CHAPTER 64: BARON LAXIN V

The knights bowed their heads, shame written across their weary faces, yet also relief—relief that the prince had survived, relief that they had not been abandoned.

Fenric turned his gaze to Aria, who lay upon a stretcher conjured by glowing runes. He pressed his hand lightly against her chest, summoning forth the Mystic Moon Rapier—his Silver Moon Flames, born of Lunaris pact blooming. The radiant silver-blue light cascaded over her wounds, knitting torn flesh, cleansing the taint, and pushing back the creeping corruption left by Laxin’s Death aura.

Aria’s breathing steadied, her lashes fluttering once before sleep claimed her. Fenric lingered at her side, shoulders heavy, his hand still faintly glowing from the last remnants of his Mystic Moon Rapier’s healing light.

But then a sharp jolt of pain lanced through his ribs, making him wince. He pressed a hand against his side, the blood seeping through his fingers stubbornly. His expression darkened.

"Damn it..." he muttered under his breath, his voice edged with bitter resolve. "Why did that bastard aim for me out of nowhere? ...Fine. When he rises again, I’ll make him mine. If Laxin thinks death frees him, he’s mistaken—he’ll crawl back into this world only to serve as my slave."

His words, whispered like a curse, hung in the air with a chilling promise.

The healers rushed in at last, robes fluttering, their hands already glowing with radiant light. "Your Highness!" one of them cried as they pressed their palms against his wounds.

Holy incantations surged, bathing Fenric in orbs of green and silver brilliance. The energy seeped into torn flesh, bone, and spirit, stitching what battle had broken. Across from him, Aria too was enveloped, her form bathed in healing luminescence. Her chest rose and fell with steadier rhythm, her complexion softening as the lingering shadows of death were driven out.

Fenric closed his eyes briefly, letting the waves of restoration wash through him. His heartbeat slowed, pain fading little by little. Yet behind the veil of healing light, his mind never quieted.

Even wounded, even saved—he was already plotting what would come next.

****

The following day, deep within the hidden chambers of the Lyria City Lord manor, Fenric sat in silence before a stone altar. Upon it lay the corpse of Laxin. Headless, motionless—yet already stirring with the residue of dark magic as the resurrextion ability of its begun to work back.

The air was thick with incense and the cold stench of iron. Runes carved into the floor glowed with a faint, sickly red, pulsing in rhythm with Fenric’s own heartbeat. His eyes narrowed as he watched the body twitch.

A crackling sound split the silence. Laxin’s severed head, suspended within a sphere of spell-light, fused itself back onto the corpse. Bones knit, sinew reformed, and his eyelids fluttered open.

A guttural breath escaped his lips. "Damn it... next time, I’ll cut off that prince bastard head."

"but where is this? where did they dump my body?"

His voice dripped with venom, yet his tone faltered as a searing pain suddenly lanced through his chest. He staggered, clutching at the mark now branded upon him—an intricate symbol burning with Fenric’s power.

"No..." he gasped, choking. "What... is this?"

"That is Slave mark and I am the Master" Laxin head turned back as his eyes widen in fear " how? how did you know I can resurrect back?" he asked in fury as Fenric just looked at him coldly.

The mark flared, chains of spectral light snapping into existence, binding his very soul. He fell to his knees, bloodied tears leaking from his eyes as the weight of the bond crushed his will.

Fenric rose from his chair, looming over him with cold authority. His gaze was icy, unyielding.

"From now on," Fenric said, his voice calm yet merciless, "you are my slave. I cannot kill you outright... but every day you live will be worse than death. And every time you dare resist me—" he gestured lightly, and the mark pulsed again, making Laxin writhe in agony, "—you will learn what despair truly means."

Laxin coughed, blood staining the floor, but he could not look away from his new master. The fire of rebellion flickered in his eyes, but the chains of the slave mark bound him fast.

Fenric’s expression hardened into something cruelly resolute.

"Bleed for me, suffer for me, and serve me. That is all that remains of your existence."

