[BETA-READ / Side Project] RoU | B1 | Chapter 3 (Patreon)

(Be advised that this book contains a dark setting, strong romance, and explicit scenes. I do not recommend it for anyone under 18.)

Rise of the Unbound / Book 1: The Blade and The Pawn

• Cover / synopsis: https://www.patreon.com/posts/141212971

• Prologue: https://www.patreon.com/posts/141378684

IMPORTANT:

• This is the draft of a fiction I plan to release on either amazon or KU one day. Feel free to rip me apart in the comment section!

• If you like it, you're also welcomed to leave a like or a comment!

• I'll try to post 1 or 2 chapters per week, but can't make any promises. Ascension of the Primalist is my priority!

Chapter 3: Astral Core

Seven stood in the sliver of shadow cast by a spice merchant’s stall, the scent of cinnamon doing little to mask the stench of sweat and despair that choked the grand plaza of Seraklieus.

He had been in this wealthy district a few times for contracts, but almost always as a phantom in the night. The Awakening Day’s ceremony had filled the central square of the market with a hopeful, wretched mass of slum dwellers, city folk, and liveried house slaves. 

On the central platform, the magistrate of ceremonies, a man in crisp white robes, gestured for the next youth to step forward. He handed him a standard-issue stone, its surface dull under the midday sun.

The young man held it with trembling hands, his eyes squeezed shut in an obvious prayer. A flicker of light, a soft pop, and the stone crumbled into inert dust. The crowd let out a collective, disappointed sigh.

Another failure. Just like the five hundred previous ones.

Seven's gaze shifted back to the edge of the plaza, where Kaiser stood with people from the guild. 

The leader of the Iron Claws was in a fine mood, laughing with Rob, his brutish right-hand man. In five years, Kaiser had raised the guild from a back-alley gang to the undisputed power of the slums and was now clawing for a foothold in the city itself. 

It was a city dying on the vine—no new astral meteor had fallen nearby in decades, and all the closest star veins had been mined to dry—but the achievement was impressive nonetheless.

Seven remained in the shadows, hand deep in his pocket. His fingers brushing the cold surface of the flawless stone wrapped in cloth. He would only join the other Hounds and slaves of Kaiser when their turn was called. He was a weapon, not a show pony.

Seven's hand snapped to the hilt of his dagger.

A woman stepped out from behind a stone column, her hands held up, palms open. She wore practical, dark leather gear, and her brown shoulder-length hair framed a face that was neither pretty nor ugly, set with sharp green eyes. Six.

“Still can’t sneak up on you,” she said. “You really are something else.”

Seven ignored her, his attention going back to the magistrate on the platform. Six moved to his side and leaned forward, as if trying to enter his field of vision. “Nervous?”

“No.”

“So cold,” she sighed. “This could be your last day among the living. You could at least try to smile.”

Seven barely glanced at her. “Why are you here, Six?”

Her lighthearted expression vanished. “I need a favor.” Turning away from the plaza, she positioned herself so no one could read her lips. “It’s about Kaiser’s plan. Awakening the Hounds to make the Iron Claws stronger. It’s all a lie.”

A frown pulled on Seven's face. “What do you mean?”

“He made a deal with a noble from another city,” she whispered. “He’s going to sell any of us who awaken.”

Seven's eyes widened for a second. “What’s the problem? You’d rather serve out your contract under Kaiser?”

“No,” she said. Then something cold flashed into her gaze. “But this noble… I heard he never lets any assets go. He tortures them until they sign new contracts the moment their old ones expire.”

Seven's jaws tightened. It wasn’t an uncommon practice—the Iron Claws had done it countless times before. Pretty much whenever a Hound tried to leave, but it had never bothered him before. 

He could take pain. He could escape from the Butcher or any other thug in the gang. 

A month or so on the run while the contract’s thousand invisible blades seared his flesh would be hell, but at least he’d be free in the end.

With a noble house, though, things were different. They would have Weavers. A Skyrider of the dew stage could catch him before he even cleared the city walls. This was bad.

“So what do you need my help for?” Seven asked. “Steal the contracts from the Butcher?”

“Exactly,” Six confirmed. “I’m not strong enough to take him and the people with him. But we are.”

Seven gave a slow nod, his gaze drifting back to Kaiser. Standing with him was a new man, dressed in leather armor and bearing a noble sigil Seven didn’t recognize—a coiled serpent eating its own tail. He wore his blond hair cropped short, sharp enough to match his expression. A pale scar cut across the bridge of his nose, splitting both cheeks, the main flaw in an otherwise disciplined face. 

