XkarnationAlt
patreon
Book 2 - Chapter 46: The Final Showdown
🕑 Added 2025-06-28 06:46:51 +0000 UTC“So, are we all in agreement?” King Edward questioned the room of nobles gathered around an elongated wooden table. “With this indisputable evidence of my son’s wrongdoings, Prince August will be held on trial, and we will vote on his fate!” Edward looked up and down the table, watching everyone’s reactions with intense scrutiny. Sadly, the nobles were good at hiding their thoughts behind masks of indifference.
Except for Queen Elizabeth, who had run off a few minutes ago, the royals were seated at one end of the table in order of their noble rank. This naturally placed Damien right next to Princess Emilia as he had been promoted to a duke, the highest noble position below royalty. This happened hours ago after submitting the recording stone that King Edward had proudly displayed.
There had been some fierce backlash from the nobles when the meeting started with King Edward’s introduction of Damien Nightshade to the court due to the abrupt death of Duke Ferdinand in the morning.
Luckily, Damien’s previous honorary duke position and reports of how well Blackthorn was performing meant it was hard to justify why he couldn’t take the position, especially after he lied and said he renounced his inheritance to the vampire throne.
With Jannalor leading the vote by instantly raising his hand in favor, all the nobles soon followed and raised their hands one by one to show they agreed with the court trial of Prince August for his crimes.
“All right.” King Edward clapped his hands, a small smile appearing on his aged face. “Let’s get onto the next topic… How do we deal with the werewolf?”
The room descended into a discussion, many raising good ideas. Damien contributed an idea here and there, but he wasn’t really interested… There was no werewolf, after all. Hopefully, they will all think the werewolf ran away… I have no idea how I could find one on such short notice and then sneak it inside the city.
While the discussion was in full swing, a sudden wave of dread washed over the meeting room. Damien was one of the first to notice, and one by one, people’s heads snapped in the same direction toward the door at the far end of the table, much to the confusion of those lacking the same level of magical detection.
One by one, people cautiously stood up from their seats, and those in the room felt a magical fluctuation as the nobles’ mana circuits flared to life.
So, he decided to crash the party. Damien thought as he remained seated and leaned back slightly with a mildly amused expression. The recording of Prince August conspiring with a knight to let the werewolf into the city had already been shown to all the nobles present only moments ago. Anything the prince said at his point would be for naught, but that wave of dark magical power was unmistakable. As a player of the game Throne and Awakening, Damien knew of all the A-grade mages on the peninsula, and of them all…Prince August was the most powerful black magic user.
“Your Majesty, get behind us!” The room buzzed with activity as sentinels deactivated their stealth artifacts and leaped to action to put themselves between King Edward and the room’s door. The king seemed bewildered and confused, but his pride stopped him from questioning what was occurring. Instead, he kept his dignity as he gracefully stood up and took control of the situation.
“Everyone, get back! Someone call the city cleaners here as well!”
Except for the maids and servants, everyone in the room was a noble of the highest ranks. So naturally, they were all qualified mages or swordsmen. The strongest moved to the front, elemental mana swirling around their arms. Jannalor took the lead, his abyssal eyes coldly watching the room’s door.
Screams echoed from outside alongside a relentless rhythm of armored boots thundering down the corridor. “Halt, vile necromancer!” a voice from beyond the chamber shouted.
“Should we help them?” one noble, an elderly man with white hair wearing a navy blue suit, asked. “If the opponent is a necromancer, as the knight proclaims, their deaths will add to the incoming horde.”
Jannalor scowled at the kingdom’s southern duke. “Lester Hyde, Hold your position,” he resolutely replied. “Those knights are mere cannon fodder. Undead or alive, they simply get in the way. The corridor is far too narrow for all of us to fight at our maximum capabilities. It will be safer if we fight in this large, open space.”
Duke Hyde grumbled, but it was hard to refute the guildmaster on matters of organized combat. “Who do you think it is?” Lester questioned as he stroked his long white beard. The old man seemingly couldn’t feel an ounce of worry or unease.
