Sullivan was watering his plants when a loud cracking sound made the glass windows ahead of him tremble.

  He froze, the watering can still in his hand, then slowly set it aside. His steps were careful as he walked toward the far wall of the garden, stopping in front of one of the tall glass windows. From there, he had a clear view of the sky beyond the palace.

  The wards were lit up again.

  Layers over layers of light shimmered across the sky, shaking as spells and mana beams slammed into them from all sides. Explosions bloomed against the invisible barrier, sending shockwaves that rippled through the air. Even inside the palace, Sullivan could feel the faint tremor pass through the stone beneath his feet.

  His eyes searched the sky out of habit.

  He looked for Arzan.

  He didn’t see him.

  That had become common over the last day. Every time the wards flared, Sullivan found himself searching for the familiar figure in the air, half-expecting to see him hovering there like before. But Arzan never appeared. Either he was conserving his mana, or Sullivan’s eyes were finally failing him.

  He doubted it was the latter.

  A faint smile tugged at his lips, tired and heavy with regret. He knew he would see Arzan soon enough. And when that time came, he would tell him what he had carried in his chest for over a week now—that he forgave him for killing Thalric, and that he had done well trying to end the civil war before it consumed the kingdom whole.

  Even trapped in this garden, Sullivan was far from ignorant. News reached him every day, carried by those who still remembered who he was. He knew how the war had moved. He knew who had fallen. And now, finally, the war had reached his doorstep.

  Sullivan watched the wards shake under the barrage and let out a slow breath.

  Until now, he had been little more than a name—alive, but powerless. A former king who could not command, a man who could only watch. But as the palace trembled and the sky burned, he knew that moment had passed.

  It was time for him to act.

  Not for pride or revenge, but just so this would end. So fewer people would die.

  He had never imagined he would have to make such a choice. Yet fate had a cruel way of forcing men into roles they never wanted. Sullivan blamed himself for this war—for being too weak, too slow, too hesitant while his kingdom tore itself apart under his rule.

  If his next move ended his own bloodline, so be it, because If the kingdom survived, that would be enough.

  As that thought settled in his mind, the soft sound of footsteps reached his ears.

  Sullivan turned his head.

  Roderic approached him a moment later. The Knight bowed as usual, but Sullivan could tell at once that this report would not be like the others. There was a tension in Roderic’s eyes, a flicker that had not been there before.

  “Your Majesty,” Roderic said in greeting. “There's an uproar in the castle, and rumours are quickly spreading about Regina and Eldric.”

  Sullivan raised an eyebrow. “What rumors?”

  “The maids are whispering about a battle in Regina’s chambers,” Roderic replied. “Several Knights were found dead there. Their bodies were taken away by the servants and Regina is blaming Eldric. The atmosphere in the castle is tense—more than usual, partly due to the rumours and also because of the assault on the wards. Eldric is said to be locked in the dungeons. Even Duke Renard and the other nobles haven’t been allowed to see him. They’re speaking only with Regina now, discussing how to deal with Duke Arzan.”

  Sullivan’s expression darkened. “Was Eldric in Regina’s rooms when the bodies were recovered?”

  “There’s no confirmation,” Roderic said. “But… it seems likely.”

  Sullivan closed his eyes and let out a slow sigh, scratching at his beard. “Eldric…” he murmured. “He was never one to think things through, but still, trying to kill Regina is foolish. I never expected him to attempt something like that.”

  Roderic hesitated before asking, “Do you think he’s alive, Your Majesty?”

  Sullivan opened his eyes again. “I don’t know, Roderic. I hope he is. He may be a fool, but he’s still my son. Yet if he is alive…” His voice grew quieter. “He won’t be for long. Regina values her own life above all else. Knights cannot stop her. Not even ordinary Mages—if my own experience still holds true.”

  Roderic hesitated for a moment before speaking again. “Then what are we going to do, Your Majesty? An attack on Regina was clearly not something anyone expected.”

  Sullivan nodded slowly. “It wasn’t. And now she’ll be far more vigilant. She’ll tighten her grip on the castle and crush anything she even suspects might threaten her.” He paused, his gaze drifting as old memories surfaced. “But I can’t be sure how far she’ll go.”

  He still remembered the woman Regina truly was. Ruthless. Precise. Anyone who stood in her way—subordinates, allies, even kin—had been discarded without hesitation. People were never people to her. They were tools, and broken tools were thrown away.