The buyer was already here.

“We’ll have to do it right after the ceremony,” Seven said.

Kaiser would be more suspicious if they vanished right now—or directly after. He needed a cover story. 

Seven's eyes scanned the plaza and found it. 

Near the back of the platform, a cluster of men in dark cloaks watched the ceremony with the stillness of predators. All at once, they stirred as the next person stepped onto the stage. The young man who walked over to the magistrate looked like someone about to meet the guillotine. Murmurs rippled through the crowd, and people instinctively drew back a bit.

No need to get closer to confirm it. Seven already knew what he’d find—a crescent-shaped scar on the boy’s arm. 

The men behind were undoubtedly the Black Merchants. Seven gritted his teeth. Vengeance could wait. Survival and freedom came first.

Six’s voice cut through the knot in his chest. “I’d prefer we do it before. Your odds… Well, they aren’t really good.”

“I won’t die.”

Six’s mouth twisted to the side. “Love the confidence but—”

“I won’t die,” Seven said once again, interrupting her.

The woman raised her hands, a small, wry smile tugging at one corner of her mouth. “Fine. If you say so.”

“I’ll tell Kaiser I’m going after the Black Merchants,” Seven muttered. “He’ll argue and get mad, but he won’t suspect anything when I disappear.”

“He always lets you do as you wish,” Six answered with a sigh. “You’re his favorite.”

Seven ignored her comment. “What if you don’t awaken?”

The woman met his gaze, her expression turning even more serious. “Then you have my word that I'll still help as much as I can.”

Words were cheap, even less than air. But that was the best Seven was going to get.

“Fine,” he said, before stepping out of the shadows. “Let’s join them.”

Six nodded, and they slipped into the crowd.

On the stage, the ceremony proceeded as if nothing happened, and the magistrate placed the stone in the marked one’s hand. A violent light, a body arching with a silent scream, and it was over. 

The magistrate feigned a gasp of surprise, a cheap piece of theater Seven had seen too many times. The people around whispered among themselves, but no one was truly taken aback. From the shadows behind the platform, the Black Merchants moved to help with the body. 

Vultures harvesting their prey.

The next participant walked up, and just as Seven neared Kaiser and the other Hounds in the waiting line, the plaza erupted. The star-stone in the young man’s hand pulsed with a brilliant red hue. He hadn’t screamed, or even flinched; the awakening had been painless. On the far side of the platform, the representatives from the nobles’ contracted guilds stirred, their eyes lit with hunger.

Now it was the wolves’ turn.

The magistrate guided the new Weaver toward them, words like 'protection' and 'training' coming out of his mouth. A well-rehearsed lie. In truth, the guilds were designed to control and exploit new talents, often through contracts that also amounted to indentured servitude. 

This young man was now a Fire Weaver, also called a Pyrosmith, a title born of the years people like him had spent chained to a noble’s forge. His affinity for flame would now serve to craft weapons for a master he didn’t choose.

Six and Seven arrived beside Kaiser just as the stray sheep on the platform reluctantly chose the guild that would hold his leash. The leader of the Iron Claws clapped a heavy hand on their shoulders. “My prized hounds,” he exclaimed. “Excited?”

Six’s face split into a wide, false smile that was a perfect mirror of Kaiser’s. “Certainly.”

Seven remained silent, his gaze moving elsewhere. He didn’t play these games, and Kaiser knew it.

The sun crawled higher, the line dwindled, and finally, it was their turn. 

The Iron Claws’ slaves went first, a succession of failures, each stone turning to dust. Then came the Hounds. One through Five stepped up, each holding the high-grade, five-percent stone Kaiser had given them. Each one failed. The glimmer of hope in their eyes died, replaced by the dull acceptance of their lot.

Then it was Six’s turn.

She refused the magistrate’s stone and instead reached for one wrapped in a strip of white cloth inside her jacket. Carefully, she peeled the piece of fabric and pressed the crystal ore against her palm. Seven could see her fingers trembling even from where he stood.

For a few tense seconds, nothing happened—then a soft, emerald light began to pulse from her hand.

Her eyes widened in disbelief.

Beside Seven, Kaiser let out a triumphant roar. “Ahhhh, thank you, Lord!”

The moment the magistrate began to lead Six toward people from contracted guilds, the leader of the Iron Claws stepped forward. “No need for that,” he barked. “She’s mine.”

The nobles’ lackeys glanced his way with disdain, but none dared to protest. They all likely knew the man had a binding contract over her. That meant he could simply torture her into madness if they tried to take her by force.

