Chương 203: The Final Preparations

Noon approached with agonizing slowness, yet the sun over Seiron's sky appeared pale, sickly, and shy, hiding behind thick and low gray clouds, as though nature itself refused to share its light in Sylvester's false and blood-drenched theater. The city was not asleep, for this was the day of the great celebration, but it was certainly not awake with its customary vitality.

The streets were covered in a festive decoration so excessive it inspired disgust: enormous silk banners in purple and gold hung from every balcony and window, and marble statues of Sylvester, sculpted in a fevered rush, had been erected overnight in the rain-soaked public squares. But the streets were cold, silent, and desolate. People moved with hurried steps and bowed heads, whispering in fear in the corners about the disappearing soldiers, the empty warehouses, and the blue specter that wandered at night.

The city was like a corpse being adorned in preparation for its own burial. Far from this falseness, in the secret underground hideout near the city's center, where the rebellion's commanders had relocated to coordinate the final assault, the few remaining hours were passing with a crushing weight that pressed on every breath. Dex stood in a small stone room before an old and cracked metal mirror, wearing his new combat armor.

It was not the heavy armor decorated with gold like the traditional noble knights' plate that impedes movement. It was a practical, lethal suit, designed specifically for very rapid movement, close-quarters engagement, and deadly killing.

The armor was crafted from treated black dragon hide, an extremely rare material extracted by Marcus from the family's ancient secret stockpiles, a material that resists direct magic and does not burn in ordinary fire, reinforced with thin yet extraordinarily hard plates of enchanted silver on the chest, shoulders, and arms.

Dex tightened the sturdy leather straps around his wrists and thighs with precision, then inspected with intense focus the positions of the daggers cleverly concealed in his boot, in his wide belt, and in a hidden scabbard behind his back. Finally, he picked up the most important piece, the mask. It was a black metal mask covering the entire lower half of his face and part of his left eye, leaving only his right eye visible, clear as an ember.

The mask had been designed not only to conceal his true identity at the battle's opening to sow chaos, but to add a tone of psychological terror, embodying the legend of the "rebel ghost" he had built during the past days.

"Does it suit you?" Marcus asked, standing behind him in the mirror's reflection. Marcus was wearing a rough, loose brown cloak resembling the cloaks of beggars or monks, completely covering his old, luxurious golden armor that gleamed with malicious readiness beneath it, to conceal his identity in the crowds until the moment of his appearance.

"It is perfect, Father," Dex answered, his voice emerging metallic, slightly muffled, and frightening due to the mask's special openings. He rolled his shoulders with flexibility.

"It is light, and does not impede the mana flow through my limbs at all. I feel as though I could fly in it." You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version. Dex turned to Lumia on the other side of the room. She was sitting cross-legged on the cold stone floor, her eyes closed in deep concentration, her slender hands floating in the air above a small blue crystal encoded with symbols.

Her skin was slightly pale, and small beads of sweat gathered on her brow from the excess of mental and magical effort.

"Lumia," Dex called to her in a quiet voice.

"Are you ready? The entire mission, and the lives of our thousands of men, depend entirely on you in the very first seconds of the ceremony's beginning." Lumia opened her eyes, and for a fleeting instant, her eyes gleamed with an intense and terrifying silver light, the color of cosmic void, before returning to the disguised human blue she had grown accustomed to. She rose slowly and brushed the dust from her cloak.

"I have succeeded in identifying the precise frequency of the city's grand defense array," Lumia said in a quiet, confident voice entirely devoid of any emotion.

"The Heart of Seiron necklace that Sylvester will wear functions as the primary encryption key. The moment he stands on the platform, begins his speech, and raises the necklace to activate the magical bond that declares him governor and protector of the city, I, from my concealed position in the clock tower, will broadcast a counter-wave: silent, powerful, and woven from void magic." She raised her finger mimicking a press.

"I will isolate the frequency entirely in a bubble of nothingness. He will press the necklace, and will feel the mana pulse flowing from his body into it, but it will be dead mana. The void will swallow the connection. The array will not respond. The magical shields will not rise above the palace. The palace will be exposed as a torn tent." Dex nodded with complete satisfaction, a savage smile forming beneath his metal mask.

"This is excellent. The array's failure to activate before the nobles will give him a moment of confusion, a moment of public failure and doubt. And that moment of hesitation, is his death." Marcus stepped closer to his son and placed his large, heavy hand on Dex's armored shoulder. He looked into Dex's blue eyes, which had become cold and hard, and saw in them a seasoned man, a warrior who was no longer that reckless young man.

"Dex, hear me carefully," Marcus said in a paternal yet firm tone.

"Always remember this, anger is excellent fuel for igniting the engine at the battle's start, but a very poor driver if you allow it to control the wheel. Do not let the phoenix flames consume you, and do not let the desire for vengeance blind you to strategy. Control them, direct them with your will, and make them your cutting sword, not the guillotine that cuts off your own head."

Then Marcus added in a strategic tone, reviewing the plan one final time: "The commanders in the outer square are awaiting your signal among the crowds. The moment the blue fire blazes in the sky announcing your assault, the tables will turn on the sorcerer, and our men will attack the palace guards. I will remain concealed and will wait for precisely the right moment to intervene, the moment Sylvester believes he has survived, and still has a chance to flee or fight."

"He will have no chance, Father," said Dex with glacial coldness, placing his hand on the hilt of his concealed sword.

"Today, with the setting of this pale sun, Sylvester Williams's nightmare will end forever." The three of them left the secret hideout in silence, dispersing in different directions like ghosts dispatched to execute a destined fate. Marcus pulled his hood over his head and joined the crowds flowing toward the palace square, like a mere helpless, wandering elder. Lumia slipped like an invisible shadow across the rain-slicked rooftops toward the magical watchtowers.

And Dex, Dex dissolved into the deep shadows of the alleyways, heading toward the main square, his heart beating to the rhythm of war drums, his flames ready to be unleashed.