  But this time was surely different.

  First Veridia. Now her own son had tried to strike at her. And all of it was happening while Arzan stood just beyond the city walls.

  Even Sullivan, who had once prided himself on seeing several steps ahead, couldn’t predict how this would unfold.

  In the end, there was only one path left. Only one thing he could do.

  He turned to Roderic and said quietly, “I believe it’s time.”

  Roderic stiffened, immediately understanding. “Are you sure, Your Majesty? We haven’t tested it since you had it made, decades ago. Magic circles don't always endure.”

  Sullivan let out a short laugh. “It’s not like I ever got the chance to get a Mage to look over it. You know how closely Regina watches everything I do.”

  Then his expression grew serious. He turned back toward his plants and continued, “But if it works, it gives Arzan the perfect chance to end this war quickly. I give it a day for Regina to tighten up the security completely and get me killed. We don't have much time.”

  Roderic nodded as he walked beside him. “I understand. Still… I think it should be me who tries it.”

  Sullivan glanced at him. “In case I get scorched to death?”

  Roderic nodded once.

  Sullivan shook his head. “No. I made it for myself. If anyone is going to use it, it should be me.”

  Roderic hesitated before speaking again. “Why do you want to risk your life, Your Majesty?”

  Sullivan didn’t answer right away. He kept walking, his hands clasped behind his back as he passed rows of carefully tended plants. After a few steps, he finally said, “It’s better for me to risk mine than yours, Roderic.”

  The Knight frowned, but Sullivan continued before he could interrupt. “You’ve stood by my side for a very long time. Longer than anyone else. Regina will come for me after this, there’s no doubt about that. An attempt was made on her life. Whether I act or not, I’m already a dead man.” He stopped and looked at Roderic. “This at least gives me a chance to survive.”

  Roderic opened his mouth, clearly wanting to argue, but then closed it again. Sullivan noticed. He always did. That quiet obedience—mixed with loyalty—was why Roderic had remained at his side for so many years.

  Without another word, the two of them moved deeper into the garden.

  Sullivan had always enjoyed this place and the illusion of peace it gave him. But the garden had never been only for plants.

  Today, it would finally serve its real purpose.

  Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

  They passed thick bushes and old trees until they reached the far edge of the garden. There, a stretch of grass lay perfectly even, with a few chairs and a small table placed neatly on top. It looked ordinary—almost decorative. If not for the ward covering the city, faint sunlight might have touched this place.

  Sullivan gestured.

  Roderic stepped forward, moving the chairs and table aside. Then he crouched and peeled back the grass covering and a ritual circle showed itself.

  In the bare ground lay exposed, countless lines that crossed and curved into complex patterns. Symbols overlapped each other and joined together, forming a teleportation circle.

  Sullivan had created it decades ago, in complete secrecy. No Mages had been consulted. No advisors had even gotten an idea of it. No one else other than him and his Knight had even seen it. He might not have been a great Mage, or even a good one, but rituals had always been his strength, and teleportation circles were rituals above all else.

  Knowing that his life might one day be in danger, Sullivan had created the circle long ago. Getting it right had taken more than a year, mostly because he could only spare small pieces of time between his duties as King. Back then, he had still believed he could fix the kingdom if he tried hard enough. He had feared death in those days.

  Over the years, that fear had faded. Death was a natural part of life, and he had slowly learned to accept it. Because of that, he had never felt the need to use the circle, or even inspect it again. Perhaps that was why Regina had never discovered it.

  Only recently had he told Roderic about its existence. Sullivan had felt it then—a quiet certainty that the day would come when he would need it. Now, that day has arrived.

  As Roderic carefully dusted the ritual circle with a cloth, Sullivan reached into his pocket and took out a small orb. He pushed his mana into it, and at once the orb began to glow, giving off a deep purple light.

  Teleportation rituals were a form of spellwork that normally required a Shadow Mage and extensive preparation. Sullivan was neither. That was why he had kept the orb for decades. It was a crystallized aspect of mana, rare and valuable, holding enough power to activate the circle on its own.

  When Roderic finished cleaning the symbols, Sullivan stepped forward and placed the orb into the slot he had designed at the center of the circle. The moment it settled into place, the lines etched into the ground faintly responded.

