Chương 209: The Bleeding Serpent

In the quiet, dark corner of the main balcony, where the scent of spilled wine assaulted the nostrils, Inspector Croft's assistant leaned in: a slender young man wearing round spectacles and carrying a short magical staff hidden in his sleeve. He whispered into his master's ear in an anxious tone, trying not to draw the attention of the hysterical Sylvester.

"My lord Inspector," the assistant whispered rapidly, "the situation is spiraling out of control. Lord Sylvester has just confessed to a premeditated political assassination, and worse, there is the use of high-level, possibly forbidden combat magic in the heart of a densely populated civilian area. Civilians may be crushed in the stampede. The Imperial Raven Unit is on full standby outside the city walls, awaiting your signal to intervene and secure the area."

Croft closed his leather notebook with extreme slowness and a studied motion. He placed the pen in his coat's inner pocket, then extended his hand and straightened his gray spectacles on the bridge of his nose. He shifted his gaze calmly from Dex standing with proud defiance atop the tower, then to Sylvester kneeling on the floor like a defeated dog, and a cryptic, nearly malicious smile settled on his thin lips.

"No, do not intervene, and give no signal to the Raven Unit." Croft spoke in an icy, low voice that nonetheless carried an authority admitting no debate.

"Under Imperial law, this is an internal family matter, a purely bloody dispute over succession within the Williams family. The Empire, in its wisdom, does not intervene in the regional blood feuds and physical liquidations of nobles, unless taxes are directly affected, the interests of the Imperial throne are threatened, or commercial caravans are harmed. Let the dogs eat one another so the strongest survives to rule."

Croft paused for a moment, then added in a voice barely audible to himself alone, his eyes glinting with a hidden malice: "Furthermore, I personally wish to see how this exceptional theatrical performance will end. The boy, Dex, his development is illogical and terrifyingly interesting. I would like to witness the limits of his power before I decide whether he represents a threat requiring elimination, or a useful instrument for the Empire."

Down below in Seiron's great square, Sylvester was losing what remained of his sanity and his hope of survival. The ordinary palace guards, who had understood they were fighting the legitimate heir backed by demonic power and the family's veteran knights, began doing what any desperate soldier does: they threw their weapons to the ground, or fell back and blended into the crowds fleeing toward the square's corners. Dex's knights under Okon's command were rapidly seizing strategic positions and tightening the noose.

"You! Dregs of the Shadow Organization!" Sylvester screamed in a hoarse voice, staring with madness into the darkness enveloping the blind corners of the balcony and behind the columns.

"We have a blood-signed contract! I paid you a vast fortune! You guarantee my safety! Do something, you scoundrels, instead of dying like flies!" He had barely finished his words when the earth responded to his call in a manner no one anticipated and no one desired. Suddenly and without any warning, the ground in the center of the great square shook with violent force, not like a natural earthquake, but like the trembling produced by a colossal pressure exploding from below.

The marble columns swayed, and hundreds of people lost their balance and fell onto the hard floor. The solid stone paving, laid in granite, cracked with a horrifying tearing sound, as though a beast were opening its jaws. From the center of this deep fissure, thick black smoke began rising, heavy as tar, carrying with it a suffocating smell of sulfur and concentrated poison: the smell of rotting death. From the womb of the split earth, and from within the rising black smoke, an enormous shadow appeared.

This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it. A man of abnormally massive build stepped out of the fissure, exceeding two and a half meters in height, his shoulders wide enough to block a narrow alley. He wore heavy armor crafted from dark black scales that devoured light, appearing as though they had been flayed from a shadow dragon.

He covered his face and head entirely with old leather wrappings, revealing nothing but two red eyes glowing like embers burning in the depths of hell. In his enormous right hand he carried a weapon that inspired dread in the soul by the mere act of looking at it: a massive scythe three meters long, its curved black blade dripping a phosphorescent green liquid that dissolved rock and granite, producing a terrifying hissing whenever it touched the ground. This was Viper, the Bleeding Serpent.

