The hall reeked of death, the iron stench of blood clinging to every breath. Knights combed the corridors, their armor clattering faintly in the suffocating silence.
One of them returned, pale and unsettled, and leaned close to whisper into the ear of the Captain.
The Captain's jaw tightened. He stepped forward, bowing his head toward Princess Aquila, his voice low so none but her could hear.
"Your Highness… it appears the Duke has escaped. There are signs of disturbance at the rear of the estate—he must have fled before we arrived."
Aquila's silver eyes narrowed dangerously. Her hand tightened around the edge of her gown, her nails pressing into the silk. Her patience thinned to a sharp edge, fury gnawing inside her chest.
"Coward," she muttered, her voice like frost. "He schemes against the Imperial House, stains his family's name in conspiracy… and now butchers his own household with his own hands?" Her teeth clenched, her lips trembling faintly with contained wrath. "What sort of twisted man silences his kin before the truth can be dragged from him? Is this fear… or madness?"
But then—
A sound.
A voice.
From above.
"Run away? Who… me?"
The words slithered into the hall, deeper than they remembered, weighted with something that made the air crawl.
All eyes turned upward.
At the top of the blood-stained staircase, the Duke of Zhenka emerged. His once-noble suit was drenched in crimson, clinging to him like a grotesque second skin. His hair, once immaculately kept, hung wild and matted. And in his hands—each fist gripped a severed head.
The heads of Imperial Knights.
Gasps erupted. One knight staggered back, a hand instinctively reaching for his sword.
The Duke's mouth curled into a chilling smile. His eyes—bloodshot, feral—glowed with something unhinged. Without breaking his stride, he lifted both heads high, then with a flick of his wrists, hurled them down the stairs.
They struck the steps with sickening thuds.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
The heads bounced and rolled, smearing trails of blood across the marble, until they came to rest at the bottom—faces frozen in death, eyes wide in horror, mouths twisted in silent screams.
The hall fell into suffocating silence.
The Captain of the Imperial Knights instantly stepped forward, his voice iron though his grip on his blade tightened.
"Duke of Zhenka! By Imperial decree, you are to surrender yourself at once for treason against the Crown, for conspiracy, and for the slaughter of your own household!"
Knights raised their weapons, shields locking in place, forming a barrier before Aquila. The weight of steel filled the air, yet every man's breath trembled faintly at the sight before them.
But the Duke only laughed—a low, guttural sound that echoed through the blood-soaked hall, more beast than man.
And his eyes—hungry, fevered—fixed not on the knights… but on Aquila.
The Duke's wrist flicked lazily, and with that single motion the world seemed to collapse in on itself.
The sharp thud of bodies collapsing echoed through the blood-soaked halls. One by one, the Imperial Knights fell like marionettes with their strings severed—helms clattering against the marbled floor, swords slipping from limp hands. The once orderly line of steel and discipline was reduced to an unconscious heap.
The Captain of the Knights staggered, his breathing ragged. He tightened his grip on his blade, the steel trembling as he stabbed its tip into the ground to anchor himself against the crushing weight pressing down on his body. His knees buckled, but he refused to kneel.
Aquila's lungs burned as the air itself grew heavy, dense, suffocating. The silence that followed was deafening, broken only by the echoing steps descending the grand staircase. Her gaze snapped upward, and her eyes widened ever so slightly.
Magic.
But not the kind she knew. Not the radiant, tempered force passed down through royal bloodlines. No—this was something jagged, corrosive. It reeked of rot, of forbidden pacts and broken chains. Her mind raced. The Zhenka line had no such history. None of them should have been able to wield this.
Dark magic.
Had the Duke truly bartered his soul for this twisted strength?
Her eyes narrowed as the Duke came into view. His once-proud figure now looked grotesque: his suit drenched in blood, his hair clinging damply to his face, his eyes alight with an unnatural glow. From his hands, nails stretched into blackened talons that gleamed like the claws of some possessed beast.
The Captain grit his teeth, forcing himself upright despite the suffocating weight. His sword trembled in his hands, but he still lifted it, stance firm though his legs threatened to collapse beneath him. "For the Empire… you will not leave this place alive."
The Duke smiled—slow, cruel.
The Captain lunged, blade cutting upward in a desperate strike.
But the Duke was faster. A blur. A single, sweeping motion.
A wet sound split the silence. Blood sprayed across the hall in a crimson arc.
The Captain's body shuddered, then his head slid from his shoulders, rolling across the marbled floor to land at Aquila's feet.
