The air in Bloodburn Kingdom was thick with a blend of elation and whispered secrets. Every street, every corner, and every marketplace thrummed with a contagious excitement.
Not too long before they were holding their breaths upon the arrival of the draconians. But the return of their young warriors cheered them up right away.
Dark and majestic banners were hung in abundance, and vendors peddled limited-edition memorabilia commemorating the return of the valiant lords, ladies, and warriors from the Quest of the Worthy.
As families of the returned nobles and warriors celebrated, there was an inevitable undercurrent of sorrow as several households, Houses mourned the irreplaceable void left behind by those who did not return. Yet, through the blend of joy and sadness, the atmosphere was electric.
"I heard young lord Silvan returned with a devilish blade that can cut through mountains," a woman whispered excitedly to her friend as they watched a parade of nobles pass by.
"And our young lady Sabina? I heard she retrieved something called the Phantom Stone that can catch people off guard and trap them for centuries. That's really scary but powerful!" another responded, her eyes wide with astonishment.
However, amidst the bustling streets and gossiping crowds, the stately gates of Dreadthorne Castle remained eerily silent and sealed.
The formidable stone edifice became a subject of hushed conversations, as its absence from the joyous reunions was glaringly obvious.
People were puzzled and confused as to why they were quiet, especially since young lord Edmund always loved to boast about his spoils and achievements, even after returning from small quests.
Across towns, the Bloodvine Castle of House Valentine was awash with rich, cheerful music, echoing the sentiment of a kingdom in celebration.
A banner above their entrance declared: "A Hearty Congratulations to our Valorous Valentines!"
Outside, a group of commoners congregated, their faces alight with curiosity. "Heard young lord Jael brought back the Tears of Melagordon," a man with a scruffy beard remarked, his voice filled with admiration.
Yet, the story that truly held the kingdom in its grip was the unbelievable feat achieved by their royal consort, Asher.
"Heard he knocked Prince Drakon flat on his back with just one kick!" an old man boasted to a group of wide-eyed children.
"That's the least exciting part! Rumors say he even slayed Prince Agonon, the strongest young genius of the Draconis Kingdom! Can you believe it?"
Another exclaimed, her eyes dancing with both wonder and a hint of fear.
A younger lad with twinkling eyes, caught up in the story, whispered dramatically, "They say his veins pulse with the blood of devils. How else could he absorb the Deviar's power so swiftly?"
His companion shivered, "Makes you wonder if he's truly born to be an Immortal! Is he an offspring of a devil??"
"Of course, he must be! He single-handedly caused so much destruction to the draconians, which none from our kingdom had ever managed. And considering his alien looks and charms, he was surely born in a higher realm. The devils must have sent him to us to save our kingdom!"
"Our late king surely must be laughing from the Seven Hells," An excited middle-aged-looking woman said with a gleeful look.
"I also heard he thoroughly humiliated the S Rank Hunter named Victor, who killed and tortured so many of our people. I wish I had been there to watch such a satisfying scene, sigh. Not every day we get to see an Elite Hunter in such a state," A young woman said with a disappointed sigh.
"Don't be sad, kid. Now that he has absorbed the Deviar, so many of those bastard Hunters are going to get torn apart by our immortal consort in the future. We are so lucky to be alive at a time like this," An old man said with a wide grin.
Such tales and rumors transformed Asher into a figure of near-mythical stature overnight.
There was no doubt his name would forever be etched in the annals of history.
Whether it was admiration, awe, or fear, everyone in Bloodburn Kingdom had something to say about the royal consort, and his feats had already spread far and wide outside the Bloodburn Kingdom.
The vast hall of the Dreadthorne Castle seemed to close in on itself, the high vaulted ceilings amplifying the tension in the room.
Every breath seemed like it echoed a hundred times. The opulent dark blue drapes and the glowing chandeliers contrasted sharply with the chilling atmosphere.
*CRACKK!*
A thunderous sound of the marble floor shattering echoed followed a voice, through low, felt like the sting of ice, "What a pathetic fool you are," Lord Thorin Thorne hissed, a towering figure with a hawk-like gaze as his uncanny red eyes flickered with cold fury.
Esther Thorne remained composed and imperious as she looked down upon Edmund with a blend of disappointment and ire. Her arms were crossed, though her eyes were eerily cold.
A pitiful sight to behold, Edmund's posture was one of complete defeat. His face had lost all color and his red eyes were shivering uncontrollably.
His eyes, once proud and haughty, now darted about nervously, haunted by the recent memories and shame.
The images of Asher violating and torturing his sister and then cutting off his dick kept replaying in his mind, and the physical and emotional scars ran deep.
