Chapter 143: Traps

Alaric leaned back against the training field’s wooden fence, arms crossed, a lazy yet amused smile tugging at the corners of his lips as he watched Brita Kuusk animatedly recount her experiences of the past few days.

“You wouldn’t believe how many guys have been coming up to me lately,” Brita huffed, placing her hands on her hips in a dramatic fashion. “Ever since we started training together, it’s been one after another! I swear, I feel like a merchant being swarmed by desperate buyers at a discount sale.”

Alaric chuckled, shaking his head. “Oh? Are you sure they’re not just throwing themselves at you because of your charming personality?”

Brita rolled her eyes. “Charming personality? Please. If that was the case, they’d have been flocking to me before I started hanging around with you.” She then pointed a perfectly manicured finger at him. “No, this is your fault. I was already considered attractive before, but now that I’m associated with the ’Alaric Steele,’ I’ve suddenly become a prime target.”

Alaric smirked. “I’m honored.”

Brita clicked her tongue before stepping closer, lowering her voice slightly. “And, you know… there was one guy who actually told me to stay away from you.”

Alaric raised an eyebrow. “Oh? That’s bold. Who?”

“Kenneth Darlington-Whit,” Brita answered with a scoff, crossing her arms beneath her chest—whether intentionally or not, Alaric wasn’t sure, but it certainly emphasized her assets. “He actually warned me about you, said you were a selfish bastard who only uses people and then tosses them aside. Also, he made sure to mention that you have plenty of women already and aren’t loyal to any of them.”

Alaric let out an amused hum as he stared at Brita. “Well,” he said slowly, the smirk never leaving his face, “he’s not entirely wrong, you know.”

Brita blinked, tilting her head slightly. “Oh?”

Alaric shrugged, his golden eyes gleaming with mirth. “I do have a lot of female friends. And honestly, I haven’t exactly planned on tying myself to just one woman yet.”

Brita’s lips curled into a smirk of her own. “Even so, I still want to try.”

Alaric’s brows rose slightly. “Try?”

“Try,” Brita repeated, her voice filled with playful defiance. “You might not be thinking about it now, but that doesn’t mean I won’t make you think about it eventually.”

Alaric laughed. “Ambitious, aren’t you?”

Brita winked. “Always.”

She then waved a hand dismissively. “But honestly, I didn’t like how Kenneth spoke about you. It rubbed me the wrong way. He was acting as if I was some clueless girl who needed to be saved from you. Like, please. If anything, I should be the one saving other people from you.”

Alaric couldn’t help but chuckle at that.

’Oh, Brita,’ he thought, watching her go on and on about this. He knew exactly why she was telling him all this. It wasn’t just idle gossip. She wanted to gain his trust. She wanted to inch closer. And considering who she was—a high-ranking member of the Phantom Assembly—her ultimate goal was likely to get information about the blueprint of his communication artifact, the Phone.

Alaric wasn’t naive. He knew she was playing a long game.

But that was fine. Because so was he.

So instead of calling her out on it, he simply let her continue.

After finally finishing her rant about Kenneth, Brita’s expression turned slightly more curious. “Oh, and then there was another guy. A rather interesting one, actually.”

Alaric tilted his head. “Oh?”

Brita reached into her spatial ring and pulled out a small glass vial filled with a shimmering golden liquid. She held it up between her fingers, letting the sunlight reflect through it. “This elixir. I got it from Noah Gilkes.”

Alaric’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Noah, huh? The alchemy prodigy?”

“The very same,” Brita confirmed, twirling the vial between her fingers. “He approached me a few days ago and handed this to me, saying it’s a very rare elixir that can help synchronize my magic circuits with my body. He claimed it would allow my spells to be firmer, more rigid, and quicker to release.”

Alaric studied the elixir for a moment before looking back at Brita. “And you’re offering it to me?”

Brita smirked. “I figured I should at least ask if you wanted it.”

Alaric waved her off, a teasing glint in his eyes. “Come on, Brita. It’s yours. Obviously, I can’t just take it from you.”

Brita took a step closer, closing the gap between them as she lowered her voice to a sultry whisper. “Are you treating me like an outsider now, Alaric?”

As she spoke, she deliberately leaned in slightly, offering him a tantalizing glimpse of her cleavage.

Alaric’s eyes did not miss it.

In fact, he stared directly at it. Blatantly.

Brita raised an eyebrow at his shamelessness.

Alaric simply shrugged, unbothered. “I don’t need it,” he finally said. “My magic circuits are already quite good. I don’t need an elixir to enhance their synchronization.”

Brita was momentarily taken aback. “You’re that confident?”

Alaric’s smirk deepened. “You tell me.”

Brita hesitated, then let out a soft sigh as she nodded. “You know what? You’re right.”

Because she had seen it.

She had witnessed Alaric’s monstrous talent firsthand over the past few days of training.

At first, she thought he was simply an exceptional student of magic martial arts. But no—he wasn’t just exceptional. He was something far beyond that.

His control over magic energy was nothing short of freakish.

Brita herself was incredibly proficient in magic martial arts. She had honed her skills for years and had fought in countless battles under the Phantom Assembly. Her combat ability was something she took pride in.

