Chapter 158: Shocking Reports of King Thaleon’s Scouts

The news of Verdant Dawn Academy’s fall descended upon Eloriath Kingdom like a shroud, suffocating the usual bustling life with a heavy blanket of fear and uncertainty. The vibrant marketplaces seemed a little quieter, the laughter in taverns a bit more subdued, the usual political squabbles of the noble houses taking a backseat to a far more pressing, existential dread.

It was in this charged atmosphere, thick with unspoken anxieties and whispered rumors of demons, that the Steele Family, almost unexpectedly, stepped forward with an announcement that would ripple through the kingdom and beyond. They declared they would be releasing their revolutionary communication artifact, the Phone, to the general public.

This wasn’t the original plan. Alaric Steele, the young and enigmatic head of the Steele Family, had envisioned a more measured approach. A careful, phased rollout, starting with select elites, businesses, and government officials. Profit margins and market dominance had initially been on his mind, as any shrewd businessman would consider.

But the chilling reality of the demon attack on Verdant Dawn Academy had shattered those conventional plans. He had seen the raw, terrifying power of these creatures, felt the chilling dread they exuded. The reports from the survivors confirmed his worst fears. This wasn’t some isolated incident. This was a threat of unprecedented scale.

’Communication… that’s the key,’ Alaric had realized, staring out at the Steele Mansion gardens, the usually vibrant colors seeming muted under the weight of the news. ’If we’re going to stand any chance against these… demons… people need to be able to talk to each other. Warn each other. Coordinate. Information needs to flow, fast and wide.’

This sudden, stark realization propelled him to action. The carefully crafted business strategy was tossed aside, replaced by a more urgent, almost desperate imperative. The Phones needed to be out there, in the hands of as many people as possible, as quickly as possible. Survival, not profit, was now the driving force.

Alaric knew he couldn’t do this alone. He needed his inner circle, his trusted confidantes, the women who understood his vision and possessed the skills to make it a reality. First, Rosalind.

He contacted her immediately, requesting a meeting in the guest room she occupied within the Steele Mansion.

Rosalind arrived promptly, her usual composed demeanor tinged with a hint of worry. She had already heard the whispers, the fragmented reports of the Academy’s destruction, the chilling word ’demons’ hanging in the air like a death knell.

When Alaric explained his revised plan – a mass public release of the Phones, foregoing the gradual rollout for immediate widespread availability – Rosalind listened intently, her usual sharp, analytical gaze unwavering. She grasped the gravity of the situation instantly.

“Demons, Alaric,” she said quietly, her voice losing its usual crispness, replaced by a somber tone. “If even half of what they are saying is true…” She didn’t need to finish the sentence. The unspoken words hung heavy between them: we are in serious trouble.

“It’s true, Rosalind,” Alaric confirmed, his voice firm, brooking no argument. “I saw them. Fought them. They are real, and they are dangerous. We need to get the Phones out there. Now.”

Rosalind nodded, her initial worry hardening into resolve. “Then we do it,” she stated, her voice regaining its characteristic firmness. “If you believe this is necessary, then we will make it happen, Alaric. The Steele Family’s distribution network… it’s vast. We can reach every corner of the kingdom within days, maybe even faster if we push it.”

“Push it,” Alaric instructed, his gaze intense. “Push it as hard as you can. Forget about maximizing profits for now. Focus on speed, on reach. Get these Phones into as many hands as possible. Every village, every town, every city. Every noble house, every merchant guild, every… anyone who can use them.”

Rosalind’s mind was already racing, the gears of her formidable intellect turning, calculating, strategizing. “We’ll need to redirect resources, streamline logistics… the factories will have to operate at full capacity, around the clock.” She paused, her brow furrowing slightly. “The price… Alaric, are we still adhering to the initial pricing structure?”

Alaric hesitated for a moment, considering the implications. The initial price for the Phone was indeed high, deliberately so, positioning it as a luxury item, a status symbol, accessible only to the wealthy elite. But now…

“No,” he decided, shaking his head. “The price… keep it as is for now, for the initial rush. But… instruct our distributors to accept alternative forms of payment as well. Alongside gold and silver.”