Jannalor had a thin smile as he looked at Lester’s face. Don’t act surprised, you walking corpse. You know who is coming. Jannalor obscured his true thoughts and simply shrugged. “Who knows, maybe a cult leader?
Duke Hyde didn’t seem convinced.
Jannalor added, “Since Oshal has been crippled by the worst famine in decades, it’s only natural that cults of desperate people begin to pop up across the peninsula.”
Duke Hyde frowned as he contemplated the guildmaster’s words. His acting was impeccable…if it was acting. Jannalor’s hand felt twitchy, ready to unleash his most lethal spell upon Lester’s throat at a moment’s notice.
The real reason Jannalor wished to stay in the meeting room was that it would be easier to navigate when he eventually had to fight Prince August and his puppet nobles. Entering the corridor would sandwich him between August’s undead and his puppets, leading to a brutal fight on two fronts. The worst part? Jannalor wasn’t sure which nobles he could trust and which had succumbed to Prince August’s control.
Jannalor could feel the restless tension behind him as the maids and servants were bundled into a corner; glancing over his shoulder, Jannalor made brief eye contact with the king and Princess Emilia. They were standing next to each other, and both returned his gaze with a very slight nod. The king had naturally disclosed in secret that he planned to proclaim Princess Emilia as the kingdom’s crown princess tomorrow morning on his birthday. Several conditions had to be met for that plan to come to fruition.
Standing beside the king was also Kaylessa Silvermoon, Mother of the Princess. She looked as breathtaking as ever, but her elven ears twitched with every clang of swords and wail of pain as the knights were slaughtered outside.
Jannalor’s gaze drifted and landed on Damien Nightshade, who sat calmly in his chair, unlike everyone else who was either standing up or on edge, nervously drumming their fingers on the long wooden meeting table or speaking in low voices into communication stones.
Damien’s nonchalant nature stuck out like a sore thumb, but he was one of the key players in all of this.
Jannalor reviewed the conditions for the plan’s success in his head as his gaze returned to the door shaking due to the intense fighting occurring outside. The king naturally needs to live to make the announcement, and so does Princess Emilia to inherit the title. That is the top priority, but the final piece of the puzzle is eliminating the opposition by a political maneuver or execution. After all, if the prince were to be unfortunately killed, the right to the throne would naturally fall to Princess Emilia without any question.
Finally, the noise outside went quiet. There was a moment of complete calm where only the uneasy breaths of the nobles could be heard. Damien placed a hand on his chest; the outline of his golden gun could be felt through the well-made fabric, giving him comfort. Damien looked to the side, and Vanity returned an amused expression. It seemed she was enjoying the show.
Damien couldn’t help but feel relaxed. He was in a room with some of the most powerful people on the entire peninsula, although some would betray them the second the prince appeared… That was within expectations. Damien had a literal regional boss in the body of a beautiful woman sitting beside him, the guildmaster of Kassinki to the front, and the king alongside all his guards behind.
It was a suicide mission—the prince could not win. But that begged the question…how did the prince get here? Did someone bail him out? Scanning the room, Damien failed to spot Queen Elizabeth anywhere—she had not returned. Once again, my plans have gone off the rails…but that’s fine—just another minor setback. Damien tried to console himself… He didn’t suck at making plans. It was the world that was against him. How could he account for all these variables? This was so much easier when it was a video game.
Damien frowned as the silence was broken by a hundred in-sync footsteps beyond the door—and then it exploded in a shower of splinters. Two ghoulish green eyes shone through the debris cloud alongside the silhouette of many knights. Then, before anyone could react, dark tendrils shot out like bullets and latched onto six nobles in the room. Damien recognized many of them from the game, mostly southern and capital-based nobles. Dark affinity mana surged down the tendrils and caused the nobles’ faces to melt away, revealing pristine white skulls.
