Chapter 415: The Forgotten Past - XI

Far away on the fifth level of the Underworld, a domain known as the lair of its most dangerous beasts, a violent red blast echoed through the air as a dark portal hovering midair collapsed in on itself.

Gavriel’s crimson eyes shone intensely as he watched the portal seal shut before slowly lowering his hand.

A man rushed over to Gavriel and bowed respectfully. "That appears to be the final portal, Your Highness." He paused, adding hesitantly, "Her Majesty has been attempting to reach you again. She requests your immediate presence."

Gavriel’s eyes remained ablaze with cold fury, an emotion that had consumed him for the past two days.

After his last encounter with Hera, he had fled to the fifth level to keep himself occupied, hoping the endless task of closing the mysterious portals and slaughtering dangerous beasts would prevent him from returning to her and doing something reckless.

He knew perfectly well that today was the day of her banquet. And yet, he could not bring himself to return.

His mind had been tormented by countless unpleasant possibilities, each one giving rise to another dreaded what-if.

He knew it was cowardly to hide away here, but the thought of facing Hera and discovering a reality he might not be able to bear... left him reluctant to return.

"Your Highness? Should we head back?" his trusted commander, Orin, asked cautiously, taking note of the Prince’s dark mood ever since their arrival on this level.

Gavriel remained silent, his gaze fixed on the dark sky. His hands tightened into fists.

Before he could answer, however, his head snapped towards another direction, his eyes narrowing into slits. "There’s another portal nearby."

Orin’s eyes widened. Another strange portal had opened, allowing beasts to enter Tartarus.

They moved with terrifying speed until they reached a slightly larger crimson portal suspended in midair. Just before it snapped shut, they caught a glimpse of an enormous tail disappearing through the opening.

Orin stared at the empty space in horror. "Your Highness, I believe we may have a serious problem in Tartarus."

Gavriel’s expression darkened. "We return at once. Before that beast can harm anyone above."

The only problem was, with Tartarus spanning such vast territory, no one knew where the beast would emerge.

.....

Back in the ballroom, after her dance with Prince Belial, Hera politely excused herself.

Throughout the dance, she had barely made any effort to converse with him, despite his persistent questions about her interests, likes, and dislikes... details she had shared naturally with Gavriel without a second thought.

As the dance progressed, she had felt increasingly suffocated, as though an invisible noose were tightening around her neck.

And she needed air.

Stepping into the secluded garden outside, she exhaled deeply, clutching her chest where a heavy tightness lingered.

With only ten minutes remaining on the clock before she turned eighteen, she closed her eyes and whispered softly to the night air, "Make it stop."

"Make what stop?"

A deep, smooth voice startled her where she stood.

Hera whipped around, her pulse spiking as her eyes met the last person she wanted to be near.

Prince Malakov.

Finding her momentarily speechless, Malakov’s lips curved into a slow smirk as he took deliberate steps toward her. His voice dropped to a low, purring murmur. "Forgive me. I didn’t mean to startle you... Lady Hera."

The way his dark gaze roamed across her face made her instincts scream, forcing her to take an immediate step back. "I-It is fine. I was simply... not expecting anyone here."

"I can tell," Malakov drawled, tilting his head as his dark eyes locked onto hers. "So, make what stop?"

"Pardon?"

"You said it just a moment ago," Malakov pointed out, his smile broadening into something unnervingly sharp. "If there is something bothering you that I can assist with, I would be deeply honoured."

"Oh, it’s nothing," Hera replied, quickly averting her gaze. "It was just a momentary lapse in composure."

"Is that so?" Malakov took another deliberate step closer to her. "Surely you do not expect me to believe that, Lady Hera." Malakov’s voice held a distinct trace of amusement. "A beautiful woman slipping away from her own banquet, sighing to herself in the garden right after her dance with a prince... I can think of several reasons why you might be troubled."

Hera took a step back. "It’s not what you think, Your Highness. Besides, the clock is ticking, and I should head back before people come looking for me."

She offered a forced, polite smile before turning toward the ballroom, but Malakov caught her wrist firmly, yanking her back toward him.

Hera gasped at his sudden grip. "What do you think you are doing? Let go of me this instant."

Her eyes hardened into a sharp, icy glare, but her resistance only fueled Malakov’s amusement.

Reaching out with his free hand, his long fingers casually coiled around a stray lock of her dark hair. "You know, my brother Belial may be the soft-spoken favourite, but he lacks a certain... appreciation for a strong woman such as yourself." He smirked as his voice dropped to a whisper, "A feisty kitten like you deserves someone who knows how to hold her tightly, rather than treat her like fragile glass."

Hera froze for a second as his words registered. Her eyes widened in shock as he brought the strand of her hair close to his face.

Before he could go any further, Hera’s instincts took over.

Without a second thought, she swung her free hand and slapped his hand so hard the sharp crack echoed across the quiet garden, startling them both.

She stumbled back several paces away from a stunned Malakov, her voice trembling with pure rage. "How dare you..."

Malakov slowly lowered his gaze to his hand, where the red imprint of her fingers burned against his pale skin.

When he looked back up at her, his eyes glowed with silent fury. "How dare you raise your hand against a royal?"

Hera’s heart pounded violently against her ribs.

She knew she had committed a grave act... one that bordered on high treason.

Yet the anger boiling in her veins refused to let her back down. "Just because you are a prince does not give you the right to-"

Before she could finish her sentence, electricity crackled violently through the air behind her, freezing her in her tracks.

Both she and Malakov whipped around, their eyes widening as a red portal tore open in midair.

From within its swirling depths, a massive winged serpent surged forth, its enormous body spilling into the garden. Its glowing yellow eyes fixed upon them as its colossal coils crashed onto the stone courtyard.

Then it threw open its enormous jaws and unleashed a deafening roar.