VICE CAPTAIN
I pushed open the heavy wooden door, entering the familiar chaos of the hidden hut. Grim was hunched over his messy workbench, the Mad Blade resting on the table before him. He was actively making minute adjustments to the runic grip.
“You took down twelve candidates in a single ambush,” Grim spoke without looking up, his raspy voice cutting through the silence. “You cleanly bisected an SSS-Rank apex beast. And then you completely dominated a standard Royal Knight who was assumed to be the absolute equal of a captain. Tell me something, Erik... why did you go out of your way to crush Erina?”
I shrugged, leaning against the doorframe. “She’s my sister. But because of that, I couldn't show her an ounce of mercy. If I held back against her, the disguise would fail. Besides, after slaying an SSS-Rank monster, it would look incredibly suspicious if an untamed prodigy like 'Will' suddenly struggled against a standard vanguard knight. I had to maintain the narrative.”
“You already had Drake's recruitment invitation before that duel even started,” Grim countered deadpan.
“True. But checking the variables, the high council needed to see an absolute monster. Now I’m the Vice-Captain of the strongest squad in the realm. I have direct access to the border archives.”
Grim finally paused, looking up at my 6'4" blonde disguise. “I see. Well, your military departure leaves in less than forty-eight hours. Why did you come back here tonight?”
“Because I wanted to ask you a critical question.”
“What’s that?”
“If this disguise locket allows me to transform into the Crimson Card using my internal imagination... What kind of aesthetic outfit should I wear? I need something imposing.”
Grim stared at me, his face blank. “Are you serious right now?”
“Completely.”
“It doesn't matter. Wear whatever trash you want, just ensure your face remains covered,” Grim sighed, sliding open a heavy iron drawer beneath his desk.
“No, it definitely matters,” I muttered.
Grim ignored my comment, pulling out a stack of tightly bound parchments and tossing them across the room. I caught them mid-air.
“Those are the classified intelligence reports regarding the international trade lines of the Blood Kingdom,” Grim explained, his tone turning dead serious.
I flipped open the first page, my eyes scanning the dense columns of numbers. My brow furrowed.
📜 [MILITARY INTELLIGENCE FILE: COVERT BORDER TRADE]
“This doesn't make any sense,” I muttered, looking up at the old craftsman. “There is zero import. The Blood Kingdom is only receiving gold. They aren't even accepting barter resources. How does a territory that was so desperately starving that Princess Diana had to send a secret relief note suddenly obtain an infinite supply of raw materials to export?”
“Exactly,” Grim nodded grimly. “And remember—they were officially declared heretics eight years ago. By holy decree, direct trade with them is strictly forbidden.”
“Then how is there an export line at all?”
“Because of the economy,” Grim explained, a bitter smirk on his wrinkled lips. “If the Blood Kingdom abruptly stops exporting their high-grade resources, the human empires that rely on those materials will suffer a total industrial collapse. They would be forced to find alternative providers, who might choose to completely monopolize the international market. The 4 Sages hate the Blood Tyrant, but they hate losing control of the continental market more.”
I traced the trade lines on the map. “So the Sages permitted the exports.”
“They permitted it as a trap,” Grim whispered. “The high council expected the Blood Kingdom's internal supplies to completely drain within weeks due to the total blockade. They wanted to starve them out legally. But on the contrary, the Blood Tyrant began exporting on a catastrophic, continent-wide scale. The Sages even deployed their elite inquisitors to locate their hidden trade routes... but they found absolutely nothing.”
“So how are they generating an endless supply of wealth from a blockaded wasteland?” I asked, the psychological puzzle locking into my mind.
“No idea,” Grim said, standing up and forcefully grabbing me by the cloak. “That is exactly why you must uncover that secret when you cross the border. Now, back to your previous question about your costume...”
Before I could respond, the old man violently threw me out of the back door of the hut, slamming the heavy oak gates shut behind me with a loud, echoing click of the lock.
I returned to the Gurberr mansion later that night. The heavy atmosphere of the estate had completely flipped. The servants who used to look at me with silent contempt now stood frozen against the walls, bowing their heads in genuine terror. To them, I was no longer a commoner stray—I was a monster who could cleanly slice a legendary beast in half.
As I crossed the grand foyer, the frantic patter of small footsteps echoed against the marble.
A young boy, barely twelve years old, ran straight toward my 6'4" blonde frame. He stopped right in front of me, his chest heaving, holding a crisp sheet of parchment and a quill. It was Lord Gurberr’s actual son. I didn't care enough to remember his name, even though his father had mentioned it once or twice.
“H-Hello!” the boy stammered, his voice cracking with pure, hesitant awe. “It is an absolute pleasure to meet you, big brother! Please... could you give me your autograph?”
I stared down at the kid. He was shaking, completely starstruck. It was hilariously ironic. His father was a corrupt, plotting murderer who helped assassinate a princess, yet his son was a pure, innocent kid dreaming of knights and heroes.
“Fine. Give it here,” I said, my deep, disguised voice softening just a fraction.
I took the quill and smoothly signed the fake name: Will Gurberr.
The boy clutched the paper to his chest, his eyes wide. “D-Don't you find it weird? That I'm your biggest fan, even though you're adopted?”
“A little,” I replied, reaching out and gently patting his head. “But anything for my little brother.”