Damien glanced to the side and saw all the blood vacate the king’s face. Now pale as a ghost, King Edward watched in horror as his son stepped out from the cloud like some accursed eldritch octopus. Tendrils of darkness wiggled in the air around Prince August. His signature blond hair fell over two whisps of green flames, serving as his eyeballs. August’s back now supported many arms at odd angles, each having a spell charging up in their palms.
“You killed her!” August shrieked, his voice grating to the ears like a wailing ghoul. His eyes were dead set on a single man…Damien.
The previous confidence that had assured Damien of his success did not factor in that August’s aim for this suicide mission was to eradicate him—that complicated things.
Damien dove to the floor to avoid a missile of intense light. A quick look over his shoulder confirmed that a puppet noble—whose face had melted away into a black sludge on the floor—was glaring directly at him, mouth wide open at an impossible angle. Another spell was forming between its lips.
The room descended into complete chaos. Even with Damien’s good perception skills, keeping track of the battle was brutal. Mana flew as if it were free, the room lighting up in every color imaginable as explosions made the ground tremble. The desk caught fire, and people were screaming.
Damien’s mind spun as he tried to keep tabs on Prince August, who had chosen to remain stationary behind his legion of Death Knights. A few well-aimed or perhaps stray spells went near Prince August, but he either slapped them away with one of his many mana-empowered limbs or took the brunt of the attack without showing a reaction.
A scream to Damien’s left drew his attention, and he saw a maid kicking and screaming as two Death Knights dragged her away. He gnashed his teeth. He lacked options against undead armored opponents. His metal cards wouldn’t do shit—orichalcum bullets may be effective, but the Death Knights could simply revive instantly due to the dense darkness throughout the room. In front of many people, revealing his trump card at this moment was less than ideal. What if the killing of Akna Yaeldrin got traced back to him?
Damien shook his head to remove such useless thoughts. Unfortunately, the maid was far too deep in enemy lines… She was brought up alongside Prince August as if she were a sack of potatoes and dumped there. The prince didn’t even look at the offering as he was busy micromanaging his legion of Death Knights. One of the many gaunt arms attached to his back like spider legs sensed the offering and swiftly crushed the maid’s skull. Green light enveloped the arm, causing the maid to rapidly age, empowering August even more. Her body was then raised as a zombie and returned to the fray only seconds later.
While Prince August was partially distracted, Jannalor managed to sneak in a void slash that severed the left half of August’s body. The damage looked severe, and August’s wails confirmed that fact. But seconds later, August’s body had knitted itself together, but it was a rushed job. Bridges of knitted muscle covered the gap without any skin, and pieces of his ribcage still poked through the gaps.
A power pulse went down the shadow tendrils from August’s body, and the six noble puppets began chanting spells at inhuman speeds before assaulting the rest of the nobles with attacks.
Damien squinted his eyes and noticed most of the still-alive nobles were doing…nothing. Only defending themselves with artifacts and magic shield spells. They are hoping the nobles around them might die so they can get their lands or other benefits.
Then, in slow motion, Damien saw Duke Hyde stick out his foot—Jannalor was walking backward while hurling void rifts at August, and didn’t see Hyde’s plot until it was too late.
As the tall half-elf stumbled backward, August seized the opportunity. The Death Knights flung themselves to the side, allowing August to dash forward like a starved beast. Almost all the nobles watched the scene with stoic expressions and didn’t offer any resistance…except Duke Hyde. He smiled slightly as he pretended to miscast a frost-binding spell and hit Jannalor.
Damien raised his hand and cast shadow bind. A tendril of shadow lashed out at the flying figure, but Prince August’s mana flared around him like an aura, and Damien’s spell fizzled out. “Tsk.” Damien cursed as he started to draw out his gun—a rush of wind passed by, and with a blur, Damien saw Vanity instantly close the gap with a single step.
August’s ghoulish eyes flared with rage. “It’s the vampire bitch!”
“Noisy human.” Vanity had a ruthless smile as she reeled her hand back. Her muscles bulged slightly, and then she unleashed the most brutal punch Damien had seen in both his lives…right into August’s face.
Comments
Marin Schmidt
Tyftc
