Arden moved through the fortress by way of shadows, his form dissolving and reappearing as naturally as breath. The hour was late, and night had settled heavily over Valekor. Torchlight flickered along stone corridors, but darkness pooled thickly between the arches and corners of the fortress, offering him countless paths unseen.
Since the sun had long since set, finding shadows posed no difficulty at all.
He advanced without sound, slipping from one patch of darkness to another, until the familiar presence of his master's office drew near. The door stood closed, lamplight faintly visible beneath the frame. Arden emerged briefly from the shadows outside, his form solidifying for only a moment before he stepped forward and allowed himself to sink once more into darkness.
This time, it was his master's shadow.
Within an instant, he emerged inside the office itself, materializing behind Andreas with practiced precision.
"Master."
Andreas paused mid-thought, then lifted his gaze from the documents spread across his desk.
"Arden?" he said, voice calm but alert. "What is it?"
"There is an urgent matter, my lord," Arden replied, bowing his head slightly.
Andreas studied him for a moment. Arden did not bring matters lightly, and urgency in his tone was rare.
"Speak."
"It appears the true reason the Beastmen fled into demon territory was not the war."
That drew Andreas's full attention. His fingers stilled against the parchment.
"Then what drove them here?" he asked.
Arden's expression hardened, though his voice remained even. "It seems the humans have created something exceedingly vile. A magical tattoo that enslaves its bearer."
For a moment, the room fell silent.
The faint crackle of the lamp flame seemed unnaturally loud.
"…What?" Andreas asked at last.
"A slave mark," Arden continued. "A magical engraving carved into the body. Once applied, it compels absolute obedience. The wearer cannot disobey orders."
Andreas leaned back slowly, his gaze distant.
"So," he said carefully, "humans have created a mark that turns living beings into slaves."
"…Yes."
If what Arden says is true, Andreas thought, then this is far more dangerous than I anticipated.
He exhaled quietly.
"How many are aware of this information?" he asked.
"Very few," Arden replied. "It appears the Beastmen told no one. Until now, no trace of this knowledge reached us. They deliberately kept it hidden."
Andreas's eyes narrowed.
"Then it must remain that way," he said firmly. "Contact the other overlords. Do not include details. Request an emergency meeting, earlier than scheduled."
Arden inclined his head.
"Separately," Andreas continued, "summon Lord Berith to Valekor."
"At once, my lord," Arden replied, bowing deeply.
Before Andreas could speak again, Arden had already vanished into the shadows, leaving the room silent once more.
Andreas remained seated, his thoughts racing.
I must confirm this, he thought. But even unverified, this matter cannot be ignored.
A month passed.
The fortress of Valekor continued its routine, yet beneath the surface, tension coiled tightly. Orders were issued. Investigations deepened. Information trickled in slowly, carefully, as Arden worked tirelessly to uncover the truth behind the slave marks.
Today, Lord Berith was due to arrive.
"Are the preparations complete?" Andreas asked.
"Yes, my lord," the attendant replied.
"Inform me the moment Lord Berith arrives."
"As you wish, my lord."
The exchange was brief. Andreas returned to his office, his expression composed.
Over the past month, Arden's findings had brought clarity. The Human Empire had not merely clashed with other races in passing. Over the last decade, it had waged calculated wars against elves, Beastmen, and others, all in pursuit of refining the slave mark.
Though still imperfect, the device was improving at an alarming rate.
The reason this truth had remained hidden was simple. Even most humans were unaware of its existence. The secret was tightly controlled by the nobility, confined to a small circle of power-hungry elites.
In Andreas's eyes, this situation demanded the immediate attention of every overlord. A conflict with humanity was no longer a distant possibility. It was inevitable.
"Knock, knock."
"Enter."
"My lord," a servant said, bowing. "Overlord Berith has arrived. He awaits you in the guest chamber."
Without hesitation, Andreas rose and made his way toward the chamber.
Berith sat calmly upon the sofa, posture relaxed but alert. His gaze sharpened the moment Andreas entered the room.
"Thank you for answering my summons, Lord Berith," Andreas said.
"There is no need for thanks, Overlord Valekor," Berith replied. "Speak. What matter required such urgency?"
"Are you aware of the slave marks?"
Berith did not respond at once.
"So you are," Andreas said.
"Yes."
"Since when?"
"Since I accepted Beastmen into my territory," Berith replied. "The truth became apparent soon after."
