Chapter : 1537

  Seraphina ran. She didn't use magic. She ran like a frightened girl.

  "Don't hurt me!" she screamed, running toward the dais. "Cassius! Save me! They are crazy!"

  Cassius saw her coming. He saw her terror. He smirked.

  "Let her through!" Cassius ordered the guards. "Come to me, sister. Come to safety."

  He thought she was defecting. He thought she was breaking.

  Seraphina ran up the steps of the dais. She threw herself at Cassius's feet, clutching his legs.

  "Please!" she sobbed. "Make it stop!"

  "Hush now," Cassius said, patting her head condescendingly. "It will be over soon. Once the traitors are dead."

  Seraphina looked up. Her eyes weren't teary. They were dry. And cold.

  "Yes," she whispered. "It will."

  She lunged. Not at him. At the throne.

  Her hand slammed onto the large, ruby crystal embedded in the armrest. The Royal Amplification Array.

  She poured her mana into it. Not a trickle. A flood. The flood Lloyd had taught her to control.

  HUMMMMMMM.

  The crystal flared with blinding light. The air in the room vibrated.

  The system was active. Her voice would now be heard not just in the room, but in every square, every speaker, every magical receiver in the entire city of Saber.

  Cassius realized too late what she had done. He grabbed her hair and yanked her back.

  "You little bitch!" he screamed.

  But she held onto the crystal.

  "People of Altamira!" Seraphina shouted. Her amplified voice boomed like the voice of a goddess, echoing over the rooftops of the capital. "Listen to me!"

  The fighting in the room faltered. The elites looked up, stunned by the volume.

  "I am Princess Seraphina!" she cried. "And I bring you the truth!"

  ----

  "My brother, Prince Cassius, is a traitor!" Seraphina’s voice thundered across the city. In the market squares, the festival crowds stopped dancing. In the barracks, soldiers looked up from their cards. In the slums, the poor opened their windows.

  "He has poisoned the King!" Seraphina continued, her voice gaining strength. "He has kept our father drugged and prisoner in his own home! He has lied to you! He has lied to the army!"

  Cassius struck her. A brutal backhand that sent her sprawling across the dais. Blood welled on her lip.

  "Silence her!" Cassius screamed at his guards. "Destroy the crystal!"

  But Seraphina scrambled back. She pointed down at the floor, where the children—Risa and the others—were huddled behind Jasmin.

  "Look!" Seraphina shouted, her voice breaking with emotion. "Look at what he does in our name! The Orchid House! He kidnaps children! He tortures them! He turns them into weapons! These are the survivors! Look at them!"

  The elites in the room looked. They saw the emaciated children. They saw the scars on their necks from the collars.

  Doubt rippled through the room. These were the King's elites. They were ruthless, yes. But they thought they were protecting the kingdom. They didn't sign up to torture children.

  "Lies!" Cassius roared. He drew his sword. He advanced on his sister. "She is mad! She is spellbound!"

  "I am awake!" Seraphina shouted. "For the first time in my life, I am awake! And I command you... stand down!"

  She looked at the elites.

  "I am the Princess Royal! My father stands there, sword in hand! Will you kill your King? Will you kill these children? Or will you do your duty?"

  The elites hesitated. They lowered their weapons slightly. They looked at Cassius, then at the King, then at the children.

  Cassius saw his control slipping. The narrative was broken. The city was listening. He had lost the court of public opinion.

  He had only one option left. Brute force.

  Lloyd had moved. He stood between the Prince and the Princess, holding a simple steel dagger that had caught Cassius's blade on the crossguard.

  Cassius stared at Lloyd. He didn't look shocked. Instead, a twisted, arrogant grin spread across his face.

  "Finally," Cassius sneered, stepping back. "The mask drops."

  "You don't seem surprised," Lloyd said calmly, tossing the dagger aside.

  "Surprised?" Cassius laughed. It was a cold, mocking sound. "I knew the moment you walked into my palace. I knew you were a rat from the North."

  Seraphina looked up from the floor, confusion clouding her tear-filled eyes. "A... rat?"

  Cassius ignored her, his eyes fixed on Lloyd. "I just didn't care. I thought you were trash. A low-level deserter looking for gold. A useful idiot I could use to poison my father and then dispose of in a ditch."