Six stepped down from the platform, and her eyes met Seven's. The look she gave him was filled with a single message: ‘Don’t forget our deal.’

Yeah, I'll kill him, Seven thought before moving forward.

Just as he passed Kaiser, he paused and glanced back at the man. “After this, I’ll be going after the Black Merchants.”

The man frowned. “Since when do vengeance and emotion drive you?” he asked. Then, almost immediately, he waved a hand. “Fine. If you want to.”

Seven's face remained a stoic mask, but his mind raced—it had been too easy. Going after the Black Merchants was a significant risk for himself and the Iron Claws by triggering an open conflict. One that could cost the guild men and coin. For Kaiser to dismiss it like this… it didn’t make sense.

Something was off.

Seven turned away before anyone could notice his confusion and stepped onto the stage. His left hand slipped into his pocket, fingers brushing against the rough cloth bundle inside until they found the pull-string binding it shut. Kaiser had said Seven’d have one second. One second to touch the flawless stone after the cheap one hit his palm.

The magistrate gestured for him to move closer with a smile. “Ready, young man?”

Seven didn’t answer and simply held out his hand. 

The magistrate’s gaze dropped to Seven's wrist. A twitch crossed the man’s face as he spotted the crescent-shaped mark. Almost instantly, he glanced back to make brief eye contact with the people from the Black Merchants.

Most would’ve missed what happened next. Seven didn’t. 

He saw everything. Including the lack of reactions from the cloaked men. No surprise. No weight shift. Nothing. As if they already knew. Then I noticed him, standing in the shadows behind them: the noble with the serpent sigil who’d been talking to Kaiser earlier.

Shit.

Before Seven could react, the magistrate put the standard-issue stone into his palm, and his hand clenched instinctively. A violet light flared within the crystal, and he braced himself for the burning agony of the rejection. For his veins to boil and the curse to push the magic out of his body in a violent explosion.

But instead of that, he felt a pull.

A searing pain tore up his arm as the astra in the ore rushed up and plunged into his chest. Something inside—something cold and ravenous—then woke up.

Seven gasped, his eyes going wide. A void behind his ribs, which he had never felt before, snapped open and drew in the energy.

What the hell is that?

Gritting his teeth, Seven stifled a scream as his other hand ripped open the pouch in his pocket and grabbed the second stone. Another surge of astra burst through me—clean and sharp. Like the first gust of the spring.

The two currents slammed into each other within Seven's ribcage. The first, wild and agonizing, raced toward that weird darkness in his chest while the second began to crystallize into a reservoir next to his heart. An astral core.

For an instant, Seven almost smiled. But before he could, something else inside him stirred awake and reached to devour the new current. Oh, hell no. 

Reacting on instinct, Seven seized the energy with everything he had and forced it toward his forming core. As if he'd let himself die without dying. Not. A. Chance.

The struggle felt endless. 

Power tore through him like a storm, until at last—silence. The stillness that followed was heavy, like one that accompanied death. Something inside his chest had gone still.

Before Seven could comprehend it, new sensations flooded in. He heard the shadows cast by the crowd whisper, calling him. He felt the wind on his skin, not as touch, but as movement he could command.

The roar of the plaza had died to an expectant hush. They were all waiting for his death scream, for his body to hit the wooden platform. 

All except for Kaiser, who was grinning from ear to ear. Behind the magistrate, the noble with the serpent sigil, and the men from the Black Merchants guild stepped forward.

As if I’d let myself be caught so easily.

In a single, fluid motion, Seven's hand shot out of his pocket and grabbed his dagger. Without a hint of hesitation, he then slashed the blade across the magistrate’s throat. Blood sprayed out onto the pristine white robes. The man stumbled back with a choked gurgle, his falling body blocking the path of the men behind.

That was all Seven needed.

He launched himself sideways, leaping from the edge of the platform as the crowd erupted into screams. A blade of pure wind shrieked past his head, carving a deep gouge in the wood of the building ahead. 

He landed in a crouch, grabbed the nearest man—a wealthy merchant by his silks—and shoved him into the path of the next spell. The invisible gust struck with a loud crack, folding the man in half while buying Seven a few seconds to vanish into the mouth of a narrow alley.

A smirk appeared on his face. He didn’t feel any pain. That noble with the serpent sigil didn’t have his contract yet.

The Butcher still did. Seven just had to reach him before Kaiser.

Then he could figure out what, exactly, had just died in his chest.

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Next --> Chapter 4: https://www.patreon.com/posts/beta-read-side-4-145637056