Chapter 14: The Cursed Crown

In the monarch’s chamber, the air was tense. King Albert sat on his gilded throne, his son Marshall standing beside him, flanked by guards and members of the elite special forces. I stood defiant, calculating my next move. Behind me, Benjiro lay motionless, bleeding and broken from the onslaught. Earlier, during our charge toward the king, I had controlled Benjiro’s body to dodge and attack, pushing him past his limits. When a powerful wind assault came my way, I abandoned his body to phase through the attack as a ghost. Unnoticed by me in the heat of the moment, Benjiro had borne the full brunt of the spell, leaving him in his current state. The consequences bore heavily on him—and me.

A guard knelt, activating his blessing to cast an intricate spell on the ground. The faint glow of runes spread across the floor like veins of light. The king’s lips curled into a satisfied smile. "Excellent," he said. "Tend to these two. I want them alive." His tone was commanding but detached, like a hunter inspecting freshly caught prey.

Turning to Marshall, he said, "Come, my son. We have greater threats to deal with outside."

"But, Father," Marshall protested, his voice laced with frustration. "I want to kill them myself!"

The king’s gaze hardened. "We have no time for your whims. Dangerous enemies are attacking the kingdom as we speak. Let the soldiers handle these two—they cannot escape."

The monarch’s confidence was maddening. As they turned to leave, Marshall glanced back. "If they escape, it’ll be on you."

King Albert chuckled darkly. "Son, you’ve been away too long. You underestimate the strength of our kingdom."

I clenched my fists, bristling at their arrogance. 'His overconfidence could be their downfall.'

The door shut behind them, leaving us surrounded. I considered fleeing, my ghost form allowing me to bypass walls and guards. None of them could catch me. But one look at Benjiro, lying in a pool of his own blood, quelled that thought.

The battle was one-sided. They attacked with devastating precision, their blessings complementing one another in a horrifying symphony of power. Shields of light deflected my strikes, teleportation spells whisked my targets out of reach, and attacks of invisibility and speed kept me on the defensive. Each attempt to gain the upper hand was crushed before it began.

Bruised, burned, and battered, I stood my ground. Benjiro’s voice reached me, strained and desperate. "Ray... your efforts are futile. You can escape. Leave me behind."

His words struck like a dagger. I saw his tears and the anguish in his eyes. For a moment, my curse whispered agreement, urging me to flee. Against my better judgment, I activated my ghost form and soared through the walls, the sensation of freedom momentarily intoxicating.

No one followed. But the weight of my decision clawed at me. 'I left him to suffer from the attack I should have protected him from. Leaving now felt like turning my back on my own mistakes.'

Benjiro

Ray’s departure was inevitable, I thought. He had done more than anyone could have asked, but his limits had been reached. Yet, as the seconds ticked by and the guards stood eerily still, I realized something was off.

The mocking voice of a guard broke the silence. "You see, he’ll be back. Isn’t it just adorable? Such heartwarming friendship you share," he sneered, his words laced with venomous sarcasm. "Or maybe it’s just that pitiful spell I cast, pulling him back like a dog on a leash."

I clenched my teeth, refusing to believe his taunts. But then, a familiar figure materialized—a confused Ray, standing in the center of the chamber. My heart sank. 'No, Ray, why?'

The mocking guard stepped forward, his grin widening. "There he is! Right on cue!" He tipped an imaginary hat and gave an exaggerated bow. "Ketsu Ravencrest, the Bastard Ravencrest, at your service. Royalty, as you must have guessed, and thoroughly unimpressed by your antics. As long as I live, neither of you will leave this room."

Ketsu turned to Ray, a twisted smile on his face. "Oh, don’t look so surprised. You thought you could just waltz out of here? How quaint."

Theodore

Chaos reigned outside the palace walls. Amid the destruction, a single figure stood out—a man with emerald-green hair riding an enormous boulder. His flamboyant orange suit glimmered in the sunlight as the rock crashed into the ground, sending shockwaves that rippled through the battlefield.

The impact obliterated dozens, forcing survivors to rely on their blessings for protection. I used my Gravity blessing to shield those around me, forming a small pocket of safety beneath the rock’s crushing weight. As the dust settled, I searched for my companions.

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"Maki?" I called, my voice strained. My eyes scanned the carnage, finally landing on her. She stood under a pristine, spherical hollow in the debris, its shape uncannily resembling the protective sphere I had created earlier. Her hands trembled as she stared at them in disbelief, as if realizing something she couldn’t yet comprehend.

"Maki, are you okay?" I asked, approaching cautiously.

She turned to me, a faint smile masking her unease. "Theodore, you’re unharmed. Of course—your blessing always keeps you safe." She smiled faintly, a flicker of something unspoken in her eyes, but said nothing more."

I frowned but didn’t press further, though the similarity of her hollow to mine gnawed at my thoughts. "We need to regroup. Akira should be nearby."

Moments later, Akira joined us, and together, we fought to fend off attackers. Despite the chaos, most of our opponents were weak, their blessings undeveloped. It felt like swatting flies.