He was no mere hired killer. He was one of the great commanders of the Shadow Organization, a fighter classified at rank S in the records of the secret guilds. A human beast, a catastrophe walking on two feet, who neither moved nor intervened except when the Organization faced the threat of annihilation or catastrophic failure. Viper raised his heavy head and looked at Sylvester kneeling on the balcony.

He spoke in a voice resembling the hissing of hundreds of serpents in a sealed room, a rough, full voice that made hearts shudder in their owners' chests and stop beating for a moment:"Sylvester Williams, we came to you on the basis of your promises. You promised us a quiet city, a full treasury, and a smooth and swift transfer of power. But from where I stand, it appears you are nothing but a fool who summoned a blue demon to burn our men.

The Organization does not like failed clients, and we do not forgive those who spill the blood of the Ghosts." Sylvester swallowed with difficulty, feeling his bladder nearly betray him from the sheer terror radiating from this creature. He raised his hands in supplication: "Kill him! Please! Kill Dex now, and I will give you not only what we agreed upon, but half of the entire treasury of Seiron! Take whatever you wish, just bring him to me dead!" Viper did not respond. Just a terrifying silence.

He turned with a slow, mechanical rotation toward the towering clock tower where Dex stood blazing with his flames.

"This young man..." Viper murmured, toxic smoke rising from his mouth, "has a very distinctive scent. Pure and concentrated mana in a way that whets the appetite. He is a rare prey worthy of the trouble of emerging from the darkness." Viper moved his massive scythe in a quick, horizontal sweeping motion, disproportionate to his enormous size. He was targeting no one specifically, merely displaying his power and clearing the path.

From the scythe's blade launched a massive wave of black aerial pressure saturated with acidic poison. The wave split the air like a half-circle blade expanding rapidly.

"Get back! Fall back, everyone! Defensive shields!" Okon screamed at the top of his lungs, throwing himself to the ground, recognizing the coming catastrophe. But it was too late. Ten of the finest of the old Williams knights, men who had fought in border wars and survived dozens of battles, who by chance were standing in the direct path of the wave, had no time to raise their shields. The poisonous wave struck them. The scene was harrowing and heartbreaking.

In a fraction of a second, their silver armor tore and corroded as though made of fragile paper. The poison penetrated their bodies, beginning to dissolve flesh, bone, and metal simultaneously. Their throats could not even serve them to scream, their vocal cords burned by the poison before the words could emerge. They died standing, and their disfigured bodies toppled like masses of dissolved black flesh before touching the floor, leaving Okon screaming in anguish, tears of fury filling his eyes for his loyal men.

The power of rank S was terrifying by every measure. It was not merely magical force, it was a natural disaster that ordinary humans and even veteran knights could neither face nor comprehend. Without turning to see the results of his first strike, Viper bent his massive knees and leaped in a single enormous jump.

The floor shattered beneath him, and he flew through the air, covering hundreds of meters like a projectile of pure darkness, to land with seismic force on the rooftop of the building adjacent to the clock tower. Now he was face to face, at the same level, with Dex. The moment he landed, the spiritual pressure emanating from Viper spread through the space. This dense pressure made Dex feel as though gravity had doubled, as though mountains of rock had been suddenly placed on his shoulders to crush him.

Even his blue flames, which had been dancing with power and pride, shrank and retreated slightly before this tide of dense, toxic darkness.

"You are strong, very strong for your age," Viper said mockingly, his red eyes examining Dex with a diseased enjoyment.

"You possess a talent that appears perhaps once in a century. But, before the Absolute Black Poison, all flames are destined to be extinguished and choked. Your death today will not be as swift as what you did to my men, it will be a slow, rotting, excruciating death that makes you beg for the mercy of hell itself, boy."

Viper raised his nightmare scythe high above his head, a terrifying swirling black halo gathering around the wide blade, draining light from the surrounding space, preparing to launch a crushing assault that would cleave Dex and the entire stone clock tower in two equal halves.