Rosalind raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Alternative payment? Such as?”

“Anything of value,” Alaric replied, his gaze distant, already thinking ahead. “Rare herbs, potent elixirs, elixir recipes… magical equipment, martial arts artifacts… anything that could be useful in… the coming fight.”

Rosalind’s eyes widened slightly, understanding dawning in her expression. “I see,” she said slowly, thoughtfully. “Resources. Not just currency. You’re thinking ahead, Alaric. Preparing for… a longer conflict.”

“We have to be,” Alaric stated grimly. “Gold won’t stop a demon. But a powerful elixir might. A well-enchanted weapon might. Knowledge… recipes… these things might actually make a difference.”

Rosalind nodded, her expression hardening with determination. “Understood. I’ll issue the directives immediately. The Steele Family businesses will mobilize. We will flood the market with Phones, and we will gather… whatever resources we can in return.” She stood up, her movements decisive, already mentally outlining the steps she needed to take. “Consider it done, Alaric.”

“Thank you, Rosalind,” Alaric said, a rare hint of gratitude in his voice. “I know I’m asking a lot.”

“It’s necessary, Alaric,” Rosalind replied, her gaze meeting his, a deep understanding passing between them. “And you know I will always do whatever is necessary for the Steele Family… and for you.” With a final, lingering look, she turned and left the guest room, a whirlwind of purposeful energy, ready to unleash the full force of the Steele business empire.

Next, Alaric sought out Iridelle. He made his way to her chambers, his footsteps lighter now, a sense of purpose driving him. Iridelle, the brilliant mind behind the Phone’s intricate workings, was as crucial to this plan as Rosalind’s logistical expertise.

He found her in her guest chamber, poring over complex diagrams and enchanted schematics, her brow furrowed in concentration, even in the midst of the kingdom-wide panic. She looked up as he entered, her violet eyes, usually sparkling with intellectual curiosity, now shadowed with concern.

Alaric had already shared the news of the demon attack with Iridelle a few days prior, during their intimate night together. She hadn’t witnessed the horror firsthand, but Alaric’s vivid, detailed descriptions had painted a terrifying picture in her mind, a picture that haunted her waking hours and seeped into her dreams.

And today…

“Young Master,” she greeted him, her voice subdued, her usual cheerful tone replaced by a somber seriousness. “The news… it’s even worse than we feared, isn’t it?”

Alaric nodded, sinking into a chair opposite her desk. “It is, Iridelle. The Academy… From the news… it’s gone. And those… demons… they’re just the beginning, I fear.”

Iridelle’s violet eyes darkened with concern. “What do you plan to do, Young Master?” she asked, her gaze fixed on his, searching for answers, for direction.

Alaric outlined his revised plan, the mass public release of the Phones, the shift in focus from profit to survival, the acceptance of alternative forms of payment. He explained his reasoning, the urgent need for communication, the strategic value of gathering resources.

Iridelle listened intently, her brow furrowed in thought, her fingers tapping lightly on the surface of her desk. When he finished, she nodded slowly, thoughtfully.

“Young Master, you are right,” she affirmed, her voice resolute, echoing Rosalind’s earlier words. “This is no longer about profit or gradual market penetration. This is about… survival. The Phones… they must be in the hands of the people. As many as possible, as soon as possible.”

“Can we do it, Iridelle?” Alaric asked, his gaze searching hers, seeking reassurance. “Can we ramp up production fast enough? Can we meet the anticipated demand?”

Iridelle’s eyes flashed with determination, her usual intellectual fire rekindling, replacing the shadow of fear with a spark of purpose. “We will, Young Master,” she stated firmly, her voice regaining its usual confidence. “I will personally oversee the production. We will push the factories to their absolute limits. We will secure additional raw materials, optimize the enchantment processes, streamline every step of the production line. We will work around the clock, Young Master, if that’s what it takes.”

“It is, Iridelle,” Alaric confirmed, his gaze meeting hers, a shared understanding passing between them. “It is.”

Iridelle rose from her desk, her movements purposeful, her energy renewed, her mind already racing with logistical calculations, production schedules, and enchantment optimizations. “I will leave for the factories immediately, Young Master,” she said, her voice brisk and efficient. “I will personally ensure that everything is in place. The Phones will be ready. We will flood the market.”

