Path of the Unmentioned: The Missing Piece
Chapter 183: The One Who Started It All [7]

Chapter 183: The One Who Started It All [7]

[The Black Citadel]

The air inside the chamber was thick with the scent of damp stone and something older.

Something metallic. Like dried blood ground into the cracks of the world.

Vesper stepped out of the swirling black-red portal. His boots clicking against the polished obsidian floor.

Behind him. The rift sealed shut with a sound like a dying breath, leaving behind only silence.

The room was vast. The walls lined with flickering torches that burned with a deep crimson flame.

Shadows stretched across the jagged stone, dancing along runes etched in a language too ancient to name.

The markings pulsed faintly. Like they were breathing, or watching.

A voice echoed from the far end of the chamber.

"I thought you’d want to play a little longer."

Smooth, almost teasing. But sharp underneath.

Vesper didn’t answer right away. His hands stayed tucked in the pockets of his coat.

His posture casual, like a coiled wire pretending to be loose. The calm after a storm that hadn’t passed yet.

"No," he replied, tone flat. "Even I would have had trouble if more reinforcements showed up."

There was a pause.

"So?" the voice asked, less playful now. "Did you get the boy to sign the contract?"

Vesper exhaled through his nose, slow and quiet.

"No."

A frustrated sigh came from the corner.

"Shadow interfered again."

"She’s really persistent," the voice muttered, half to itself.

Vesper didn’t move. But something in the air shifted. The heat from the torches seemed to dim. The silence stretching just a little too long.

"I still don’t understand," the voice continued. "Why does Lord Yltharis want that boy? Why him?"

The name left his lips, and everything changed.

The room’s temperature dropped in an instant.

The flames stuttered. The runes on the wall pulsed brighter. Like they were warning him.

Vesper turned.

Slowly. Like a predator deciding whether to pounce. The air pressed in, growing heavier with each step he took.

The man who had spoken. Tall, with sharp black hair and bright green eyes. Felt it immediately.

His breath hitched. Knees bent slightly under pressure. Sweat formed at his brow as an invisible weight crushed down on him. Suffocating.

Vesper’s voice came soft and calm.

"Watch your words, Ray."

Ray’s jaw tensed.

"Don’t ever speak my lord’s name so casually again." Vesper took one step forward. The ground cracked beneath his boot.

"We don’t question him. We obey."

Ray was shaking now, though he did his best to hide it. He clenched his fists. Forcing himself to look Vesper in the eye.

"I get it," he said through gritted teeth. "Now retract your mana pressure."

The moment hung.

Then Vesper waved his hand, and the pressure vanished.

Ray staggered back a step. Pulling in air like he’d been drowning.

His shoulders rose and fell with each breath. He rolled his neck, trying to shake off the lingering tension.

His expression was calmer now. But his eyes still burned with quiet rage.

’I’ll kill him one day’, he thought, the words silent in his mind.

But aloud, he asked, "What happened to that Grade 3 Radiant cultist?"

Vesper didn’t answer right away.

He turned from the room’s dim center. Walking toward the far wall where a large obsidian mirror loomed.

Its surface was strange. Pitch black and cold, like a pool of still water with no bottom.

It reflected nothing. Not Vesper. Not the flickering torches behind him. Just a void.

"Seraphina Vaelstryx killed him," he said at last, his voice flat and quiet. "We underestimated her."

Ray let out a slow sigh, moving a hand through his hair.

"Again. My face was the one to die. Why does Zareth always choose me as the base for his disguises?"

Vesper didn’t respond. His reflection in the mirror shimmered at the edges. Warped and blurry. Like the glass refused to accept him.

Ray, then added with a dry smirk, "She’s a thorn in our side, that one."

"We’ll get more chances to reach the boy," Vesper said, still staring into the blackness.

Ray raised an eyebrow. "Assuming that damn Shadow doesn’t show up again."

At that, Vesper lifted a hand. His fingertips grazed the mirror’s surface.

It rippled. Gently, like disturbed water. A low hum filled the air.

"She won’t always be there to protect him," Vesper said quietly.

The words settled between them.

Then, without warning. The mirror’s dark surface shimmered.

The ripples grew deeper, swallowing the reflection entirely. Vesper stepped forward and vanished into the darkness, leaving no trace behind.

The mirror became solid again. Cold, unmoving, and silent.

Ray stood alone now. The chamber quiet except for the faint crackle of crimson torchlight along the walls.

The red glow flickered across his face.

He cracked his neck and muttered under his breath. "Persistent shadow, underestimated Seraphina... and now I have got another dead double lying around."

His voice echoed lightly.

"This mission is a mess."

Still. He didn’t waste time standing around.

With one final glance at the dark mirror. Ray turned on his heel and walked toward the chamber doors.

They creaked open with a low groan. Revealing a corridor lit with more of those strange, unmoving flames.

They didn’t flicker or sway. Just burned steadily.

Ray’s boots echoed softly against the black stone floor.

Somewhere far away, deep within the Citadel’s heart. A bell tolled.

One note.

Deep and hollow.

Like the breath of a grave.

Ray didn’t look back.

———

[Outside the Citadel]

The Black Citadel stood tall and cruel on the edge of a jagged cliff.

Its towers reaching like broken bones into a stormy sky. Thunder rumbled overhead, clouds thick and dark like bruises.

Below. The Wastes stretched for miles, dead, cracked earth scattered with the remains of forgotten trees.

The wind was sharp and cold. Filled with faint whispers that no living man could quite understand.

Ray stepped out onto a narrow balcony. The cold bit into his skin.

Far away, lightning danced across the sky.

He stood there for a moment, watching. Then reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a small, dark coin.

It was scratched and worn. The edge chipped in one place.

The surface had strange runes faintly burned into the metal.

Old and nearly faded.

He flipped the coin once.

It spun in the air.

He caught it without looking and smiled.

"Next time, Kyle Valemont," he said softly. "Next time. You won’t have anyone to save you."

The wind tore the words from his lips and carried them away into the Wastes, lost in the dark.

Ray turned and stepped back into the shadows of the Citadel.

———