CHAPTER 272: 272. WE DEMAND AN EXECUTION

Some hours later...

Just before the break of dawn, a strange rumor had begun to stir across the cobbled streets of Zephandria—the kind of rumor that rippled through taverns, market stalls, and the whispers of startled children. A second sun, they said, had appeared above the Guildmaster’s mansion. A blinding orb no larger than a tennis ball, yet so luminous it turned so bright that it almost overwhelmed the natural sun in the sky. It had obliterated the entire estate.

Strangely enough, it hadn’t scorched the rest of the capital. Scholars would later argue it must’ve been light magic—intense in brilliance, but somehow restrained in heat. Controlled destruction. If it hadn’t been... if that sun had burned like a real one, Zephandria wouldn’t be standing. Because a sun that low, and bright would have vaporized the whole kingdom.

Amidst the smoking ruin of the Guildmaster’s mansion, there were survivors. The mansion’s maids had somehow been spared, shaken, bruised, but alive. Others who were in the demon domain weren’t so fortunate. Scorched corpses of guards and mages were pulled from the wreckage. And emerging from it all was a name whispered like the onset of a storm:

Asher Reynolds.

The boy who had brought forth a second sun.

By sunrise, half the kingdom had gathered to witness his arrest. Knights dragged him through the streets in shackles, bound by cuffs and a chain leashed to a spiked collar wrapped around his neck. At the front of the chain was none other than the High Commander of the Knights herself—Ravaine. Her cold boots clicked with authority on the palace’s stone floor as she kicked Asher behind the knees, forcing him to kneel.

Before him loomed the King of Zephandria, seated upon her high throne, her royal cloak draped like twilight. Around her stood the noble council, a circle of crimson-robed power-holders murmuring with outrage.

One of them stepped forward, face thunderous with fury—Grand Chancellor Nadia. Her shop had been one of the first to be incinerated during Asher’s so-called ’rampage.’

"This boy came all the way from Eldoria to cause havoc in our kingdom!" she spat. "Is this how their monarchy treats us? By sending living weapons into our capital?"

Several nobles murmured their assent.

"We must summon the Eldorian envoy," Nadia continued. "Let them watch as we execute their precious citizen and then they can pay for every coin of the damage he’s done."

"Yes!" another noble declared. "He didn’t just raze buildings—he dared make false claims about the Guildmaster’s estate! Said there was an underground vault where monsters were being raised in secret. But our knights found nothing! Not a hatch. Not a tunnel or any sign of any underground facility. Just ashes and lies!"

Asher said nothing. Not even a twitch. His expression was unreadable—empty, detached, as though none of this concerned him.

The King studied him from her throne. Calm on the outside, but her heartbeat pulsed that it was almost audible. She had listened to the council argue for over thirty minutes before raising a hand.

"My people," she said, her voice regal yet burdened. "You demand this boy’s execution—and rightfully so. But before we raise the blade, we must consider... our own prince kidnapped this boy’s mother. He is not innocent, nor are we blameless. A citizen of Eldoria was taken from her home. And now Eldoria also holds one of our own imprisoned for similar acts of destruction. And it pains me to say that the person in Eldoria’s cells is a friend of the Prince, and its likely he did whatever he did under the Prince’s orders."

The hall fell quiet.

"...The prince?" someone whispered. "That spoiled brat?"

"Even so," muttered another noble, "does that justify this boy vaporizing half the Guild District?"

"And my mansion," the Guildmaster added bitterly. Though she was a part of this, and knew all about the underground base the Revolutionaries used as their prison, and monster hive.

The chamber exploded in another wave of anger until a low, mocking chuckle silenced it.

Asher raised his head slowly, lips curled in a twisted smile.

"You bunch of morons," he growled. "You really think you can just decide what to do with me? Like I’m yours to judge? Like you’re even capable of holding me in prison?"

"Silence, peasant!" a voice bellowed. "Your filthy tongue offends the throne!"

Ravaine gave the chain a violent tug, snapping Asher’s head back. But the fire in his eyes burned stronger than before.

Then, a knight burst into the chamber.

"Our prisoners," he panted, "they’ve... escaped! All of them! Early this morning!"

Gasps echoed.

"We believe it was him," the knight continued, pointing at Asher. "He was still in the cells when it happened. We think he triggered the breakout. Now the thieves, the traitors, the uncivilized scum who spat on noble law—they’re all free!"

