Chapter 258 - Capturing the Noble Fa

  Hugo Riverclimb:

  As we walked through the castle corridors, the images of the devastation I witnessed upon crossing the outer walls refused to leave my mind. The jourhrough Nikous Wolves' fortified vilge to reach the castle was a grim testimony to the brutal destru that had unfolded. Every er bore the marks of an uing force, leaving behind a se that resembled a desote battlefield.

  Pilrs y shattered, carts overturned like discarded toys, and carriages reduced tnizable rubble. The once-busy streets were now engulfed in chaos. Craters and mounds of debris domihe ndscape, while gaping holes in the walls revealed the trail of havoc left behind. It was easy to spot the scorched marks characteristic of Nathan's lightning, a clear firmation of his presence.

  The bodies scattered across the vilge told a horrifying tale. Many were so ma was hard to believe they had once been human, resembling squashed, rotten fruit. As I walked, I occasionally kicked lifeless heads that rolled in my path, startling the few remaining soldiers who still hid. The se was grotesque, almost surreal—a nightmare e to life.

  It seems the young master has been keeping himself very busy.

  The soldiers who hadn’t fled were reduced to mere shells of themselves, hiding in makeshift shelters. Some crammed themselves into barrels, others huddled under overturned carts, while a few, in pathetic desperation, feigned death amidst the wreckage. Their proximity to terror was unmistakable—they trembled untrolbly, their teeth chattering in aic rhythm, uo utter a coherent word.

  Most were in a pitiful state. Their words were fragmented by fear, their minds evidently shattered. They didn’t eve to our presence; seeing human faces that weren’t hostile seemed t immense relief. Some began sobbing at the sight of us, as if they’d just been freed from an endless nightmare.

  Wheempted to extraformation, their shock alpable. Slowly, they poirembling fioward the castle, as if merely mentioning the pce could summon the horrors they had witheir terrified expressions were all the firmation we hat the true nightmare awaited inside.

  The chaos intensified within the castle. Soldiers scurried aimlessly like rats trapped on a sinking ship, seeking any er to hide. Their behavior was as strange as it was disturbing. Upon seeing us, several fell to their knees, begging to be imprisoned. It was as if they preferred the safety of a cell to the terror that seemed to permeate the pce.

  The castle itself had bee a se of nightmares. Broken walls, riddled with cracks and scars of destru, told of the chaos that had erupted. Grotesque roots emerged from the ground like grasping hands, while corridors were flooded with water, likely the result of untrolled magic. Hastily structed stone barriers blocked passages; some had crumbled, while others still stood.

  Bck scorch marks on the walls told a story of electrical destru, where devastating lightning had scorched the stone, leaving trails of soot. The air was heavy with the stench of charred flesh and fresh blood. Corpses littered the halls: some impaled on wooden spikes that seemed to grow from the walls themselves; others dismembered, their bodies torn apart in brutal dispys. Higher up, bodies hung grotesquely from the ceiling, suspended by roots dripping a thick, dark liquid.

  The fmes still licked parts of the corridors, with bed walls and twisted beams marking the path of the fire that still burned in some ses. Jagged spikes protruded from the walls like lethal traps, fresh blood dripping from their tips. Portions of the floor had colpsed, revealing treacherous pits and triggered traps. The entire castle had been turned into a battlefield scarred by explosions and high-tier magic, each er a reminder of the devastatio behind.

  The nobles had been found hiding by our maids, all of them visibly shaken. The only one absent was Nikous Wolves, who had apparently separated from the group. When we dragged them out of their hiding pces, the desperation was evident. Some didn’t waste a sed before surrendering ht.

  "Don't touch me, you filthy peasant servant!" shouted t Laureill trying to maintain his air of superiority despite his capture.

  Without missing a beat, I turo the maid and ordered, "Break his nose."

  She didn’t hesitate. With a swift punch, her fist ected squarely with his face. The crack of cartige echoed through the hall as the t stumbled back, clutg his face while blood gushed from his nostrils.

  "How dare you!? I'm a t!" he bellowed, his voice tinged with both pain and disbelief, yet the fear in his eyes betrayed his bravado.

  "Fuck off," the maid replied ftly, shoving him bato the line of captives.

