Boundless Evolution: The Summoning Beast
Chapter 44: The Valen Estate

Chapter 44: The Valen Estate

The guards at the outer gate gave them a brief once-over before stepping aside, allowing them entry. As they passed through, the cool air of the estate grounds felt heavier, carrying the weight of history with every step.

Boy’s gaze lifted, drinking in the sheer grandeur of the estate as they entered.

The estate bore a striking resemblance to Lady Elaria’s grand residence, yet it was grander, and heavier in presence.

Towering marble pillars lined the entrance, supporting intricately carved archways that whispered of centuries past. Sprawling balconies overlooked the vast manicured gardens, where enchanted lanterns flickered softly against the evening air.

Stained-glass windows, painted in the hues of dusk, caught the waning sunlight, casting vivid, shimmering patterns across the estate’s pristine white stone walls.

A sharp, sudden pain pulsed through his head, like the echo of a memory long buried.

His breath hitched, his vision wavering for a fraction of a second as fragmented images flickered at the edges of his mind—faces lost to time, voices swallowed by war.

The weight of the estate, the grandeur, and the history pressed down on him, stirring something old and unwanted within.

But he thought of Raegan—the way he taught him about life and gave him an approach to take on life and how life was worth more than just survival.

Boy exhaled slowly, forcing his mind and tense muscles to relax. He wanted to be more than just the person who simply endured. He wanted to be more than just someone who endured and fought for survival. He could be more and he had to believe it.

’You need to fight through it,’ he mentally told himself.

The past would always be with him, but it did not have to define him. He lifted his gaze once more and moved forward, leaving the shadows behind.

They rode deeper into the majestic courtyard, where a pristine white stone fountain dominated the center, its cascading waters sculpted into a pair of celestial beings locked in an eternal dance.

The sound of flowing water wove through the quiet hum of the estate, lending it an almost sacred stillness. Around them, rows of ivory lilies, deep crimson roses, and iridescent blue blossoms wove a natural mosaic of floral patterns, the sigils of Valen’s noble lineage subtly imprinted in their arrangement.

There was an undeniable weight to the place. Despite its beauty, the estate carried a solemn air—a silence that felt like a lingering echo of those who once stood here, of a name that bore history upon its shoulders.

At last, the massive mahogany doors, their silver inlays gleaming under the lantern light, swung open.

The entrance hall beyond was no less impressive—towering columns lined its path, their marble surfaces etched with the sigils of the Valen family. Enchanted chandeliers of floating crystal hovered above, casting golden halos of light across the polished floors.

A steward greeted them at the entrance, his voice composed yet edged with urgency, "Lord Valen awaits you inside."

The group dismounted, their boots meeting the cold, polished stone as they made their way into the main hall. The tension in the air was palpable—something was coming, something they all felt but had yet to name.

Lord Bennet Valen was already deep in discussion with his advisors, his voice sharp as he addressed the ongoing proceedings of the day, "Captain Voss, reinforce the eastern perimeter by nightfall. Scouts have reported Hollow Fang agents moving through the trade routes, disguising themselves as merchants. If they gain a foothold in Westreach, we could lose control of our supply lines. We cannot allow that."

He then turned his gaze to his left, talking to another person, "Master Fenwell, I want all intelligence gathered on The Hollow Fang compiled and delivered before dawn. Every suspected safe house, every informant, every missing soldier—we cannot afford gaps in our knowledge."

The advisors nodded, quickly scribbling notes and exchanging murmured discussions.

But just then, the double doors to the main hall swung open, revealing Boy and his party walking into a grand chamber lined with strategic maps, correspondence, and documents scattered across a long wooden table.

Bennet’s gaze flicked to the side as the doors opened, but his voice remained steady, "And if the Hollow Fang disrupts supply lines in the east, I want a contingency plan in place by dawn. We cannot afford another delay."

Only then did he turn, his expression unreadable. The war could wait. This could not.

Boy looked around as he entered the room. It was bustling with quiet urgency, advisors hunched over plans, scribes marking key locations on maps, and soldiers whispering amongst themselves about the state of the war.

