Rise of The Abandoned Husband

The military transport sped through the streets of Veridia City, its armored exterior gleaming in the morning light. I sat across from Commander Burke—or rather, War God Ignazio Bellweather, as I'd learned his true identity moments after we entered the vehicle.

"The Guild won't let this go," Bellweather said, his scarred face impassive as he studied me. "You've made too many powerful enemies."

"I didn't exactly ask to be their enemy," I replied, watching the city blur past through tinted windows. My thoughts kept drifting back to Isabelle, left behind with her grandfather. "Will she really be safe with Michael Ashworth?"

Bellweather nodded once. "For now. The old man knows better than to cross me, and Bancroft won't move against her while she's under Ashworth protection—not today, at least."

I didn't entirely believe him, but I had no choice. My immediate priority was figuring out why this legendary military figure had intervened in my execution.

"Why did you save me?" I asked directly. "What's this battle zone you mentioned?"

A hint of amusement flickered across his face. "There is no battle zone. That was merely convenient leverage against Bancroft."

"Then why—"

"Because you're useful," he interrupted. "And because certain parties expressed interest in your continued survival."

That wasn't remotely comforting. Being "useful" to powerful men like Bellweather rarely ended well for the tool.

We turned onto a less populated street, the buildings growing more dilapidated. I noticed the military escort that had followed us from the Guild was peeling away, leaving just our single transport.

"Where are we going?" I asked.

"Nowhere in particular." Bellweather checked his watch. "My involvement ends shortly."

Before I could question that cryptic statement, the transport slowed and pulled to a stop beside an abandoned warehouse district. The driver turned in his seat.

"We've arrived at the drop point, sir."

Bellweather nodded, then turned to me. "This is where you get out."

I stared at him in disbelief. "You're just leaving me here?"

"My orders were to extract you from the Guild. Nothing more." He reached into his jacket and pulled out a small leather pouch, tossing it to me. "For transportation."

I caught it, feeling coins inside. "You dragged me out of execution to abandon me in the middle of nowhere?"

"Would you prefer I return you to Bancroft?" he asked dryly.

I opened the pouch, finding enough silver coins for several cab rides. "I don't understand any of this."

"You don't need to understand. You just need to survive." Bellweather leaned forward slightly. "The Guild will regroup quickly. Bancroft lost face today—he'll be desperate to restore it by bringing you back in. Go somewhere safe, somewhere you can defend."

The driver opened my door, the message clear: this conversation was over.

"One more thing," Bellweather said as I stepped out. "Your 'lucky' escape today? It wasn't luck, and it wasn't your doing. Remember that."

The door slammed shut before I could respond, and the transport pulled away, leaving me alone on the empty street. I watched until it disappeared around a corner, my mind racing.

Not luck? Not my doing? Then whose?

I pocketed the coins and got my bearings. I recognized this district—we were on the eastern outskirts of the city. Jade Moon Villa wasn't far, perhaps an hour's walk. I started moving immediately, keeping to the shadows and back alleys.

Bellweather's warning echoed in my mind. The Guild would regroup quickly. I needed to reach the villa and prepare for their response. Whatever forces had intervened today—whether through Bellweather or some other unseen ally—I couldn't count on their protection a second time.

As I walked, I mentally cataloged my resources. The villa's defenses were good but not impregnable. Mariana would be there, which significantly improved our chances, but against the full might of the Guild? We'd need more.

I needed to advance my cultivation rapidly. The power I'd demonstrated in the extraction chamber—breaking that Authentic Rock railing—had surprised even me. Something had changed within my body during those hours of torture. The pain had somehow accelerated my internal energy flow, breaking through a bottleneck I hadn't even realized was there.

I needed to consolidate that breakthrough before confronting the Guild again.

A cab turned onto the street ahead. I flagged it down, giving the driver an address several blocks from the villa. Better not to be dropped directly at my doorstep.

"Rough day?" the driver asked, eyeing my disheveled appearance in the rearview mirror.

I managed a tight smile. "You could say that."

---

In a lavish office overlooking the Veridia City skyline, Ignazio Bellweather stood at military attention before a desk where an elegantly dressed man was examining reports.

"It's done," Bellweather stated. "Knight is free and on his way back to that villa of his."

Desmond Davenport looked up, removing his reading glasses. "Any complications?"

"Bancroft was furious, as expected. The old Ashworth took his granddaughter back into his custody."

Davenport nodded thoughtfully. "Good. And did Knight suspect anything?"

"He knows something's off. He's not a fool." Bellweather shifted slightly. "May I speak freely, sir?"

"Of course."

"What's your actual interest in this young man? He's talented, certainly, but hardly worth this level of intervention."

Davenport smiled, rising from his chair to walk to the window. "Tell me, Ignazio, what do you see when you look at our fair city?"

Bellweather joined him at the window. "I see a militarily strategic location with significant economic resources."

"Always the soldier," Davenport chuckled. "What I see is a balance of power. A delicate ecosystem of competing forces that has maintained stability for generations." He pointed toward the Martial Guild's imposing headquarters visible in the distance. "But lately, that balance has been disrupted."

"The Guild's expansion," Bellweather nodded.

"Precisely. Their influence has grown beyond acceptable parameters. The High Council turns a blind eye because half of them are in Bancroft's pocket." Davenport turned back to his desk, picking up a folder. "Then along comes Liam Knight—a nobody with extraordinary talent who refuses to bow to the Guild's authority."

