Free Web NovelChapter 124: Chapter 124
As the man drew his final breath, a faint, eerie glow emanated from his body. His skin began to peel away from his face slowly, and agonizingly, like a grotesque unveiling. The sound of it, a soft tearing mixed with the rasp of death, clawed at Ragnar’s nerves.
It was just like what had happened to the prisoner in Gonan’s dungeon.
A piece of crimson cloth fluttered to the ground once the process was complete and once it was done, Ragnar’s expression hardened as he stared down at the body.
He almost wasn’t surprised to find that the assassin’s face was no longer the one he had been wearing moments ago. It had changed, morphed back to what Ragnar assumed was his true identity.
So that explained it. Why his staff had sworn they saw Maya roaming the halls, when in truth, it had been an imposter the entire time.
The shadows pulsed around him again, whispering their satisfaction in low, hungry tones as the assassin’s body went limp and lifeless. freewebnoveℓ.com
Ragnar tightened his grip on his lance, pulling it free from the man’s chest. The body slid soundlessly to the floor, a dark pool spreading beneath it, rich and metallic with the scent of blood.
For a long moment, Ragnar stood there, chest heaving, staring at the corpse of the man who had dared to come for Circe.
Then, slowly, his gaze turned toward the bed, towards Circe.
Only then did he allow himself to breathe again.
She was still unconscious, her chest rising and falling with shallow breaths. She hadn’t stirred once since he burst into the room, and that frightened him more than any blade could.
What if he had been a few seconds too late? What would the assassin have done to her if he hadn’t been here to start it? The thought alone hollowed his chest with dread.
He approached her slowly and brushed a finger against her cheek, his hand trembling slightly.
He straightened after casting one last look at her. Once he had assured himself that she was unharmed, he turned his gaze back to the assassin’s lifeless form.
Grabbing the man by the collar, Ragnar began to drag the body toward the door. The heavy fabric of the assassin’s cloak rasped against the floor, leaving behind a gruesome trail of blood.
The commotion had, thankfully, drawn attention. Two guards came running down the hall, only to stop abruptly at the doorway.
Now they both stood in front of the open doorway to his room, frozen to the spot, eyes widening in shock at what was in front of them.
Ragnar tried to imagine the moment from their own point of view.
He was still yet to call back his angry shadows and his eyes were still that same eerie black that never failed to make people wary around him. Blood was spattered on the floor and on his clothes as he dragged along a dead man.
"The both of you will stay here and guard her with your lives," he barked, voice cutting through the thick air like a whip. "You are not to leave this room for any reason until I say so. Am I understood?"
The sharp edge in his tone jolted them out of their stupor. They dropped into deep bows immediately.
"Yes, Your Highness," they said in unison.
Ragnar took a step closer, the black in his eyes seeming to deepen, his expression a mask of restrained fury.
"If any harm befalls her while she is in your care," he said, his voice dropping to a low, dangerous murmur, "I will make sure you both suffer a fate far worse than his." He jerked his chin toward the dead man at his feet.
Neither dared to breathe as Ragnar brushed past them, dragging the corpse out into the hall, the wet sound of blood trailing behind him.
Vicious. Ruthless. Unforgiving. In that moment, he was every bit the bloodthirsty warlord the Lamorians loved whispering and spreading stories about. And for the first time in a long while, the title felt right. It felt earned.
His fury did not wane as he strode through the dimly lit halls, each step heavy with intent. He didn’t stop until he reached the opposite wing of the manor, where the guest quarters he had personally offered to the dignitaries for the night were located.
Just as he had ordered, guards stood stationed outside the doors, rigid and alert. But when they caught sight of him and got a good look at his blood-soaked clothes, his darkened eyes, and the lifeless body trailing behind him, they only stiffened further, unsure whether to speak or avert their gaze.
"Are they still inside?" Ragnar asked, his voice a harsh whisper that carried the weight of command.
One of the guards straightened immediately.
"Yes, Your Highness. We placed them in the same room. There are others stationed inside to ensure they don’t attempt to leave." The guard said.
Ragnar gave a short nod of approval.
"Good." At least someone had done their duty right tonight. The faint satisfaction did little to quell the storm still raging inside him.
Without another word, he shoved open the door and stepped into the room, dragging the assassin’s corpse behind him. Blood streaked the once pristine marble floor, but Ragnar paid it no mind.
Inside, the two dignitaries looked up in shock. One sat frozen on the bed, pale as ash, while the other paced restlessly until Ragnar’s entrance halted him mid-step.
Around them, several guards stood stationed by the walls and windows, hands resting uneasily on the pommels of their swords.
Before either dignitary could demand an explanation, Ragnar moved forward with deliberate calm. He stopped at the center of the room and, without ceremony, flung the dead man to the floor between them. The dull thud echoed through the silence like a verdict.
"Would any of you," Ragnar began, his voice low but seething with fury. The words were slow and measured, though adrenaline still pumped through him, "care to explain how this man gained entrance to my estate?"
Silence stretched taut in the room as the guests stared at the corpse that had been tossed in from them. They gazes bounced from Ragnar to the corpse and back.
" What is the meaning of all these, your Highness?" The one that had been pacing before demanded.
