Soulbound: Dual Cultivation

Chapter 494: Relaying the report

By the time Lucas and the others reached the settlement where the Valerion forces had been stationed, the day was already wearing on, but Lucas showed no sign of slowing, no trace of the fatigue that had worn down the rest of the group during the journey. The temporary military encampment stretched across the outskirts in organized sections, disciplined but visibly lacking the strength and pride of a true Valerion stronghold. Tents had been raised in neat formations, supply wagons were stationed along the edges, and patrols still moved with order, yet the atmosphere carried a quiet heaviness that no structure could conceal.

These were soldiers without a kingdom to stand on.

Men and women trained for war, now forced to wait on foreign soil while their homeland remained under enemy control.

As Lucas stepped into the camp with the others behind him, several soldiers noticed immediately.

Lucas did not stop.

He did not explain.

He did not pause to answer questions.

His purpose was clear, and every second spent elsewhere was a second wasted.

Bartho moved toward him, clearly startled by the sudden arrival. "My Lord," he said, trying to catch his attention, "what happened in Valerion, where did you find them, what is the situation?"

Lucas barely slowed as he replied, "I need to see the king. Now."

Bartho straightened immediately at the tone in his voice, whatever questions he had dying in place as he recognized the urgency beneath Lucas’ calm. Without further delay, he turned and gestured for them to follow.

"Come with me."

They were led through the camp quickly, passing rows of soldiers who paused in their duties to watch them move past, curiosity and unease spreading through the ranks as the significance of Lady Isabelle’s return became impossible to ignore.

At the center of the encampment stood the largest command tent, heavily guarded but not extravagantly so, practical and efficient, as befitted a king living in temporary military quarters. The guards at the entrance immediately stepped aside when the officer approached and announced Lucas’ arrival.

Inside, King Highmoor stood over a war table covered in maps and reports, Commander Alexander beside him, while Captain Varran and Henrietta remained nearby. The king looked up the moment Lucas entered, and though his expression remained controlled, there was unmistakable intensity in his eyes.

King Highmoor’s eyes moved briefly to Lady Isabelle, and Lady Cecilia, before returning to Lucas. "Then report."

The words were simple, but the entire room stilled around them.

Lucas did not waste time.

"Valerion is in far worse condition than we feared," he began, his tone calm and direct, every word carrying clarity. "The usurpers have secured the capital and extended control across the kingdom. Their presence is organized, disciplined, and heavily reinforced."

Commander Alexander’s expression darkened as he asked, "Reinforced by how much?"

Lucas answered immediately. "Enough that open assault would fail. They have stationed forces throughout the city, control the roads, and have strong cultivators embedded within their command structure."

Captain Varran frowned. "How strong?"

Lucas met his gaze. "At least one Celestial in the occupied town sectors alone."

The room went silent.

Henrietta’s brows drew together as she said quietly, "A Celestial... stationed in every town?"

Lucas nodded once.

King Highmoor’s expression hardened, but he remained silent, allowing Lucas to continue.

"The people are living under strict occupation. Movement is controlled. Supplies are rationed. Fear is being used to maintain order," Lucas said, then paused briefly before adding, "And the usurpers are recruiting power by offering resources to greedy cultivators willing to betray their kingdoms."

Commander Alexander’s jaw tightened. "So they are buying strength."

Lucas nodded. "Exactly. And it is working."

Captain Varran exhaled slowly, shaking his head slightly. "That means every delay gives them more soldiers."

Lucas’ gaze remained steady. "Yes."

King Highmoor’s hands rested firmly on the edge of the table now, his eyes fixed on Lucas as he asked, "And Valerion’s resistance?"

Lucas’ answer came without hesitation.

"The scattered loyalists are surviving, but they are not capable of retaking anything on their own."

Henrietta stepped forward slightly, her voice sharper now. "Then if we wait, the usurpers grow stronger. If we attack now, we are outmatched."

Lucas looked at her and said, "That is the situation."

A heavy silence followed.

The king’s face remained unreadable, though the pressure in the room had deepened.

Lucas did not step back after finishing his report, and though the room had already fallen into a heavy silence, he remained standing where he was, his gaze steady on the king as if weighing whether to say what still lingered on his mind. The others noticed it, the slight pause that carried more meaning than hesitation, and it drew their attention back to him before anyone else could speak.

"There is more," Lucas said at last, his voice calm, yet carrying a depth that immediately shifted the air again.