Murmurs of "death," "treason," and "no mercy" rolled across the court like a wave of fury.

**

Elsewhere... hours earlier, in the demonic domain beneath the Guildmaster’s mansion...

Asher’s second sun had burst forth in radiant fury. But the creature he fought hadn’t even flinched, or showed any signs of fear. Instead, it moved.

It reached him.

In a blur of motion, it slammed a fist into Asher’s chest. The kind that felt like a combination of a beast fist, and an invisible hand, pulling at his organs.

Before darkness took him, he heard the cloaked man’s gentle and calm voice.

"We can’t have you destroying the beasts we spent years breeding... now can we?"

Then everything went white.

He and his blinding sun were hurled from the domain like spoiled food spat from a monstrous maw—shot upward through the ruins of the Guildmaster’s mansion, obliterating the upper floors in a final blast of light.

Civilians fled. Screams filled the air.

Asher had blacked out.

The next thing he knew... he was waking up in chains, being dragged through the dirt by knights who looked at him like he was the end of the world. To avoid more damage, he’d decided to follow them in silence.

Back to the present...

Outside the towering palace gates of Zephandria, an ocean of furious citizens seethed with rage. Shouts for blood echoed through the streets, banners waved, and stones were clenched tightly in hands. All of them had come for one reason—the execution of Asher Reynolds.

Hidden in the shadows of a narrow alley near the outer wall, Sharon watched in silence.

She kept low, draped in a tattered cloak with a scarf wound tightly around her face for concealment. Her eyes never left the palace gates. She had been waiting for Asher since he said he’d look for her.

Suddenly, a soft humming filled the air.

Two golden phantom-chariots glided down the main road, just inches above the cobblestones. Their runic engines purred with mana, casting a faint blue glow along the path beneath them. The sound alone silenced the crowd, the air itself seeming to freeze in reverence. These weren’t ordinary transports after all.

The crowd instinctively parted as the chariots hovered forward, parking in unison before the palace’s grand gate.

From the first chariot stepped out Duke Martinsville of Eldoria, a man whose reputation stretched across borders. And from the second emerged Irvines Merlin, one of Zephandria’s most feared and admired male S-Rank hunter and the King’s consort. Father of Prince Max.

His short, silver hair was styled neatly. A matching silver beard traced from ear to chin, trimmed perfectly along his jaw and upper lip. His tailored midnight-blue suit shimmered subtly with a white undershirt and the royal collar bearing Zephandria’s insignia. A sleek black cane hung in his right hand, more symbol than support.

When he looked at the crowd, women swooned. Quite literally.

Heart-shaped eyes. Faint gasps. Giddy murmurs.

Even Duke Martinsville with his sharper, more cunning aura commanded his own share of longing gazes. Together, the two men were walking fantasies. The kind of men noblewomen dreamed of bearing heirs for, even in scandal.

As they passed through the mesmerized crowd, their smiles were calm and unbothered. They entered the grand hall without a single word, all eyes turning as their footsteps echoed across the marble.

Their seats had already been prepared near the King’s throne.

"Apologies for the delay," Martinsville said coolly, placing a hand on his chest in graceful acknowledgment.

The King blushed. But it vanished quickly as she cleared her throat and nodded. "It’s quite alright."

She sat straighter. "As our messenger already informed you—your citizen, Asher Reynolds, has caused widespread destruction. He razed part of the Guild District. Bodies were found... unrecognizable, burned beyond hope. Such an act is treason, and would normally warrant execution without question."

The air grew heavier.

"But," she continued, "due to the involvement of Prince Max in this conflict... we are willing to consider a different course."

Martinsville gave a small nod. "I understand."

Then his eyes shifted to Asher.

His tone was casual, but his gaze was sharp

"Where is the Prince?"

The way he said it made it sound like he knew something.

The King exhaled. "We... don’t know. Our knights have searched the palace, the city. He’s gone. My son has a tendency to vanish when he knows punishment is coming. He always returns."

A noble nearby scoffed. "Spoiled brat..."

Laughter rippled bitterly through a few corners of the court.

But Asher wasn’t listening to any of that.

His attention was locked on the two men.

Their eyes lingered on him too long. Their smiles were a little too polite.

There was something dark behind those smiles. Something that made Asher have suspicions.

Could they be...?

...No. That’s absurd.

There’s no way the Duke had been in Zephandria all along.

Right?

To be continued...