Kingdom Building Game: Starting Out With A Million Upgrade Points!-Chapter 135: Stormwake Pursuit

He had spoken, and the air itself seemed to bow to his voice. His gaze, sharp as a blade yet warm as a lingering flame, had met hers, and for the briefest of moments—she had forgotten herself.

Even now, the mere memory of it sent a shiver through her.

How charming he had been.

No, not merely charming—irresistible.

The way his silver locks framed his chiseled face, the way his regal robes draped over his powerful form, the way his voice resonated deep within her chest, igniting something she could not name, something she dared not name.

She bit her lip, her fingers tightening around the folds of her robe as she hastened her steps, as if running from her own mind.

Then the realization struck her.

If he truly was the man from the prophecy, if he was indeed the Chosen One who would unite her home, to pull out that sword…

She swallowed hard, her breath unsteady.

Then… it would be her duty.

Her duty to stand at his side. To be wed to him. To bear his children.

To surrender her chastity to him.

Her breath hitched, and she halted abruptly, her entire body stiffening as a wave of heat surged through her, causing her to place one arm on the wall for support.

A deep crimson flushed her fair cheeks, a small warning of something far more sinful as she felt the unmistakable stiffness of her nipples pressing against the fine fabric of her robes.

A shameful warmth gathered between her legs, and before she realized it, her thighs pressed together—a shameful, treacherous heat that should not—could not—be there.

Her hands trembled slightly as she clutched the fabric over her ample bust, as if to will away the sinful reaction her body had betrayed her with.

"No, no, no—this is impure!" she whispered fiercely to herself, shaking her head as if to dispel the wicked images forming in her mind—of him above her, his lips at her throat, his hands claiming her, herself beneath him, offering him what was meant to be sacred.

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Her breath came unsteadily, her purple eyes wide with horror at her own thoughts.

"It is a sin," she whispered again, "for me to look forward to such a thing… a terrible sin."

Her heart pounded furiously in her chest as she forced herself to move forward, to make her way toward the chamber of prayer, where she might beg the Goddess of Purity and Justice for deliverance from this temptation.

Yet as she walked, her warm body fluids slowly trickled down her trembling thighs, some even dripping onto the pristine marble floor, leaving a glistening trail.

Because deep within her, a dark truth lingered.

A truth she dared not utter aloud.

That some part of her… did not wish to be delivered at all.

She needed prayer.

She needed divine punishment.

She needed him.

…

…

Ralford Coastal Territory – Eastern Trade Road

The Imperial Knights rode along the Eastern Trade Road, a well-worn path that cut through the heart of Ralford's lands, stretching from the noble estates to the bustling docks along the coast.

The road itself was flanked by rolling wheat fields on one side and a dense thicket of gnarled oaks on the other, their branches twisting like skeletal fingers against the moonlit sky.

A few scattered farmhouses stood in the distance, their windows dark, their occupants likely aware of the Crown's decree after seeing all the Imperial Knights and wisely choosing to stay hidden.

Esten rode at the head of the column, his sharp gaze sweeping over the terrain.

The dirt road beneath them was damp from the evening mist, the scent of churned earth and horse sweat thick in the cold air.

In the far distance, the manor of House Ralford loomed atop a gentle rise, its torches still burning despite the search having already been conducted.

Behind it, the faintest glimmer of the Drowned Lantern Wharf could be seen, where the sea lapped hungrily against weather-worn piers.

A knight pulled his horse closer to Esten's side. "Sir, the manor has been searched. She wasn't there."

Esten barely turned his head. "Then she was moved before we arrived. Standard protocol—secure the docks, tighten the perimeter. She won't leave these lands without my permission."

The road ahead forked—one path leading toward the old stone bridge that connected to the inner estates, the other veering westward toward Stormwake Passage, a narrow and winding street known for its concealed alleyways and the occasional smuggler.

Hoofbeats echoed from behind. A lone rider in white and gold robes, his horse lathered with sweat, galloped toward them. The priest pulled his reins sharply, his mount rearing before landing with a heavy thud against the packed earth. He dismounted in haste, adjusting the embroidered sash of the Holy Church before bowing his head.

"Sir Knight," he said, his voice still catching his breath. "I bring word from Head Priestess Isode."

Esten's gaze snapped toward him. "Speak."

The priest straightened. "Our order has observed a group of men escorting a hooded figure down Stormwake Passage, heading toward the Drowned Lantern Wharf. The Head Priestess believes this may be of interest to your search."

Esten's fingers flexed against the leather of his reins, his jaw tightening. Stormwake Passage—it was exactly where a noble like Lady Ralford would be funneled through if she were trying to flee unnoticed like a commoner. The alleys there were narrow, easily defensible, and riddled with side routes known only to the locals.

"Good," he said at last. His voice was crisp, decisive. He turned to a group of knights. "Take ten men and head there immediately. Block every exit—she doesn't leave that passage unless she's in chains."

The knights saluted, pulling their reins tight.

Horses reared, hooves striking the damp road.

Then, in a blur of steel and cloaks, they were gone, galloping toward the streets of Stormwake Passage.

Esten exhaled, his gaze fixed on the distant glow of the docks. The sea wind carried the scent of salt and rotting wood, whispering of escape.

Lady Ralford could try to run.

But she wouldn't get far.