King Highmoor’s eyes narrowed slightly, his expression tightening as he replied, "Speak."

Lucas did not look away. "The abyss," he said, and the single word alone was enough to stir unease across the room. "It is no longer distant. It is no longer a threat on the horizon."

Commander Alexander straightened slightly, his tone sharpening. "What do you mean."

Lucas answered without delay. "It is already there. Looming over the capital."

The words settled heavily, but he did not stop there.

"It covers the city," he continued, his voice steady, unshaken. "Hanging over it. Pressing down on it. Everything beneath it is under its shadow."

For a brief moment, no one spoke.

Even Captain Varran, who rarely allowed himself to show uncertainty, went still, his brows furrowing as he tried to picture it. Henrietta’s eyes darkened slightly, her usual composure tightening as the implication sank in, while Commander Alexander’s jaw clenched, the gravity of the situation now far worse than any battlefield report.

King Highmoor did not move.

But something in his expression changed.

Slowly, his gaze lowered, not in defeat, but in the quiet acknowledgment of what those words meant, and when he finally spoke, his voice had lost none of its strength, yet carried a weight that had not been there before.

"The abyss... over my capital," he murmured, more to himself than to the room.

Lucas remained silent, allowing the truth to stand on its own.

The king’s hands pressed more firmly against the edge of the table, his posture still upright, still composed, but the tension beneath it now unmistakable. His mind moved beyond strategy in that moment, beyond alliances and war, and into something far more personal.

His people.

Those still trapped within Valerion.

Those living beneath that shadow.

He exhaled slowly, the breath heavier than before, as his gaze drifted across the map before him, though it was no longer just lines and territories he saw, but lives, countless lives caught beneath something they could neither understand nor escape.

"What are they enduring..." he said quietly, the words carrying a restrained anguish that he did not allow to fully surface.

No one answered.

Because no one could.

Lucas had seen it.

But even he could not fully put it into words.

The silence that followed was not empty, it was filled with the unspoken weight of that reality, pressing down on every person in the room just as the abyss pressed down on the capital itself.

King Highmoor straightened slowly, forcing his expression back into control, though the sorrow had not left his eyes, only been buried beneath resolve. When he looked up again, there was something colder there, something sharper, forged from both duty and pain.

"They are still my people," he said, his voice firm now, though the emotion beneath it remained. "And they are suffering under something no kingdom should ever face."

His gaze shifted to Lucas once more, steady, searching, as if trying to draw every last detail from what he had seen.

"And we are here," he continued, quieter now, "waiting."

King Highmoor remained still for a moment after speaking, as though holding the weight of what Lucas had revealed, but when he finally lifted his gaze again, the sorrow that had briefly surfaced was already being forced back beneath the discipline of a ruler who could not afford to break under pressure. His eyes settled on Lucas, steady and sharp once more, though there was now a deeper edge behind them, something shaped by both frustration and understanding.

"Blackmare has given us their answer," he said, his voice calm but carrying a quiet firmness that filled the room. "They are holding onto old grudges, and they have no intention of setting them aside, not even now."

Captain Varran shifted slightly, his expression tightening as he listened, while Henrietta’s gaze lowered for a brief moment, as if she had already expected this but still found no comfort in hearing it spoken so plainly.

King Highmoor continued, his tone measured, yet edged with restrained dissatisfaction. "To them, Valerion wronged them. They remember the accusation against their court, the claim that they sought to poison Prince Darius, and in their eyes, that stain has never been cleared." He paused briefly, then added, "So now, when we stand on the brink, they choose distance instead of unity."

Commander Alexander’s jaw tightened slightly as he said, "And they believe that distance will keep them safe."

The king gave a faint nod. "They do more than believe it. They are convinced of it."

Lucas remained silent, listening.

King Highmoor’s gaze shifted slightly, as though looking beyond the walls of the tent, beyond the camp itself, toward the unseen heart of Blackmare. "Their inner provinces are fortified. Their capital is heavily guarded. Their borders are controlled. They have structured their defenses in layers, ensuring that whatever chaos spreads through the outer regions does not reach their core."

Henrietta let out a quiet breath, muttering under it, "They’ve built themselves a shell, and they think nothing can break it."

The king inclined his head slightly. "Yes. They believe they can endure. That even if the war spreads, even if the usurpers expand, Blackmare will remain untouched within its walls." His voice lowered just slightly as he added, "They believe they can survive a siege."