Crown of Velúndé – Chapter 21: XCV — The Long Way (Patreon)

Chapter 21: XCV — The Long Way

The caves beneath Cloudhave formed a living maze—interlocking tunnels that twisted, split, and rejoined in patterns too complex to memorize, let alone map. For generations, they had served as hidden arteries, carrying people and goods into the town even under siege.

No foreigner had ever charted them.

Until now.

Kayode watched below as a dozen soldiers hauled sacks of grain through the tunnel. Each wore the odd armor—ring mail, Kayode now knew it was called—that marked them as elites among their people.

Kayode was certain each of them was a name feared in their town—and that together, they might even be able to fight his Oathguards.

If they saw them coming.

“Now, Great Lord?” Varghelt asked, her voice no more than a breath.

“Now.” Kayode nodded.

The wind tore past him as the Oathguards sprinted by.

They leapt from the cliff, and came down on the men.

Varghelt hit the ground first, crushing the man she landed on beneath her greaves. Her sword was already searching for the next man’s neck.

Ser Gold struck next, not with his fists, but with a projectile shaped not too differently from Winter’s Teeth. It went straight through a man’s skull and exploded into several deadly shards, stabbing into other soldiers with frozen shrapnel. Then his greaves hit the ground.

That was when the enemy reacted.

Flesh warped, bones cracked and reknit as the men swelled, bodies expanding violently against their armor. Ring mail cinched tight, links biting into skin as muscle piled atop muscle. Horns grew through gaps in helms, curling forward as their spines thickened and hunched.

In the span of a heartbeat, men became hulking shapes—blue-skinned, white horned, orange-eyed, a thin whip-like tail lashing behind them, and monstrously powerful.

Their Demonform. The true strength of all their Classes.

And yet it was not enough. The pair moved like a blur, whistling through the confined air of the tunnel.

A third soldier tried to shout a warning. Varghelt took his jaw off at the hinge before sound could form. Blood splashed the cave wall, black against pale stone, and she was already turning, sword flicking low to take a knee, then high again to finish the fall.

Gold kept his distance as he killed, staying just beyond his enemies’ blade reach and meeting every attempt to close the gap with deadly ice.

It would have been easy to mistake the battle for two Oathguards each fighting a small group of enemies. But Kayode could see better. He saw how Varghelt’s blade came down on any man who pressed too close to Gold, how Gold hurled ice into anyone trying to slip through his partner’s blind spot.

They were a well oiled machine, a single living organism with one purpose. And at this moment, that purpose was to kill.

Either the men noticed or they did not. The terror was the same regardless.

Soon, their attacks lost all coordination. Shields came up too late. Blades swung without any rational intent. Men stopped covering one another and began fighting alone—each locked in his own desperate race against the next strike. A failing race.

Kayode saw the exact moment discipline collapsed.

The men scattered, filling the cave with screams of terror. Louder and deeper than most men could manage—due to their enhanced forms—but no less fearful.

The Oathguards gave chase, but they couldn’t be everywhere all at once. So it was no surprise when two men in Demonforms came running up towards Kayode. It was just unfortunate.

One was a huge, hulking brute, dragging a massive blade. The other’s demonform was lean and without armor—no weapon in his hands even, only raging magic clawing at the air.

“Get the Baron!” the big one snarled–voice thick, tongue forked. It came running at him.

Kayode drew his takoba.

Edge-Blaze.

Edge-Spark crackled. Edge-Kindle burned. Edge-Blaze spread outward, flame pushing past the blade itself and extending its reach. That was its Rank II expression.

But Kayode had Learned Rank III.

He swung.

A sharp arc of gold tore through the air and met the man’s neck. There was no resistance—just a clean cut, head severed in a single motion, spinning away as a streak of black vitae traced its path through the dark.

[You have slain a Red Reaver of the 2nd Awakening.]

The D Tier equivalent of a Blood Eater, if Kayode was remembering right.

“Hagen!” the man behind screamed—the lean one—his voice cracking with agony and loss. “Infernus!” He hurled his hand forward. Orange fire leapt from his fingers, questing for Kayode.

Kayode planted his feet and did not move.

Brace Boulder.

His armor cinched tight against his frame. The flames struck—and shattered, breaking apart harmlessly against the enchanted metal.

The enemy still charged, now holding a dagger that crackled with power in his hand.

He swung.

Kayode’s billowing edge met him first.

