Chapter 51 The Power Behind the Throne

The air in the guild hall hadn’t recovered from Gregory’s smug proclamation. His voice still seemed to cling to the walls like stale smoke.

He stepped down from the raised platform slowly, not because he was tired—but because he wanted every step to echo. His boots clicked against the marble tiles, a deliberate rhythm of arrogance. His eyes moved lazily over the hall until they landed on the girls.

Skye felt it before she saw it—that creeping, oily weight of someone’s attention. Her tail stiffened.

“Well, look who’s come home,” Gregory said with a grin that was all teeth. He stopped just short of her, leaning into her space without touching her. “You know, Skye, now that the guild is in the hands of the true heroes—those of us who actually defeated the Demon Lord—you might want to reconsider where your loyalties lie. There’s always room at the top for someone like you.”

He winked.

Her shoulders locked. A cold spike ran down her spine, her tail curling in tight. She didn’t glance at Kai. She didn’t need to.

Her voice was low, but it had an edge that could cut stone.
“I’d rather scrub chamber pots barehanded than be seen standing next to you. And don’t you ever wink at me again.”

Silence snapped across the room like a rope pulled taut.

Even a pair of guards shifted uncomfortably, eyes flicking toward the exchange.

Fara’s hand had already slid toward her staff-spear, ears angled forward, tails swaying in a slow warning. Revoli, still working on a candied nut she’d bought outside, narrowed her yellow eyes and bit down until the treat crumbled between her teeth.

Gregory laughed. Loud. Forced. A sound meant for the crowd, not because he actually found it funny.
“Feisty. Just how I like them.”

He started to turn away.

That’s when Kai stepped forward.

No flourish. No raised voice. Just movement—calm, deliberate. He placed himself between Gregory and the girls, his face as unreadable as stone. From a distance, his stance looked relaxed. But up close, the quiet coil of muscle in his shoulders told a different story.

Gregory stopped, glancing him up and down.
“I thought you were still out of commission,” he said, feigning surprise.

Kai said nothing.

Gregory’s smirk widened. “You see the difference here, don’t you? Real authority comes from recognition. From backing. We’re recognized by the kingdom now. By royalty. What do you have?”

Kai tilted his head slightly. “My own two hands. And people who would never stab me in the back.”

The words landed with weight.

Gregory’s smirk faltered, just for a second.

Behind the welcome desk, Lena cleared her throat with just enough force to break the moment. “Perhaps this… isn’t the place. Lockwood’s old office is still available for official discussions. Please.”

The tension eased—barely—but nobody relaxed. The girls fell into step with Kai, their formation instinctive. Skye kept to his left, scanning the hall. Fara took the rear, ears flicking at every sound. Revoli closed the clasp on her bomb satchel, but left it unlatched for quick access.

None of them looked up.

If they had, they might have noticed the figure perched in the upper rafters, half-swallowed by enchanted shadow. Patrona crouched there, one hand gripping a beam, the other idly tracing the hilt of her blade. Her eyes were fixed on Kai, expression unreadable.

Inside Lockwood’s old office, the air was thick with dust and memory.

Lena crossed the room to a drawer and retrieved a sealed envelope. “Lockwood left this,” she said, offering it to Kai. “Said it was for you alone.”

Kai broke the seal, unfolded the parchment.

The lion wears a crown, but forgets the thorn in his paw. Sometimes, a thorn must learn to walk, talk, and burn quietly. Keep walking, Kai. The guild’s charter still remembers. And so do I.

No signature. Just a shimmering glyph at the bottom, its faint glow whispering of protections and hidden pathways. A quiet rebellion, written in patience.

Kai slipped the note inside his jacket. He understood.

“So what now?” Revoli asked, rocking back on her heels. “We’re just gonna let Gregory strut around like a rooster who owns the barn?”

“They’ve replaced nearly every officer who would’ve challenged them,” Lena said bitterly. “The ones left… they keep us here for the illusion of continuity. Everyone else has been reassigned—or disappeared.”

Kai’s gaze stayed on the window, jaw tightening. “Then we work from the edges.”

Fara’s voice was low, steady. “We’ll show them the kind of strength they can’t fake.”

Back in the main hall, the noise had shifted to a single voice cutting through the crowd. One of Gregory’s lieutenants—an over-decorated knight with a nasal tone—stood on a table, shouting over the murmur.

“By decree of the new administration, all adventurers must undergo official guild trials to maintain or advance their rank. Elite or not. No exceptions!”

The hall stirred with murmurs, frustration, and confusion.

Skye stepped closer to Kai. “That includes us?”

“It includes me,” Kai said, his voice even, eyes fixed on the freshly pinned list of names. “And I don’t lose.”

Behind him, the girls shared a look. Fara’s tails lifted slightly. Skye’s ears flicked forward. Revoli grinned just enough to show a fang.

High above, Patrona’s grip on the beam tightened.

“Still dreaming, Dreamwalker,” she murmured into the shadows. “But dreams have sharp edges.”