Blood spattered Khana’s face, her arms, the ground, but nothing changed. Malakai’s calm, silent expression remained, unmoving.
“Why? Why won’t you break?!” she screamed, her voice echoing across the clearing as she raised both hands for a final, savage strike.
“Mistress!” Jorge’s voice rang out suddenly, interrupting the scene.
Khana froze, her claws inches from Malakai’s face, her chest heaving. Her head snapped toward Jorge, eyes wild and unfocused.
“He’s… a direct descendant of the Sanguine clan!”
Khana’s eyes flashed as she weighed the weight of those words. Malakai might be completely useless, but it didn’t change the fact that he was a direct descendant.
She might be the wife of a Pulse, and something like this beating could still be overlooked, but even the Pulses themselves couldn’t directly kill him, let alone her.
She stepped back abruptly, the sound of her ragged breathing filling the silence. Blood dripped from her claws, pooling on the cracked ground.
She turned and faced Malakai, who silently stared at her with his unmoved, cold gaze. Her hands clenched as she ground her teeth.
Those infuriatingly calm eyes.
Khana clicked her tongue in the next instant before turning to leave.
“We’re leaving, Jorge.”
But she had hardly taken a few steps before the sound of rustling leaves reached her ears. Khana stopped and turned only to see Malakai struggling to stand up.
His legs shook and wobbled, and despite the pain, he stood tall. Crimson blood dripped from his body, both his arms limp at his sides, but it did nothing to dim the coldness of his piercing gaze as he stared at Khana.
All eyes turned toward Malakai, each holding their breath, wondering what he would do.
But a few seconds passed, and without so much as a word, Malakai removed his gaze from Khana and started walking with trembling steps toward the manor.
Khana ground her teeth harder as she watched Malakai retreat into the manor. Malakai didn’t need to say anything. She could see it in his gaze. That look, the one that didn’t change even as she kept torturing him.
It meant only one thing;
This will not be forgotten.
‘Unevolved trash.’
Khana abruptly turned, her anger simmering as she, along with her guard, left the area.
A few seconds passed, and after the tension subsided, two sighs of relief sounded as the two maids slumped to the ground.
“Ah~ I thought I was going to die!” one of the maids commented.
“Me too! I saw my life flash before my eyes!”
But before they could continue ranting, they each felt a chill wash over them.
They turned to the side to see Nyx staring at where Khana had passed, an icy expression on her face.
“N-Nyx?” They both trembled.
Nyx said nothing. She simply stared for a few seconds before turning away and walking into the manor, leaving the maids, who let out another sigh of relief.
Why was everyone in the Sanguine so scary?
…
At a balcony located at the highest point of the Sanguine main building, a figure stood, staring into the distance with hands clasped behind his back.
The air around him was unnaturally still. Not a whisper of wind, not a shift in pressure, only silence, as if the world itself hesitated in his presence.
There was no wind, and yet, his abyssal black attire somehow fluttered as though caught by an invisible breeze.
The Blood Sovereign, Othric Von Sanguine, had a small smile on his face as he stared into the distance, but that smile… did not reach his eyes.
From this height, he overlooked the entire fortress and Blood City of Vitaemora in its entirety. And without a doubt, it was a beautiful sight.
Yet, at that moment, it was as though he could see none of that beauty. His gaze was fixed on one manor that stood at the top of a hill surrounded by a forest, and despite the impossible distance, he could see everything happening there as clear as day.
He was not in a good mood. The atmosphere knew it. It was still. The people in the main building somehow knew it, no one made a single noise.
There was silence.
“Darke.” Othric’s voice was low, absolute.
A figure appeared behind him in a blur of motion, knees touching the ground with his entire form bowed in utter reverence.
“My Sovereign.” He intoned, his voice devoid of any hesitation.
He was clad in a formal suit, resembling the attire Nyx and the other maids always wore. However, his was pure, dark red, signifying the servants who served the Blood Sovereign.
Darke awaited Othric’s command, unmoving. He did not dare breathe too deeply in his presence, his body still.
Othric didn’t seem to be in a hurry. A few seconds passed in silence, as though he were contemplating something.
But he finally spoke, words that sent a wave of shock through Darke.
“Send him to the pits.”
With those words, Othric turned and walked back into the building, with Darke’s shaken words sounding behind him.
“A-As you wish, my Sovereign.”
As Othric’s left, Darke still gave it some more time before he stood, staring into the distance where Othric had been looking earlier. As he saw Malakai’s battered figure and Khana storming out of his manor, he sighed heavily.
“It’s a shame.”
Darke felt pity for Malakai. The boy had not only lost his parents in one night, but he had also lost his ability to evolve.
Watching this scene, he now understood why Othric had given that order.
Malakai’s father had been the greatest genius ever birthed in the Sanguine Clan. He had broken records, even the ones left by Othric himself.
It was expected by all that he would be the next Sovereign, even by Othric himself. However, tragedy had struck. He had died at the hands of a grade 4 darkness.
In his decades of serving Othric, Darke had never seen the man so angry as he had been that night.
A grade 4 darkness, a being that could wipe out the entire city of Vitaemora in minutes, had been obliterated in seconds.
That night, Othric’s power had turned the entire city into rubble and changed the terrain for good.
And yet, it did nothing to quench the anger that burned through him.
It had been Othric who found Malakai buried underground and saved him.