"Disappointing." The Duke's voice was venomous, dripping disdain. He flicked his talons, spraying blood aside, before brushing the lapel of his suit as though dusting off something unworthy of his attention.
"Is this truly the best Feltogora can place as Captain?"
Aquila's body screamed under the oppressive pressure, her chest heaving, her muscles tensing as if every bone sought to break under the unseen weight. Yet her spine remained straight, her chin unbowed. Her lips parted—not in fear, but in a slow, deliberate smile that curved with mockery.
"How curious," she said, voice steady despite the weight pressing down on her. "The noble Duke of Zhenka, reduced to clawing like a beast in his own halls. Tell me—what did you trade for this farce of power? Did you sell your soul to a devil? Or did the abyss crawl up to claim you, body and all?"
Her crimson eyes glittered, sharp as a blade.
"You reek of desperation, Duke. Power stolen always carries a stench."
The Duke's laughter rolled through the hall again, dark and hungry. "Funny," he hissed, voice jagged with malice. "Very funny… for a dead woman to speak so boldly."
Aquila's silver eyes widened slightly at the venom in his tone, the words cutting like knives, but before she could respond, a metallic clang echoed sharply.
Steel.
Her gaze snapped downward, then up again. There, standing between her and the Duke, was Captain Rhys. His expression was unreadable, the calm in his dark eyes belying the storm of battle he carried in his stance. The world seemed to tilt for a heartbeat—Aquila almost forgot that Princess Zuleika, and Captain Rhys had come together into this nightmare of an estate to witness the Duke's arrest.
The Duke's eyes widened for the briefest moment, a flicker of surprise crossing his wild features. Then his feral gaze swept over Captain Rhys, taking in every detail from the polished armor to the dark, flowing cape draped over his shoulders.
A slow, wicked smile curved across the Duke's bloodstained face. His blackened talons flexed as he took a deliberate step forward, a predatory glint sharpening his gaze.
"You…" he rasped, voice low and venomous, "you're a knight from the Kingdom of Nexus. Why… why are you intervening?"
Captain Rhys remained silent. Not a word. Not a flinch. He simply tightened his grip on his sword, the dark blade catching what little light filtered through the shattered windows. His black cape shifted slightly with the motion, the faint rustle of fabric echoing ominously in the bloodied hall.
The Duke halted mid-step, his blackened talons flexing, as a voice cut through the oppressive air.
"Fascinating…"
All eyes turned. Princess Zuleika stood at the edge of the entrance door, crimson eyes glinting like fire in the dim light. She flicked a glance at Aquila, then back to the Duke.
"You seem… knowledgeable about some things," she said smoothly, voice teasing but sharp. "Only a few would recognize a knight's cape from the Kingdom of Nexus."
The Duke froze, his wild grin faltering for the briefest moment. Silence stretched across the hall, punctuated only by the faint rustle of Rhys's cape. He said nothing, simply standing, the weight of Zuleika's gaze pressing down on him like a blade.
Zuleika's tone dropped, teasing and directed toward Aquila. "And here I thought you'd be able to stand firm… but struggling already, are we? The weight of this magic seems a bit much, doesn't it?"
Aquila's silver eyes narrowed, jaw tightening. "Struggling?" she snapped, voice tight. "I could crush you where you stand if I wanted, Zuleika. Do not—"
"Struggle all you want," Zuleika interrupted, crimson eyes glinting with amusement. "I like seeing you fight with invisible chains. Makes it look like you're doing all the work yourself."
Aquila's lips twitched with a mix of fury and embarrassment. "Zuleika, you are—"
With a swift motion, Zuleika flicked her fingers lightly against Aquila's forehead. Aquila's eyes squeezed shut for a brief moment, muscles tensing as the oppressive magical weight pressed down. Then she opened them, and her whole face twitched with anger, lips curling.
"Do… you… want… to die that badly?" she hissed, teeth gritted, glaring daggers at the smirking princess before her.
Zuleika laughed, a light, lilting sound that echoed across the hall. "Oh, come now! You should really try smiling more—it suits you!"
Aquila's eyes widened as she realized the magical pressure that had pinned her moments before had vanished. Her body felt lighter, her spine uncoiling as the invisible chains melted away.
Zuleika's crimson gaze shifted back to the Duke, now calm and calculating. She studied him for a long moment, tilting her head as if weighing his strength against her amusement.
"Well, if it isn't the Princess of Nexus," the Duke sneered, recovering his composure.
