Reincarnated with the Country System-Chapter 210: The Thrall and the Emperor

The corridor outside the chamber was colder than it should have been.

Stone sweat clung to the walls. The echo of light lingered behind Alberto's eyes like retinal scars. His boots scraped the floor with every step, the iron click too sharp, too human after what he'd just seen. The Divine Thrall skulked behind him, silent, its limbs folded like broken steel, head bowed, mouth sewn shut with invisible strings.

The officers gave it a wide berth—no one wanted to breathe the same air. One dropped to a knee mid-step, crossing himself in some regional dialect. Another turned his back and muttered prayers under his breath.

Alberto ignored all of it.

"That thing…" one officer whispered, his voice hoarse, breath catching as if he'd swallowed sandpaper. " I don't know why—but my mind keeps telling me to shoot it."

"Shut up," the scarred one hissed. "It's bonded now. If you make it mad—"

"—You think it can't still kill us?"

Alberto didn't turn around.

But they shut up.

He let the Thrall fade into the shadows behind him, not bothering to leash it. If it turned, he'd incinerate it himself. That was the promise he'd made—both to the gods and to himself.

He moved through the winding corridors of the Arcane Research Institute's underbelly, the place where magic met machinery, and both were taught to kneel. The walls hummed faintly with residual power.

Up ahead, footsteps. Two sets. One light, one heavy. Familiar.

Then the voices reached him.

"—I told you the mana surge was off the damn charts. The whole third floor blinked out like someone pulled the veil off reality."

"Circe, I saw—it wasn't just a surge. It was a goddamn plane-shift."

Circe and Carl rounded the corner just as Alberto emerged from the shadows. Circe's violet eyes flashed as she stopped short, her robes fluttering like a curtain caught in a dying breeze. Carl, by contrast, didn't even flinch. That man could stare down a dragon mid-charge and still offer it a cigarette.

"Your Majesty," Carl said with a curt nod. His jaw was square, his voice clipped. A soldier to the bone. "I assume your… experiment was a success?"

Alberto didn't answer right away.

He looked at Circe first.

"You felt it?" Alberto asked, his voice low and gravel-edged.

Circe snorted. "Felt it? My nose bled for six straight minutes. The entire Arcane Calibration Grid had to be shut down. I thought you were ripping open a portal to the Nine Hells."

"I wasn't," Alberto said. "But I could have."

Carl's eyes flicked past him—past them, to the thing slithering in the dark.

It stopped just within view. Still kneeling. Still watching.

Carl's fingers twitched near his belt.

Circe looked like she wanted to dissect it.

"You used Resurrection," she murmured. "The real one."

"Yeah," Alberto said. "Cost me three billion SC."

Circe whistled low, her fingers already dancing in the air, drawing up half-formed glyphs of calculations. "And let me guess—the soul wasn't whole?"

"Fragmented," Alberto said. "Twisted. But it obeys now. Bound by divine mark."

Carl frowned, his jaw clenched. "That's necromancy. Or damn near close to it."

"No," Alberto growled. "It's ownership. If the gods didn't want me to use it, they shouldn't have sold it to me."

Circe arched an eyebrow. "The gods sell things now?"

Alberto turned, just slightly. His eyes burned with a cold flame. "They watch. They measure. They let the system do the dealing."

Carl stepped forward, lowering his voice. "Your Majesty… whatever that thing is, it's not right. It's not holy. And you know it."

Alberto met his eyes head-on. "Neither am I."

Silence.

Circe licked her lips, her gaze glittering. "So what now? You gonna build yourself a little undead choir?"

Alberto chuckled once, dark and low. "Not yet. But I know I can. And if I can do it once, I can do it again. The system doesn't lie."

Carl didn't laugh. "This kind of power… you keep pulling that trigger, and you'll wake up one day and realize you're no longer the Emperor. Just some glorified corpse-herder."

"I'll be whatever wins the war," Alberto snapped.

That shut them both up.

He moved past them, the creature trailing behind like a loyal dog from hell. The light dimmed as he walked, as if the shadows bent inward now—afraid to touch him.

"Your Majesty," Carl said again, his voice tighter this time. "There's something else. Just came in through the secure channel."

Alberto paused. Turned.

Carl continued, his voice lowering to a whisper. "It's about Latvia."

Circe perked up immediately, her ears practically twitching.

"What?"

Carl pulled out a datapad. Its surface flickered, displaying encrypted text that recompiled into readable language only under Alberto's biometric ID.

"One of our deep assets found something. An old site in the Ranga Mountain range, deep in the forest in Latvia. An abandoned temple. Not even local mystics recognized it. We wouldn't have noticed it if not for an energy spike that synced perfectly with Caspian's interrogations."

Alberto took the pad. Read. Scrolled. Stared.

"He's been there?" he asked.

Carl nodded. "Multiple times. Secret visits. This is what our investigation revealed."

Alberto closed the pad slowly.

An ancient temple—could this be the source of Caspian's evil powers? Maybe I can find more information about these evil gods there. Or maybe—the evil gods themselves.

Carl leaned closer. "Your Majesty… I think we need to go."

Circe's eyes gleamed. "A temple like that? Probably ancient magic. Maybe pre-Divine Era. If Caspian tapped into it… or was tapped by it… then whatever's inside could be influencing him even now."

This 𝓬ontent is taken from fгeewebnovёl.co𝙢.

"Carl, get everything ready. I'm going to Latvia," Alberto said.

"Okay, Your Majesty. I'll get everything ready. We'll leave tomorrow."

"No," Alberto said. "We leave tonight."

Carl arched a brow. "But, Your Majesty, isn't this too hasty? We have to set all protocols with your safety in mind."

"Do what I say. I don't want any delay."

His voice turned colder than death.

The Thrall stepped closer then, as if summoned by that dark promise.

Its breath steamed against the air. Its eyes glowed with hollow stars.

Carl looked at it. Then at Alberto.

"You're changing, Your Majesty."

Alberto stared back, unflinching.

"No. I'm becoming—"