Chapter 123: Chapter 123: The Council
The throne room doors slammed shut, the sound booming across every wall of the royal palace. The air grew heavy, as if the world itself was holding its breath.
The Demon Kings and sovereigns of the most powerful races in the continent sat in a circle, each one taking the place only they deserved. Human attendants and guards had been expelled—or simply erased—by the sheer magical pressure of their presence.
At the center, towering over all, stood the Demon King of the Undead, Lord Veythar. His golden robe was encrusted with countless gems that gleamed like blasphemous suns. His hollow voice echoed across the chamber like the endless whisper of a crypt.
"I call this urgent meeting because our gods are furious," he said, every word vibrating like a spell. "The pact we upheld for centuries has been broken... broken by a worthless human who dares to call himself a hero."
The silence was absolute. No one dared interrupt as he raised a skeletal hand, as if pointing to everyone at once.
"While we restrained our armies, while we honored the agreement... that insect dared to complete an S-rank event! And now our gods roar, demanding blood, demanding vengeance."
Green fire burned inside his sockets.
"Who has seen him? Who knows where this insolent hero hides?"
None of the kings spoke. The beast kings growled, the elves kept their brows furrowed, and the titans exchanged stony looks with each other.
Veythar’s jaw clicked, like he was smiling.
"No one? Then allow me to name the true culprit." He raised his arm and pointed straight at the throne, where Charles III sat with a tense expression. "The King of Soaring Dragon."
Every sovereign’s gaze turned toward the human monarch, their eyes stabbing through him like spears.
"It was him," the lich continued, his voice dripping with venom. "He couldn’t contain a mere human in his prison. He let the hero escape. Everything we face now is a result of his incompetence."
A wave of contempt and hatred rippled across the room. King Charles III clenched his fists but held his tongue.
The Beast King, his fangs gleaming like blades, growled,
"Then what do you propose, Veythar? Do we hunt the hero... or do we deal with this useless human king first?"
The tension in the chamber hit its peak. The answer would decide the fate of the entire continent.
The Titan King, his voice a thunderclap that made the pillars shake, slammed his fist against the stone table brought for the council.
"A king who cannot control even his own race does not deserve his throne."
The Elf King, his eyes glinting like icy blades, added with a tone of disgust,
"Human arrogance has cost us too much. Your negligence forces us all to endure the wrath of our gods."
A bestial roar followed. The Beast King rose from his seat, flashing his gleaming fangs.
"Offer his head as tribute! Let his blood be the sacrifice that calms divine fury!"
Even among the demons, some voices agreed. For a moment, the council seemed ready to reach a unanimous decision: the death of King Charles III.
The human monarch, silent until then, slowly rose from his throne. His red cape billowed behind him, and his gaze blazed with a fury to rival even the Demon Kings themselves.
"You think..." His voice trembled at first, but grew into thunder. "That you can come into my palace, point at me like I’m a servant, and decide my sentence?"
The room fell silent again, broken only by the echo of his steps as he descended from his throne.
Charles raised a hand. Instantly, the entire palace trembled. The walls pulsed with ancient magic, hidden runes lit up along the floor, walls, and ceiling. A suffocating aura spread out, pressing down on every soul present.
The Beast Kings growled, the Titans frowned, even the Demon Kings exchanged wary glances.
King Charles roared, his voice tearing through the silence:
"Don’t forget where you are! This is my territory, my kingdom, my palace. Here, I am the law!"
The royal defenses flared to life, every stone in the palace responding to his will. The air grew so heavy that even the strongest had to brace themselves in their seats.
"If I were anywhere else," he continued, his voice low but blazing with rage, "maybe I would fear you. But here... here, you dare not be insolent!"
His words boomed across every corner of the hall. For the first time, the sovereigns calling for his head fell silent, forced to acknowledge that at least for now, Charles III held the advantage.
The silence of his fury hung over the council like a leaden shroud. No one dared speak—until a guttural, rattling laugh, like bones grinding together, broke the stillness from across the table.
The Undead King, Lord Veythar, leaned forward. Green fire burned in his empty sockets, gleaming with sinister calm.
"Keh keh keh... what an entertaining show," he said, his cavernous voice echoing like a tomb. "The proud human king baring his fangs before predators."
He rose slowly, his golden robe glittering with gems. With a casual flick of his bony hand, the crushing magical pressure eased just enough for the others to breathe freely again.
"Let’s not make this council a useless bloodbath." His tone was soft, but every word carried a weight that demanded obedience. "We are here to deal with a problem greater than any of our petty grudges."
The other kings watched him—some annoyed, others suspicious—but none dared interrupt.
The lich lifted his gaze to Charles, savoring the tension on his face.
"Before we demand heads or blood... listen to me. I have something to say, and you’d better hear it."
The fire in his eyes flared brighter, casting his skull in ghostly light. The atmosphere thickened once more, every beast king, titan, elf, and demon waiting in silence for the revelation of the Undead King.
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