  “Are you really sure, Your Majesty?” Roderic asked again. “Once it activates, you won’t be able to stop it. And it hasn’t been tested.”

  Sullivan smiled faintly. “It has,” he said. “But only once, many years ago. If my calculations are right, the orb should have enough power for two uses.” He then looked directly at Roderic. “If no one comes back in two days, destroy the circle and run.”

  Without waiting for a reply, Sullivan stepped into the center of the ritual and took a deep breath. Mana surged out of him in the next instant, flooding the etched lines with power. As the circle began to awaken, Sullivan wondered whether this gamble would finally pay off or cost him everything.

  ***

  Kai looked up at the sky and felt as if he were standing beneath the burst of thousands of fireworks. Hundreds of mana cannons fired at the same time, their beams slamming into the city wards. Mages supported the barrage with layered spells, adding heat, force, and pressure to the assault. Even so, the wards held firm. There were no visible cracks, no signs of weakening anywhere along their surface.

  Kai did not frown.

  He watched calmly, certain that this was only a matter of time. Wards did not fail all at once—they failed gradually. All he needed was a single fracture, one opening large enough for him to exploit. Once that happened, the Enforcers and Mages would pour through, secure the wall, and turn the siege into a direct assault. It was a simple strategy, but simplicity was often the most effective.

  Another round of bombardment lit up the sky and Killian’s voice broke through the noise. “Do you think it’s going to fall today?”

  Kai looked down on the boulder the man stood on and descended from the air, landing lightly beside him. “Unlikely,” he said. “Right now, the soldiers on the walls seem to be panicking, but they’re also relieved. No cracks means time and hope. The nobles, Eldric, Regina… they’re probably gathered somewhere, discussing counterattacks.”

  He paused, eyes still on the glowing wards.

  “But they won’t be able to do much.”

  Killian nodded. “They don’t have a Mage who can do any major damage at range without Veridia. And they’ve probably discarded their mana cannons.”

  “Precisely,” Kai said with a faint smile. “So they’ll focus on reinforcing the wards as much as they can, buying time. Meanwhile, Regina will try something else.”

  Killian frowned slightly. “A sneak attack?”

  “It’s her only option,” Kai replied. “She knows a direct clash won’t work. With the Enforcers, the balance is tipped heavily in our favor.”

  He narrowed his eyes, thinking it through.

  “That said… I can’t be completely certain. The rumors about their soldiers and Mages growing stronger worry me.”

  Killian nodded, letting out a slow breath. “I’m worried about her ambush,” he said. “All through this war, I kept expecting to come face to face with something like the blood drinkers. But it’s been too quiet.”

  Kai glanced at him. “Human Mages aren’t much of a threat to you anymore.”

  Killian shook his head. “That’s not what I mean. It’s the silence. Not knowing your enemy. The unknown is the worst thing in war.”

  Kai didn’t argue. He felt the same unease sitting heavy in his chest. He hadn’t slept properly in days, always waiting for the moment Regina would strike, wondering what kind of twisted creature she would send his way. Still, he was certain of one thing. When the wards fell, he would kill her with his own hands, no matter what tricks she tried to use.

  They stood there, watching another wave of mana beams slam into the glowing barrier, when Kai heard something.

  Voices rose from the direction of the main camp.

  Killian noticed it too. “What’s going on?”

  Kai frowned. “Let’s find out.”

  They moved at once, pushing through the ranks toward the noise. As soon as he reached the camp, Kai took to the air, rising above the soldiers to see the center of the disturbance. From above, he saw a tight circle of men, some kneeling, others backing away with tense expressions right at the edge of the camp.

  A bad feeling settled in his gut.

  He dropped down into the clearing, and the soldiers quickly stepped aside.

  And as soon as he saw what the commotion was about, it made his breath catch.

  King Sullivan lay on the ground, unmoving. His clothes were blackened and torn, his hair burned away in places. Blistered skin cracked along his arms and chest, and blood seeped through scorched flesh.

  Fuck, what the hell happened here?

  For a moment, Kai simply stared, his mind racing with questions.

  Then he shouted, “Get me the highest quality potions. Now!”

  The camp erupted into motion.

  ***

  A/N - You can read 30 chapters (15 Magus Reborn and 15 Dao of money) on my patreon. Annual subscription is now on too.

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