  Chapter : 1538

  Cassius raised his left hand, clenching his fist. The purple mark on Lloyd's wrist burned hot.

  "Kneel, spy," Cassius commanded. "Or I will detonate the Curse right now."

  Lloyd looked at his wrist. He looked at the purple light pulsing under his skin. He smiled.

  "You are right about one thing, Highness," Lloyd said. "I am from the North."

  Lloyd grabbed his own wrist. He didn't use a spell. He just squeezed.

  CRACK.

  The sound was like breaking glass. The purple light of the Trace shattered into harmless sparks.

  Cassius’s jaw dropped. "Impossible..."

  "It was glass," Lloyd said, dusting off his hands. "I could have broken it anytime I wanted."

  Lloyd took off his glasses and threw them on the floor. He pulled off his turban, letting his silver hair fall free.

  He stepped closer to Cassius. He invaded the Prince's personal space, leaning in until they were inches apart. The air began to heat up, the floor stones smoking, creating a wall of heat and noise that separated them from the rest of the room.

  Lloyd lowered his voice to a whisper, meant for Cassius’s ears alone.

  "You were wrong about the 'trash' part," Lloyd murmured, his eyes glowing gold. "And I'm not just a deserter."

  He leaned closer, his voice a lethal secret.

  "I am Lloyd Ferrum," he whispered. "And you just tried to leash a dragon."

  Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.

  Cassius’s eyes widened in absolute horror as the name registered. The Heir of Ferrum.

  Before Cassius could scream the name out loud, Lloyd stepped back and raised his voice to a roar that shook the walls.

  "Iffrit," Lloyd whispered. "Come out and play."

  The air in the Throne Room vanished. It was replaced by a vacuum of pure, searing heat.

  Behind Lloyd, space tore open. A vertical slit of crimson light appeared, floor to ceiling.

  A massive, armored hand reached out. It gripped the edge of the tear.

  ROAR.

  The sound wasn't a noise. It was a physical impact.

  Iffrit pulled himself into reality. Nine feet tall. Magma armor. A sword of fire that dripped liquid rock onto the pristine marble floor.

  The elites screamed. They scrambled back.

  The Throne Room was silent, save for the heavy, ragged breathing of the elite guards and the crackle of magical energy lingering in the air. The truth hung heavy over the court. Princess Seraphina’s voice, amplified by the royal array, had stripped Prince Cassius naked before his subjects. There were no more shadows for him to hide in, no more lies to shield his ambition. The children, the survivors of his monstrous factory, stood as living, breathing testaments to his crimes.

  Cassius stood alone on the dais. His face was a mask of frozen porcelain, cracking under the pressure of absolute humiliation. He looked at the nobles, who were backing away from him. He looked at the Royal Guards, whose sword points were wavering, no longer sure who the enemy was. He looked at his sister, who stood tall and defiant, a queen in the making.

  And then he looked at the man who had orchestrated his downfall. The doctor. The spy. The variable he had failed to account for.

  "You," Cassius whispered. The word carried more venom than a viper’s strike. "You ruined everything."

  Lloyd Ferrum, no longer hunched or bespectacled, stood in the center of the room. He didn't look like a doctor anymore. He looked bored. He picked a speck of lint off his velvet sleeve.

  "I prefer the term 'redecorated'," Lloyd said dryly. "Your administration was a bit... messy. I just tidied up."

  Cassius began to laugh. It was a low, wet sound that bubbled up from his chest, devoid of humor or sanity. It grew louder, a jagged, hysterical cackle that echoed off the high vaulted ceiling.

  "Tidied up?" Cassius choked out. "You think this is over? You think you can just... walk in here, expose my work, and walk out? You think because the people know, I will stop?"

  He reached into his tunic. He didn't pull out a weapon. He pulled out a rough, black stone. It wasn't a Lilith Stone. It was a jagged shard of pure obsidian, pulsating with a sickly, purple light. It looked like a piece of the night sky that had rotted.

  "The Devil Race gave me more than just advice," Cassius said, his eyes gleaming with madness. "They gave me insurance."

  "Put it down, Cassius," King Aurelius commanded, leaning heavily on his sword. "It is over."

  "It is over when I say it is over!" Cassius screamed. He crushed the stone in his hand.

