CHAPTER 122: UNLEASHING THE HUNTER(2)

The believers would praise him for his humility. For aligning with the faith. For serving under God’s will.

In reality, all the power would still be his.

’Yes. I am a genius.’

Maximus allowed himself a slow, silent nod as he watched the Church Father still standing in silent fury.

Let him burn with righteousness. Let him believe in holy justice.

Maximus would give him all the fire he needed.

Then use that fire to light the world under his rule.

Maximus’s lips threatened to go up but he forced them down, fighting against the urge to smile.

He needed to maintain the appearance of shared agony, of righteous anger.

"What should we do, Father?"

His voice was careful, urgent, the tone of a man who respected the Church’s authority and wanted swift action.

He couldn’t afford delays now. He needed this man to move, to act, to take the lead with the Church’s weight behind him.

Jonathan looked at the prince, his eyes cold and focused, and nodded once.

"Whatever we do, we need to eliminate the highest threat first."

His words were calm but heavy, the kind of weight that suggested finality. Maximus tilted his head slightly.

"That is?"

Jonathan clenched his jaw, the fury still fresh on his face.

"That sinful creation of the most unholy races. That half-blood abomination walking this land unchecked. We need to neutralize her before we can proceed with the heroes and..."

He paused, his voice catching as he ground his teeth together. The room felt heavier.

"...and that goblin king who made a fool of us. Who desecrated our soil and tainted the sanctity of our land. If we allow that insult to remain, it will stain the Church’s reputation permanently. We must make an example."

He raised his hand and clapped once, loud and sharp. The sound echoed across the chamber.

A few seconds later, a young priest entered the room swiftly, robes still rustling behind him. He bowed low, hands clasped in front of him.

"Your Holiness."

He didn’t look at Maximus, didn’t acknowledge the presence of royalty at all. His loyalty was singular and absolute.

Father Jonathan was the highest authority in the Church, and in matters of the divine, not even a prince could overshadow him.

Maximus noticed this. He saw it, felt it, and it burned.

But he kept his mouth shut.

He didn’t let the anger show.

This was the order of things. For now. He knew very well that if he tried to assert his power here, it would only break the fragile trust he was building with Jonathan.

He had to swallow the insult. He had to pretend he didn’t care that a man of the cloth was being bowed to, while he, a direct blood descendant of the royal line, stood ignored like a servant.

But he reminded himself.

This was not about pride. Not yet.

He had bigger plans. A larger goal. The Church’s cooperation was more valuable than a thousand soldiers.

The blind devotion of the faithful, the zeal of holy warriors, the influence of the clergy—he needed all of it.

And to get it, he needed to stay quiet, obedient, loyal.

At least on the surface.

"Send a message. It’s time."

"As you wish."

The young priest bowed again and turned around without wasting a second.

He didn’t ask who the message was for. He didn’t need to. There was only one man the Father could mean right now.

Maximus watched him leave, then turned back to Jonathan.

"You mean..."

His voice trailed off. His heart was pounding faster. This was it. The moment they had been waiting for. The beginning of another war. Another shot at glory. Another stage for him to prove himself.

Father Jonathan, the man the world believed to be a symbol of love and peace, gave a quiet nod.

"It’s time to unleash the hunter to hunt his prey."

That was all he said. But it was enough.

Maximus grinned. Jonathan grinned back. Neither of their smiles looked holy. Neither of them looked like men of peace anymore.

They were smiling like two men ready to burn the world.

...

"Are you sure about this. We need you right now. You know it."

"Yes. I do know it. But my baby also needs me."

Inside the tent, two people stood facing each other. It was Alice and Alex, caught in the middle of a conversation that neither of them truly wanted to have—but both knew was inevitable.

The tent they were in belonged to Alice.

That much was clear from how neat everything was, how her personal belongings were already packed into the leather satchel on her bed.

Alex hadn’t moved in with her yet, not officially.

He still stayed in Bryce’s tent, keeping a polite distance.

It wasn’t because he didn’t want to be closer to her—it was because he thought giving her space might help.

Give her some time, some room to breathe. Maybe that would be enough for her to see that he was still serious about her. Still worth keeping around.

But things weren’t going the way Alex had hoped. Not even close. Alice had made up her mind.

She had to go back. Back to the kingdom. Back to their home. Back to the one person who needed her more than anyone else—their child.

"I thought things would only take a week at most. That I could come in, assist you all, help you take down the goblin king, and then return."

Her bag was already sealed tight. Her boots were laced. She had clearly made this decision long before Alex entered the tent.

Alex didn’t argue. He could see it in her eyes—there was no changing her mind. She wasn’t leaving out of fear or frustration.

She was leaving because she felt her place was with their child. And that was something Alex couldn’t fight against. Not when she was right.

"But Alex, it’s been over a week since I came here and nothing has happened after that young goblins attack."

"Yeah, but we’re training to get stronger, Alice. We’re not just sitting around. Once the preparations are done, we’ll go after them again. Properly this time."

Alex’s voice had that slightly defensive tone, the kind that crept in when someone was trying to sound rational but was actually begging—silently, pathetically—for the other person to stay.

He wanted her here.

Not just for the battle. Not just because she was powerful and skilled and probably the best spell-slinger in the entire camp.

But because she was his wife. And even if things had been rocky.

Even if they hadn’t slept under the same blanket in months. Even if she barely looked at him the way she used to... she was still his.

At least, in his head.

What he didn’t know, what would’ve shattered him into a hundred soul-fragments if he did, was that Rae had already claimed a part of her that Alex never could.

Not anymore. Not after the way Rae touched her. The kind of pounding that left her gasping for breath, her thighs weak, her body marked in ways that no spell could undo.

And worst of all, the way her insides reacted when Rae was around. That damned involuntary quiver. That traitorous heat.

If Alex ever found out, he’d cough up blood, vomit out what was left of his pride, and probably drop dead right there like a poisoned NPC.

But right now, all he could do was try.

He took a step closer, reaching for something—connection, trust, whatever scrap she had left to give.

"And all I’m asking is two days, Alex. Just two. i just want to make sure my baby is alright. I’ll head straight back after that. I promise."

Her voice wasn’t angry. It wasn’t cold. It was something far worse—reasonable.

She had been worried about their child the entire time she’d been here. That concern had never left her, not even for a day.

Even when she was helping the camp, giving out potions, attending briefings, casting wards around the perimeter—her heart was elsewhere. Far from goblins. Far from tents. Far from him.

And honestly, she hadn’t even planned to stay this long.

A few days, that was all.

But something, some reason she couldn’t admit, even to herself, had made her remain here longer than expected.

And now, that reason was pulling away. Her mind was already back home, with their child.

Yes, something indeed.

Something inside her had shifted. It wasn’t loud or dramatic. It was quiet, steady, like a decision made after a long breath. But it was real.

Ever since Rae hugged her the other day, after doing whatever he had done with Lyra, Alice felt different. Not angry. Not exactly heartbroken.

But something inside her tightened. Like a string pulled too far. She didn’t cry or scream. She just knew.

She had to see her baby.

That was it. That was her reason. That was her excuse.

And maybe, just maybe, she needed to get away from this place too. From the camp. From the missions. From all the mixed looks. From Rae.