CHAPTER 534: SECRET OUT

"After my father contacted you to meet at Caelmoor, right after my mother’s execution," Liam began, his tone steady and unhurried, "he told Grandpa Billy there was something he needed to take care of."

Galen listened without blinking, his posture still, but Liam could tell he was absorbing every syllable with far more weight than the others. The rest remained silent, yet none carried the same urgency that simmered behind Galen’s calm façade.

"He traveled to the far ends of the Land of Ruins to turn himself into a beacon," Liam continued.

"A beacon?" Mystica echoed, her brows knitting slightly.

"Yeah."

"A beacon of what, exactly?" she pressed.

"Of dark energy—specifically tuned so only Blood Demons could sense it," Liam said, his voice even despite the heaviness of the revelation.

Their reactions split across the room—shock, confusion, dread—but Mystica was the first to recover enough to speak.

"How is that even possible? Making yourself a beacon at all is already reckless, but ensuring only Blood Demons could detect it... that isn’t something anyone should be capable of." Her eyes sharpened with genuine curiosity. "Then again, Galen mentioned your father may have been the most synchronized with dark affinity in recorded history."

"Honestly? I don’t know how he did it," Liam replied. "But you’re right—he was the strongest of his kind to ever exist, even though he never truly tapped into his full potential. So we’ll just leave it at that being the reason he managed to pull it off."

"So after making himself a beacon, what happened?" Galen asked quietly, his smooth tone a clear signal for Liam to continue.

Catching the cue, Liam nodded. "I imagine you already have some idea, but I’ll tell you anyway. Turning himself into a living beacon drew in nearly every Blood Demon across the three kingdoms of Amthar. Even their Lord... Sanguis."

The moment the name left his mouth, tension rippled through the chamber. Shoulders stiffened, breaths slowed. Only Galen and Magnus remained unaffected, as if they’d been waiting to hear that name the entire time.

"Once they were all there, my father contained them inside a void dome—cutting them off from the world entirely," Liam went on. "I’m sure you can guess what that meant."

"Marcus fought the Blood Demons," Galen said, voice steady despite the storm gathering behind his eyes.

"Yeah. He did." Liam nodded. "For four days straight, he fought both Redbloods and Purebloods. In those four days, he killed thousands. But eventually Sanguis stepped in. And even though my father held his ground long enough to carve a permanent scar into the Blood Demon Lord, he finally met the fate he’d been prepared for."

Liam exhaled slowly. "He died there, and in doing so... he joined your sister—my mother—where she rested."

When he finished, silence wrapped around them again. Galen didn’t move, didn’t shift, and even didn’t frown. But his jaw tightened, and that single subtle motion betraying more anger, grief, and buried emotion than any outburst ever could.

Meanwhile, Mabel’s thoughts churned in a restless spiral, trying—and failing—to measure the scale of strength required for Liam’s father to accomplish such impossible feats. The more she replayed Liam’s words, the more unreal they felt.

’Fought and killed thousands of Blood Demons on his own... and even managed to scar the Blood Demon Lord himself. And he wasn’t even using his full potential?’ she thought, her breath catching slightly. ’What kind of monster of a man was he?’

While she remained lost in her own shock, Galen finally pushed himself off the wall, his movements steady but his expression unreadable. When he spoke, his voice was calm, but there was a heaviness beneath it that wasn’t hard to sense. "Thanks for that," he said quietly, eyes locked on Liam with unusual depth.

"I’ll be taking my leave now. You should rest and try to get your body back in shape," he added as he turned toward the door.

"Where you heading, Gally? Don’t tell me you’re trying to be a bad uncle again," Magnus said in his typical joking tone, though the shadow of genuine concern took the edge off his grin.

"I just need some air, that’s all. See you guys later," Galen replied. Without another word, he opened the chamber door and slipped out into the hallway.

As the door closed behind him, Mystica felt the subtle shift in the atmosphere he left behind. She could sense the storm of emotions twisting through him, no matter how flawlessly he hid it from the others. Among everyone present—aside from Liam—she knew Galen best. And she knew better than most that he wasn’t as detached as he appeared. Even if he liked to pretend otherwise, he wasn’t immune. Not tonight.

’I hope he’s alright,’ she thought quietly.

"Galen is right," Queen Lucy said as she rose, her posture composed though her expression softened with a calm seriousness. "You should rest and regain your strength," she added, her gaze settling on Liam as he sat calmly at the edge of the bed.

Mystica began to stand as well, but Liam’s voice cut through the moment before she could rise fully.

"Wait. Before you all leave, mind filling me in on what has happened since I was unconscious?" he asked, tone level, eyes steady as ever.

Lucy and Mystica exchanged a look—one of those silent, weighty glances that carried more emotion than words ever could. Before either woman could speak, Magnus suddenly shot up from his chair and headed for the door with exaggerated energy.

"Well, we all know my services aren’t needed for this part of the journey, so I’ll be taking my leave," he announced cheerfully. "Your Majesty. Moony." He gave them both a playful bow as he passed. "I’ll leave this to you two." He pointed at them with a wink before continuing toward the exit.

He brushed past Mabel with a grin. "See ya around, mask girl," he said before slipping out of the room.

Lucy and Mystica watched him go, then turned back to Liam, who remained patiently waiting—quiet, composed, and clearly unwilling to let the matter go.

A heavy silence settled before Lucy finally spoke again, her tone shifting into something soft, something almost maternal—rare enough that it stood out immediately. "What about later, Liam? You need to rest. You haven’t even washed up to feel refreshed. Why don’t you do that first?"

"Apologies," Liam said, gaze unwavering, "but I’d prefer if you tell me everything right now. I can think it over while I wash down."

Lucy glanced at Mystica, who offered a slow, knowing nod.

With a quiet sigh, Lucy lowered herself back into her seat. "Alright then," she said softly. "If you insist."

After both women settled back into their seats, Queen Lucy began recounting everything Liam needed to know, starting with the simplest matter. She told him that Sheila was safe, recovering, and currently back with her parents in the Crescent Kingdom—all thanks to his intervention. She had awakened a few months after the war ended and was now in stable condition.

Liam listened without a flicker of visible reaction. Sheila was a friend, sure, but not someone whose well-being stirred anything in him beyond mild acknowledgement. Her safety mattered in a distant, logical sense, yet it was nowhere near enough to provoke any rise of emotion inside him.

Lucy moved on to the next point—the kingdom-wide shutdown of academies across Amthar. All three nations had agreed on the decision, placing every institution under suspension until further notice. That piece of news earned far more of Liam’s attention. He remained still, but internally he noted the significance. The academies held instructors he still needed, techniques he had yet to master, knowledge he had no intention of missing. Their closure, even temporarily, directly impeded his progress.

Then came the final piece of information, and this one settled in his mind like a weight. Lucy told him that his true identity—son of Serah Magna and an inheritor of dark magic—had spread across all of Amthar. The revelation had happened in the Solara Kingdom, his mother’s homeland. King Tharion, his grandfather, had taken the news with visible shock but had made no move to pursue him despite Liam’s connection to forbidden magic.

The same, however, could not be said for the Crescent Kingdom. Their king, Valemir, had made his intentions unmistakably clear. He viewed Liam’s existence as a threat—one that needed to be erased to finally end the lineage of dark magic.

As the final strands of information wove together, frustration tightened inside Liam, sharp and bitter. His jaw didn’t move, his eyes didn’t shift, but the annoyance simmered through him nonetheless.

’What a fucking joke,’ he thought coldly. ’I wake up and reality’s even more absurd than before. I’m apparently famous now. Wonderful. Truly, the best news I could’ve asked for.’