The Guardian gods-Chapter 551

He had followed Kaelen. Trusted him. Believed in his strength.

But now... now, he saw a shadow stretching behind every noble act. A quiet manipulation behind every alliance. Kaelen wasn’t wrong—that’s what made it worse.

He was winning.

And somewhere deep in Rattan’s chest, a voice began to whisper:

It should be you.

Rattan hated himself in this moment. He had sacrificed so much, played dangerous games, walked moral tightropes, and yet... it still wasn’t enough. Despite all his cunning and compromise, despite the blood on his hands and the burdens on his soul, everything he wanted was slipping through his fingers.

Someone else was going to win. Someone else would hold the prize. And all he could do was watch smile through clenched teeth and play the part of the loyal pawn because he was weak.

But Rattan was not someone who accepted defeat easily.

Not when he saw the triumphant gleam in Kaelen’s eyes, the smug curve of his lips. That smile was a dagger, not just because Kaelen had succeeded, but because it reminded Rattan of what he lacked. Power. Influence. The ability to shape the world rather than be shaped by it.

His thoughts drifted to Vellok. Should he tell him what he had just witnessed? Would it matter? Perhaps Vellok already knew the true aim, the endgame Kaelen had been building toward in silence. If that was the case, then he himself was just another piece and a disposable one at that. He had to act. Do something. Anything to keep Kaelen’s victory from becoming absolute.

Even as envy coiled tight in his chest, he wore his mask flawlessly. With a reverent bow of his head, he spoke with just enough tremble in his voice to sell sincerity:

"I am ashamed, Your Highness," Rattan said, his tone honeyed and contrite, "ashamed that I failed to see the full scope of your vision and worse still, that I ever doubted your path to it."

He dropped to one knee, head bowed low in a perfect show of deference. "I kneel before you today in total submission. I know I have lost your trust once... and I cannot ask to regain it. But I can prove my loyalty. If you allow me."

There was a pause, heavy before he continued, quieter now, as if revealing a dangerous secret.

"Vellok believes me to be entirely his. He has no suspicion, no inkling that I would ever betray him. And it would be... unwise of me to confess such to you of my betrayal. But..."

Rattan looked up, locking eyes with Kaelen.

"I have seen how the Empire’s grip tightens around your plans. I may have a way, ways the Empire would never allow or imagine."

Kaelen regarded him coldly. There was no warmth in his voice as he spoke:

"Then stand tall — and speak aloud. Tell me, Rattan: what do you possess that I or the Empire cannot seize on our own?"

"This pertains to the recent rumors circulating through the Empire," Rattan began carefully, every word weighed with caution. "I may have uncovered a thread... a figure Your Highness would no doubt recognize and someone the Empire is actively hunting."

He glanced up briefly, testing Kaelen’s interest before continuing.

"This figure is the only known survivor of what truly happened in the city overseen by the Sixth Tier Mage... Gurnak."

The name dropped like a stone in still water.

Kaelen said nothing at first. Instead, he leaned forward, the silence was oppressive, stretching long enough that Rattan nearly second-guessed speaking at all.

Then Kaelen spoke, voice low.

"It seems your arrival today was no coincidence, Rattan. You’ve been holding onto this. Waiting, calculating. Hoping to make your play when I was at my most desperate."

He stood slowly, eyes boring into Rattan’s bowed form. "And now here you are. A subordinate I once trusted, betrayed me, and now crawls back bearing gifts. Not out of loyalty — but survival. Because you believe you possess something I might need enough... not to kill you."

Rattan’s composure cracked slightly. His head bowed lower still, voice trembling but determined.

"I... I am sincere, Your Grace. I won’t insult you by pretending I was not selfish, I was. I’ve made choices to ensure I lived long enough to matter in this game. But I am not without conviction."

He dared to lift his eyes, just slightly. "I do not want to die, not before I see the Empire brought to its knees. And if this knowledge I hold serves your purpose, I give it willingly."

Kaelen’s expression did not soften. If anything, it grew colder, more calculating.