"So you're using him as a counterweight?"

"I'm using him as a hammer." Davenport's voice hardened. "The Guild needs to be reminded of its place. Knight has already dealt them several embarrassing blows. With the right...nudging, he might just become the force that brings them back into line."

Bellweather frowned. "You're setting him up as a sacrificial pawn."

"I prefer to think of him as an unwitting agent of necessary change." Davenport returned to his seat. "Besides, if he's truly as talented as reports suggest, he might even survive what's coming."

"And if he doesn't?"

"Then we find another hammer." Davenport reopened his reports. "That will be all, War God Bellweather. Thank you for your service today."

Dismissed, Bellweather gave a curt bow and departed, his expression troubled. In his decades of military service, he had seen many men used as pawns in power games. Few of them met pleasant ends.

---

I approached Jade Moon Villa cautiously, circling the perimeter twice to check for surveillance or ambush. Finding none, I slipped through the side entrance and made my way toward the main building.

The villa seemed quieter than usual. Had Mariana sent the staff away, anticipating trouble after my arrest? Smart move, if so.

As I neared the central courtyard, I heard voices—Mariana's measured tone, raised in unusual firmness, and two unfamiliar male voices responding with cold authority.

"The Pavilion Master's allegiance to a fugitive is disappointing," one said. "The Guild expected better judgment from someone of your standing."

I crept closer, keeping to the shadows of the corridor. Through the archway, I could see Mariana standing tall, facing two men in the white robes of Guild officials. Her expression was impassive, but I could read the tension in her shoulders.

"My allegiance is to talent and principle," she replied evenly. "The Guild's treatment of Liam Knight violates both."

The taller official stepped forward. "Your protection of Knight will have consequences. The Guild remembers those who stand against it."

"And what consequences might those be?"

I spoke from the archway, stepping into view. All three heads turned sharply in my direction. The officials' eyes widened in shock, while a brief flicker of relief crossed Mariana's face before she composed herself.

"Liam," she acknowledged calmly, as if my appearance was completely expected.

The Guild officials recovered quickly, their shock hardening into cold fury.

"Impossible," the shorter one hissed. "You were scheduled for execution this morning."

"Plans change," I replied, walking forward to stand beside Mariana. "You were saying something about consequences?"

The taller official stared at me with naked hatred. "Your escape changes nothing. The Guild's judgment stands—you are condemned. Your execution is merely delayed."

"And yet here I stand, while your Guild Master fumes in his chambers." I let a small, dangerous smile form. "Perhaps you should reconsider who should fear consequences."

"You dare—"

"I dare many things," I cut him off. "Including telling you both to get out of my home before I demonstrate exactly what I did to that Authentic Rock railing in your extraction chamber."

The officials exchanged glances, clearly weighing whether to continue their threats or retreat. Self-preservation won out.

"This isn't over, Knight," the taller one said, backing toward the exit. "The Guild's reach is long."

"So is mine," I replied quietly. "Remember that when you report back to Bancroft."

We stood in silence, watching until they had departed through the main gate. Only when they were truly gone did Mariana turn to me, her composed mask slipping to reveal genuine concern.

"How did you escape?" she asked urgently. "The entire Guild was mobilized for your execution."

"It's a long story," I sighed, suddenly feeling the exhaustion of the past twenty-four hours catching up with me. "One that doesn't entirely make sense even to me."

Mariana guided me to a seat, calling for tea. "Start from the beginning."

As I recounted my unexpected rescue by Ignazio Bellweather, Mariana's expression grew increasingly troubled.

"War God Bellweather personally intervened?" she asked when I finished. "That's... unprecedented."

"He said I was 'useful' to certain parties," I added. "Then dropped me off in the warehouse district with enough coin for a cab."

Mariana rose, pacing the courtyard. "This isn't right. Bellweather answers only to the highest authorities. For him to involve himself in Guild affairs..."

"Someone's using me," I concluded. "I'm a pawn in some larger game."

"Precisely." She stopped pacing, facing me directly. "And pawns rarely survive to the endgame."

"Then I need to stop being a pawn." I stood, my exhaustion giving way to determination. "Whatever game they're playing, I intend to rewrite the rules."

Mariana smiled grimly. "And how do you propose to do that?"

"By becoming too powerful to sacrifice." I looked toward my cultivation chamber beneath the villa. "Starting now. The Guild will come for me again—we both know that. When they do, I need to be ready."

"I'll help however I can," Mariana promised, "but Liam—be careful. If powers this high are involving themselves in your fate, the stakes are larger than you realize."

I nodded, my mind already planning my next steps. "First, I need to secure Isabelle. She's with her grandfather now, but I don't trust that arrangement to last."

"One problem at a time," Mariana cautioned. "Those Guild officials didn't come here by chance—they were assessing our defenses, confirming my allegiance. Their next visit won't be for conversation."

"Then we'd better prepare for unwelcome guests," I said, moving toward my cultivation chamber. "I have a breakthrough to consolidate."

As I descended the stairs to begin my cultivation, one thing became crystal clear: I was done being manipulated by forces beyond my control. Whether it was Bancroft, Bellweather, or whoever pulled the War God's strings, they would all learn the same harsh lesson.

I was no one's pawn. And those who tried to use me would soon discover the price of their miscalculation.