"Just kill me! I will never serve you, bastard!" Laxin roared, the slave mark on his body flaring once more. Tears of blood streamed down his face as he writhed in agony.

"Why did you attack me?" Fenric asked, voice calm but edged with steel.

Laxin glared at him with hatred burning in his eyes. "Why do you even ask? Wasn’t it you who ordered my family’s annihilation!?"

Fenric blinked in genuine confusion, his breath catching. "And who told you that?"

"The Shadowed Blades!" Laxin spat. "Their information network is the best in the Empire. I asked them, and they confirmed it." His voice cracked with fury. "So what now? You think being a prince makes you untouchable, even after slaughtering my family?"

Fenric narrowed his eyes, thoughts racing. The Shadowed Blades...

"Do you even know which family they belong to?" he asked slowly.

Laxin sneered. "Why the hell would I care?"

"They belong to the Dagros family. The family of the Fourth Prince—the one who hates me the most." Fenric’s voice grew sharp. "Now do you understand?"

Laxin’s expression flickered, confusion breaking through his rage. "Wait... are you saying that fool of a Fourth Prince fed me false information? That he used me to kill you?"

Fenric rubbed his temple with irritation. "And here I thought this was part of some grand conspiracy... but you really did come for me after being fed false intelligence."

"You think you can trick me with words and make me an obedient slave!?" Laxin bellowed.

Fenric gestured, and a faint glow filled the room as he placed a crystalline sphere at Laxin’s feet. The Truth Orb pulsed with silver light.

"This is a Truth Orb. You can test it yourself."

Laxin clenched his jaw as he saw the Truth orb, they are pretty famous and expensive, then spat bitterly. "Fine." He touched the orb. "I am a Master Rank disguising as Grand Master rank."

The orb glowed red, affirming the truth.

"huh? you were only Master rank?" Fenric looked at him in dibelief as he snorted back " or what do you think you are antural prodigy who can fight three ranks above?" he said as Fenric pursed his lips, ’I need to appraise my opponenets with Soul projection from now on’ he thought while Laxin ignored him and focused back on the orb.

"My family was slaughtered." Again, the orb flared red.

"I came for Prince Fenric to avenge them!" The light pulsed red once more.

Finally, he snarled, "Prince Fenric Vaelthorn Vareldis—the Third Prince of the Empire—ordered their deaths!"

But this time, the orb remained dull, not reacting.

Laxin froze. The silence was louder than any denial.

He spoke again to confirm it.

"Prince Fenric Vaelthorn Vareldis—the Third Prince of the Empire—ordered their deaths!"

And again it was dull, no reaction.

"You see?" Fenric said coldly. "You were lied to. Whether you believe it or not, because of your actions, your fate is now sealed. You are my slave."

Laxin’s face twisted with despair and rage as he slammed his fist against the orb, trying to force a reaction. "No! I’ll test it again! Again and again!" he shouted, but the crystal refused to glow.

Fenric turned his back on him, his cloak shifting like a shadow. "I’ll give you a day to mourn your foolish choices. But after that..." His eyes glinted mercilessly. "You are nothing but my blade."

He left the chamber, the echo of his footsteps fading.

Behind him, Laxin sank to his knees, blood tears dripping down his face as he screamed his grief. The orb sat cold and silent, its light extinguished.

Laxin sat hunched in the dim chamber, the glow of the truth orb still pulsing faintly at his side. His fingers trembled as he clutched at his chest, the phantom ache of the mark searing like a brand deeper than bone. Rage boiled in his veins, but no matter how much he clawed at his own skin, the mark did not fade. It pulsed with Fenric’s will, unyielding, unbreakable.

"Damn it..." Laxin whispered hoarsely, his voice cracking. "All this time... chasing lies." He struck the floor with his fist, crimson droplets from his eyes staining the stone. "Shadow Blades... you played me like a fool..."

His head lowered, but his glare burned through his tangled hair. The mark throbbed again, a cruel reminder that his every breath was now tethered to Fenric. He spat, the sound bitter, defiant even in his shackles.

"I’ll never bow to you. Slave or not... I’ll find a way. Even if it kills me."