Chapter 250: A Message from Caelum

The faint hiss of water filled the room, steady and calming. Steam rolled lazily across the walls, curling into soft trails that vanished against the ceiling lights. Trafalgar sat half-submerged in the bath, arms resting along the edges, his dark hair undone and slicked back. The faint bruises along his shoulders were already fading — pale skin almost too flawless for someone who’d spent the past weeks fighting monsters.He glanced down at his reflection in the rippling surface. Not a single scar. Not a single mark.

’Guess that’s thanks to you... my little shiny baby armor,’ he thought with a smirk. ’Doing great work out there, huh?’

For once, it was quiet. No lectures, no nobles, no blood. Just heat, silence, and the smell of the oils drifting from the water. He sank a little deeper, closing his eyes — until something flickered above his hand.

He sighed. With a light pulse of mana, the Shadowlink Echo shimmered above Trafalgar’s palm — a faint glow hovering in the misty air.

The sphere pulsed once, and a calm, recorded voice played through the steam.

"Young Master Trafalgar. There are urgent developments. You should hear this as soon as possible."

Trafalgar exhaled slowly through his nose, eyes still half-closed. ’Urgent, huh?’ he thought, tilting his head back against the marble. ’What now? Did someone in the family finally decide to start another mess?’

He infused mana into the orb again, sending a response. "Caelum, what’s so urgent this time? Did someone make a move? Maybe my lovely sister Rivena pulled another stunt? Or did that bitch Seraphine send her precious little Maeron to cause trouble again?"

The reply came almost instantly — not a delay, not even a pause.

"None of the above, my lord," Caelum’s composed voice resonated from the sphere, calm yet edged with concern. "This matter doesn’t involve your family directly. But it may affect all of them soon enough."

That tone — even, professional, but tighter than usual — made Trafalgar open one eye. He straightened slightly in the bath, droplets rolling down his shoulders.

"Go on," he said quietly.

"A conflict is brewing between two of the Eight," Caelum replied. "House Thal’Zar and House Sylvanel. It appears we may be heading toward open war."

The warmth of the bath suddenly felt colder.

Trafalgar leaned back against the edge of the bath, the warm water lapping faintly against his chest. The Shadowlink Echo in his hand, still glowing faintly from Caelum’s last message.

For a long moment, he said nothing. Only the faint dripping of condensation from the ceiling filled the silence.

’Two of the Eight... at war?’ he thought slowly, staring at the steam swirling above him. ’That’s not something you just hear about. That’s something that changes the world.’

He rubbed a hand over his face, dragging it down his jaw. Since the day he came to this world — barely more than half a year ago — the Eight Great Families had been like distant constellations: enormous, cold, and untouchable. They had their rivalries, sure, but war? Between them? That was suicide.

’The balance they keep is already fragile,’ he thought. ’But this... this would snap it in half.’

He sank deeper into the water, the reflection of the mana crystal lights dancing faintly on his skin. The Morgain family — one of the Eight themselves — was powerful, terrifyingly so, yet even they couldn’t remain untouched if two others began tearing the world apart.

’If Thal’Zar and Sylvanel go to war, the whole world will be affected,’ he mused darkly. ’And the rest of us get dragged in whether we like it or not.’

He could almost picture it: forests burned to ash, cities reduced to rubble, and the corpses of all races rotting on the same battlefields. Millions of dead, all because two proud families couldn’t stop themselves.

Trafalgar’s fingers tapped absently on the surface of the water. Even Caelum — the man who had seen everything, who never once faltered — sounded shaken. That alone said enough.

’Even he is worried...’ Trafalgar thought grimly.

He let out a slow breath, eyes narrowing as he stared at the dim glow of the Echo.

’And the question is... what side will Morgain take when the flames start spreading?’

Trafalgar infused mana back into the Shadowlink Echo, its faint light pulsing once before Caelum’s composed voice returned.

"Caelum," Trafalgar began, his tone steady but edged with curiosity, "tell me the details. What exactly happened? And what is my family planning to do about it?"

There was a short pause — the kind that told Trafalgar Caelum was choosing his words carefully.

"The information is still incomplete, young master. What we do know is that the first conflict began at the border between Thal’Zar and Sylvanel territory. An ancient elven temple was desecrated — one said to be connected to the roots of the World Tree itself."