And yet…

Even she felt that if she were to face Alaric seriously, she would have to fight at her absolute full strength—and even then, victory wasn’t assured.

That was the level of talent he possessed.

’If I didn’t know that Alaric was the inventor of the Phone,’ Brita thought to herself, ’I would have thought that his true calling in life was combat.’

For someone to be a genius in both technology and battle…

It was almost unfair.

Brita sighed again and tucked the elixir back into her spatial ring. “Alright, fine. I’ll keep it for myself.”

Alaric grinned. “Good choice.”

Brita glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. “…You know, Alaric.”

“Hmm?”

“You really are quite dangerous.”

Alaric chuckled. “Oh? Finally realizing that now?”

Brita smirked. “No. I knew it the moment I met you. It’s just that every day, I realize more and more just how dangerous you actually are.”

Alaric simply smiled.

Because, well…

She wasn’t wrong.

~~

At that very moment, while Alaric Steele lounged around in the academy, effortlessly drawing attention from both admirers and rivals alike, his plan had already begun to unfold.

Somewhere far from the bustling corridors of the academy, Zylle Mordan, his ever-capable supervisor, had set things into motion with precise execution. Of course, none of this would have been possible without the full cooperation of the Steele Family, a powerful entity in its own right. And naturally, Alaric had already briefed his dear sexy mother, Lyra Steele, the esteemed Matriarch of the Steele Family, on what needed to be done.

Not that Lyra needed a reason to obey him.

After all, Alaric had conquered not just her mind but also that voluptuous body of hers entirely. His word was her absolute command. There was no hesitation, no questioning—she would follow his instructions as if they were divine decrees. And why wouldn’t she? Her beloved son had her heart, her body, and her very soul wrapped around his fingers.

Of course, Alaric had been careful about what he told her. The last thing he wanted was for Lyra to be entangled in any accusations of colluding with the Phantom Assembly. If the King of Eloriath ever got wind of such a thing, it would turn the situation into something much more dangerous than necessary. So, for Lyra’s own safety, he had deliberately kept her in the dark about certain key details.

Not that it mattered all that much. Even if she did know the truth, she still would have done exactly what he asked of her.

But now, the gears were turning, and the bait had been set.

Zylle Mordan had done her part brilliantly, spreading word throughout the entire Phantom Assembly, rather than just the higher-ups. The result? The target that Alaric had hoped to ensnare had taken the bait.

Gideon.

The Iron Blood Spear.

A man revered across the Eloriath Kingdom as the most formidable spear-wielder in existence. A high-ranking member of the Phantom Assembly, just like Zylle herself.

Of course, Alaric had no idea who exactly had bitten the hook. He remained unaware that it was Gideon—or that his disciple, Eskil, was also involved.

At this moment, while Alaric continued playing the role of an effortlessly charming academy student, it was Zylle who was leading the operation to unmask the troublemaker among the Phantom Assembly’s higher-ups. And even she didn’t yet know that the one they were about to catch in their trap was none other than Gideon.

But the stage had been set.

And the warehouse was the battlefield.

The warehouse in question was one of the Steele Family’s major storage locations, designated to house the shipment of one thousand Phones. It was a critical site, as the envoys from the Royal Family were scheduled to arrive soon to oversee the transfer of these prized artifacts. According to the information Gideon had gathered through his extensive network, this was the place to strike if he wanted to acquire more of these revolutionary devices.

For Gideon, this opportunity was too good to pass up.

And for Zylle, it was the perfect place to catch a rat.

Meanwhile, somewhere on a battlefield drenched in blood and glory, Major Eskil stood tall amidst the chaos.

At just his young age, he had already carved a name for himself. His achievements were nothing short of remarkable. Every mission he led, every enemy he cut down—it all contributed to his growing reputation as one of the brightest rising stars of the Eloriath military.

And he owed so much of his success to the communication artifacts called Phones.

The devices had completely revolutionized the battlefield. Coordination between different squads had become smoother than ever, tactical decisions could be relayed within seconds instead of long, arduous minutes, and information could be shared across vast distances in real-time.

It was no exaggeration to say that the war against the Kingdom of Jorailia had turned in their favor because of these devices.

Eskil knew that.

And so did Gideon.

The more Gideon saw what Phones could do, the more determined he became to obtain as many as possible. If he could integrate them fully into his personal information operations, he would gain an overwhelming advantage over the other members of the Phantom Assembly.

But there was a problem.

Eskil was far too occupied at the frontlines to do anything about the warehouse. The war effort demanded his full attention, and no matter how much Gideon trusted his disciple, he knew that there was no way Eskil could make a move here.

That left only one option.

Gideon himself would have to act.

Which wasn’t a bad thing, considering his sheer martial prowess.

The man was a walking disaster on the battlefield, a legend in combat, and a name feared by many.

If there was anyone who could pull off an operation like this alone, it was him.

But Gideon had no idea.

No idea that the warehouse was not just a simple storage facility.

No idea that there were people waiting for him.

No idea that this was all a trap.

