Soulbound: Dual Cultivation

Everyone else, no matter their title or bloodline, would remain under quiet scrutiny. The rot was deeper than anyone had suspected, perhaps deeper than he dared to imagine. And the one who had poisoned Darius, his own son, was still out there. Perhaps sitting at his table. Bowing before him. Toasting to the health of the kingdom while plotting its death.

The King's eyes lingered on the crippled grandmaster for a long, silent moment. His expression revealed nothing, neither mercy nor malice, but his silence spoke volumes. The weight of his judgment was like a blade suspended in the air, unmoving yet threatening with its very presence.

Then, in a voice that cut through the stillness of the hall like the cold snap of winter, he said, "Take him back to the dungeons."

The guards at either side of the kneeling man moved, their hands firmly gripping his arms as they pulled him upright. The grandmaster said nothing, but his eyes flickered toward Lucas and then toward the King, searching for a hint of certainty or promise in either face. There was none, the desperation that had begun to glimmer earlier now dulled under the weight of uncertainty.

Before the man could be fully led away, the King added, "Whether or not your cultivation will be restored… I will decide in due time. I haven't seen this miracle for myself, but Henrietta vouches for it. And her word, unlike yours, is not in question."

The crippled grandmaster lowered his head, saying nothing in return. What argument could he possibly make now? The King had spoken. Whatever fate awaited him, redemption or rot, it no longer rested in his own hands.

Henrietta said nothing either as the man was escorted out. She remained at the King's side, watching him, studying the lines on his face as he gazed forward in thought. She could tell that he believed her. She could tell that he trusted her instincts, her eyes, and her judgment. And more importantly, that he was beginning to believe in Lucas too. Even if he hadn't witnessed what happened with his own eyes, the mere fact that Henrietta claimed it was possible was enough to keep the flicker of belief alive in him.

The King sat still, his gaze distant again, as though weighing more than just the decision about one man's power.

He was weighing the future of the realm, he turned his gaze to Henrietta first, then slowly to Lucas, the young man whose name had come up too often in the past weeks to ignore. His son's savior. A boy spoken about in the kingdom with both reverence and suspicion. And yet, here he stood, unshaken, piercing, unafraid of bearing the King's gaze head-on.

"I will not pretend to be in control of all this," the King finally said. "This is no longer the kind of threat I can face with a sword or with decrees. I see now that the rot is deeper than I imagined. The very bones of the kingdom are splintering under something I can't yet understand."

Henrietta stepped forward slightly, prepared to speak, but he raised a hand gently, not to silence her but to continue.

"I've ruled for decades," he said, almost to himself. "I've faced uprisings, assassins, even rebel cultivators clawing at the borders. But this? This enemy has no face, no flag, no name. And the ones behind it are using men like pawns."

His hand opened slightly at his side, as though offering something unseen.

"I trust only the two of you now," he said, locking eyes with Henrietta first, then Lucas. "You, Henrietta, for your wisdom and your ability to see truth even when it's buried behind spellwork. And you, Xavier…"

He paused then, his eyes narrowing slightly.

"…You're doing the impossible in plain sight."

Lucas said nothing, but the flicker of acknowledgment in his eyes was enough.

"I need your help," the King said plainly. "Not as your sovereign. But as a father who failed to protect his son, and as a man who cannot do this alone. I don't know who to trust anymore beyond the two of you. If there is a way to unearth this conspiracy, if there is a way to find who truly poisoned Darius, and how deep this corruption runs, I need you both to help me uncover it."

He exhaled heavily, as though admitting that aloud stripped him of some invisible armor he had worn for years.

"I will give you all the authority you need. Just don't leave me in the dark," he added, quieter now. "I fear what this kingdom might become if we fail."

As Lucas stood in the grand hall, the King's words are stuck in his mind, he felt something inside him, he felt proud of himself.

For so long, he had walked cautiously through this unfamiliar life, carrying the weight of another man's past and the secrets of his own rebirth. But now, for the first time since awakening in Xavier Alden's body, he felt the tides of fate turning in his favor.

He could feel it, the way the King looked to him with trust, the way Henrietta deferred to his insight, the way even the crippled grandmaster had begged for a second chance from his hand. Lucas was no longer just another young noble. He was becoming a symbol, a cornerstone in the foundation of a new order taking shape beneath the palace.

And that was exactly what he wanted.

He had always been ambitious, he could admit that to himself without shame. But ambition didn't always have to be a poison. It could be a fire, if wielded with care. And Lucas intended to wield it with precision. His ambition was forged in loss, in pain, and in the memory of a world that had torn him away from the only family he had ever known.

This realm was broken, rotting from within, and no one seemed capable of healing it. The King was strong, but weary. Henrietta was wise, but bound by limitations of vision and prophecy. What the realm needed now was someone who could act. Someone who could see the game being played and dare to reshape the board entirely.

Lucas would be that person.

He would rise by proving that strength did not come from titles or rank alone but from clarity of purpose. He would earn the kingdom's trust, earn the King's confidence, and when the time came, he would be ready to stand at the center of it all for the greater good.

And if those pulling the strings from the shadows thought they could twist his ambition to serve their ends, they were in for a rude awakening.