WorldCrafter - Building My Underground Kingdom

Taleth didn't say a word, but the look on his face said enough, disbelief, anger, disgust.

The woman saw it and sighed. "I know you're angry. I was too. But listen to my story carefully."

She sat up straighter, her voice calmer now, but no less heavy.

"In the past, there was a massive war between the Nephirid Kingdom and the surface nations. Velmora was caught in the middle, and to survive, we allied with the Nephirid."

She paused, her jaw tight. "But in the end… we lost."

Taleth remained silent, his eyes narrowing.

"The defeat wasn't just military," she continued. "The Nephirid lost more than land. Their primary power source was sealed. With it went their ability to maintain dominance."

"And the Velmora?" Taleth asked quietly.

She didn't flinch. "Our king made a deal to preserve what was left. To keep our kingdom alive and our wealth intact… we sold half our population."

Her voice trembled just slightly now. "We sold them into slavery and servitude. They were branded, trained, and handed over like cattle."

Taleth clenched his fists. "You betrayed your own people just to keep a throne."

The woman didn't deny it. Her eyes narrowed, voice laced with quiet fury.

"The worst part is… this reality is hidden from our people. In my generation, almost no one even knows that fellow Velmora are treated like cattle. Like toys."

She looked away. "I only found out by accident. And you've seen what happened to me since."

Taleth frowned. "I'm surprised they didn't just kill you."

A bitter smirk tugged at her lips. "Sometimes, your fellow Velmora will treat you like an object even faster than outsiders.

Being born into royalty isn't a blessing. My father offered me up as a political gift, hoping to gain favor with the Nephirid royal family."

Taleth's anger grew with every word. So the ancient Velmora Kingdom still existed… and they were fighting among themselves for power, while millions of their own people suffered as slaves?

The audacity burned in his chest. They had the strength to rule.

The means to act. Yet they stayed silent, tearing each other down while the rest were sold like livestock?

He opened his mouth to speak, but Ben's earlier command echoed in his mind.

He exhaled slowly. "So the Nephirid royal family… they're involved in Velmora's politics?"

The woman nodded. "It's not just the Velmora. The Nephirid still rule above the others, quietly, but absolutely. Still, it's not as cruel there as it is here. In that place… there are other kingdoms too. Survivors from the ancient era."

Ben, watching through Taleth's eyes, tapped his fingers against the armrest, his thoughts spinning.

'Multiple ancient kingdoms still alive? So they've split the world in two, the surface left in chaos while a hidden order thrives beneath. But why? What are they really planning?'

A dark thought surfaced in Ben's mind.

It wasn't just about luxury. What if this division existed for resource control? One side bled and toiled, while the other grew fat on its labor. But… was that all?

'No. This feels too calculated. Are they building military power? Preparing to reclaim the surface?'

The public story had always been that the old kingdoms lacked enough warriors, that they were weak. But what if that was a lie? A cover to keep the surface complacent while they built a hidden army?

Ben's eyes narrowed. It made sense. If they feared spies, they'd move only the trusted.

Build strength in secret. Forge weapons and soldiers away from prying eyes.

And if that was true… then that army, too, would one day stand in his way.

'I need to confirm this, one way or another.'

With Ben's mental nudge, Taleth brought the conversation back on track.

"Then… what about the match?"

Both he and Ben were thinking the same thing: a Velmora princess held immense value. For someone to use her as a prize, just to motivate a gladiator, it meant the match had to be significant.

"Honestly, I don't know the full details," she replied, rubbing her arms as if trying to ward off invisible chains. "But I overheard something… It's a bet. I never heard who the other party is."

She let out a tired sigh, her voice laced with resentment.

Ben's voice echoed through the link. 'Ask when and where the match will happen.'

Taleth nodded and got the information quickly, location, time, names involved.

'I got it, master,' he whispered internally.

'Good. Pull out now. Don't risk exposure.'