The takoba took his arm off at the elbow, then ended his suffering with a single, straight thrust through the chest. The man stared at Kayode, rage and malice frozen in his eyes. His lips moved, trying to form words. But death arrived first.

His body shrunk around Kayode’s blade, the blueness gave way to pale pink skin, and what stared back at Kayode through empty eyes was nothing but a man. 

He slipped off of Kayode’s blade and fell from the cliff, hitting the ground below with a final, dull thud. 

[You have slain a Hellbringer of the 2nd Awakening.]

He was the last of Seigfried’s men to fall, as the rest of the battleground was but a field of corpses.

“Are you hurt, Great Lord?!” Dame Vargelt asked, already up at the incline with Kayode.

“I’m fine,” Kayode assured her.

Relief flooded the woman’s features—then shame, then guilt. She lowered her gaze and fell to a knee, head bowed. “I apologize for letting them past me. Please know that, as the most senior of your Oathguards, I alone bear full responsibility.” She drew a steady breath. “You may discipline me as you see fit, but I humbly ask that Ser Gold be exempt from any punishment. Any error on his part was wholly the result of following my ill-conceived lead.”

Ser Gold stood behind her, but his gaze was lowered as well, staring at the headless corpse Kayode had made, and then the scratch on his armor, as if they were embodiments of his failure. Clearly he thought he too was at fault here.

“It’s fine,” Kayode said evenly. “I was the one who sent you down in the first place. Your priority was ensuring that none of them escaped—and you accomplished that. What matters is that the enemy knows less about us now than they would have otherwise.”

Kayode saw relief crack into their features—only crack though—the Oathguards still saw it as a failure, and one they deeply regretted.

Nonsense, as it was a near flawless performance. One that he had to resist the urge to thank them for, knowing now that it would only come across as improper for a Great Lord to thank their Oathguards. For Great Nobles, flaunting social norms and boundaries was easy. For their subordinates, it meant stripping away the only thing they take for granted.

So he moved on. “Grab the grain. We're heading back to the camp.” Kayode ordered. 

And the Oathguards quickly got into action.

###

Evening was setting when they got back to camp, and though they were still quite a distance away, Kayode could hear the men cheering the moment the grain cart came into view.

“Right on cue,” Dame Varghelt grinned.

For over three weeks now, almost a month even, they had intercepted the enemy’s supply carts, making sure anything from weapons to rations failed to make their way into the town.

He had expected them to break in the first week. At the time, he hadn’t known about the caves. After shifting his interceptions underground, he’d expected them to break in the second—but then he’d learned just how vast and intricate the network truly was. Now, with the entire system around Bracklocke mapped, there were only two possibilities left. Either they would discover some new way to prolong the siege, or they would break very, very soon.

And Kayode had a feeling they were running out of plans.

He was barely in when his fiancee spotted him.“Kay!” Lami beamed, running up and hugging him. “You’re back!” she exclaimed, and kissed him on the cheek.

It was a gentle touch, soft, warm, and heightened by the scent of flowers she wore eternally around her. But Kayode had no interest in letting her know that, so he glared hotly at the woman. 

Lami noticed his expression at once and draped herself in feigned guilt like a cloak. “You look so mad,” she said sweetly. “And I have no idea what I did.” She clasped her hands behind her back, peering up at him through wide, innocent eyes. “But if it makes you feel better… I wouldn’t mind you punishing me to make up for it.”

“I—uh—” Kayode found words quite the herculean task at the moment. Damn woman. He shot his gaze above her and out towards the camp. “What’s the situation on ground?” he huffed.

Lami laughed, but told him what he needed to know anyways. “Going well, other interception forces had about as much luck as you—though they had a few injuries here and there, but that’s to be expected when you don’t have two Oathguards with you.” she eyed the medic tent as she spoke, and Kayode could see a man in a cast making his way out of it. “And then there’s the Lady Kestrel who seems…in higher spirits than before.”

“Baron!” came the woman’s voice.

Kayode turned to see Lady Kestrel practically jogging toward him, a sharp grin already curling her lips at the sight of the cart.

“Back from another mission, I see?” she asked brightly. “Tell me—did those monsters weep for their mothers as they were torn apart? As the light drained from their eyes, did they finally understand the true wrath of the Ancestors?”

“Everything that was needed to be done was done, Lady Kestrel,” Kayode assured her.

She nodded fervently, and Kayode could practically hear the screams she was imagining. “I want you to know, Baron, that I truly do appreciate your unrelenting assaults on their supply lines,” she added.