“Thank you, Iridelle,” Alaric said, a genuine warmth entering his voice. “I know I can count on you.”

“Always, Young Master,” Iridelle replied, her violet eyes meeting his, a silent promise passing between them, a shared commitment to facing the looming darkness, together. She turned and hurried out of the chamber, a whirlwind of focused energy, ready to unleash the full force of her brilliance and determination on the challenge ahead.

Unbeknownst to Rosalind and Iridelle, each operating in their separate spheres of Alaric’s life, each unaware of the other’s intimate connection to him, their combined efforts, driven by their individual loyalty and shared commitment to Alaric’s vision, became the engine of this unprecedented undertaking. They were two halves of a whole, unknowingly working in perfect synergy, their individual strengths complementing each other, their combined force propelling Alaric’s ambitious plan forward with remarkable speed and efficiency.

Within a week, the Steele Family’s vast distribution network roared to life, a well-oiled machine suddenly operating at maximum capacity.

Caravans laden with crates of Phones, guarded by Steele Family mercenaries and magically reinforced carriages, rumbled across the kingdom’s roads, heading towards every major city, every town, every village.

Steele Family merchants, shopkeepers, and agents, armed with detailed instructions and a new sense of urgency, prepared for the unprecedented influx of customers.

The announcement had created a frenzy. The Phones, once a whispered rumor, a tantalizing glimpse of future technology, were now suddenly within reach, albeit at a price. And what a price it was.

Alaric, on Rosalind and Iridelle’s advice, had decided to maintain the initial high price point, at least for the initial launch.

It seemed counterintuitive, releasing a product to the masses while keeping it exorbitantly expensive, but the logic was sound.

The high price created an immediate sense of exclusivity, of desirability, of urgency. People, already panicked by the news of demons, saw the Phone not just as a communication device, but as a potential lifeline, a tool that could offer a crucial advantage in the face of the unknown threat.

They were willing to pay almost anything to get their hands on one.

And they did. The Steele Family’s shops and distribution centers were besieged by eager customers, nobles, merchants, adventurers, even common folk pooling their savings, all desperate to acquire a Phone. Your next read awaits at ReadNovelFull.com.Côm

Despite the steep price, demand far outstripped supply.

Tens of thousands of devices were sold within the first few days alone, and the orders kept pouring in, from every corner of the kingdom and beyond.

The Steele Family’s coffers swelled to unimaginable levels, gold and silver coins overflowing from vaults, jewels and precious metals piling up in storerooms. But Alaric, focused on the bigger picture, on the looming demonic threat, saw the incoming wealth not as mere profit, but as fuel for the coming war.

He had instructed Rosalind and Iridelle to accept alternative forms of payment, and the response to this directive was even more astounding than the initial demand for the Phones. People, desperate for a Phone, willingly parted with treasures they had hoarded for years, generations even.

Rare herbs, with potent magical properties, were offered in abundance – Moon Petal Blossoms that glowed with faint luminescence, Shadowroot Herbs that whispered secrets in the wind, sunstone leaves that radiated warmth and healing energy.

Elixirs, both common and incredibly rare, poured in – vials of mana potions, bottles of healing balms, flasks of strength-enhancing concoctions, even a few precious vials of immortality elixirs, whispered to extend life and vitality.

Elixir recipes, ancient and jealously guarded secrets, were traded for a chance at communication – formulas for invisibility potions, for elemental resistance elixirs, for potions that granted temporary bursts of superhuman strength or magical power.

Magical equipment, weapons, armor, staffs, amulets, rings, all imbued with potent enchantments, were exchanged – swords that blazed with holy fire, shields that deflected dark magic, robes that enhanced magical prowess, amulets that granted protection from curses and hexes.

Martial arts artifacts, relics of forgotten masters, were offered as payment – ancient scrolls detailing lost fighting styles, training manuals outlining secret techniques, enchanted training weights that amplified strength and endurance, even a few legendary martial arts weapons, rumored to possess sentience and untold power.