A trap named Zylle Mordan.

She was more eager than ever to unmask the traitor within the higher-ups of the Phantom Assembly.

And now, the stage was set.

The game had begun.

~~

At this very moment, at the eastern borders of the Eloriath Kingdom, the battlefield was drenched in the aftermath of yet another decisive victory.

Eskil, the rising star of the Eloriath military, stood at the helm of his forces, his gaze sharp as he surveyed the field. His army had just crushed another division of the Kingdom of Jorailia’s forces, pushing further into enemy territory with an almost frightening efficiency. The momentum was undeniable—every battle was a clean, systematic dismantling of their foes.

And the secret to this overwhelming success?

The Phones.

With these revolutionary communication artifacts, Eskil and his fellow commanders wielded the kind of coordination that armies of the past could only dream of.

Gone were the days of relying on messengers galloping across blood-soaked fields, carrying orders that would be outdated the moment they arrived. Gone were the days of commanders making decisions in the dark, unaware of their allies’ movements.

Now, strategy unfolded in real-time.

Through the Phones, commanders on the battlefield relayed information instantly. If an enemy unit was on the move, they knew. If an opening was created, they exploited it before the enemy could react. The way they executed their maneuvers was almost surgical in precision.

It was warfare at a level never seen before.

And Eskil, standing tall as the leader of this new era of military brilliance, had every reason to believe that victory was inevitable.

But he had no idea…

That he was walking straight into a trap.

One laid by none other than the great military strategist of Jorailia—Great General Tauron.

Tauron was not a man who feared innovation.

He understood perfectly well that these strange communication artifacts were the reason his forces had been suffering one crushing defeat after another.

Did it annoy him? Of course.

Did it intimidate him? Absolutely not.

In fact, he found it fascinating.

But Tauron was a strategist. A patient, methodical man. He did not believe in reacting blindly to new developments—he believed in understanding them, analyzing them, and then creating a plan to neutralize them.

And that was exactly what he had done.

He had spent weeks studying the patterns of these Eloriath commanders. He noted how their armies moved, how they communicated, how they reacted to situations on the battlefield.

The Phones allowed them to coordinate with terrifying speed, yes. But the very fact that they relied so much on this coordination was also their weakness.

Tauron devised a grand strategy.

He didn’t just want to defeat Eskil’s forces—no, that would not be enough.

He wanted to trap them.

To completely encircle them.

To obliterate every single one of these so-called “elite” forces who had been making a mockery of Jorailia’s armies.

Because once they were gone?

The rest of Eloriath’s military would collapse.

Without the commanders who used these Phones, the remaining forces of Eloriath would no longer have the advantage of instantaneous communication. The war would go back to normal.

And once that happened… Tauron knew that Jorailia’s superior numbers and defensive positioning would give them the upper hand.

So, he set his plan into motion.

Eskil and his fellow commanders believed they were winning.

And why wouldn’t they?

Every time a Jorailian force moved, they intercepted it.

Every time an enemy tried to retreat, they cut them off.

Every time there was a gap in the enemy’s defenses, they exploited it without hesitation.

It was a masterful display of strategic warfare.

Eskil, alongside four other commanders who also possessed Phones, had turned the tide of battle in a way that had never been done before. Their swift movements, their precise coordination—it all seemed unstoppable.

But what they didn’t realize…

Was that the paths they were taking… the victories they were securing… the openings they were exploiting…

Were all designed by Tauron.

Because the real battle was never the small skirmishes they were winning.

The real battle was the grand battlefield.

Tauron had deliberately positioned his forces in a way that made Eskil’s victories too easy.

The enemy’s retreats were too predictable.

The paths that Eskil’s forces took were exactly where Tauron wanted them to go.

Like a spider weaving its web, Tauron allowed Eskil and his commanders to push deeper and deeper into enemy territory, never realizing that their true escape routes were being cut off.

The map of the battlefield, if one were to step back and look at it from Tauron’s perspective, was brilliant.

He had positioned three large Jorailian legions in a way that formed a crescent moon around Eskil’s advancing forces.

At first, this crescent formation seemed like a defensive line—something Eskil believed he was pushing back.

But in reality, it was closing.

Slowly.

Patiently.

Every time Eskil’s forces took another step forward, the enemy forces on the far left and right of the battlefield also moved—ever so slightly, ever so subtly.

They were not retreating.

They were encircling.

And the moment Eskil’s forces pushed past the threshold—the moment they stepped just a little too deep into Jorailia’s territory—

The crescent moon would snap shut into a full circle.

Eskil and his commanders would find themselves completely trapped.

And once that happened…

There would be no escape.

Tauron had even prepared a second layer of encirclement. Should Eskil’s forces somehow break free from the inner trap, they would only find themselves running straight into another army waiting in the distance, completely cutting off their retreat.

It was ruthless.

It was brilliant.

And the best part?

Eskil still had no idea.

Because he was too focused on his immediate victories.

Too blinded by the thrill of constant success.

Too unaware that the greatest danger was not in the battles he was winning, but in the battlefield he was standing on.

Tauron had created the perfect trap.

And very soon…

He would close it.