At its center, a man stood, his fingers tracing the map before him with an intensity that spoke of sleepless nights and a mind burdened by war.

Lord Bennet Valen looked like he was in his early thirties, his once-polished demeanour replaced with the rough edge of wartime necessity. His dark hair was unkempt, and shadows lingered beneath his eyes. Yet despite his exhaustion, his presence filled the room, commanding attention without the need for words.

Boy’s gaze sharpened as he looked upon Bennet, and for a brief moment, he was staring at Darius himself.

Everything about him—his stance, his sharp calculating gaze, his aura of quiet authority—was an exact reflection of Darius. The realization sent a shiver through Boy’s core. Like father, like son.

"I did not expect to have guests today, especially not from the military headquarters," Bennet spoke, "Tell me, what have you guys come for?"

Raegan stepped forward, his usual lighthearted demeanour absent "We bring news from Windbreak Stronghold."

At this, Bennet immediately stilled. The room, which had been filled with the steady rustle of documents and the hushed voices of war strategists, went completely silent.

His sharp gaze locked onto Raegan, and for the first time, his unreadable expression cracked. "My father... What of him?"

Raegan hesitated for a brief moment before exhaling. His voice was quieter this time, reluctant, as if forcing the words out. "Darius Valen... is dead."

The words struck like a blade. For a moment, the world around him dulled, the movement of advisors and soldiers fading into the background.

His father, Darius Valen—the man who had played such an important role in shaping this kingdom to what it is today—gone?

Impossible. No, unthinkable.

A trickle of heat surged into his fingers, curling them into a fist against the polished wood of the war table.

If his father had fallen, then Eldoria had lost more than just a warrior—it had lost its foundation.

Everyone in the room was affected- a steward near the entrance, his grip tightening around the parchment he held, his knuckles white. One of the younger advisors looked up from his notes, mouth slightly open as if about to speak, but no words came.

A veteran soldier standing by the doorway stiffened, his hand hovering over the hilt of his sword—not out of aggression, but out of instinct, as if his body refused to accept what his mind had just heard.

The room seemed to contract in on itself, as if even the walls had frozen at the words. A deep silence followed, stretching endlessly.

He reached into his satchel, pulling out a folded, battle-worn cape—Darius’s, the insignia of the Valen family still embroidered into its fabric.

Raegan unfolded the fabric slowly, the rich crimson dulled by battle, stained with dirt, dust, and something darker.

The insignia, once vibrant, was worn with age, the golden thread frayed in places. It smelled of war, of smoke and blood—a relic of a man who had once seemed invincible.

Then came the crystal.

It pulsed faintly in the dim hall, an eerie glow flickering beneath its surface. Energy hummed from within, like an echo from the past trying to break free. The weight of it in Raegan’s hands felt unnatural, too heavy for something so small. As if the truth it carried was too much for this world.

He held it up before putting it on the table and meeting Bennet’s gaze, "This was brought by the two summons, recovered from the battlefield."

Bennet’s breath hitched for a fraction of a second before his expression hardened. When he finally exhaled, it was through clenched teeth. His posture did not break, his body did not falter, but the weight in his gaze was undeniable.

His fingers hovered over the cape, trembling ever so slightly, before curling into a fist at his side. His throat bobbed, as if he was trying to swallow down something too bitter to bear. The grief was there—raw, sharp—but it was buried almost as soon as it surfaced.

Bennet clenched his jaw, his fingers curling tighter over the table’s edge. The silence dragged on, pressing against the room like a weight no one dared to lift. His breath was slow, measured, but each exhale was sharper than the last.

For the first time, Bennet felt it—not just the weight of his duty, but the emptiness left in its wake. His father had always been there, a towering figure in his life, in this kingdom. And now... now there was only silence.

But he could not afford to be silent.

Not now.

Not yet.

Bennet exhaled slowly as jaw clenched, his gaze flickering toward the door, already knowing what had to be done.

"Fetch Sera immediately. Now."