Royal Reboot: Level up, Your Majesty!

Chapter 50: The Masquerade (5)

The Masquerade 

5

It was a night like this, a rain-soaked evening when Astra had once fled for her life. The heavy scent of wet earth and the sharp snap of branches beneath her feet lingered in her mind. Yet she couldn’t recall the reason, couldn’t piece together the fragments of that forgotten fear. But there was one thing she could not forget.

“It calls itself… Pride.”

“Remember me, for I am Pride,” the voice in her memory was silken, almost tender, but it had sunk into her mind deeper than any blade. She felt she had known that fear before; she was certain. Yet, try as she might, she could not place it.

Memories lied. Hers especially. But as Pride’s eyes locked with hers, she felt a haunting void that left her feeling deeply… 

Vulnerable.

“Astra?” Athena’s hand found her shoulder. It was strangely grounding for once, and it brought her back to the present.

She turned to Athena, then glanced downward, finally registering the blood seeping from her palm into the carpet beneath her. The cold rain whipped against her skin through the broken wall, but its bite was faint, distant, irrelevant. Her rage, though, was visceral.

“You look pale,” Athena said.

Astra let a new blade form in her grasp and and strode past the shattered remains of the last one. “We’ll end this.”

Her voice was cold and certain, but in truth, she wasn’t quite sure if she could.

“We can’t,” Athena insisted. “The mission, the Eye… we need to understand its connection. We have to protect—”

“That’s your mission,” Astra snapped, noticing Athena’s flinch but refusing to back down. “Tell me something I don’t already know.”

“Pride doesn’t just carry the name. It’s sustained by Thomas’s thirst for power. It feeds on his ego.” Athena swallowed. “That’s what it told him. It’s a primordial force, beyond destruction.”

“Beyond destruction?” Astra’s eyes glinted with something darker than rage. “Nothing is indestructible.”

“Not unless we remove what it feeds on,” Athena said quietly. “Our only option is containment.”

“Contain it? It’s made of smoke and shadow. What are we supposed to do, put it in a cage?”

Their eyes met then, a sudden realisation igniting between them. Tiffany. The way the darkness had surged back into her after Astra’s attack, retreating, hiding within her.

Could Tiffany and Thomas be vessels? Hosts? Did the entity seek shelter inside the very ones it ruined? 

“Trapped within a body,” they said together.

Thomas, or rather Pride, had complained about their human shell’s frailty. Was it possible that they were bound to one another?

Astra walked to the edge of the wrecked balcony and watched the fierce battle below between Theo and Thomas.

“Capture him, not kill him, Theo!” she called out, and he halted his blade at once.

Theo twisted just in time to dodge another dark tendril slashing toward him. “Wasn’t planning to!” 

Then, suddenly, the barrage of attacks ceased. Thomas trembled under the rain, his voice breaking through—human and terrified.

“H-help me… Is this my price? I don’t want it… I don’t. My Lord, you promised… you promised…”

Theo froze. “What did I promise you?”

“N-No, not you. How could a privileged brat like you even begin to understand? Pride… chose me. Me! I’m important—” Thomas’s voice fell apart as he clawed at his own throat, as though trying to rip the thing out. Rain and tears slid down his face.

“Pride?” Theo asked, confused.

“No! No! No!” Thomas shook his head violently. “Please… Lord Whitlock… I-I’m sorry. Help me. It hurts. Everywhere. I can’t bear it anymore!”

Theo took a step closer, barely aware of Astra’s presence behind him. “Mr. Blackwood, you’re coming with—“

Dark energy burst from Thomas, crashing into Theo’s chest and sending him stumbling. Astra caught him from behind as her diamond blade intercepted a second strike.

“Impressive.” Thomas pressed the assault. Tendrils of shadow shot forward, one after another, aiming straight for Theo and Astra.

Theo’s eyes lit with power, freezing the shadows at rapid speed. Astra moved beside him, slicing cleanly through the frozen tendrils, which burst into twinkling fragments, drifting like violet snow in the rain.

Catching Thomas’s stunned expression, Theo reached deep into the storm-charged air and formed a spiraling vortex of ice. It crashed against Thomas’s black energy, releasing a shockwave of radiant violet that lit up the storm.

Blinded by the burst of light, Astra instantly cast a protective dome around the city hall, shielding the building and the frightened civilians from the blast.

As the dust began to settle, she moved silently toward Theo. Her gaze fell on Thomas’s lifeless form, impaled by a jagged, frozen column of spiralled ice.

Thomas Blackwood was dead.

The purple smoke, the entity, was gone. Vanished without a trace.

A few steps away, Theo stood frozen, rain streaming down his blood-spattered suit. His face pale, shock still rippling through him, as if he hadn’t yet processed what he had done. “Thomas…” he breathed, the name barely escaping his lips. “It wasn't… I–”

“Murder! Senator Candidate murdered!” Panicked shouts from the onlookers erupted, clashing with the booming thunder above.

Damn it. Astra’s heart sank as the gravity of the situation hit her all at once. “This… was the trap,” she muttered bitterly, the full implications of their failure dawning on her as the shrill wail of sirens closed in, and security guards surged toward them.