The kid's eyes practically glowed with joy. He bowed deeply and sprinted back down the hallway to show off his treasure.
Turning away, I walked straight into Gurberr’s private inner chamber. The corrupt noble was hunched over his mahogany desk, frantically scribbling notes under the dim light of a magical crystal lamp.
“What are you doing, Father?” I asked, stepping into the room without knocking.
Gurberr flinched violently, nearly dropping his quill. He hastily threw a blank parchment over his papers and stood up, trying to compose his trembling frame.
“W-Will. It’s nothing important,” Gurberr wheezed, adjusting his collar. He turned to face me, attempting to project a strict, aristocratic posture, though his eyes held pure fear. “Anyway... I threw a massive banquet tonight to celebrate your historic success. You didn't show up. It’s not like I mind, but the high nobles were asking questions.”
“I didn't come because it would be counterproductive,” I countered coldly, pulling a chair out and sitting down. “An isolated, brainwashed prodigy who was hidden in the countryside for fifteen years doesn't suddenly enjoy public high-society banquets. It breaks character.”
“I see...” Gurberr swallowed hard. “Anyway... did you manage to get the official deployment clearance from Lord Drake? The royal vanguard leaves for the border within the day.”
In response, I reached into my cloak and tossed a heavy, silver-embossed military document onto his desk.
“I did,” I muttered. “And I’m not going as a rookie trooper. Lord Drake officially pinned the silver badge on my collar this afternoon. I am entering the Blood Kingdom as the newly appointed Vice-Captain of the Black Boar Vanguard.”
Gurberr’s jaw dropped. His hands visibly shook as he stared at the silver badge. “A... a Vice-Captain ? Of the strongest squad in the realm I thought he was joking? As expected of you...”
He reached into his drawer, pulling out a sealed royal parchment containing the classified deployment manifest. “Here is the official list of high-profile entities who will be accompanying the vanguard on this journey. I received it from the high council an hour ago.”
I unrolled the parchment, my crimson eyes briefly activating behind my blonde bangs to scan the text. My mind instantly locked onto the specific names listed for the border deployment:
📜 [ROYAL ADVANCE MANIFEST: BLOOD KINGDOM ULTIMATUM]
My eyes narrowed to thin slits as the psychological weight of the roster hit my brain.
Prince Erwin. The very prince who had touched Grim’s Prophetic Chronos-Sphere fifteen years ago and witnessed the vision of Grim dying in a pool of his own blood. The prince who orchestrated Grim's forced exile into the Forbidden Forest.
And right beside his name sat the two people I had just encountered in the palace warzone.
I slammed the paper down, looking directly into Gurberr's terrified eyes. “Why are Princess Quina and Erina accompanying a lethal military deployment to a heretical border? Explain this layout right now.
Gurberr swallowed hard, his skin turning pale under the dim lamplight . “The high council claims it is for their instruction. Princess Quina requested to see the borders herself to understand the geopolitical landscape of the war.”
“And Erina?” I narrowed my eyes. “Why the hell would the kingdom be obliged to give a disgraced Novalanch heir a position on a direct royal escort?”
Gurberr let out a dry, bitter laugh. “Because it isn't an honor, Will—it’s a leash. The Knight Order still doesn't fully trust her after her brother's alleged 'suicide blast' in the cells . By assigning her as Quina's direct personal guard, the high council forces her to prove her ultimate loyalty to the crown on the dangerous frontlines, while keeping her strictly under Prince Emrice's thumb .”
I leaned back in my chair, staring blankly at the parchment.
The board was set. The pieces were all moving toward the exact same coordinates. Prince Emrice, the catalyst of Grim’s exile . Princess Quina, the girl I was destined to hold in a ruined palace. Erina, my own sister And me, a ghost hiding under a dead man’s name.
But as I stared at the map of the Blood Kingdom, the puzzle Grim had dropped in my lap began to warp my mind.
Something doesn't add up.
If the Blood Kingdom is blockaded from the rest of the world, how are they draining the massive wealth of the Sacred Soul church? If they have managed to secretly become a continental distributor of high-grade resources, it means their economy should be booming. Their people should be thriving.
Then why the hell continue this war with Krane? A war that allegedly started eight long years ago over simple, starving resource disputes. If they are drowning in international gold, why keep bleeding their own borders? Why force their own soldiers into a brutal meat grinder against the Sages' holy army?
What are they actually funding with all that stolen wealth?
And more importantly... Who, or what, is the Blood Tyrant really?
A slow, grim smirk spread across my face as I stood up, strapping the matte-black hilt of the fated sword to my waist. I reached out, extinguishing the magical lamp and plunging the private chamber into complete darkness .
The answers weren't here in the capital. They were waiting across the line of demarcation. The legal shadow of The Crimson Card was locked in, and the fated march toward the deaths, misery, and terrifying secrets of the Blood Kingdom was finally about to begin.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: for those who has skipped few or all chapters to read this chapter first i will humbly ask you to go back and read the chapters you skipped to understand the story and world building so far because in less then 8 hours of the release the first chapter of blood kingdom will be dropped which mark the beginning of the true horror and terror of this story so GO AND READ THEM QUICKLY because the real story will begin now
Visit and read more novel to help us update chapter quickly. Thank you so much!
Use arrow keys (or A / D) to PREV/NEXT chapter