted observatory platform, a mangled corpse lay perfectly still on the stone tile, resting beside a stooped, heavily breathing old man.
Even though the legendary Grand Magus had been brought to death’s door by a lethal biological blight, his baseline combat statistics remained profoundly immense. Even after sustaining a catastrophic, un-mitigatable sneak attack from his own trusted disciple, Anthony had utilized his remaining magical reserves to utterly vaporize the traitorous vessel controlled by the Serpent-Tongue Cult.
Yet, the price of his victory was absolute. His own life-force was rapidly evaporating into the ether.
Even though the Shadow Prince was classified as a lesser deity within the current pantheon, he had been the single most terrifying legendary assassin on the continent prior to ascending to the heavens.
The poison laced upon the blade was divine in nature.
Anthony closed both of his fading eyes, his weathered skin completely covered in dark, necrotic bruising.
The spiritual voices resonating from the grand [Eyes of the Sovereign Sun] artifact had devolved into a chaotic, staticky mess, as if an immense, extra-planar force field was actively jamming the transmission grid.
He attempted to cast a high-tier mental whisper to connect with the remaining legendary-tier arcanists presiding over the neighboring regions, but an indescribable, absolute magical barrier choked the spell before it could form.
This was a flawlessly synchronized, continent-wide conspiracy.
Anthony staggered forward, his weak frame leaning heavily against the marble balustrade of the platform. From this soaring vantage point, whether one cast their gaze north toward the bustling harbors of Sailboat City or south toward the grand expanses of Jewel Bay, the entire magnificent coastline was laid bare in a single, breathtaking vista.
What an extraordinary realm we built...
The old Grand Magus stood perfectly still beneath the dying sun, his lips moving as he began to chant the final, forbidden sequence of an ancient, tier-ten self-eulogy spell.
Precisely thirty seconds later, his physical vessel collapsed over the edge of the platform, plummeting into the abyss below.
Simultaneously, a massive, pitch-black cloud formation materialized in the sky, blotting out the sun across the entire eastern hemisphere in a fraction of a second.
In that exact, world-altering millisecond, every single good-aligned living creature across the entire East Coast experienced a sudden, acute wave of agonizing psychic pain tearing through their minds.
Countless citizens of weak spiritual willpower collapsed to their knees in the streets, weeping uncontrollably without understanding the source of their grief.
Every eye turned instinctively toward the darkening eastern sky, an overwhelming, paralyzing sense of absolute shock filling their souls.
A legendary pillar of the world had just fallen!
