Boundless Evolution: The Summoning Beast
Chapter 46: Lady Valen Enters

Chapter 46: Lady Valen Enters

The atmosphere shifted instantly, the weight of the moment dispersing as Lady Valen entered.

Her emerald gown swept across the marble floor, each step deliberate, the rhythmic click of her heels echoing like a judge’s gavel, demanding attention.

But it was not the elegance of her attire that seized the room—it was the force of her presence, a weight that settled over them like an unspoken decree.

Her eyes locked onto the cape first, and for the briefest moment, a flicker of something broke through her rigid composure—a sharp inhale, barely restrained, as if the sight of it had struck her like a physical blow.

Then, she turned to Bennet, her gaze cold but searching, before sweeping across the room, measuring every pair of watching eyes.

A wave of silence followed her entrance, heavier than before, thick with tension that crackled in the air like the charged stillness before a thunderstorm. Even those who had moments ago spoken without hesitation found their words caught in their throats, unsure of whether to speak or stand in reverence.

She stood motionless, a living statue of poise and restraint, her hands clasped so tightly together that the faint tremble in her fingers could almost be ignored. Almost.

Then, with deliberate control, she forced herself forward, her fingers tightening into a composed grip as she approached.

Her breath was slow—measured—but her eyes betrayed her, locked onto the insignia embroidered on the fabric, lingering as though she could will reality to change.

She did not blink.

She did not break.

But the rigid set of her jaw spoke volumes, revealing the storm raging beneath her poised exterior.

No one spoke. No one dared to.

"What is all this?" she forced out, her whole body tense as she had a feeling but did not want to assume before confirming.

Bennet shifted, uneasy, his fingers pressing against the polished wood of the war table. He cast a glance at the crystal, the cape, and the insignia that lay on its surface, pulsing faintly with stored energy.

"This was recovered from Windbreak Stronghold," he said, his voice quieter now, "His final moments... they’re in the recording crystal."

Lady Valen’s gaze, still locked onto the battle-worn cape, flickered upward to meet his.

There was something unreadable in her eyes—an emotion that hovered between expectation and dread, her voice barely above a whisper, "Tell me it’s a lie."

"I am afraid not, Sera..." Bennet exhaled slowly, as if preparing himself for the words that would make it real.

His voice did not waver, but there was something heavy behind it, "Father is dead."

The words struck the air like a blade cutting through silence.

For the first time, Lady Valen’s composure faltered. Her lips parted as she asked shakily, "What happened?"

"The stronghold fell. Father fought until the last moment, ensuring that the Zavareth army would not be able to continue further. He led from the front, cutting through the enemy ranks with everything he had left, but the odds were impossible."

"What did the enemy have?" Lady Seraphina asked, wanting to know what it was that actually required Darius to give his life.

"The Zavareth army... managed to summon a dragon," Bennet spoke out as if forcing out words that were stuck in his throat, "Father held the line and the army held the line."

At this Seraphina’s face turned ashen as she could not believe what Bennet had just said... A dragon?

Such a being was something that was only heard in legends and myths, there had never been a method to summon one before. How had this happened?

Bennet, as if realising her disbelief, turned towards Boy and spoke, This summon was there when it happened—he saw it all. He fought alongside my father and was there when the insignia, the cape, and this recording device were entrusted to him. These are the final pieces left of his command, and the last remnants of his will."

Lady Valen listened in silence, her face unreadable as her attention then turned to the objects on the table. With slow, deliberate steps, she began moving toward the table, her gaze never leaving the insignia.

Each step was measured, as if she feared the moment she reached it, reality would finally become undeniable. The advisors instinctively shifted, parting slightly as she passed, their eyes tracking her movement in weighted silence.

The air grew heavier with each stride, until she finally stood before the remnants of Darius’s last stand—before the proof that he was truly gone.

Bennet stepped beside her, his shoulders squared as he stood by his wife’s side.

He exhaled sharply, pressing a palm against the table as if grounding himself. His fingers hovered near the edge of the cape, tracing the embroidered insignia without touching it.

The fabric was stiff, still carrying the scent of war—ashes, blood, and something fainter, something familiar. A long pause stretched between them before he squared his shoulders and stepped beside his wife.

Lady Valen’s eyes remained locked on the insignia, as though memorizing every stitch. Her breath shallowed as she took in every frayed thread, every faded mark of wear from countless battles.

"His insignia... untouched even in death," she murmured, voice barely audible. Her fingers trembled slightly before she drew them back, hesitant to acknowledge its reality

Her gaze then flickered to the recording crystal. The confirmation had been spoken aloud, yet it was as though she refused to accept it fully until she had seen the proof herself. Her throat moved in a slow swallow, her breath tight.

"This holds his last words? His last moments?" she asked, her voice strained.

Bennet gave a slow nod, "It does. Everything that remains of his final stand."

For a long moment, neither of them moved. The weight of what they were about to see hung between them, unspoken but understood.

The room seemed to shrink, all eyes watching, waiting. Then, as if making an unspoken decision, they reached out—together.

Together, they touched the crystal.

The moment their hands met the crystal, the room did not just fall silent—it froze.

The air thickened, as if reality itself braced for what was about to unfold.

Then, a pulse. Not light, not sound, but something deeper. A presence. The weight of a man’s final moments, pressing down upon them.

A low hum resonated in the air, crackling like distant thunder. The crystal flared, flickering like a dying ember before stabilising into a steady glow.

The air rippled as the energy inside flared to life, struggling against time itself.

The projection wavered, flickering between darkness and static, an outline of a man forming—blurred, broken—before fading again.

The crystal pulsed heavily, as if fighting to hold onto the past. Then, slowly, the image sharpened.

Then—clarity. Not just an image, but a ghost of the past, flickering between the present and what had already been lost.

Darius stood there, dust-covered, his armor stained in blood. A man already in his final moments, preserved by the cruel mercy of the crystal.

Raegan stepped back, swallowing hard, as if the sight of Darius was too much to comprehend.

Bennet’s breath caught. He had steeled himself for this moment, but nothing could have truly prepared him.

For the briefest second, it felt like his father was truly there. A man who had once seemed untouchable, now reduced to flickering light.

His grip on the table tightened, knuckles whitening against the polished wood. His jaw clenched, his fists curling at his sides.

Lady Valen did not move, but her grip on the crystal had gone rigid, white-knuckled.

Then, a voice—familiar, distant.

"Bennet. Seraphina." The voice was strong, steady, but beneath it—something else. A weight, a knowing. "If you are seeing this, then I am already gone."

And then—the recording began.