“Thank you, Lady Kestrel,” Kayoded nodded, and began walking away, eager to get away from both this conversation and this woman. 

She stepped into his path.

“I—I was wondering,” the woman added quickly, then steadied herself. “Since my father and I practically ruled this entire Barony before your arrival—which I am wholly and completely happy to have handed over—I thought I might have some insight to offer.” She met his gaze, unflinching now. “You see, your siege tactics may have been effective back in Velúndé, when dealing with reasonable—if severely misguided—enemies. But I know these Savagers well. Great Lord. Hunger will not draw them out of their barricades. Time will not either.” Her lips curled, just slightly. “The only thing they respond to is violence. Barbarity. And if it is not equal to theirs—then it must be greater than anything they are capable of. In that vein, I propose a full frontal assault, take my—your men, and trample over their defences.”

“Thank you, Lady Kestrel. I’ll take that into consideration.” Kayode smiled.

“And—”

He was already walking past her, heading straight for Hatstopa. It was a testament to Kestrel’s acquired taste that he considered that the more pleasant of the two experiences.

###

[—Skill(s) Acquired—]

[Learned Skill • Unremarked  — I — Active: You have called upon the shadows to conceal you—and they have listened. You may deliberately still your presence. While this Skill is active and you remain motionless, observers do not notice you. This is not concealment and not illusion. Your body remains present, visible, and occupying space, but attention does not settle. Eyes slide past. Minds fail to register. Even when looked at directly, you do not resolve into importance. Afterward, observers may insist the space was empty.]

Kayode felt a coldness wrap around him, like a blanket made out of the last breaths of dead men. He stood where he was, in the center of the Hatstopa’s flames.

“Wait, where’d the Baron go?” Ash’s eyes widened, and then he was looking around. Kayode saw the young soldier’s eyes attempt to land on the spot he was standing in—only for his eyes to slide around Kayode instead of ever settling, as though everything just beyond his outline were infinitely more interesting.

Xirio’s eyes were still fixed principally on him, though the half-elf did squint a fraction. “Oh, you did it!” Xirio exclaimed. He likely had some sort of perception Skill similar to Kayode’s Eyes of the Throne that made him resistant to Unremarked. That combined with what Kayode imagined was a quite high Level made it no surprise that the man could still clearly see him.

Hatstopa’s reaction was a bit different. She never for even a fraction of a second stopped looking at Kayode, but her focus shifted. No longer was she making eye contact, her eyes were just vaguely aimed in his direction. “Curious, these perception alters…” she murmured. “I can see an absence of data—but not him.” Her quill was already moving again, scratching rapidly across the page.

He released the Skill and saw Ash jump in surprise, as if Kayode just popped into existence.

The lad was escorted out of the tent after that—his services no longer needed. 

“I would have liked to have learned this Skill earlier during the day,” Kayode said. It would have saved him from an unnecessary scuffle.

Xirio rolled his eyes. “Oh, woah is me, The literal Kingdom Maker, I can learn all Skills faster than anyone in the history of ever, however I cannot learn it instantly. Please sob for me.”

Kayode grunted. It had taken him longer to learn this than it had for Lami’s Winter’s Teeth—and they were both the same Tier. Xirio’s Shadow Walker was an A Tier Class, which meant all his Skills should have been A Tier as well. He frowned. “Does the rate at which one learns a Skill change depending on the teacher.”

Hatstopa scoffed. “Well, yes, obviously, it wouldn’t be called Learning a Skill otherwise, idiot. Bloody humans.”

Xirio picked up a pebble and threw it at the side of her head.

“Ow! Filthy mut!"

Xirio just grinned.

Kayode stifled the grin birthed by the Elf’s pain and turned instead to the implications of this latest revelation. 

It confirmed what he had already begun to suspect: Skill Learning could not serve as a complete substitute for Experience. A previous conversation with Hatstopa had also revealed—after the rudeness, of course—that the more Skills one Learned, the harder it became to Learn another, unless of course one was simply Learning a lower Tier derivative of a Skill they already had. This could only be offset through Leveling. Because of that, Kayode had decided to be extremely selective about which Skills he learned. Given that a Skill’s Class Tier directly influenced its power, he would ideally restrict himself to at the very least A Tier Skills—Skills birthed from A Tier Classes—and only those that offered something his existing Class Skills did not.

