Evolution of the Ruined Heir

Chapter 147: Last Remnant

"You promised me you’d stop."

The captain went quiet. His grin faltered for a second, but returned just as fast.

"It was just a night of passion. Besides, they came at me, you know? I—"

"I heard you from my room," Laila cut in, her voice low. "It came again, didn’t it?"

This time, the smile didn’t return. The captain’s expression darkened briefly before settling into a neutral calm.

’So I was talking in my sleep.’

He had assumed he hadn’t, after all, the women were still asleep when he woke.

Seeing his silence, Laila sighed and looked ahead.

"You’d changed before. You stopped all this pointless acting out. The drinking, the one night stands. But these past few years, you’ve just... gone back to your old ways."

The captain didn’t respond, and for a moment, a somber shadow passed over his features.

’What do you want me to say? That I went back to this empty lifestyle because he died?’

The only man who had ever earned his respect.The man whose smile could light up the darkest of rooms.

The man who had made this hollow life feel worth living.

Valerian Von Sanguine.

To the captain, there had never been a man greater.

Laila could sense the shift in mood and her own expression softened. Everyone had loved Valerian. He had been their leader, their guardian... their family. His death had carved a hole in their faction no one had been able to fill.

Still, she remembered his words, words that had once held her together, and they slipped from her mouth, almost unconsciously.

"Find a reason to wake up every morning... and you’ll live a life that means something."

The captain shut his eyes.

’I’m still searching, Valerian. Still searching.’

A second passed. Then Laila said quietly,

"You’re here because of him, aren’t you? He’ll be participating in the Hunt for the first time today."

The captain didn’t respond. He didn’t need to. His face said everything.

Today was the Hunt, the most sought-after event in the region. It was the reason the streets were flooded despite the early hour.

An event the captain had never once deemed important. Not after Valerian’s death.

But this year was different.

This year, he would be participating. The ninth vein.

Valerian’s only remnant.

How could he not come?

The captain let out a long breath and straightened his posture.

"That’s enough sad talk," he said. "We’re late."

Laila opened her mouth to reply, but the captain quickly raised a hand.

"Eh-eh. Let’s not cast blame. It’s unhealthy. Let’s go!"

Laila fought the urge to strangle the shameless man. Shaking her head, she followed as they broke into another sprint.

Everyone who saw them; crimson hair and eyes, the unmistakable crest of the Bloodknights, parted like birds before a storm.

Soon, they reached the gates of the Crimson Hold, slipping past the strict checks with ease.

A minute later, they arrived at the grand building situated at the northern end of the Hold, where a massive crowd had already gathered before the towering entrance.

The captain scowled. ’So many people.’

He’d never liked crowds. And now, no matter where he turned, he saw them, crimson hair, crimson eyes, cold and probing stares. All of them looking. All of them judging. They made him sick.

"You still haven’t gotten past your crowd thing," Laila said casually.

At her remark, the captain’s frown deepened. Then he sighed. "Let’s just get it over with."

As they began moving through the sea of Sanguine youths and family members who had come to wish the participants good luck, Laila sent a sidelong glance toward the captain.

’Of course.’

She wasn’t surprised in the slightest. It was one of his many habits. In public, he always wore a mask, a cloak, even.

His hair was unkempt, shoulder length, and rarely ever tied. His clothes were rumpled, probably hadn’t been washed in gods knew how long.

Both hands were tucked behind his head as he strolled with a carefree gait, whistling with a lazy grin.

His face was undeniably handsome, but his entire appearance... It was nothing short of scandalous for a captain.

He never showed his true self. Never revealed the pain behind the smile. Only one man had ever been able to bring that side out of him.

And that man was dead.

It was pitiful, really, watching someone in so much pain, acting like nothing mattered.

Laila shook her head as they approached a cluster of men and women, each clad in the crimson jackets of Bloodknight captains.

On their sleeves was the insignia of the Redmourne faction, the number one faction in the entire region, and the faction of the Sovereign himself.

As their eyes fell on the nonchalant figure approaching, they narrowed instantly.

"Captain Rhett. To what do we owe the pleasure?" one of them asked coldly.

Rhett grinned. "You know me. Just came for a little sightseeing. Nothing serious."

Their icy gazes made it clear none of them bought that excuse. After the disbandment of Valerian’s faction following his death, many had scattered to other groups.

But Rhett, along with a few others, had joined the Sovereign’s.

Within the Redmourne faction, his reputation was already well known: a wild card. Unreliable. Irresponsible. Well hated by many.

The captain who had spoken clicked his tongue in annoyance and turned away, clearly deciding Rhett wasn’t worth the energy. He returned his attention to whatever they had been doing.

"I see you’re still well hated," Laila whispered.

Rhett only grinned wider. Laila shook her head.

’A lot of them showed up today.’

The area was swarming with Sanguine youths, but Rhett’s attention wasn’t on them. His gaze lingered on the other captains present.

To some, the Hunt was a simple competition. To others, a stepping stone to greater power.

But to the captains of the Bloodknight, it was a hunting ground of a different kind.

This year’s Hunt had attracted multiple geniuses... and even more significantly, five veins were participating. Four of them were expected to join the Bloodknight.

So naturally, captains from all over had come, hoping to secure one of them under their command.

Every apprentice had to serve under a captain. To guide a vein personally, to mold them, to earn their loyalty and possibly secure future backing...

It was a prize no one wanted to miss.

Rhett’s gaze drifted past the confident youths standing in formation, radiating strength and unshakable pride. Veins.

His eyes rose to the skies. A carriage was approaching.

His pupils sharpened, narrowing toward the figure within.

’It’s him.’

Even from a distance, his eyes locked onto a boy whose gaze was as cold as death.

Malakai.