This, coupled with the chilling auras of his mother and father boring down on him, was making him feel suffocated and terrified, unable to even utter a word.
He must be the only young lord to return without his manhood while losing his woman.
Now that Sabina has lost her virginity, she will never be his.
He also can't reveal that to anyone lest she kills him first.
As of now, she was his only hope to prevent getting beaten to death by his father. In return, he had to take the blame for confessing everything to Asher.
Hidden behind a pillar, Jarius Thorne suppressed a chuckle, basking in Edmund's humiliation. His voice barely above a whisper, he said, "Who would've thought? A smug asshole like you brought to your knees and lost your dick. Who is the loser now? How fortunate of me to take up the consort's offer, hehe," He stifled a grin, taking pleasure in his elder brother's downfall.
But thinking how his brother's dick was cut off and taken hostage by Asher, Jarius shivered while telling himself to never fall into his bad books.
Sabina, who was standing beside Edmund, tried to come to Edmund's aid, her voice quivering slightly, "Please forgive him, father. Edmund has much to learn, but surely—"
Thorin raised a hand, silencing her. His words dripped with icy precision, "Sabina, you cannot keep cleaning up his mess. His recklessness has put our entire House in jeopardy. With Asher returning after absorbing the Deviar, he will be completely untouchable in this kingdom, and the Sacred Union between him and the queen will happen soon. And thanks to your brother's foolishness, Asher now holds the future of our House hostage. We can't even reveal such a grave crime because of what your brother did to him in the past. Do you understand the weight of this folly?"
The imposing hall echoed with the eerie, tangible sound of Thorin's fury, as his mana enveloped the room.
Invisible yet overwhelming, the force slammed into Edmund, pinning him firmly to the ground.
"Urgh!"
With every second, the pressure grew more relentless, the very air around him constricting.
Gasping for air, Edmund's face was pressed against the cold, unforgiving marble. The taste of his own blood filled his mouth as he struggled to find his voice, his pride reduced to pitiable whimpers.
"A son who drags our name through the mud and jeopardizes our legacy is of no use," Thorin's chilling voice cut through the oppressive silence.
His eyes, devoid of warmth, seemed to see not a son but an obstacle in Edmund.
From his hidden vantage point, Jarius couldn't help but wonder if this was truly the end for Edmund.
His elder brother had committed grave mistakes, yes, but to be executed by their own father? The very thought sent shivers down his spine. However, it wouldn't be the first in the history of this House.
Sabina's voice rang out, trembling with urgency, knelt on the floor, "Father, please! Let him live. I promise, under my guidance, he won't err again. I beg you to show mercy."
But Thorin's expression continued to remain indifferent until suddenly Esther stepped forward.
Laying a gentle yet firm hand on Thorin's arm, she said, "He is still our flesh and blood, and we need him for our lineage's sake. Entrust this matter to me; I'll rectify our son's misdeeds," Her voice, always calm and composed, carried a hidden determination that Thorin knew he had no reason to ever doubt.
The crushing force evaporated, and Edmund gasped for breath, his relief palpable.
Sabina shook her head with a disdainful look as she pulled Edmund up from the floor while the blood and snot smeared his features.
Without another word, Thorin turned, his cloak trailing behind him in an elegant cascade.
"Ensure you do, Esther," he murmured without looking back. Leaving the hall, his departure left a mix of dread and relief in its wake.
Edmund's body trembled, and for a brief moment, a flicker of hope ignited in his eyes. Lifting his head weakly, he locked eyes with his mother.
His voice quivered with emotion as he whispered, "Mother..." A tear trailed down his dirt-streaked cheek, hoping for a gentle touch, a soothing word, or any sign that there was still love beneath that stone-cold face of hers.
Esther paused, her pale red eyes piercing into him. For a fleeting second, Edmund hoped she might show a hint of compassion or warmth.
But instead, her gaze was as cold and unyielding as the marble floors of the one he was standing on.
Turning her attention to Sabina, Esther commanded, "Lock him in his chambers. Make sure he doesn't see a sliver of the outside world. And if he even thinks of sneaking out..." Her gaze slid back to Edmund, eyes hardening, "I will cripple his legs myself."
Edmund's heart sank, and his already pale face grew even paler. The brief ember of hope was completely extinguished. He managed a strangled gasp, too shocked to utter any further words. Even his mother had given up on him.
Esther, her duty to discipline her son complete, turned on her heel, her long, flowing gown whispering against the stone floor as she left the hall.
The room seemed even colder in her absence while Sabina, who helped a devastated and broken Edmund to stand, had her lips curve into a fervid grin for a brief second.
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