CHAPTER 205: FROZEN

"Let me ask you... Does your kingdom even have anything left for me to take now?" Leon stated flatly.

His sharp voice struck like a hot arrow toward the other dukes of the Kingdom of Shampain, who were not far away, yet none dared to question him.

Even while the competition was still going, all of them had been busy arguing over who the fuck had stolen everything from them. They had sworn to find whoever it was at all costs and reclaim their treasure.

Most of the time, they were suggesting to each other what kind of punishment to give once they found the thief. But now, there was only terror—because they realized they had been associated with this monster, one way or another. Something they didn’t want.

Let him keep the treasure as a gift. They just prayed in their seats that he wouldn’t notice them.

A lump caught in Alric’s throat, but he still answered. He didn’t want to leave the monster waiting.

"I-It doesn’t. However... I-I can still be your slave..."

Alric fell silent afterward, waiting to hear his answer. The pounding of his heart had spiraled out of control. He could hear it himself.

While he eagerly hoped Leon would forgive him by accepting him as a slave, he also wanted this moment to stop—right here, right now—as if...

He didn’t even want to think about it. He only prayed he wouldn’t die.

Death was terrifying.

Leon could see his sincerity. However, there was one crucial question he wanted to ask Alric. If he gave a satisfactory answer, Leon would truly take him as a slave.

Let’s see what you have to say now.

"I can take you as a slave and not kill you—only if you answer this one question correctly."

Hearing that, Alric, who had been staring at the ground the whole time, suddenly looked up. There was brightness in his eyes, which had been growing hollow with each passing second before.

But not anymore. He could see hope right in front of him.

I have to answer one question correctly!!

He knew the consequences, so he would pour everything into answering it right and surviving.

Alric was also disappointed in his father, who still hadn’t spoken up for him, even when he was about to die.

He knew his father—the king—all too well. He was a coward, but not a stupid one. He had relied on his intellect to claim the throne from his siblings, who, while not the direct children of the late king and queen, were more qualified.

Yet he had become the king. No one knew what had happened to his two cousins. It remained a mystery. Even Alric didn’t know. No one in the kingdom knew.

Alric had searched every library across the entire Lower Domain and still hadn’t found anything about his uncle and aunt. His uncle had been older than his father, and his aunt younger—yet both had been more talented and well-known.

However, they had disappeared out of nowhere as if they had been erased. The very next day, his father was announced as king. The succession ceremony of Uncle Mark was canceled as he was nowhere to be found. The late king’s decree disappeared with him.

That mystery, and the effort to uncover it, made Alric realize that his father wasn’t the idiotic coward he seemed to be on the surface.

He even knew his mother was having an affair with the Royal Knight Commander.

He had been devastated when he discovered this about his mother, but he never confronted her. He only waited to see what the mysterious king of this kingdom would do.

It had been a year, and yet his father had done nothing. Alric believed he was planning something big, so he waited.

But not even trying to save his own son? That hurt—deeply—even if he couldn’t speak about it.

Those feelings didn’t linger long in his mind. He had to save himself, and everything now depended on this one question.

He took a deep breath, a determined expression forming on his face.

Leon asked him. His voice was sharp and cold, like a dagger about to plunge into him. He wanted to hear the truth.

"Crown Prince Alric, what if I had barely defeated Malverick and he hadn’t died? After the competition’s end, were you not planning to kill me and imprison Seraphine?"

The nature around Leon responded to his will. The air around him grew icy cold—freezing.

He continued.

"If I had been weaker and begged you to let us go, would you have done so or not? Answer me correctly, and you will live."

Alric’s heart froze as he heard the question. He knew the answer all too well. But he also knew—if he gave it, he would die. The piercing pressure that made him tremble uncontrollably reminded him of that fact.

What do I do now?!

Fighting this monster wasn’t even an option. If Alric tried, he knew his death would be as painful as Malverick’s. That alone shook his bones.

Lying in front of him? He might as well just kill himself.

So there was only one option left.

His voice shook, but he answered.

"No."

Just one word.

