Swordsman's Regression: Reawakened as a Necromancer-Chapter 133: Civil War

The Heroes were taken to a dressing room provided by Duke Aelasor for them to refresh themselves before the banquet.

It was a fancy place, with silk tapestries and all the goodies; surely better than their rooms in the Tutorium.

Aethelstan stood before a tall mirror, buttoning his collar with jerky, aggressive movements. His golden armor lay in a heap on a velvet stool, discarded like a snake’s old skin.

Nessa watched him from her corner. She didn’t want to fight with him. They have been friends ever since they were children. She was the daughter of his father’s closest friend, it was bound that way.

So, Nessa decided to clear the air. She took a breath and walked to his corner.

"Aethelstan," she said quietly.

He didn’t turn. His eyes met hers in the reflection of the glass. They were cold, walled off by a fortress of bruised ego.

"What do you want, Nessa?" he asked, his voice flat. "Come to measure the throne? See if it fits you better, leader?"

Nessa sighed, crossing her arms. "Stop it. You know that’s not what Master meant. And you know I don’t want it."

"Don’t you?" Aethelstan spun around, his hands balling into fists. " Master Omares humiliated me. He questioned my destiny, my birthright, in front of commoners. And you sat there and let him. You basked in it."

"You think I should have talked back to Master Omares?" Nessa tilted her head.

"You should have done something. You just watched."

"This isn’t about you, Aethelstan. It’s not about your birthright, or your glory, or your... destiny. We are fighting to save the world, not to build a monument to your ego!"

She took a step closer, her expression pleading. "In the Hive, you attacked Deron. You pushed Corisande. You treated us like nobodies in your personal simulation. If you keep leading like that, we won’t only fail. We will die."

Aethelstan laughed harshly.

"We won because of my power," he sneered. "I killed the Empress. I hold the Aspect. That’s why I’m the leader. If you think you can do better because you handed a dagger to a Healer Mage, then you are delusional."

He stepped into her personal space, his eyes burning. "If you want to steal my destiny, Nessa, then you better be ready for me to fight back. I will not let a thief take what is mine."

"Fight back?" Nessa recoiled, disbelief coloring her tone. "We are on the same side, you hothead! I’m trying to help you see—"

"Enough!"

The shout came from the corner of the room.

Liraeth marched forward, placing herself between Aethelstan and Nessa. She glared at the Assassin, her chin tilted high.

"Who are you to lecture him?" Liraeth spat. "He is the Sun Knight. He is the only high Level Awakener among us. You’re just a Level 18 rogue who hides in the dark while he takes the hits."

"She’s right," Bromm grunted, stepping out of the changing alcove, struggling to button a shirt over his massive chest. " The Prince got the kill. That’s what matters. You want to lead, little girl? Get some levels first."

Nessa looked around the room, shocked.

"You can’t be serious," she said. "Bromm, he almost got you killed."

"But he didn’t," Vadrian shrugged, polishing his sword. "We won. Winners write the rules."

"A strong leader is often misunderstood by the weak," Dagna added calmly, adjusting her glasses as she stood by the window. "Efficiency looks like cruelty to those who lack vision."

Ugmar nodded in agreement, and even Stenya, the quiet Arcanist, moved to stand behind Aethelstan, signaling her allegiance.

The room had physically divided.

On one side stood Nessa, isolated. On the other, Aethelstan stood surrounded by his faction—Liraeth, Bromm, Dagna, Ugmar, Vadrian, and Stenya.

Aethelstan looked around and smirked at Nessa. The validation had just fueled him, rebuilding the confidence Omares had shattered.

"See?" Aethelstan whispered. "A true leader wins the respect of his followers. The sun does not need to ask the shadows for permission to shine."

Before Nessa could respond, a soft knock echoed on the heavy oak door.

A young elven maid entered, bowing low.

"My lords, my ladies," she chirped. "Duke Aelasor awaits you in the Main Hall. The feast is served."

Nessa snapped her head back to Aethelstan, she gazed at him for a moment, memories of their childhood flashing in her eyes.

Then, she stepped back, shook her head and walked out.

Minutes later, they were all gathered in the Main Hall. It was a glorious space with a long slab of polished moonstone as the table, laden with dishes that smelled of spices and rare wines.

Duke Aelasor sat at the head, looking radiant. As the party entered, he stood, raising a goblet of crystal.

"And here they are!" Aelasor proclaimed. "The saviors of Evernia! Please, sit, eat! You must be famished."

The tension from the dressing room was masked by forced smiles as the Heroes took their seats. Servants poured wine that sparkled like liquid diamonds.

"Tell me," Aelasor leaned forward, his eyes gleaming. "What was the Boss of the Gate World? Was it magnificent? Did it scream when it fell?"

"It was a Queen Bee, Your Grace. An Empress. And she fell quite quickly," Aethelstan replied, taking the seat of honor to the Duke’s right.

Omares sat quietly at the end of the table, sipping water. He said nothing, letting the Prince spin his tale.

"Ah! I have heard great stories of your strength, dear Prince! Clearly it was not overstated."

Aethelstan smiled.

They enjoyed the start of their meal, discussing different things. But suddenly, the doors burst open and a breathless elf, dressed in the green leather of a Messenger, sprinted into the room.

He ignored the decorum, rushing straight to the Duke and dropping to one knee.

"Your Grace!" the scout gasped. "Word from the border! From our spy in Hollowcreek!"

Aelasor frowned, lowering his goblet. "Do tell, Messenger. Do not ruin my appetite with trifles."

"It is no trifle, my lord," the man said with a trembling voice. "There has been an Alpha-Rank Gate open in Hollowcreek for six days."

"Six days?" Aelasor whispered, his face paling. "That means... the break is imminent. Maybe a day, maybe hours."

"Yes, my lord," the Messenger confirmed. "Hollowcreek has kept it a secret. As we know, their defenses are ruinous. Their local Awakeners have no training. If the Gate breaks... the beasts from within will wipe Hollowcreek off the map by dawn, and will surely flood north into Neverglades as well."

Aelasor stood up, knocking his chair back. His festive mood was good.

"Fools!" the Duke hissed. "Prideful, stupid humans! I must summon my Vanguard immediately. We have to deal with this immedi—"

"Your Grace," Omares stood up. He looked calm, almost bored by the news.

"Why summon your Guard?" he asked. He gestured a withered hand toward the table of stunned Heroes. "Why not let us handle it?"

Aelasor blinked. "You? But... you just returned. You are tired. And an Alpha Gate..."

"This will be a true test," Omares said, his white eyes fixing on Aethelstan. "To see if these Heroes can save a province. Because soon, they would have to save the world."

The team looked at each other. The fear was there, but so was the adrenaline.

Aelasor looked at them. They were young, nothing like his experienced Vanguard, but they had determination in their eyes.

"Very well," Aelasor decided, clapping his hands. "We shall portal you to Hollowcreek directly. But you cannot go like this."

He gestured to the grand archway leading out of the hall.

"The Crowns will eventually sponsor your legendary gear for the ultimate battle, yes. But for tonight... I open my personal armory to you."

The Duke smiled, a hint of his theatricality returning.

"I grant you full access to the Vault of the Silver Bough. Choose what you want. Upgrade your armor, replace your weapons. Take the finest enchantments Neverglades has to offer. Consider it my contribution to your abrupt task."

Aethelstan’s eyes lit up. "Your Grace is too kind."

"We accept," Omares nodded. He turned to the group.

"Come now, youth. Leave the food. We must leave in earnest."