Rivers of the Night

Chapter 367: Little Uncle

Theron sat on a bed of more luxury than any he had ever experienced. He still found this place far too bright, and he couldn’t help but wonder if it would ever rain here. Would he even ever see the moon? How would you even enjoy rest and sleep in a place like this one?

It seemed that Scholar McIntyre had ties quite close to this Empire of Light Mana. Or, rather, the Tyre Imperial Clan. And by “close ties,” it seemed that he was actually one of them.

Theron hadn’t learned much in his short half an hour in this palace. But he had gathered a few things.

First, Scholar McIntyre was known as Ott Tyre in this place.

Second, he didn’t have an Imperial Title but was still treated like he was royalty. From this, Theron likely guessed that he was of mixed blood, a bastard or illegitimate child who had done well in proving himself and ultimately gained some respect.

Third, the Scholar hadn’t bothered to change his face or mask himself, nor did he make Theron do the same. That left Theron wondering if the distance between the two powers was really so great, if Ott Tyre was truly just so confident, or if he felt that none of the fanfare was necessary because those that investigated enough would learn of the truth regardless.

Fourth, he had introduced Theron as though the latter was his student and made no effort to control or manage Theron at all. This was probably the bit that gave Theron the most information and yet left him feeling the most confused.

The way Ott Tyre had spoken before, it seemed like he couldn’t wait to put Theron on a table to dissect him. But… his actions were a lot like the old assassin’s had been.

It was more like he wanted a pig to fatten up. He hadn’t harmed Theron because he was waiting for the right opportunity to use him, just like the old assassin, just like Patriarch Gian, just like the Nightingale Empire.

It seemed that Theron often found himself in a little bit of a pattern, but now he knew better than to think it was just because of his talent alone. No, it was because of his talent, but the reasoning was deeper than just wanting a pawn to use.

The so-called True Chosen the old assassin spoke of, the key to breaking the glass ceiling of this world… it seemed that Scholar McIntyre wanted something related to this.

But what was also clear from the Scholar’s actions was that the old assassin hadn’t told Theron everything. The only unfortunate part was that sneaking around in this place was probably impossible. Clearly, that much had been done on purpose.

‘This might be a more useful stay than I thought—’

BANG!

The door to Theron’s room was kicked open so hard that the thick wooden frame cracked, and the heavy door itself was flung from its hinges, spiraling across the room in a whirlwind that shattered the large floor-to-ceiling windows on the opposite side of the lavish abode.

Its edges dragged up rough cuts across the lush carpet, splinters flying off in all directions with such force they pinged against the walls, sharp and taut, sticking into them as though arrows fired from a bow.

Theron didn’t move, nor did he seem very surprised. He had seen this person coming from the very start.

A young woman stomped in as though cosplaying an assassin. Well, not a very good one, anyway.

She was wrapped in tight white leather, various straps loaded with daggers and odd trinkets and devices hanging from her. She must have been maybe 17 or 18 years old, and there was a fierceness to her that was only bolstered by the red-gold of her eyes.

It was the signature look of the Tyre Imperial family. Hair as white as ash… eyes as blazing as flickering flames.

Their demeanors were actually quite fiery as well. One would have expected from the city that they would be quite a caring and reserved bunch. But even having only been here for half an hour, all Theron knew was chaos.

Ott Tyre only appeared for a few seconds when a prince from his generation came at him with a golden gauntlet of Light Mana that was three times the size of his head.

Theron had just stood there during the battle that ensued, not thinking that he would be very involved in this. In fact, his assumption was that Ott had probably just stepped into a place he shouldn’t have, or maybe there were some unresolved grudges between himself and his family.

Only for a miniature version of the prince to suddenly come at Theron. And by miniature… Theron truly meant miniature.

The little brat had been five or six years old at most, barely in the Bronze Resonance Realm. Which was probably impressive in some places, but to fight against Theron with such strength was, well…

Quite bold.

Theron hadn’t even hurt the child. He just trapped him in a sphere of water that kept everything beneath his neck submerged.

If Theron wasn’t in a state of high alert… or rather, if he hadn’t been like a tight, wound-up crossbow for the last over a year, maybe he would have laughed at the scene. The child was quite cute, and the way he continued to struggle in some feeble attempt to escape was even cuter.

But Theron’s reaction back then had been quite deadpan, quite unmoved, and all of the indifference that reflected deep within his soul. He had been paying far more attention to Ott’s battle, trying to understand more about where his limits lay, only to realize that Ott, despite putting up a good act, wasn’t taking this half-brother of his seriously at all.

Oddly enough, though… Theron couldn’t see through the cultivation of the older-generation prince either.

But now, that seemed to matter a bit less, a fierce tigress of a woman having come presumably for revenge for her little brother? No, little cousin? Nephew?

Theron shook his head before he realized the real answer.

Little uncle.

It seemed the seniority of this Imperial Clan had become quite a bit mixed up.