  Chapter : 1539

  The air in the room instantly turned freezing cold. The torches along the walls flickered and died, plunging the vast chamber into a gloom illuminated only by the purple light leaking from Cassius’s fist. Shadows began to bleed out of the corners of the room, pooling around the Prince's feet like living ink.

  "If I cannot rule this kingdom," Cassius hissed, his voice distorting into a demonic growl, "then I will sacrifice it."

  The ink rose. It coalesced. It formed a shape that defied geometry—a towering, hooded figure made of smoke and screams. It had no face, only a gaping maw filled with rows of needle-like teeth. Long, shadowy tendrils lashed out, cracking the stone floor.

  A Black Spirit. A gift from the Abyss.

  "Kill them," Cassius ordered, pointing a shaking finger at the court. "Kill them all. Leave no witnesses. Start with the doctor."

  The Black Spirit roared. It was a sound that wasn't heard with the ears, but felt in the marrow of the bones. A wave of pure terror washed over the room. Nobles screamed and scrambled over each other to get to the sealed doors. The elite guards, hardened killers, dropped their weapons and fell to their knees, paralyzed by the sheer, supernatural dread radiating from the monster.

  Ken Park stepped forward, putting himself between the monster and the children. He raised his serrated knives, but even he looked grim. "That thing... it’s not normal, Doctor. It eats light."

  "It eats fear," Lloyd corrected calmly. He didn't move. He didn't flinch. He just watched the monster advance.

  The Black Spirit lunged. A massive tendril of shadow shot across the room, aiming straight for Lloyd’s heart.

  "Lloyd!" Seraphina screamed.

  Lloyd didn't dodge. He didn't run. He simply sighed.

  "I really wanted to keep this suit clean," Lloyd muttered. "It was expensive."

  He closed his eyes. He reached deep into the unified reservoir of his power. He didn't reach for the subtle tools of the spy. He didn't reach for the precision of the surgeon.

  He reached for the sun.

  "Iffrit," Lloyd whispered. "Wake up."

  His eyes snapped open. The gold in his irises vanished, replaced by a blinding, white-hot incandescence.

  BOOM.

  It wasn't an explosion. It was an eruption.

  A pillar of fire erupted from Lloyd’s body. But it wasn't the orange fire of a torch or the red fire of a campfire. It was white. Pure, blinding, absolute white. It was the color of a star born in a vacuum.

  The heat was instantaneous. The water in the flower vases evaporated in a millisecond. The velvet curtains on the far walls burst into ash. The shadow tendril that was inches from Lloyd’s chest didn't just stop; it ceased to exist. It was vaporized by the sheer thermal pressure radiating from him.

  The Doctor Zayn persona didn't just fall away; it was incinerated. The hunched shoulders straightened. The meek expression vanished. In his place stood a warrior wreathed in a corona of solar plasma.

  Behind him, the air ripped open. A vertical tear in reality appeared, bleeding liquid fire. Two massive, armored hands gripped the edges of the tear and pulled.

  Iffrit stepped through.

  He wasn't suppressed. He wasn't holding back. He was the Demon King of Annihilation, nine feet of magma armor and burning rage. His greatsword was a river of white fire, dripping molten steel onto the floor.

  The Black Spirit recoiled, screeching as the intense light burned its shadowy form.

  Lloyd looked at Cassius. He smiled. It wasn't a nice smile. It was the smile of a predator who had just found a new chew toy.

  "You brought a shadow to a gunfight," Lloyd said, his voice echoing with the roar of a furnace. "Allow me to introduce you to the sun."

  ----

  The Throne Room, once a place of cool stone and political maneuvering, had become an oven. The temperature spiked so rapidly that the gold leaf on the pillars began to soften and weep like tears. The terrified nobles huddled against the back walls, shielding their faces from the blinding radiance emanating from the center of the room.

  Lloyd stood in the eye of the firestorm. He didn't look like a man anymore; he looked like a conduit for a celestial event. The white flames danced around him, caressing him, obeying him. He raised a hand, and Iffrit mirrored the movement, raising his colossal zanbatō.

  "Burn," Lloyd commanded softly.

  Iffrit swung.

  Chapter : 1540

  It wasn't a fast strike. It didn't need to be. It was inevitable. The blade of white fire carved a bright arc through the air. The Black Spirit tried to block it with a wall of shadows, but shadows cannot exist in the heart of a sun. The blade passed through the darkness as if it were mist.