Andreas frowned. "Then why did you not call for an emergency meeting?"
"Because it revealed something else."
"A clue?"
"Do you recall the irregular purges within the Human Empire that we discussed during the last council?"
"I do."
"I discovered the cause."
"And that is?"
"They are diverting their forces."
"To what end?"
Berith's expression darkened. "They are attempting to tame a dragon."
"…What?"
"With the slave mark," Berith continued calmly. "And they do not intend to stop there. They are attempting to adapt it for magical beings as well."
"Spirits," Andreas murmured.
"Precisely. They seek to create an army of monsters."
"Then why did you not summon the council?"
"I intended to," Berith said. "But each discovery led to another. And just as I was about to act, your summons arrived."
Andreas studied him for a moment, then nodded.
"I will trust your judgment. Do the other overlords know?"
"I believe not. None have called for an emergency meeting."
"There remains one month before the council convenes," Andreas said. "Will you return?"
"No," Berith replied. "I intend to infiltrate the Empire."
"Then I will not stop you."
Berith rose and handed Andreas a folded document.
"This contains the slave mark's weaknesses, along with a method to remove it. It took me two years to uncover."
"You have my gratitude," Andreas said sincerely.
In the next instant, Berith vanished, fading like a mirage.
Andreas unfolded the document slowly.
Weaknesses:
Orders are only effective if the slave hears them.
The mark requires mana. Once depleted, it ceases to function.
Interference with mana flow disrupts the mark.
Orders are limited to a range of five hundred meters.
Methods of Disabling:
Removing the skin alone is insufficient. The magic circles are engraved into the meridians.
Overloading the mark with mana temporarily disables it. If removed during this state, it can be destroyed permanently.
This will prove invaluable.
"Arden."
"Yes, master."
"Remove the slave marks from the Beastmen."
Andreas handed him the document.
"I will require the Mage Corps," Arden said after reading.
"Then take them."
Arden departed immediately.
Most likely obtained from Lord Berith, Arden thought. Then this information is reliable.
He arrived swiftly at the Mage Corps.
"Barderrossa," Arden called. "Come down."
"What do you want, you old fossil?" a voice shouted from above.
"This is a direct order from the master," Arden replied calmly. "You will accompany me."
"…I am coming."
"And bring the mages under your command."
Minutes later, nearly the entire Mage Corps had assembled.
"So," Barderrossa asked, arms crossed, "what do you need us for?"
"I cannot disclose that yet," Arden replied. "You will follow me and act on my orders."
"…Is this truly the master's command?"
"Do you believe I would lie?"
"…Tch."
"Then come."
Arden turned and began moving toward the main street.
If this succeeds, the Beastmen's loyalty will be absolute.
"May I inquire why you have called us here, Lord Arden?" one of the elderly Beastmen asked cautiously.
"You will understand shortly," Arden replied. "Nok'thar, step forward. I believe I may be of help to you."
Nok'thar approached. Arden leaned close and spoke quietly.
"Do not resist. We believe we can remove your slave mark."
"…Really?"
"Yes. Trust us."
"…Very well."
Arden turned to Barderrossa.
"Can you pour mana into the mark until it becomes overwhelmed?"
"I can try."
Barderrossa placed his hand near the mark and began channeling mana.
He continued.
And continued.
"Geezer," he muttered, "this thing keeps draining my mana. I have already spent a quarter of my reserves, and there is barely any change."
"How much do you estimate is required?" Arden asked.
"More than all of my mana," Barderrossa replied grimly.
"Then take assistance."
Barderrossa turned to a nearby mage. "Ailen. Come here."
"Yes, master."
With the combined efforts of a hero-class mage and an epic mage, nearly all their remaining mana was poured into the mark. At last, the magic faltered.
"It is disabled," Arden said. "For only a few minutes."
He drew a blade from his shadow.
"Do not move. I must avoid your artery."
"Slash."
Blood spilled as Arden removed the marked skin.
"Healers, now," Arden ordered.
A mage rushed forward, light flaring as the wound closed.
Arden examined the mark carefully.
"There are no magic circles remaining," he said. "It will take time, but we will free every one of you."
Nok'thar trembled.
"…I do not know how to thank you."
"You may begin with loyalty," Arden replied. "And gratitude."
"I will."
"We have enough mana remaining to remove two more marks today," Arden said.
And the work began.