Then the sky darkened, an unnatural shift that pulled all eyes upward. King Albert descended with a sweeping gust of wind, scattering the battlefield dust and clearing the view. He floated effortlessly, radiating an aura of calculated authority, with the young prince Marshall by his side. Marshall’s sharp glare fixed on the green-haired intruder, his frustration barely concealed.

"Who is this man?" Marshall demanded, his tone laced with indignation. "How does someone so strong remain unknown?"

Albert, calm and deliberate, addressed his son with the weight of wisdom. "Your arrogance blinds you, son. Observe. Learn. This man isn’t merely strong; he’s a declaration of war."

The green-haired man let out a low chuckle, his smirk sharp and unrelenting. "War? Don’t flatter yourself, old man. We’re just a band of terrorists who despise your kingdom—nothing more, nothing less."

Albert’s laughter echoed, laced with superiority. "Terrorists? Led by freshly summoned novices and a conveniently anonymous figurehead? You insult my intelligence. Do you take me for a fool?"

The green-haired man’s grin faltered briefly before snapping back into place, his voice dripping with mockery. "And you, Albert Elthias—the so-called vampire king, blessing hoarder, and fraud. Tell me, how long will you cling to your stolen intellect? Borrowed power doesn’t make you wise, it makes you desperate."

Marshall bristled visibly at the insult, his fists clenching as his anger boiled over. The taunts struck a nerve, tapping into the shadow of his father’s dominance and his own struggles to prove his worth. Every unspoken doubt, every failed attempt to match Albert’s power, flared within him. "I’ll kill you, you bastard!" he bellowed, surging forward with unrestrained fury, his actions a stark contrast to Albert’s composed demeanor.

Albert’s hand shot out, gripping his son’s arm mid-swing. "Control yourself, Marshall. Your recklessness is why you lack what I have." He paused, his tone sharp as a blade. "If you stopped acting like a child and embraced your role, you’d surpass me."

The green-haired man’s smirk widened, sensing a vulnerability. "Ah, yes, the rumors. The little prince’s curse. What was it again? But I hear you’ve fallen behind your father—not willing to do what it takes, especially with men."

Marshall growled, his face flushing with rage, but before he could act, Albert raised a hand. With a flick of his fingers, Marshall vanished—teleported away from the battlefield. The king turned back to the intruder, his expression unreadable.

"Impressive," the green-haired man mused. "Fatherly discipline at its finest. But let’s test the other rumor, shall we?" With a sudden motion, he slashed his palm, flinging droplets of blood toward Albert. The crimson liquid arced through the air before landing on the king’s pristine clothing.

Albert stood motionless, his face betraying no reaction. "Is that all? You thought a little blood would unsettle me?"

The green-haired man tilted his head, studying the king. "Oh, no. That was just for fun. But it seems the great Albert Elthias can hold his composure. Interesting."

Albert’s gaze sharpened, his voice dropping to a chilling tone. "Your tactics betray you. The blessings bolstering you are far too coordinated to be random. Such precision speaks of a guiding hand—someone who thinks they can act from the shadows unnoticed. Tell me, does your benefactor truly believe this charade will go unchallenged?"

The green-haired man’s smirk widened into a wolfish grin. "Ah, the vampire king shows his teeth. But that’s for me to know, and you to suffer."

He paused, his gaze sweeping the battlefield, as if calculating his next move. Albert’s eyes narrowed, his posture tightening as he braced for what was to come. The green-haired man smirked, enjoying the moment of tension. Then, with deliberate grace, he raised his hand. "Let’s make this interesting," he said, his tone calm but laced with menace. The air above him seemed to ripple ominously, drawing scattered gasps from the soldiers below before the tension erupted into chaos.

With a commanding gesture, the green-haired man summoned meteors from the heavens, their fiery descent cascading toward the battlefield in a display of destructive power. Soldiers on the ground shouted warnings, scrambling for cover as panic rippled through their ranks. Albert’s eyes narrowed, his barrier already forming as he watched the devastation unfold with measured precision, his expression betraying no fear. The blazing projectiles turned the scene into chaos, leaving devastation in their wake. "Let’s see how strong your kingdom really is," he sneered, his voice thick with derision.

Albert raised his hand, summoning a barrier of shimmering light to shield the kingdom. As the meteors struck, their force dissipated against the barrier. Yet, even as the kingdom stood protected, the green-haired man laughed, untouched by the destruction.

"You see, old man, I’m not here alone. They are supporting me from afar, bolstering my meteors, my shield, and even my escape. And when I leave, it won’t be because you let me go." Albert’s eyes narrowed slightly as he processed the revelation. His mind raced, assessing the coordination behind the enemy’s tactics. "So," he thought, "the hand behind this attack believes themselves untouchable. We shall see about that." He raised his arms as a glowing sigil formed beneath his feet, a teleportation spell activating. "Enjoy cleaning up this mess."

As he vanished, Albert remained composed, his voice steady. "He’s gone. Resume defensive operations." Once alone, he glanced down at his bloodstained clothing. With a slow, deliberate motion, he removed the tainted fabric and cast it aside, his expression briefly flickering with a mix of irritation and unease, as though the stain carried far more weight than he let on, before returning to its usual calm.