Duke Elias led two hundred men through the dying light of evening. He, alongside three loyal nobles and his daughter Angela, had finally breached the outer defenses of the city.
"Kill any loyalist soldiers you find," Elias whispered. "We move silently. We strike the heart of the palace."
Angela hesitated, her hand clutching her sword tighter.
"Father... are you sure we can trust Daemon? I don't like this."
"If he betrays us," Duke Elias growled, "I'll gut him myself—even if I have to crawl through my own blood to do it."
"Oh? Really?"
A voice cut through the gathering darkness.
Daemon descended from above, landing soundlessly nearby. His presence alone made the soldiers freeze.
Duke Elias turned stiffly, forcing a smile. "Ah—Daemon! I was only joking, of course."
His laugh died when he noticed Nyxtriel materializing beside Daemon, her aura seething like a living storm.
The soldiers and the nobles stared, unnerved by the overwhelming pressure radiating from them both.
Daemon didn't waste time.
"Listen carefully, Duke Elias," he said, voice low and sharp.
"Our plan has changed. The king knows everything. The palace is no longer a fortress—it's a death trap."
The Duke's face hardened. "What happened? Did you betray us?"
"I don't have time to explain. Right now, you do exactly as I say if you want to survive."
Angela stepped forward, panic creeping into her voice.
"What about my son? What did my husband say?"
Daemon's expression darkened. "Your son... is no longer human. He's about to complete his transformation into something worse. A massacre is inevitable if we don't act now."
The blood drained from Duke Elias and Angela's faces.
"I won't allow it!" Elias roared, drawing his sword.
"TROOPS! READY YOURSELVES! WE STORM THE PALACE TONIGHT!"
The three nobles rallied their forces, swords raised high.
A wave of battle cries shook the city streets as the rebel army surged forward, surrounding the castle—
"Damn it, you idiot! We can't just charge in yet!" Daemon snapped—but it was already too late.
Duke Elias's forces surged forward.
The rebel army stormed the main gates, using battering rams to shatter the outer defenses. Grappling hooks soared over the walls, pulling down sections of stone. The first wave of soldiers poured in, cutting down the palace guards stationed at the gates. Blood stained the polished courtyards, and the sounds of clashing steel rang across the grounds.
Step by step, the rebels pushed deeper into the palace perimeter.
But as they breached the inner courtyard—the heart of the palace—they stopped cold.
Waiting for them was a wall of steel: five hundred royal soldiers, shield formations locking into place. Behind them, archers stood in rigid lines, their bows drawn, deadly arrows aimed at every exposed weakness.
The royal army had been waiting for them.
Their aura alone—heavy, disciplined, bloodthirsty—pressed against the rebels like a wall of knives.
Duke Elias's heart dropped.
"It's a trap," he hissed.
And then the king appeared, striding out from the grand entrance, flanked by nobles and officers.
King Velrick clapped slowly, mockingly.
"Dear Uncle," he said, voice dripping with venom. "Next time, try thinking twice before betraying your king."
Duke Elias gritted his teeth. "So you knew everything?"
"Of course," Velrick said, smiling cruelly. "Daemon was a marvelous help. And Commander Rhodes sang like a bird."
Marquis Rufus Ansel stepped forward, sneering.
"Shameful! A Duke of our kingdom, plotting treason like a common rat!"
The loyal nobles shouted their agreement, their words like knives thrown into Duke Elias's pride.
"You've disgraced your house, Elias!"
"And you, Duke Orion—how far you've fallen!"
"Duke Lark! Duke Wren! Traitors, all of you!"
The rebel dukes' faces twisted in rage, but their men were boxed in.
"You fools!" Duke Elias roared back. "Can't you see? That man you kneel to is no king! He's a monster! He—"
He stopped short as a soldier dragged someone forward from the chaos—a woman in torn noble robes.
"Angela!" Duke Elias gasped under his breath.
The king's eyes blazed with fury.
"My own wife... colluding with traitors. Tell me, Angela—how low will you sink?"
Angela stared back coldly.
"I won't waste words on a demon who feeds innocent lives to his cursed son!"
Gasps echoed through the soldiers. But the loyalists held their ground, eyes still locked on their king.
Marquis Rufus Ansel turned to Aleric.
"My king, enough talk. Let's end this farce."
"Indeed,"Velrick said, drawing his sword. "Words are wasted on corpses."
The royal army braced.
The rebel forces readied their weapons.
The air was about to explode.
—And then—
BOOM!
The ground shook. Dust and debris rained down as a massive section of the outer wall shattered inward.
Everyone turned.
Daemon stood in the rubble, his figure cloaked in blood and dust, crimson eyes gleaming with cold fury. Dozens of royal guards lay broken at his feet—the ones who had barred the entrance.
The battlefield froze.
"Daemon!" King Velrick roared. "I see it now. You betrayed me too!"