His steps spoke volumes.
As he walked, every single servant of the Dimensari shifted out of the way as though he were impending doom.
Carius Valarius was angry. That alone was enough to spread a wave of chaos throughout the castle. Heads bowed, the hall fell silent, and only his footsteps echoed throughout.
Carius’s usually calm demeanor had vanished, replaced with a face contorted in rage.
‘That old bastard!’
He clenched his fist, leaving a trail of black blood in his wake. But in the next second, he quickly regained his composure.
‘Don’t blame others. It’s my fault.’
Carius had never been one to tolerate failure, but there was one thing he wouldn’t do: make excuses when it happened.
No one was at fault but him. He had fought with his own hands and lost. This was the reality, no matter how painful it seemed.
A cold glint appeared in his gaze as he steadied himself.
‘Atticus.’
As that name echoed in his mind, his footsteps seemed to grow heavier, reverberating louder.
‘Atticus.’
Carius repeated it, his aura turning icier.
‘Atticus.’
An overwhelming killing intent flooded the hall, making every servant and guard shiver.
Carius took a deep breath.
‘When was the last time?’ he couldn’t help but wonder. It had been so long since he’d lost his composure like this. His plans hadn’t always worked, but this was the first time in ages they had been so effortlessly foiled.
And it was done by a single human.
‘He’s dangerous. Very dangerous.’
This was Carius’s assessment of Atticus from their brief encounter. Like him, Atticus was a thinker, someone who calculated before he acted, rarely losing his composure.
Carius had literally threatened to kill his entire family, yet there had been no flicker of emotion in Atticus’s eyes. Instead, Atticus had channeled every bit of his resolve into planning a way to end the fight.
It was infuriating. He had been less than a second away from death. If not for his grandfather, he would have died.
But this wasn’t the most pressing matter. Atticus was just like him, he had seen it in his eyes when they fought. He was the type to neutralize a threat as soon as he identified one. Carius knew Atticus would come for him.
‘I’ll have to adjust my plans a bit.’
Carius soon reached his chambers and entered, though he frowned as he noticed something immediately.
“How are you feeling?”
Carius looked over at Azrakan, who had just spoken, before responding neutrally.
“I’m fine.”
Azrakan gazed at his son with warmth.
“I told Father to give you some time to rest before summoning you, but h—”
“It’s fine, I’m already healed.”
Azrakan couldn’t help but show a sad smile at his son’s blunt, cold responses. This was how Carius had always been since birth.
He hated when people touched him. He had never shown even a flicker of warmth or affection for his family. This was how he had always been—detached, isolated.
As a parent, it was saddening. Azrakan had tried everything, but nothing seemed to work.
“I see…” Azrakan muttered before adding, “Your mother will be back soon. She dropped everything when she heard about your near death experience.”
Carius’s expression remained unchanged. “You should tell her not to bother. I’m all healed.”
“I know, but what about yo—”
“I’m fine,” Carius’s gaze turned cold as he stared at Azrakan.
“I want to be alone.”
Azrakan paused before sighing. He stared at Carius for a few seconds, then shook his head. As a parent, it was saddening, but regardless, Carius was still his son. And, with the low birth rate of the Dimensari, his only son.
As Azrakan reached the door, he suddenly remembered something and turned back toward Carius.
“One last thing—don’t worry about that human boy. I’ll handle it.”
Before Carius could say anything, Azrakan disappeared from the room.
Carius stared at where Azrakan had stood with a cold gaze, his thoughts churning as he thought about his past life.
“Not again,” he muttered under his breath.
…
“You disappoint me.”
The voice was feminine, yet it sounded as if a reaper had spoken.
Although Jezenet Bloodveil, the paragon who had represented the Vampyros race in the Nexus competition, had just spoken, the one she addressed instead had her full attention fixed on a mirror, trying out different poses to see how she looked.
“I love this dress, Grandma! We should definitely have it mass-produced when we get back.”
Lirae wore an excited expression as she struck various seductive poses.
She was clad in a dark crimson gown that hugged her figure perfectly, with a high slit along one side and delicate, sheer lace detailing around the neckline and sleeves. Two tiny white wings sprouted from her back.
Had the people of the Vampyros race seen this scene, they would have been shocked beyond belief. Granddaughter or not, for someone to treat the Blood Queen in such a manner was absurd.
“I’m talking to you.”
Jezenet narrowed her eyes, an intense killing intent flooding the room.
Lirae felt the temperature plummet, but that was all. Paragon or not, that wasn’t enough to scare her.
She turned toward her grandmother and smiled. “Come on, Grandma, you know, even I was surprised! I was so confident after winning my first fight with that white chicken. Who knew that whore would be so strong!”
Jezenet stared down at Lirae without a word, but the temperature seemed to drop even lower.
“You should calm down, Grandma! Getting so worked up isn’t good for your fragile health. Besides, this cold isn’t good for my skin.”
Jezenet watched with a cold gaze as Lirae rubbed her bare arms as though she were feeling cold. Her anger was so intense that visible veins throbbed across her otherwise flawless face.
“You had the combined power of the Vampyros and Angel races, and you still couldn’t win! So much power wasted on a fool!”
Jezenet was seething. Here was someone who had awakened a power never before seen in their race, and it just had to be this fool!