It was harsh—but it was the truth.

Knowing Malverick, he would have tortured Leon in the worst way possible. And in that situation, Alric wouldn’t have stopped him.

This man standing before him was no noble. He had the support of two of the most powerful people in the Lower Domain.

It would have been blatant hypocrisy to say he would have forgiven him with a change of heart.

So, he told the truth.

Leon remained perfectly still, his breath forming small clouds in the suddenly frigid air. He didn’t need to advance—his power had its own terrible will.

The ice began as nothing more than a whisper of frost beneath his boots. These delicate crystalline patterns might have been beautiful under different circumstances. But then it moved, spreading outward in thin, grasping tendrils that seemed almost alive in their hunger. The frozen web crept across the stone floor with deliberate patience, each strand reaching toward Alric with predatory intent.

Alric’s eyes darted down, watching the approaching frost with growing horror. His pupils dilated as understanding crashed over him like a wave. The color drained from his face as quickly as warmth fled the air around them.

"No," he whispered, the word barely audible. "No, please—"

The ice found his feet first.

Alric jerked backward instinctively, but it was far too late. The frost climbed over his boots like living vines, and immediately he gasped at the shocking intensity of it. This wasn’t the gentle numbness of winter cold—this was something far worse. Sharp, crystalline needles seemed to pierce through his skin, each one a tiny dagger of agony that burrowed deeper with every heartbeat.

His fingers began to stiffen, the joints locking as the supernatural cold raced up his arms. He stared at his hands in disbelief, watching his own flesh turn pale, then blue, then an awful grayish-white. He tried to flex his fingers, but they moved like rusty hinges, slow and painful.

"Leon," he managed, his voice cracking with desperation. "Leon, wait—I told you the truth! I answered honestly!"

Leon’s expression never changed. His face remained a mask of cold determination. Still, something flickered in his eyes—not mercy, but a kind of terrible sadness.

"You did," he agreed quietly. "You told me exactly what I needed to hear."

Alric’s confusion was written across his rapidly numbing features. "Then why—?" The words came out as a wheeze as the ice reached his chest, constricting his lungs.

"Because some truths reveal exactly who you are," Leon said, each word deliberate and final. "And some people... don’t deserve the chance to be that person again."

The ice surged upward with renewed vigor, as if responding to Leon’s judgment. Alric’s legs locked in place with a sickening crack that echoed through the arena. He tried to scream, but the sound that emerged was raw and broken—the cry of a man watching his own body betray him.

He toppled sideways, his frozen limbs unable to bend or catch his fall. But the ice was there to meet him, forming a crystalline web that held him suspended in his moment of collapse, turned into a grotesque display of his final moments.

The cold reached his throat, and Alric’s eyes went wide with primal terror. He could feel his windpipe constricting, could feel the moisture in his mouth turning to frost. His breath came in rapid, shallow gasps that grew weaker with each attempt.

"Please," he mouthed, though no sound emerged. His eyes—still human, still alive, still terrified—found Leon’s face one last time.

Leon held his gaze steadily, unflinchingly. "You would have stood there and watched me die," he said softly. "You would have done nothing while I suffered. Now you know how that feels."

The ice crept across Alric’s jaw, his cheeks, reaching for his eyes. Those eyes—so full of regret and terror and desperate, useless understanding—began to glaze over as the frost claimed them.

One final shudder ran through the crystalline prison that had been a man.

Then stillness.

The arena fell into a silence so complete it seemed to press against Leon’s eardrums. Even the distant sounds of the city beyond seemed muted, as if the world itself was holding its breath. The only sound was the soft, almost musical tinkling of ice still forming—tiny crystals finding their final places in what had once been Alric.

Leon stood there for a long moment, staring at what he had done. The sculpture before him was perfect in its horror—every detail of Alric’s final expression preserved forever in ice. The terror, the regret, the desperate hope that had died in his eyes.

Slowly, Leon turned away. His footsteps echoed strangely in the cold air as he walked across the frost-covered stones, leaving behind only silence and the terrible artistry of vengeance fulfilled.