"Then speak, Rattan," he said at last, his voice now a chilling whisper. "You’ve danced around it long enough. Tell me of this survivor."

Rattan, blinded by envy and frustration, could no longer think clearly. His emotions swirled into something reckless. And in a moment of impulsive defiance, he brought out what was meant to remain hidden.

The cube floated above his palm, softly humming, faint lines of light pulsing across its surface.

Kaelen’s eyes shifted immediately, recognizing the object. He didn’t ask what it was, he knew what it was as someone who took the magi tech path. The only question was how Rattan had used it.

Rattan pointed to the cube, voice steady despite the weight of what he was revealing. "I played some hands in the armor given to the ratfolk. One of those hands involved enchantments that allowed me to listen in on their words. It wasn’t meant to be anything major just passive surveillance."

He paused, gauging Kaelen’s reaction.

"Through that," he continued, "I caught mention of a figure. The same figure the Empire is after, the fugitive no one’s supposed to know about. His name isn’t spoken, but the rumors around him is real."

"They say he’s like a myth. No official sightings, no verified reports. But too many of the ratfolk have claimed to see him, hiding in the battlefield, appearing in moments where death seemed certain, sometimes saving them, then disappearing again."

Rattan lowered his hand. The cube floated beside him, still active.

"There’s one thing they all say about him. A feature they can’t forget."

He looked Kaelen in the eye.

’"He looked like a spider.’ That’s what they keep saying."

Rattan, for his own selfish reasons, pushed Chief out, using the cube and its function as justification. He masked his move as strategy, but deep down, he knew it was envy that fueled him. If Kaelen’s plan was to crumble, he needed to be at the center of it

Kaelen, meanwhile, had stopped listening to Rattan’s motivations the moment he heard the words "spider-like feature." That description alone triggered a deeper recognition. One of his subordinates had mentioned a similar figure before, strange reports from the field, unexplained losses, ghost-like interventions in battle.

The Empire had been chasing this shadow for some time. But Kaelen had never cared. Not until now.

Now he understood.

This fugitive, this "spider" If Rattan’s words were true, then this was someone tied to the past the Empire had buried. Someone who survived.

Someone who could drag their secrets into the light.

Kaelen’s eyes lit up with purpose. The opportunity ahead of him was too great to ignore. If he could get his hands on this fugitive, the veil the Empire had so carefully pulled over recent events would rip apart. He would control the story. He would reclaim the narrative. And the hypocrisy of the Empire, its quiet manipulations and hidden sins would burn under his spotlight.

He leaned forward, excitement building, about to demand more details from Rattan but then, his expression shifted.

The runes etched across the walls, binding, and protective began to glow.

But they weren’t pulsing with steady power. They flickered, faltered and cracked.

Kaelen’s head turned sharply. The atmosphere in the room dropped. Power and forceful pressure pressed in from above.

Then, in front of both Rattan and Kaelen, the roof itself tore apart. It didn’t shatter, it peeled. Chunks of it floated midair, suspended unnaturally, like weightless debris.

Kaelen rose into the air, his body surrounded by a faint, aura. His expression twisted in fury.

"What is this?" he shouted, voice echoing unnaturally as he levitated higher. His eyes scanned the fractured space above.

Kaelen stopped halfway, his words caught in his throat as his eyes locked onto the figures rising above him — five of them, all levitating, cloaked in the familiar robes of sixth-tier imperial mages. The light of the fractured runes below reflected off their enchanted garb, and they ascended higher, gazing down with cold detachment.

Kaelen’s blood chilled.

His home, his bastion was surrounded.

Looking down, he saw imperial forces flooding the perimeter. His men, the ones sworn to him, were being forced to the ground. Magic wards pinned them down, sealing their limbs and mouths. Even Gorok, his second-in-command, the one he trusted with his life, was bound and struggling under layers of suppressive magic. There was no warning, no battle cry, no signs of struggle it had all been executed in silence, swift and surgical.

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