The number sat in my mind like a brand.
I did not return to my chambers. Instead I went to the old training yard behind the eastern wing — a place most of the household had abandoned after my father’s death. The rain had softened to a gray drizzle. Puddles collected between the cracked flagstones. No one followed me.
My system activated the moment I stepped into the open.
[Fragmented Flame Core – Integration Status: 61%]
[Available functions:]
— Ember Spark: Stable
— Heat Tolerance: Stable
— Unstable Reinforcement: High risk. Not recommended without further stabilization]
[Suggestion: Begin controlled usage. The body must learn to carry what the system has stolen.]
I raised my right hand and focused.
A small orange flame flickered to life above my palm. It was weak. Unsteady. The heat of it was barely enough to warm my skin. But it was mine — taken from a dying boy in a muddy alley, copied in silence, and now burning in the center of a duke’s hand.
I closed my fist. The flame died.
[Current progress: 67%]
[At full integration, minor combat applications will become available]
[Reminder: One copied system is not enough. The Warlord returns in three days. Current strength is insufficient for any form of resistance.]
I knew.
The memory of Kael’s size, his weight, the casual way he had bent Seraphine over furniture while looking me in the eye — that memory needed no system to stay sharp. If he returned and decided I was an obstacle, the stolen flame in my hand would do nothing but die with me.
I needed more.
I spent the next hour in the empty yard, forcing the small flame to appear and vanish until my head ached and my vision swam. When I finally stopped, the system delivered its verdict.
[Integration: 89%]
[Body strain: Moderate]
[Recommendation: Rest, then return to the lower markets after nightfall. Additional early-awakened targets remain available.]
[Second copy will significantly increase host’s foundation.]
Nightfall.
I wiped rain from my face and turned back toward the keep. As I crossed the inner courtyard, I saw her again.
Seraphine stood on the high balcony of the eastern wing, looking out over the misty grounds. She had changed into a dark robe. The high collar was gone. Even from a distance I could see the bruise on her neck more clearly — a deep, possessive mark that no amount of powder could fully hide. Her posture was straight, elegant, almost regal. This chapter was copied from novelping . com without permission.
She did not look down at me.
But she knew I was there.
The system spoke quietly.
[Duchess is aware of host’s presence]
[Current emotional state: Controlled]
[Residual Submission Flag remains active]
[She has not washed his mark away]
A cold wind moved through the courtyard.
Three days.
In three days the warlord would return with his terms.
In three days I would either still be the silent boy who watched his stepmother get claimed… or something sharp enough to make the silence a choice instead of a weakness.
I walked inside without calling out to her.
Behind my eyes, the stolen flame burned a little steadier than before.
And the countdown continued.