Zuleika's lips curved into a playful, deadly smile. "Well, if it isn't the rotten magic dweller from the Empire of Tartagalia," she replied, tilting her head ever so slightly, the corners of her mouth twitching with amusement.
Aquila's silver eyes widened. So did the Duke's. His lips parted in shock at the audacity of the statement—and then, as if the words were too absurdly delicious, he burst into a booming laugh that echoed through the bloodied hall.
Aquila's mind raced, thoughts colliding in confusion. Empire of Tartagalia? Across the sea? How… how did they get inside Feltogora? Inside a duke? Questions piled on questions, each one clouding her mind with a storm of disbelief and urgency.
The Duke straightened, voice low, almost incredulous. "I didn't expect to see you… inside the Empire. I thought you loathed Feltogora so much. What happened? A change of heart?"
Zuleika's eyes remained cool, her tone dismissive, almost bored. "None of your business."
She flicked a glance at Aquila's confused expression and lowered her voice, leaning in slightly. "The one he serves," she murmured, "is a Mage Dweller from Tartagalia. A dark, cursed sort of power."
Aquila's brows drew together, eyes narrowing in focus.
Zuleika continued, voice calm and precise. "Once a person uses dark magic, a Mage Dweller can interfere. They can grant power, pursue a goal within a host, even inhabit their body… all in exchange for souls. That is the one guiding this Duke. That is how he has this… monstrous strength."
The hall seemed to hold its breath as the weight of Zuleika's words settled. Even the Duke paused, almost sensing the shift in the room's atmosphere.
Aquila's mind raced, heart hammering—not with fear, but with the sharp, cold clarity of strategy forming in the storm of chaos.
Aquila's silver eyes narrowed, gaze fixed on the grotesque figure of the Duke. "He is… strong," she said, voice low but firm, "strong enough to have beaten the Captain of the Imperial Knights earlier."
Zuleika tilted her head, crimson eyes sparkling with curiosity and an almost comical lack of comprehension.
"Powerful?" she asked, glancing from Aquila to the Duke as if she hadn't seen a single thing.
Aquila's jaw tightened, nodding once. "Yes. We need to help Captain Rhys fight him off."
Zuleika pressed her lips together, tilting her head even further, blinking slowly, the expression so absurdly confused that Aquila's fingers itched to smack her.
"Captain Rhys could deal with him alone, though?" Zuleika asked innocently, as if mulling over a particularly tricky puzzle.
Aquila's face contorted into pure disbelief, brows furrowing sharply. Her gaze flicked toward the two figures in front of them. Captain Rhys stood perfectly still, one hand gripping his sword, the other resting at his side, his dark cape billowing faintly in the stagnant, blood-laden air.
Zuleika clapped her hands suddenly, breaking the tension with an unexpected cheer. "Oh! Right! Captain Rhys, training! Don't use your other hand!"
The knight blinked, lips parting in a brief, almost comical hesitation. For a heartbeat, it seemed he was reconsidering the very definition of loyalty—and whether being a Nexus knight was truly worth risking his life today. Yet, with a measured exhale, he obeyed, placing his free hand behind his back. His posture remained impeccable, though the faint twitch at the corner of his jaw betrayed the slightest irritation.
The Duke's teeth clenched audibly, blackened claws flexing as he glared daggers at Zuleika, fury flickering in his bloodshot eyes. "You—" he hissed, venom dripping from every syllable, "how dare you mock me?"
Aquila leaned slightly toward Zuleika, her tone a whisper, sharp and incredulous. "Are you… in your right mind?"
Zuleika blinked innocently, crimson eyes tilting upward. "Yes?" she replied sweetly, her voice light, almost childlike.
Aquila's silver gaze narrowed further, suspicion dripping from every syllable. "You're… underestimating the power of dark magic inside him, aren't you?"
Zuleika's lips curved into a perfectly sweet, serene smile. "No," she said softly, tilting her head as if pondering something trivial. "It's just… the Mage Dweller inside of him? Weak."
Aquila's eyes widened, disbelief sharpening her expression. The Duke's claws twitched in response, dark energy humming faintly around him, yet even he faltered slightly under the unshakable, unnervingly calm gaze of the Nexus princess.
Zuleika's crimson eyes flicked back to Aquila, a teasing glimmer dancing within. "Captain Rhys will handle him perfectly, you'll see. You just… watch."
Aquila exhaled through her nose, a mix of frustration, incredulity, and the faintest hint of admiration. This girl… she thought, lips pressing into a thin line. How is she always so ridiculous—and yet… completely dangerous?