After Cielo and Zalyric's one-sided, brutal intercourse witnessed in horror by none other than Cielo's father, Malrick Othrel—the room reeked of sweat, sex and betrayal. Zalyric's lips curled into a cruel smirk as he shoved Cielo's limp, unconscious body aside, letting him sprawl across sheets now soaked with both his own seed and the omega's slick.
"H-how in the world could you do this, Your Majesty?" Malrick's voice cracked as he spat the words, struggling weakly against the ropes binding him to the chair. His eyes, wide with fury and disbelief, darted between his son's ruined body and the predator looming over him.
Unbothered, Zalyric rose from the edge of the bed while completely naked and walked toward him with slow, deliberate steps, each movement oozing confidence and menace.
"If you had only known how to be loyal to me, old man, none of this would have been necessary." He stopped and leaned slightly as his shadow swallowed the bound man, whole. "But instead, you chose treachery. You squandered my coffers and shamelessly fed it to the wretched poor like some benevolent fool. How admirable."
Then his hand lifted, brushing the old man's cheek with mock tenderness before curling cruelly around his jaw. "Tell me… was their gratitude worth your son's purity? Was your greed worth of this humiliation? And did you even know your precious boy was carrying a child? I highly doubt it…"
"W-what…"
Malrick's eyes widened as he tried to glimpse his son behind Zalyric but all he could see was that predatory smirk, deliberately blocking his view. The cruel smile seared itself into his mind like a mocking reminder of his utter powerlessness.
"Hmm…" Zalyric mused, tilting his head as if savoring the scene. "Since that brat of yours is… with a brat, I suppose I might grant you the tiniest shred of mercy." His gaze sharpened, icy and commanding. "I'll instruct my knights to untie you, old man. But there is a price." He stepped closer, each word cutting like a blade. "You will end your own life here, before my eyes. Do that, and I will at least spare your grandchild. Take my word. Everything I say is absolute and you do understand that, yes?"
The room seemed to shrink around him after hearing that while Malrick's heart hammered fiercely in his chest. It was a distorted mockery of mercy and he had no choice since his son and grandchild's lives depended entirely on his compliance.
Before responding, Malrick drew a deep breath, reflecting on the path that had brought him here. Why had he become so greedy for power? Why had he become the very person he had despised all his life? In truth, he had become like his own greedy father.
"The apple does not fall far from the tree, indeed," he murmured, lifting his head to meet his king's gaze without fear or hesitation. "I understand, Your Majesty. If my death saves them both, I will gladly obey your command."
After hearing Malrick's solemn agreement, Zalyric called for Dylan. The knight approached swiftly but before carrying out his orders, he paused to hand his king a cloth, allowing Zalyric to cover himself. Only then did Dylan move to untie him, whose eyes darted around the room in terror and disbelief.
The act that followed was merciless where blood spattered across the cold stone floor, painting the chamber in a vivid, grotesque display of cruelty. There were no hesitation and no pity but only Zalyric's cold command being executed with precision.
When it was done, Cielo's body was mercilessly dragged from the bed and tossed into the sunlight outside. No one was ordered or allowed to assist him. He lay there, dazed and unconscious while still soaked in sweat and remnants of what had just occurred, utterly unaware of the horrors his father had endured.
As for Malrick's body, it was discarded in a remote dump, treated like nothing more than a worthless piece of trash, left to rot without so much as a thought of burial and for fear of what their king might do to anyone who disobeyed.
In that moment, Cielo remained blissfully ignorant of the loss and his innocence shielded him from the brutal reality of the world his own king had brought him.
"How is the training going?" Zalyric asked, seated at his private study desk while his attention casually drifting over the papers as if nothing bloody or monstrous had occurred just a short while ago. His calm demeanor contrasted sharply with the weight of recent events, as though the world outside his walls existed only in whispers.
Dylan stood at attention beside him, posture impeccable as he inclined his head slightly before responding.
"The new recruits are progressing well, Your Majesty. Most come from common backgrounds, though a few hail from neighboring regions."
"Will they be sufficient for the northern expedition?"
"I would not declare it yet, Your Majesty," Dylan replied carefully. "But with continued training, they will undoubtedly reach the necessary standard."
He leaned back slightly in his chair with the faintest crease appearing between his brows. "Just ensure that no one slacks off. I will not tolerate weakness."
"I understand, Your Majesty." Though outwardly composed, Dylan felt the familiar chill of tension that always accompanied his king's commands and knowing that disobedience or failure was never an option.
Then Zalyric returned his attention to the papers, flipping through them with deliberate ease as if the horrors of the past hours were nothing more than background noise to the meticulous rhythm of his empire.
After a brief moment, a knock echoed at the study door and Evan, Zalyric's chamberlain entered first, followed by a striking young woman, Celestine Arwen, an omega and the daughter of a Grand Duke. Her family controlled the largest merchant company in the empire, and the quiet confidence in her posture spoke of both her wealth and her influence.
Without lifting his gaze from the papers before him, Zalyric spoke smoothly, his voice measured and indifferent.
"And what do I owe this visit, my lady?"
Dylan, always on alert quietly excused himself and stepped toward the doorway. He didn't want to get in the way but he stayed close enough to step in if needed.
Celestine's lips curved into a faint, teasing smile as she stepped lightly into the room.
"Should your betrothed not have reason enough to visit her future husband, Your Majesty?"
Zalyric finally looked up while his dark eyes were assessing her with slow amusement. Then a smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth.
"How bold of you," he murmured, leaning back in his chair, the epitome of controlled power. "We might be engaged but did I not tell you not to visit me unless I permit it, my lady?" A subtle wave of his pheromones leaked from him, sharp and commanding while betraying the anger he carefully kept in check.
Celestine just swallowed hard and flinched slightly while the invisible weight of his presence was pressing against her. Yet she maintained her poise, aware that he was unlikely going to dismiss her outright. After all, the Arwen family's influence and wealth were not trivial, they were a force too significant to discard lightly. To dismiss her would complicate matters far more than he would tolerate.
At least, that was what she believed.