Chapter 56: When the Slave Learns Your Name!

The freezing dark of the bedchamber seemed to contract, drawing inward around the king as if the very stone walls were waiting for his decree. The heavy purple tendril remained bound to his shoulder, its ancient, stagnant magic biting cold into his flesh, yet the physical restraint seemed to mean less than nothing to him now.

The wild, volatile flash in his silver irises settled back into a smooth, glacial calm.

A low, dry sound scratched at the back of Vilucious’s throat. It wasn’t a growl, nor was it the breath of a trapped man. It was that same slow, mocking chuckle, returning with the weight of an avalanche.

He tilted his head slightly, his light grey eyes locking onto Cassius through the dim, violet luminescence of the pulsing magic. The sheer arrogance radiating from the king didn’t just push back against the shadow; it dominated the room, shifting the atmosphere until the horrific display above the bed felt like a stage prop for his own amusement.

"I must admit, Cassius," Vilucious murmured, his voice dropping into a smooth, predatory purr that cut clean through the wet, suffocating sounds of the room.

"I truly appreciate the sheer nerves it takes for a common slave to call out my name so easily. As if we were old friends sharing wine in the courtyard, rather than a master looking down at a dog that has slipped its leash."

The word slave left his lips with a delicate, almost fond cruelty. He didn’t raise his voice. He didn’t need to.

The raw, commanding authority in his tone filled the vaulted space, turning Cassius’s calculated intrusion into nothing more than a temporary insolence.

The cold amusement on Vilucious’s face hardened into a sharp, decisive finality. Slowly, ignoring the heavy purple tendril that still bit into his shoulder, he raised his free right hand.

He pointed his five elegant fingers directly toward the heavy, blue and golden royal curtains from where the mocking voice of Cassius was still echoing.

With a sudden, violent snap of his wrist, a silent command tore through the air.

The massive velvet curtains were wrenched aside with a rough, echoing shriek of metal rings sliding across the high rod.

The thick fabric bunched violently to the edges, completely exposing the towering glass window panels where Cassius was supposed to be hiding in the dark.

But the space behind the glass was empty. To the utter shock of anyone watching, no one was standing there; the window panes reflected only the dying blue embers of the hearth and the violent, hanging nightmare above the bed.

Vilucious’s silver eyes did not even flinch with surprise. There was no flash of panic, no widened gaze of a man outsmarted. Instead, a soft, low chuckle slipped from his lips; a small, dark ’I knew it’ laugh that vibrated with absolute mockery.

Before the sound could even fade, his body moved with terrifying, sudden precision. He spun completely on his bare heel to face his own back.

Cassius was standing right there, just inches away, caught in the sudden arc of the king’s turn.It wasn’t a lucky guess, nor was it the king’s basic sixth sense.

This was the execution of his most powerful, legendary skill; the exact reason why, through centuries of blood and betrayal, Lord Vilucious remained entirely undefeated.

Cassius Victus stood absolutely still. His attire was a jarring, bizarre contradiction, yet it carried a heavy, calculated mockery that directly challenged the suffocating royal aura of Lord Vilucious.

He had effectively shoved his own head straight into the mouth of a starving tiger, yet he didn’t show a flicker of fear.

Standing right in front of the king, Cassius was wearing Vilucious’s own royal doublet draped over his bare torso. Below it, the fabric transitioned into coarse, tattered slave trousers, his feet left completely bare against the cold stone.

With the doublet hanging open, Cassius’s physique was fully exposed: his muscles rigid, dense, and deeply carved into sharp, defined lines across his abdomen. Sweat drenched his skin, catching the dim, violet glow of the magic above and making his frame look overwhelmingly powerful, dangerous, and raw.

Cassius remained in a completely relaxed position, entirely unbothered by the proximity of the king.

Thud.

Even the worst mockery- Cassius remained his eyes closed. As soon as the purple dark viscous magical fluid shifted towards him, a harsh sound of this came.

It was the sound of King’s security force soldiers who Cassius had defeated and was hanging up from the ceiling with his magic. That soldier fell on the precious marble with that sound.

The dark purple magical fluid shifted behind him, condensing and hardening into a solid, vertical mass that acted like a smooth wall.