  The impact was silent, followed a split second later by a thunderclap of displaced air.

  The Black Spirit shrieked—a sound like tearing metal. The arm it had raised to defend itself was gone. Vaporized. Not cut, but unmade. The heat of Lloyd's fire was so intense it was breaking down the spiritual bonds that held the entity together.

  Cassius didn't cower. His shock turned into a greedy, desperate sneer. He saw the massive amount of mana radiating from Iffrit.

  "You call that power?" Cassius yelled over the roar of the flames. "That is my power! You Ferrums stole the ley-lines centuries ago! It belongs to Altamira!"

  Cassius slammed both hands onto the floor. The purple light of his pact flared.

  "Abyssal Siphon!" Cassius screamed.

  The Black Spirit didn't retreat. It opened its massive, toothy maw and inhaled.

  Suddenly, the white flames on Iffrit's sword began to bend. The fire was being sucked into the Black Spirit. The shadows grew larger, feeding on Lloyd’s attack. The severed arm regenerated, formed of stolen fire and shadow.

  Iffrit roared in annoyance as his flames dimmed slightly.

  Lloyd frowned. He felt a tug on his own core. Cassius wasn't just attacking; he was trying to drink Lloyd dry.

  "You are trying to eat my mana?" Lloyd asked, his voice calm but dangerous.

  "I am taking back what is mine!" Cassius laughed manically. "I will drain you dry, Dragon! I will leave you as a husk!"

  Lloyd adjusted his cuff. He looked at the greedy monster inhaling his fire.

  "You have a big appetite," Lloyd noted. "But you forgot one basic rule of biology."

  Lloyd’s eyes flashed blinding white.

  "Some things," Lloyd whispered, "are too hot to eat."

  "Impossible!" Cassius said with surprise voice, shielding his eyes. "That is a Black Spirit! It is made of the Void! Fire cannot hurt it!"

  "This isn't fire," Lloyd said, taking a step forward. The floorstones beneath his boots turned to liquid lava, hissing and popping. "This is purification. This is the concept of 'Heat' taken to its absolute limit."

  He pointed at the monster.

  "You call that darkness?" Lloyd scoffed. "It's just a stain. And I am the bleach."

  The Black Spirit, enraged and terrified, changed tactics. It dissolved into a swarm of shadowy bats, thousands of them, diving at Lloyd from every direction. It was trying to overwhelm him, to find a gap in the heat.

  Ken Park shouted a warning, but Lloyd didn't even turn his head.

  "Omnidirectional Pulse," Lloyd murmured.

  He clenched his fist. Iffrit slammed the pommel of his sword into the ground.

  A ring of white fire exploded outward from them. It moved at the speed of thought. It washed over the swarm of bats. There was no sound of impact, only a collective hiss as thousands of shadow-constructs were instantly sublimated into nothingness.

  The shockwave didn't stop there. It hit the ceiling of the Throne Room. The ancient stone, weakened by centuries and now subjected to thermal shock, groaned. Cracks spiderwebbed across the vaulted dome.

  CRACK-BOOM!

  A massive section of the roof, easily ten tons of stone and lead, blew outward, blasted into the night sky by the rising column of heat.

  Moonlight—and fresh, cool air—flooded into the room, instantly warring with the inferno below. The sudden pressure change created a whirlwind of ash and sparks.

  The nobles stared up at the open sky, their mouths hanging open. They looked back at the man who had been checking their pulses just yesterday.

  "He... he blew the roof off," a Duchess whispered, clutching her pearls. "The doctor blew the roof off."

  "He is not a doctor," General Kaelen murmured, staring at Lloyd with professional awe. "He is a walking siege engine."

  In the center of the devastation, the Black Spirit reformed. It was smaller now, diminished. It looked pathetic. It chattered its teeth at Lloyd, backing away.

  Cassius was trembling. His insurance policy was being eaten alive.

  "Attack him!" Cassius shrieked at his spirit. "Don't retreat! Consume him!"

  The spirit hesitated. It looked at its master. It looked at the white sun standing before it. It knew, with an animalistic certainty, that it was outmatched.

  Lloyd walked toward Cassius. Iffrit walked behind him, a shadow of fire.