Rise of the Lustful Evil Monarch (Re)

Third Person's POV

His gaze barely lingered on her before shifting to the two figures behind her, two black-clad men with their faces grim and each cradling a broken body.

One was Erik, who was barely recognizable beneath the horrifying wound, with his chest rising in shallow, labored breaths, and the other was the assassin, with his limbs twisted at unnatural angles, and his breathing a wet, rattling thing.

Seeing this, a sneer curled the man's lips, and before the others could get more than a glimpse of his naked form, shadows surged from the corners of the room.

They writhed like serpents and then coiled around him.

In seconds, they wove themselves into a dark and luxurious robe that swallowed his sickly-thin frame whole.

The slaps had taken the edge off his fury, but the embers still burned, and he didn't ask for any explanations as he didn't need them.

"Falco," he snapped with his voice dripping with disdain and a dark glow in his sickly eyes filled with visible dark circles, "kill the bitch inside. Then tell me what the hell happened."

Without another word, he strode past them with his robe flaring behind him like the wings of some great, carrion-feeding bird.

The woman he had struck remained on the ground, with her head bowed, though her fingers curled into fists so tight her nails drew blood from her palms.

The moment he was gone, Falco exhaled, and his shoulders sagged for just a second before he straightened.

Hearing the order, a thin gray blade materialized in his grip with its edge glinting dully in the dim light.

But when he stepped back into the room, he felt like he was stepping into a slaughterhouse.

The stench of sweat and sex hit him first, and what came after was the coppery tang of blood.

His stomach turned like bile rising in his throat, but he forced it down.

The girl on the bed was a ruin with her brown hair matted, her skin mottled with bruises, and her eyes wide and empty.

Seeing this, Falco's jaw tightened.

At this moment, the only thought that came to his mind was that he hated this and hated that guy, but he was bound.

The youngest prince of the Empire of the Abyssal Dominion, one of the two great demon empires, had given his command, and he had no choice but to do this.

The blade flashed; it was a single, clean thrust between her brows.

Her body jerked once, and then stilled as a thin rivulet of blood traced a path down her nose, and her lips parted in a silent sigh, though seeing the relief in her eyes made his heart free of a little guilt.

He knew that at least it had been quick, and she hadn't suffered in the least.

Suddenly, a wisp of gray fire curled from the shadows and licked at her skin, and in seconds, she was gone, while being reduced to nothing but ash.

The dark-robed woman appeared beside him in the second after that, while her fingers were still tingling with gray flames in the air.

His eyes met hers, which were burning with a mutual hatred, and their eyes were heavy with resignation.

No words passed between them as none were needed.

Falco exited the dim room with the dark haired girl beside him.

They walked in silence through the stone corridor, though the oppressive air making each step feel heavier than the last.

When they finally reached the secluded study at the far end, Falco halted and took a moment to compose himself as he drew in a deep breath to steady his nerves.

Seeing that, the woman quietly reached out and clasped his hand in return with her firm and reassuring grip.

Their dark eyes met, and then, with a final breath of resolve, Falco knocked on the door.

"Come in," came a young voice, light in tone, yet grim, like laughter born from the edge of a blade.

Listening to that, they were a bit surprised as this mature and imposing voice was too different from the one they were used to from their prince, but they composed themselves hurriedly and entered the room.

The study was dimly lit, and the only light emanated from a small lamp that cast long shadows across the bookshelves and dark oak furnishings while small bits of the Blood Moon's crimson rays entered the room, making it eerie and terrifying to the extreme.

At the center of it all, seated atop a blackwood desk, was a youth who looked no older than seventeen.

He tapped his fingers against the polished surface in a steady, ticking rhythm, and it seemed as if the sound itself gave him control.

His pale face was drawn and hollow, his cheeks gaunt, and his dark eyes that seemed usually lifeless now glimmered with an unnatural void.

They had turned pitch black, and when he finally spoke, his voice came out hoarse and rasping, each syllable scraping against the air.

"Who did that to Erik?"

A tremor ran down Falco's spine at the sound of that voice. It wasn't just anger, but it was something he couldn't quite put a name to, but he nevertheless couldn't help but feel a bit of palpitation in his heart.

His companion flinched the same, and her knees nearly buckled as it was the first time either of them had seen the youngest prince like this.

He had always been a joke among the nobility. A spoiled brat, indulged and doted upon by the Dark Emperor, that led to him becoming a lecherous and manipulative parasite, known more for his cruelty and weakness than any actual strength.

But now…

Black mist began to pour upward from the crown of his head and started swirling like smoke into a grotesque halo.

In seconds, the mist took shape and solidified into a spinning black wheel that hovered ominously above his head.

It turned slowly and pulsed with a rhythm like a beating heart.