  As we escorted the hrough the castle’s corridors, their stant whining tihey invoked diplomatic immunity, demanded a fair trial with the kingdom's approval, and insisted they were unaware of the flict. Every step of the way, they repeated their rights, as if still ging to the illusion of power. Some even requested the presence of their personal guards to escort them, oblivious to the fact that no loyal troops remained.

  It only took a few cold, silent gres to remind them that their titles meant nothing now. They were pletely at our mercy.

  "What happened here?" one of the nobles demanded with a desding tone. "I expect a full report. I have more important matters to attend to. When the kingdom hears of this, I'll await my trial from the fort of my estate."

  I ched my jaw, struggling to keep my posure. The arrogance of these nobles was exhausting. Even after all the chaos they'd caused, they still acted like they were untouchable.

  "You initiated this flict against us. We merely defended ourselves, and from the looks of it, we lost. That makes us the victims here," decred Baron Franklin, his voice dripping with smug superiority. "We were just attending a peaceful dinner among friends when you unwfully broke diplomatic code by attag us. That's how the kingdom will view this. No matter how strong your suspis are, in the end, that's all they are, suspis."

  As we marched further, a anding presence emerged from the corridor ahead. My wife, Martha, roag, her expression as unfiving as a storm. Her gaze swept across the captured nobles with cold authority, making it clear she wasn't there for polite iations.

  "I 't believe this," she announced, her voice eg through the stone halls as she stepped forward.

  Without hesitation, Martha drew her spear from her ste bracelet, the on’s silver tip aimed directly at one hroat with deadly precision. The sharp motion froze everyone ihe rembling under her gre.

  "Who... who are you?" he stammered, his face pale with terror.

  "Me?" Martha’s voice took on a deadly, mog sweetness, the smile on her lips anything but f. "I'm just a maid. But you... you're Baron Gideon, aren't you?"

  The man gulped, visibly sweating. "I—I am! But I’m not even from this duchy! I had nothing to do with any of this! I—"

  His words died in his throat as my wife let out a cold, mog ugh that echoed through the ruined corridors. The sound was sharp, cruel, and filled with dark amusement—a ugh I knew all too well.

  That ugh never meant anything good. Not for Baron Gideon, at least.

  "You’re the bastard who tried to kidnap our young masters years ago... and little Kinue," my wife said, her voice cold, ced with a deep-seated hatred she had clearly nurtured for a long time. "I kept your name and face burned into my heart all these years. How many nights I've dreamed of crushing your fato the grouh my feet. And look at that... fate finally delivered you."

  Baron Gideon paled, his eyes wide with sheer terror. "I... I ried to kidnap anyone from your house," he stammered, voice trembling.

  "Oh, but you did," Martha replied, her smile turning sharp and venomous. "You just didn’t realize it at the time. The boy who injured your hand? Remember him?"

  His face torted with realization. "No... no, don’t tell me he’s here!" he shouted in sheer panic, his skin turning as pale as a corpse.

  "Don’t worry," my wife said, her gaze colder than steel. "The young master won’t waste his time on trash like you. I’ll personally handle your sentence."

  Without hesitation, Martha turo the maids standing behind her. "Girls, take this oh us. Unfortunately, Baron Gideon died in a tragic act during this battle," she decred with a twisted smile. "From now on, you’re no longer Baron Gideon but our personal practice dummy. Every drop of your blood will be used to teach my lovely students the fis of torture."

  Before the baron could protest, one of the maids struck the back of his head with the butt of her spear. His body crumpled to the ground like a discarded rag doll, unscious. The maids, effit and expressionless, began dragging him down the corridor as if he were no more than a piece of garbage.

  "This is eous!" shouted Baron Franklin, his face flushed with fury. "You dare y hands on a noble of political standing! This is an unfivable insult to the kingdom!"

  The hall fell into a tense silence. I felt the pressure mounting in my chest as I turned slowly toward him, letting my footsteps echo with measured weight. Without a word, I ched my fist and delivered a brutal punch straight to his face. The siing crapact echoed through the stone corridor, and he fell hard, clutg his nose as blood poured from his nostrils.

  "I didn’t y hands on a noble of political standing, Franklin," I said, my voice calm but sharp as a bde. "I threunch."

  The maids, unfazed, drove their spears into the backs of the other nobles, f them forward down the castle’s darkened halls. The sound of their pints and rotests echoed faintly, but they were swallowed by the oppressive silence surrounding us.

  The power these men once funted meant nothing here anymore.