The Steele Family warehouses, once filled with mundane trade goods, were now rapidly transforming into treasure troves, overflowing with a diverse and invaluable collection of resources – magical, martial, alchemical, all gathered in exchange for the humble Phone, a device that had, in a matter of days, become the most coveted and sought-after artifact in the Eloriath Kingdom.

As the Phones spread across the kingdom, carried by merchants, nobles, adventurers, and even common messengers, a silent revolution began.

Communication, once a slow, unreliable trickle of information, became an instantaneous torrent.

News, warnings, calls for aid, strategic directives, personal messages – all could now travel across vast distances in mere moments, bridging the gaps of space and time, connecting people in ways never before imagined.

The Eloriath Kingdom, and indeed, the wider world, was irrevocably changed.

They were entering a new era, an era forged in the crucible of fear, in the shadow of a terrifying demonic threat, but also in the bright, flickering light of unprecedented connection and coordination.

~~

While the Phones were spreading like wildfire across Eloriath, a different kind of message was making its way to King Thaleon. It wasn’t buzzing on a sleek obsidian device, but rather whispered urgently through the newly established Phone network by three weary, dust-covered scouts.

Korneli, Zvoni, and Murtaz. The King had personally selected these men, the best of his royal scouts, to venture near the ruins of Verdant Dawn Academy. Their mission: to observe, to report, to understand the impossible.

Days had turned into nights as they cautiously approached the Academy’s location, their hearts heavy with dread and anticipation. From a safe distance, hidden amongst the dense forests surrounding the once-proud institution, they finally saw it.

Korneli, the eldest and most experienced scout, squinted through his enchanted spyglass, his breath catching in his throat. “By the Gods…” he muttered, his voice barely audible, his eyes wide with disbelief and horror.

Zvoni, the youngest and quickest of the three, peered over Korneli’s shoulder, his usually jovial face paling rapidly. “Is that… is that what I think it is?” he stammered, his voice trembling slightly.

Murtaz, the stoic and silent tracker, simply nodded grimly, his dark eyes narrowed, his expression unreadable but radiating a palpable sense of unease. “A fortress,” he rumbled, his voice low and grave. “They have built a fortress.”

Where the Verdant Dawn Academy had once stood, a beacon of magical learning and enlightenment, now rose a grotesque mockery of a stronghold. It wasn’t built of stone or wood, but of something… darker, more organic. Twisted, black obsidian-like material seemed to writhe and pulse, forming jagged walls, grotesque towers, and gaping, shadowed entrances.

“It’s… unnatural,” Zvoni whispered, shivering despite the midday sun. “Like something… vomited up from the depths of hell.”

Korneli focused his spyglass again, scanning the fortress walls, the surrounding grounds. His count began, slow and methodical, his face growing increasingly grim with each number. “Demons… everywhere,” he murmured, his voice tight with tension. “Thousands… no, tens of thousands. At least.”

Murtaz, his keen eyes scanning the ground, pointed a calloused finger towards a disturbing activity near the fortress walls. “Look there,” he grunted, his voice laced with disgust. “What are they doing with the… the bodies?”

Korneli adjusted his spyglass, his stomach churning as he focused on the gruesome scene unfolding below. Demons, grotesque and shadowy figures, were dragging mangled corpses – human corpses, identifiable by their tattered Academy robes – towards the fortress. And then… something truly horrific happened.

“They’re… they’re reviving them,” Zvoni gasped, his voice choked with revulsion. “By the Gods, they’re turning them into… into more of them.”

The scouts watched in stunned silence, their blood running cold, as they witnessed the unholy spectacle. The demons chanted in guttural, unearthly tongues, dark magic swirling around the lifeless bodies. And then, with sickening cracks and pops, the corpses began to twitch, to convulse, to rise. Their skin paled, their eyes glowed with malevolent red light, their features twisting into grotesque parodies of their former selves. New demons, born from the desecrated remains of the fallen.

Korneli, his face ashen, finally lowered his spyglass, his hand trembling slightly. “We have seen enough,” he said, his voice hoarse. “We must report to the King. Now.”

Zvoni and Murtaz nodded, their faces grim, their minds reeling from the horrific sight they had just witnessed. They knew what this meant. This wasn’t just an attack. This was an infestation. And it was spreading.