A strong gust of wind whipped around her, sending her hair lashing wildly in the rain as droplets splattered across her face. She turned, her eyes narrowing as they caught on a lone figure standing on the upper level. Athena. She stood unmoving, as still as a statue. Not a single strand of hair was out of place.

But it was her eyes that froze Astra in place.

Fear. Raw, unfiltered fear gleamed in Athena’s usually composed gaze. What could possibly instil such terror in someone like her, a woman practically royalty in this world?

The Eye? The smoke monster…Pride?

“Sir,” A guard approached Theo. “You’ll need to come with us for questioning regarding the death of Senator Candidate Blackwood.” His eyes drifted to Thomas’s lifeless form.

Astra’s eyes followed. Not long ago, Thomas had been alive with schemes and ambition, yet here he lay—his emerald eyes blank, his lips parted in shock. She raised her hands as the guns turned on them, but her mind buzzed with the question. Had it been worth it? The thrill of power? Had he understood, in those final moments, that he’d been a pawn? Regret, anger, simply…

Emptiness? A meaningless death.

And yet, it was a night not unlike this, a rain-soaked evening a month and a half prior when he believed he had lost everything…

The rain-slicked glass distorted his reflection, showing only a man on the brink. The Blackwood legacy echoed in his head, shaped by Father’s cold voice: Blackwoods never fail. But as he watched the cryptocurrency market collapse across every screen, even his prized insider knowledge had turned worthless.

“Obsidian Legion,” he muttered. “Of course. But how?”

He swept an arm across his desk. Tablets and papers crashed to the floor. He felt off-balance. Those damn hackers, spouting their nonsensical claims about changing the world, as if their lives meant more than the mess they caused.

Then came the voice.

It didn’t echo. It didn’t announce itself. It simply existed, a smooth, velvety baritone far too ancient for this world of steel and silicon.

“I know your heart’s deepest longing, Blackwood.”

“Who—” He whipped around, “what are you?”

“You seek dominion, do you not?” the voice coiled through the air, omnipresent and hypnotic. “The intoxicating thrill of power. Yet, deeper still, you yearn for control.”

His heart rate spiked. He moved for the emergency button. His shoes slipped on the marble, but he caught himself. Security was a press away.

“I wouldn’t recommend that,” the voice added.

He pressed it anyway.

Boots pounded down the hallway. Seconds later, armed guards rushed in. “Sir, is everything—”

Before relief could settle, the air itself seemed to congeal. Dark purple smoke pulsed through the room, drawing the oxygen from their lungs. The men didn’t scream for long. Skin turned grey. Limbs folded. One by one, they dropped.

“What…?” His voice cracked, the sharp edge of fear cutting through his usual arrogance.

"Did I not forewarn you, mortal?” The smoke coiled intimately around him. "Violence only serves to sharpen my... appetite."

He stepped back. “What do you want? My wealth? My life?”

Laughter rippled through the smoke, low and mocking. “Such… trivialities. I am offering something more useful. A mutually beneficial arrangement.”

He didn’t respond immediately. The offer was vague. Dangerous. He needed time. Maybe enough to contact Dmitri.

“You can have everything you’ve chased,” the voice continued. “Power. Wealth. The Blackwood estate. All of it.”

Despite the terror, his voice barely concealed his intrigue, “Everything?”

"Indeed. The election’s been a struggle, hasn’t it? Now, wouldn’t things be infinitely simpler if your… tiresome brother were to simply… fade into oblivion?” 

The smoke curled inward. He didn’t answer. But the silence wasn’t indecision. It was calculation.

“And what’s your price?” he asked, leaning back with a glint in his eye. “My soul, like Tiffany’s?”

The smoke pulsed with amusement. “Your soul? How quaint. No. You’ll understand the cost when the time comes.”

His heart rate ticked up, though he kept his expression neutral. Not his wealth. Not his soul. Too convenient. Too dangerous.

“Isn’t it delightfully simple?” The smoke enveloped him. “Everything you desire… for a minor price. Sate me, for I am Pride.”

He clutched the edge of his mahogany desk—old mahogany, worn smooth by decades of backroom deals. Seven generations of Blackwoods had passed judgment at this desk. It had seen bribery, coercion, and the slow erosion of competitors. Now it bore witness to something else.

Yet another voice answered inside his mind.

His own.

Wasn’t this always the path? Seven generations climbing over anyone who stood in the way. One more rung. One more deal.

 And now, at last, something truly magnificent had recognised their worth. His worth.

Pride. The first sin. The greatest sin. The one that turned angels against the heavens. And it had chosen him. 

He felt it spark. It was a hunger, an ambition that had driven him to destroy those who stood in his way. But this... this was different. This was divine.

“Show me what you’re capable of,” he whispered, “then… we’ll see.”

The smoke pulsed again, this time with something closer to satisfaction. It began to condense into a form that seemed to absorb the very light from the room. “Fascinating. Just the way I like it. Very well, name your terms."

He steadied his breathing. His hand twitched once, then stilled. If this thing had wanted him dead, it would have done it by now. It needed something. Something only he could give.

His father’s lessons came back. ‘When they come to you, you have the power. When they need you, you set the terms.’

He rose from his chair, shoulders straight, chin lifted. "Two conditions," he said evenly. "Non-negotiable. Then... we have a deal."