Chapter 39: Plans
Ethan calmly adjusted himself, pulling his clothes back into place with the ease of someone in no hurry. On the floor, the princess was still panting, her legs trembling and her cheeks stained red. She tried to lift her gaze toward him but ended up looking away, defeated by exhaustion and the pleasure he had just drawn from her.
He watched her for just a moment, not like a lover admiring his companion, but like someone who had just finished a task that had required effort. There was something almost fascinating in the way that, even utterly spent, she still kept a hint of pride in her eyes, fighting not to appear vulnerable.
He didn’t know if that was something natural in her since childhood, or if it was something she had developed because of her life as a princess. But in the end, every woman like her he had met in his past life had ended the same way.
Without saying anything, Ethan turned and walked to the center of the hall. The altar he had brought from Eldranor stood there. He ran his hand over the symbols, feeling them almost pulse beneath his skin.
Even at that moment, it seemed as if the altar itself was trying to draw energy from him.
He inhaled slowly, focused his divine energy, and let it flow through his fingers, filling the runic lines with warmth and light. The lines shone for a moment, bright and almost alive... but soon dimmed, like embers dying without wood.
Ethan’s brow furrowed briefly. The altar needed more, much more, than he could provide in a single attempt. But this had already been expected, and he believed it was worth spending time on.
It was more than just a bridge to Eldranor; it would be a stable channel to transfer power, people, and influence. Something that, if properly used, would make that kingdom the cult’s strongest arm outside the sacred walls.
He withdrew his hand, letting the energy fade, and stared at the altar in silence. It would probably take longer than he’d hoped before the altar became fully functional. Perhaps it would be better to look for other sources of divine energy besides himself. Nothing he couldn’t solve, just a small setback.
Behind him, the princess let out a long sigh, trying to gather her strength. Ethan didn’t look back.
"No need to hurry," he said, adjusting the sleeves of his clothes. "You, more than anyone, know no one else comes here." Then he left the hall, his footsteps echoing against the stone.
It was time to check whether the men and women he had spread throughout the kingdom had done their jobs.
At the door, he cast one last quick glance at the altar. The central rune still shimmered faintly with the energy he’d already placed there. He smiled, pleased with himself. Slowly, each plan was unfolding exactly as he wanted.
As the door closed behind him, the sound of the princess’s heavy breathing faded. Now it was time to see if the cult was growing as he had commanded, and whether that kingdom was already beginning to mold itself to his touch.
Ethan moved through the castle corridors with silent steps, like someone walking through already conquered territory. His presence made servants lower their heads, guards step aside, and even some nobles cast quick glances, some curious, others already fearful.
As he stepped out into the inner courtyards, the sound of low chanting reached his ears. He followed it until, in the newly restored rock garden, he saw a small group gathered before a symbol of Aurelia carved there by his order. They were men and women of the cult: new faces, faithful brought from other lands, mixed with curious locals who had begun to be captivated by the new faith.
Among them, Ethan recognized the face of one of the first followers he met in that kingdom, a middle-aged man with a respectful posture. The man approached when he saw him.
"Lord Ethan," he said, his voice low and full of reverence. "You’ll be pleased to know we’re doing very well. Some nobles have sent messages, discreetly asking about ’donations’ and blessings from the goddess."
Ethan simply nodded, knowing that some of those nobles were nothing but corpses controlled by him. His gaze swept over the group. The symbol of Aurelia shone in the sun, simple yet elegant. Soon, he intended for those chants to echo in the castle halls and daily in the kingdom’s squares.
"Continue as planned," he ordered. "I want more people hearing Aurelia’s name every week. Make her name become something natural in their minds."
The man bowed respectfully, stepping back toward the other faithful. Ethan watched for a moment longer, then turned to leave.
On the way, he passed through corridors where old banners of the kingdom still hung on the walls. It was clear to him that they would soon be replaced, perhaps not directly by the cult’s insignia, but by something subtly and elegantly, something in his image.
He walked into a side hall where part of the official records and documents were kept. There, he found a few servants with vacant gazes at work. Ethan glanced over the scrolls, notes on trade, politics... and stopped when he saw a recent report, sealed with urgency.
He opened it without hesitation; after all, that place was already his. His eyes moved coldly over the lines until they reached the word he had suspected would appear.
The "hero," the one the novel described as the protagonist of this world.
According to the report, he was on his way to the kingdom. Ethan exhaled slowly, folding the parchment between his fingers.
He stood in silence for a moment, thinking. He knew this would happen eventually. He also knew how dangerous it would be to let that hero move freely around, as he might end up discovering more than he should. But he also knew that confronting him too soon could jeopardize everything he had built; the church of the creator god was too dangerous to get involved with so early.
He lifted his head, his gaze cold, thinking to himself. Perhaps the hero could become just another piece to use. Maybe even the most valuable one of all.
Outside, the late afternoon light bathed the courtyard. The symbol of Aurelia still glowed softly, as if reminding Ethan who was truly in command.
He tucked the report away, his expression calm.
"Let him come," he murmured, almost like welcoming an old acquaintance.