Korneli quickly pulled out his Phone, his fingers fumbling slightly as he activated the device and dialed the King’s private royal number. The call connected almost instantly, the familiar buzzing sound a stark contrast to the chilling silence of the forest around them.

King Thaleon, still reeling from the initial news of the Academy’s fall, answered the Phone in his royal study, the weight of the kingdom pressing down on his shoulders. “Korneli? Is that you? What have you seen? Report.” His voice was sharp, urgent, betraying the deep anxiety he was trying to suppress.

Korneli took a deep breath, steeling himself to deliver the ужасные news. “Your Majesty,” he began, his voice strained, “we are at the site of the Verdant Dawn Academy. It is… worse than we imagined.”

“Worse? How can it be worse than destroyed?” Thaleon demanded, his voice rising slightly, impatience and dread warring within him. “Speak plainly, man! What have you seen?”

“They have built a fortress, Your Majesty,” Korneli reported, his voice grim. “A… demonic fortress. In place of the Academy. And… and the number of demons… it is vast. Tens of thousands, at least. They are… occupying the site.”

Thaleon fell silent for a moment, the weight of Korneli’s words sinking in, each syllable a hammer blow to his already shaken composure. “A fortress… tens of thousands…” he repeated slowly, his voice barely above a whisper, his mind struggling to comprehend the scale of the demonic presence.

“And that’s not all, Your Majesty,” Korneli continued, his voice dropping even lower, laced with a chilling unease. “We… we saw them… reviving the dead. The human corpses… they are turning them into demons, Your Majesty.”

A cold dread washed over King Thaleon, chilling him to the bone. Reviving the dead… turning humans into demons… this was a nightmare beyond anything he could have conceived. But the implication… the truly terrifying implication… hit him like a physical blow.

“Reviving the dead…” he repeated, his voice now barely audible, his mind fixated on a single, horrifying possibility. “You mean… even… even the professors? Principal Bartolmew… and the others… the Archmages… the Grandmasters… if they fell…”

Korneli hesitated, his silence confirming Thaleon’s worst fears. “We… we could not get close enough to identify specific individuals, Your Majesty,” he said finally, his voice heavy with regret. “But… given what we saw… it is… highly probable. If they fell… if their bodies were… taken… then yes, Your Majesty. They could be… revived. As demons.”

The Phone slipped slightly in Thaleon’s suddenly numb fingers. The implications were staggering, catastrophic.

Principal Bartolmew, one of the most powerful mage in the kingdom, possibly resurrected as a demonic entity, his immense magical power twisted and corrupted, turned against humanity.

And the other professors at the rank of Archmages or the Grandmaster Mages, and the the rest of the talented students… all potentially transformed into weapons in the hands of the demonic horde.

’No,’ Thaleon thought, a wave of nausea rising in his throat. ’This… this cannot be happening. This is… madness.’ But the cold, stark reality of Korneli’s report, the chilling certainty in his scout’s voice, left no room for denial. This was not a nightmare. This was real. And it was far, far worse than he had initially feared.

“Return to Eryndral immediately,” Thaleon ordered, his voice regaining its royal authority, though it was now edged with a chilling resolve. “All of you. Bring me every detail, every observation. We must… we must understand what we are facing.”

“Yes, Your Majesty,” Korneli replied, his voice firm now, his initial shock replaced by a soldier’s duty. “We will return at once. For Eloriath.”

The call ended, the buzzing silence of the Phone amplifying the deafening silence in the royal study. King Thaleon sat there, Phone still clutched in his hand, his mind reeling, his heart heavy with dread. Demons. A fortress. Tens of thousands. Revived dead. The Verdant Dawn Academy… gone. And possibly, worse than gone. Corrupted. Twisted. Turned into a demonic stronghold.

’Bartolmew… Natia… Sofiko… all those brave souls… possibly… demons now?’ The thought was almost unbearable, a crushing weight of grief and horror threatening to overwhelm him. He had to act. He had to prepare. He had to find a way to fight back against this… unholy tide. For Eloriath. For humanity. For the very survival of their world.