He had briefly considered learning Appraiser Skills, but one needed only a single conversation with Hatstopa to understand why—despite how invaluable her abilities were—she would make an utterly terrible teacher, rendering the entire endeavor a waste of his time.

He had asked Xirio to teach him his Class seeing Skill, which Kayode had initially thought to have been something he somehow learned from Hatstopa, only to be disappointed upon the revelation that it was not a Learned Skill but an incredibly rare potion he used. Learning how to make said potion was possible, but demanded ingredients that Kayode wouldn’t always have the luxury of accessing.

He thought of his new Skills.

[Relic Skill • Edge-Blaze — I — Active: You channel fiery intent into the blade’s form, stirring the mana bound within it. For a long duration, the weapon is wreathed in a bellowing glow, its edge burning with awakened force (Your weapon’s cutting damage is increased by 50%).]

[Relic Skill • Bone-Cleaver — I — Passive: Your strikes carry brutal structural force. Cutting attacks deal increased damage to armor, bone, and rigid targets.]

[Relic Skill • Brace-Boulder — I — Active: You draw your armor inward, compacting it around your body in anticipation of impact. For a short duration, your armor tightens and reinforces itself, greatly reducing incoming damage.]

[Relic Skill • Edge-Blaze — II — Active: Your awakened edge lingers beyond the blade’s physical length, trailing through the air as you swing. The weapon cuts where steel does not reach. Your melee attacks gain increased range, extending your effective reach for the duration.]

[Relic Skill • Bone-Cleaver — II — Passive: Your cuts exploit structural weaknesses with ruthless efficiency. Cutting attacks partially ignore armor and deal increased damage to skeletal or reinforced targets.]

[Relic Skill • Edge-Blaze — III — Active: Your swings carve outward arcs of awakened force, the burning edge flaring beyond its path. Attacks can strike multiple targets within the arc.]

All he had gained were Relic Skills—a testament to his days spent fighting more than anything. And though he knew he should feel proud of them, all he saw were Skills that he may not be able to readily access in the next Loop.

And he had yet to Level. His Class seemed to respond best to open, decisive victories—and while Kayode could feel an Experience thrum in his vessel each time his men bested an enemy transport, he could also sense that what it truly wanted was the town on that hill.

Understanding Classes this way did, in fact, make him empathize more with the Natives who believed the System possessed a consciousness. There was a push and pull to it—a vague awareness that had begun to feel almost second nature the more he wielded this Class. He was learning what it favored and what it rejected.

But it was nothing more than a highly complex magnet, reacting predictably: attracting under certain actions, repelling under others. It was not alive. And it was not conscious.

None of that changed the fact that he wasn’t having nearly as much Levelling as he’d hoped to be. 

“What’s this?” Xirio asked. He was staring at a string of letters and symbols written on the flames. These looked quite a bit different from the other ones, because Kayode actually could recognize some of the characters.

[Class Archive: If yu are reading this, then my greatest creation is now yours to . e pe nth, ntml, d t petl t wp t ete wl aud y fgs.

l, mt alge.

d ble ts Ca h t e t sp wt ci. ble l l gn t cry t wn t e—ai ad ai—wl bn tl hls t pvt .

a ge m.

Ad b f y, ba f tm.

—Abayomi Balógun]

“A message from the Kingdom Maker himself.” Kayode’s blood ran cold, he felt his heart burn in anticipation. He stared at the characters hard, hoping Right of Passage might help him unravel it. It did not.

“It’s corrupted,” Hatstopa frowned, as if the message had offended her personally.

“And you can’t decode it?” Xirio asked, just as eager to know what those texts truly held.

“No, I can’t,” Hatstopa admitted, the words bitter on her tongue. “Not now, at least. It’s too complex—aged out of context. No one has held this Class for hundreds of years, remember.” Her eyes widened with wonder. “How does a person even store a message inside a Class?” She caught herself mid-thought, then hissed. “Time,” she said firmly. “Give me time, and I’ll crack this fucking thing wide open.”

Hopefully that time came soon. “I’m going to get some rest. The High Chief could bring his men down on us at any time, and I’d rather be ready when that happens.”

The flames died, and Hatstopa kept scribbling on her note.

“Goodnight, Baron.” Xirio waved.

Kayode nodded, and made his way out.

###

“Great Lord,” came a voice.

And when Kayode opened his eyes he saw Ser Jorren Gold standing by the foot of his bed, eyes ready.

“What is it?” Kayode asked, already knowing the answer.

“The enemy is here.”