But Taleth hesitated. 'Master… can I stay a bit longer? There's something else I need to ask her.'

Ben smirked. 'Sure. Just make sure no one sees you.'

Ben didn't mind. Loyalty wasn't maintained with fear alone. Sometimes, you had to offer a little freedom. A carrot to go with the stick.

As Taleth stayed behind to dig deeper, Ben stood and stretched. It was time to consult Elvira. He needed more data, specifically from the Nephirid invasion years ago.

He knew Elvira had fought back then. If he was lucky, she might've faced a regiment strong enough to give him a rough estimate of the enemy's might.

But deep down, he wasn't optimistic. The Nephirid had attacked many kingdoms at once during that campaign. Elvira likely faced only a fraction of their true strength.

Still, even a fraction would be better than guessing in the dark.

Meanwhile, Taleth squeezed out every piece of information he could. The concealment magic wouldn't last much longer, and his time was running out.

The woman's name was Sephiria, 66th Princess of the Velmora Kingdom.

She had lived her entire life within the High Halls, taught that everything beyond the boundary was nothing but wasteland, filled with monsters too powerful to resist. That wasn't entirely a lie… but it was far from the full truth.

There were monsters, yes, but there were also other kingdoms. Entire civilizations. And countless Velmora who had been cast out, sold, and discarded like property.

Sephiria had only discovered this by accident, overhearing something she was never meant to know. That moment shattered everything. Her world, her trust, her identity.

She tried to escape, to find the truth herself. But every attempt failed, and more than once, she nearly lost her life. Frustrated and furious, she decided to confront her father in public, hoping that by forcing his hand, others would hear the truth and rise with her.

They didn't. She had expected anger. Outrage. Support.

Instead, she saw cowardice. People averted their eyes. They clung to the lies, spinning excuses to protect their comfort. It was easier to reject a horrifying truth than to accept it, easier to pretend she was wrong than face the weight of what her words revealed.

Alone and condemned, Sephiria was excommunicated from the royal family, accused of treason for slandering the king. She thought that would be the end. Cast into the wasteland, devoured by beasts.

But her fate was worse. She was sold. A royal princess turned slave, bought by a Nephirid prince.

Irony, she thought. She had wanted to see the truth for herself, and now, she lived it.

From the moment she arrived, they didn't even touch her. They threw her into training. Not as a warrior. Not as a scholar.

She was trained to serve. To smile. To dance. To entertain. To become the perfect toy.

Once a princess, now treated as nothing more than a prostitute-in-training.

Her voice trembled as she spoke of it, but Taleth didn't interrupt. He already knew this part. The story repeated across countless lives.

When she was finished, he stood. Quiet for a moment, then said, "I will return. When the time comes… I'll need your help."

She didn't respond, but she didn't argue either.

As Taleth slipped away into the night, back through the coliseum's hidden corridors, his heart was in chaos, Rage, Disgust.,Sorrow.

But above all… purpose.

If before he only wanted revenge, now he wanted justice, for all those who had suffered in silence. And not just against the Ashking or the Nephirid... but against the Velmora themselves.

Those who hid behind the High Halls.

Taleth clenched his jaw so hard that blood seeped between his lips. 'To think... it was the Velmora themselves who allowed this. Who enabled it. Pathetic.

All of you, living in luxury behind sealed walls… I swear, I'll tear your world apart. I'll drag your filth into the light and force you to face what you've done.'

He didn't just want them to see the pain. He wanted them to wear it. To feel it in their skin.

Millions of Velmora now lived as slaves, but how many had already died in chains? How many more were still being broken?

And what about the first exiled generation?

They were different. They hadn't been raised to serve. They had still carried pride, dignity, some had even been soldiers, warriors, loyal citizens who bled for their kingdom.

And what was their reward?

Their children sold.

Their wives defiled.

Their names erased.

That was the legacy the High Halls chose to protect. Not honor, not history, just rot, hidden under silk.