Trafalgar raised an eyebrow, sitting up slightly in the bath. "The World Tree? That’s not something they’ll overlook. Especially not the elves."

"Indeed," Caelum replied. "House Sylvanel claims Thal’Zar hunters trespassed and destroyed what they called ’the heart of an ancestral site.’ Thal’Zar denies it, of course. They claim the elves attacked first."

Trafalgar exhaled slowly, leaning back again. "So the usual bullshit."

"Perhaps," Caelum said, "but this time, the scale is far greater. Armies have begun mobilizing. Scouts report movements on both sides. It’s only a matter of time before it spirals."

Trafalgar leaned forward slightly, letting the warm water ripple around his arms. "And what about the others?" he asked. "My family... and the rest of the Five? What’s their stance in all this?"

Caelum’s voice came through the Shadowlink Echo, calm and deliberate. This update ıs available on novel_fіre.net

"At present, none of the remaining families plan to take a side, my lord. If two of the Eight decide to go to war, both will inevitably destroy each other — or at least weaken themselves beyond recovery. That alone would shift the balance of power permanently."

Trafalgar’s gaze hardened. "So the others just plan to sit back and watch?"

"Precisely," Caelum replied. "To interfere would be... inefficient. The Morgain, Myrrhvale, Zar’khael, and the others will likely remain neutral. Once the Thal’Zar and Sylvanel have torn each other apart, the survivors will pose no threat to anyone."

He paused before continuing, his tone slightly lower.

"However, there is another matter to consider. The civilians. Neutral cities, merchant alliances, and lesser noble families — there are thousands of them spread across both territories. When two Great Families clash, those beneath them suffer first. Entire bloodlines could be wiped out in the crossfire."

Trafalgar exhaled, rubbing a hand through his damp hair. "Collateral damage, huh... same as always. The strong play politics, and everyone else pays the price."

"Yes," Caelum said quietly. "To most of the world, this will not be seen as a war of justice — only another reminder that even among the Eight, peace is nothing but a temporary illusion."

Trafalgar leaned back again, arms resting against the smooth edges of the tub. The water was starting to cool, but he didn’t care. His thoughts were running too fast to notice.

"So, when’s the Council?" he asked finally, his tone steady but laced with a quiet weight.

"Roughly two weeks from now," Caelum replied. "The summons have already been sent to every Patriarch and Matriarch. This time, it will not resemble the last gathering. No extended delegations, no merchants, no public observers. Only the Eight Great Families — and them alone."

Trafalgar’s eyes half-closed, the faint steam fogging his reflection. "I see...

Trafalgar ran a hand down his face, muttering under his breath, "What a piece of shit this all is..."

Caelum didn’t respond. He knew better than to comment when Trafalgar spoke like that.

Trafalgar exhaled deeply, the faint ripples in the water stilling as he finally said, "That’s all for now, Caelum. Keep me informed."

"Of course, young master," Caelum replied. "I’ll send further details as soon as new information reaches me."

"Good." Trafalgar’s tone was clipped but calm. "Take care of yourself too."

"Always, young master."

The faint glow of the Shadowlink Echo dimmed, leaving only the quiet hum of the room. Trafalgar sank further into the tub for a brief moment before standing, water cascading off his frame.

He grabbed a towel, running it through his hair as he muttered to himself, "Two weeks, huh... what a damn mess."

He dried off in silence, his reflection staring back at him from the mirror — eyes steady, unreadable. ’A war between the Great Families... never thought I’d hear those words so soon. If the Council fails, the world will bleed.’

He smirked faintly at his own thought. ’Well, not my problem unless it reaches me. Survival first, everything else after.’

As he walked toward the bed, the air cooled against his bare skin. He didn’t bother dressing. The towel hit the chair behind him, forgotten. Crawling into bed, he let the soft fabric sink beneath his weight, exhaling a long sigh.

’Still, I should talk to Zafira tomorrow,’ he thought, eyes half-closing. ’She’s from one of the Eight — maybe she’ll know what her family plans to do... if she even wants to tell me.’

The last traces of steam faded from the room as he turned on his side, the faint mana light flickering out.

Sleep took him slowly — calm, heavy, and quiet.