He leaned back against it effortlessly, crossing one leg over the other in a casual pose. He rested his hands against the surface of the magical barrier, bracing his weight, while his index finger rose slowly to rest just above his lips in a mocking gesture of silence.

"What are you thinking about doing to my beloved... I would tear your flesh and bones apart even if you touched him!"

The scream tore from Florianthum’s throat, shattering the frozen stillness of the bedchamber. It was the first time her carefully constructed facade had truly cracked, her voice wavering with a raw, frightened anger that cut through the damp air.

As she shrieked the threat, heavy tears finally spilled over her lashes, tracing hot paths down her pale cheeks and catching the faint violet glow of the magic.

Even while trapped under the suffocating weight of Lord Vilucious, her desperate gaze remained locked onto Cassius, her terror transforming into a wild, helpless rage at the thought of any harm coming to the king.

Lord Vilucious turned his head slightly, his silver eyes cutting through the dim violet light to lock onto Florianthum’s trembling form.

The cold, lethal mask of the king softened just enough to let a chillingly calm, affectionate murmur slip past his lips.

"Rest, my love," Vilucious said, his voice smooth and entirely unbothered by the chaos around them. "I will be right back with you."

The quiet promise hung in the air, a stark contrast to her panicked screams, as if the physical threat standing inches away from him was nothing more than a minor chore to be taken care of before the night ended.

"No... My man. That is not how you treat your woman. How incredibly foolish," Cassius murmured, his voice dripping with a lazy, mocking disappointment.

As the words left his lips, his eyelids lifted fully, revealing eyes that had transformed into a pair of pitch-black, bottomless voids. The irises and whites were completely gone, swallowed by a deep, unnatural dark.

Thick, smoky shadows began to spill from the edges of his eyes, curling upward past his temples and dissolving into the freezing air like ink in water, suffocating what little light remained in the room.

The words had barely left his lips before Cassius moved. He didn’t just run; he vanished into a blur of pure speed, a violent ripple through the dark that looked exactly like a teleportation.

In the span of a single heartbeat, he was no longer leaning against the magical wall. He stood right on the marble floor next to the massive bed where Florianthum was trapped.

Then, he executed his most incredible mockery yet.Without a trace of strain, Cassius raised both of his powerful, sweat-slicked arms and lifted Florianthum effortlessly off the mattress. Her knees, which had been pressed into the luxury silk for so long, finally left the bed as he cradled her weight against his chest.

Florianthum gasped, her body locking up in sheer panic before she began to thrash violently. She kicked her bare legs against his grip, her hands clawing wildly at the dense muscles of his shoulders as she screamed right into his face.

"Get your filthy hands off me, you absolute monster!" she shrieked, her voice cracking with a mixture of terror and revulsion. "Don’t touch me! Lord, kill him! Cut him to pieces!"

Cassius didn’t flinch at her blows, nor did his expression change as her nails scratched at the royal doublet he wore. Instead, he leaned down slightly, his pitch-black, shadow-bleeding eyes looking directly into hers.

"I am not like your darling, who failed to be a gentleman right now," Cassius replied softly, his voice a calm, mocking contrast to her hysteria.

With slow, deliberate care, he placed her back onto the mattress, handling her as if she were made of fragile glass. He gently adjusted her posture to make her lie flat, guiding her head down against the pillows.

Before she could scramble away, he reached down, caught the edge of the fine satin sheets, and pulled them up over her chest, covering her tightly to block out the unnatural chill of the room.

"You must stop crying first," Cassius murmured, his voice dropping into a low, steady cadence that felt entirely out of place amidst the violence of the room.

He reached out, his hand steady and entirely unbothered by her trembling, and placed his index finger gently over her lips. The contact was light but absolute, a soft command that cut through her remaining breaths and forced her to shut her mouth.

He looked down at her through the dark, smoky tendrils still bleeding from the edges of his void-like eyes.

"Your persona is stronger than a trash bastard ruler, in my opinion" he added softly, the casual insult to the king delivered with a smooth, dangerous tilt of his head.

He left his finger lingering against her lips for a fraction of a second longer, letting the weight of the disrespect settle over the bedchamber before he slowly drew his hand back, his gaze shifting back toward the freezing, lethal stillness of Lord Vilucious.