Chapter 67: Saving Cassandra and Fiora

The courtyard of House Galanis was awash in twilight, the golden glow of the setting sun casting long shadows over the battlefield. The clatter of steel rang out relentlessly, punctuated by grunts of exertion and the dull thud of blows landing. The air was thick with tension, heavy as the weight of impending disaster loomed over Eskil’s comrades, who stood clustered near the edges of the courtyard. They watched their leader fight with bated breath, their unease growing with each passing moment.

Eskil faced off against Alaric in a duel that had spiraled far beyond what anyone had expected. Despite Eskil activating the Blood Burning Technique—a forbidden move that heightened his physical abilities to an inhuman degree—Alaric was holding his ground. More than that, he was pushing Eskil to his limits, matching him blow for blow in a way that sent chills down the spines of the onlookers.

“This isn’t right,” one of Eskil’s men muttered, his voice barely above a whisper as his eyes darted between the fighters. “He’s never had this much trouble before, especially after using the Blood Burning Technique.”

A woman nearby, her sharp features shadowed with concern, crossed her arms tightly. “Alaric isn’t like the others Eskil has faced. The man’s a demon in human form,” she replied. Her words carried a bitter weight, as if she were trying to convince herself as much as the others.

Yvonne, standing a little apart from the rest, clenched her fists until her nails bit into her palms. She didn’t care for their chatter; she cared only for the man in the thick of the fight. Eskil. The thought of him losing was an unbearable knot of fear twisting in her chest. If Eskil fell here, it wouldn’t just be the end of him—it would be the end of everything she had built for herself. The Royal Court’s silence about their venture into Galanis territory was only due to Eskil’s influence. Without him, they’d be left vulnerable to swift and brutal retribution.

Her gaze flicked over to Cassandra and Fiora, the Matriarch of House Galanis and her daughter, bound and gagged on the ground a few feet away. Even in their disheveled state, their beauty was undeniable. It was a beauty that stirred envy in Yvonne’s heart every time she looked at them. The way some of Eskil’s men kept sneaking glances at the pair only made it worse.

Yvonne’s lips twisted in disdain. “Look at them,” she hissed under her breath. “They’re drooling over those two like dogs.”

She hated it. Hated the way they drew attention so effortlessly, stealing the spotlight she had once claimed as her own. Back at the Lionheart Martial Institute, Yvonne had been the queen bee, the woman everyone adored and feared. Her beauty had earned her allies, admirers, and power. Men clamored to do her bidding, and Eskil had been among them. He had been her staunchest supporter, her friend, and—she had always believed—her future. But ever since coming here, Yvonne had felt his focus slipping, his attention wandering to Cassandra and Fiora. He was softer with them, kinder than he had any reason to be, given their status as captives.

Jealousy and fear churned in her chest like a roiling storm, growing darker with every passing second. Eskil couldn’t lose. He couldn’t. But if he did… if everything she feared came true… she would at least make sure Cassandra and Fiora paid for it.

Her hand drifted to the dagger at her hip, her fingers tightening around the hilt. The blade gleamed faintly in the fading light, its edge sharp and unforgiving. She took a step toward the captives, her expression dark with intent.

One of the men noticed her movement and stiffened. “Yvonne,” he said hesitantly, “what are you doing?”

She turned her head slightly, her eyes flashing with warning. “Stay out of it.” Her tone was sharp enough to cut.

The man swallowed hard and took a step back. No one else dared to intervene. They all knew better than to cross Yvonne when she was like this.

Cassandra’s chest tightened as Yvonne approached. The Matriarch had been watching the unfolding events in silence, her mind racing for solutions even as her hands remained bound. But now, as she saw the cold glint in Yvonne’s eyes and the dagger in her hand, a cold fear gripped her.

Yvonne knelt beside her, the dagger gleaming menacingly in her hand. “You think you’re so perfect,” Yvonne muttered, her voice low but filled with venom. “So beautiful. Let’s see how perfect you are when I’m done with you.”

Cassandra’s heart pounded as she closed her eyes, bracing herself for the sharp sting of the blade. But before Yvonne could strike, a rush of wind and a flash of light interrupted her.

“What—?” Yvonne barely had time to react before a hand grabbed her wrist, wrenching it away from Cassandra with startling force.

Cassandra opened her eyes in confusion, only to find herself being lifted into strong arms. Her breath caught as she looked up and saw the familiar face of her nephew, Alaric.

“Alaric!” she gasped, her voice trembling. Relief and shock warred within her as she clung to him instinctively.

Alaric held her close, his expression calm despite the storm raging around them. “Are you alright, Aunt Cassandra?” he asked, his voice smooth and steady. His eyes lingered on her face, softening with concern. While he did that, he utilized his skill from his Harem God System known as the ’Wink of Flirtation.’

The Wink of Flirtation worked immediately on Cassandra. Her cheeks flushed, the heat rising unbidden as her heart raced. She told herself it was the intensity of the moment, the adrenaline coursing through her veins. Surely that was all it was.

Cassandra nodded, her words catching in her throat. “I… I think so. You… you got here just in time.”

“Good,” he murmured, his lips quirking into a faint smile. “I couldn’t let anything happen to you.”

As he spoke, he subtly adjusted his hold on her, his hands brushing against the curve of her waist and enjoyed her curvaceous body at this moment.

Yvonne’s eyes burned with frustration and humiliation as she glared at Alaric. Her failed attempt to harm Cassandra left her seething, but she wasn’t done.

Her gaze snapped to Fiora, the younger of the two captives, and her lips curled into a vindictive sneer.

If she couldn’t scar the mother, she would go after the daughter. The dagger gleamed in her hand as she took a menacing step forward.

“Stop! Don’t hurt my daughter!” Cassandra’s voice rang out, trembling but fierce, as she struggled against her bonds.

Even Eskil’s voice cut through the tension, sharp and commanding. “Yvonne, enough!” he barked. There was a raw edge to his tone, a blend of fury and disbelief.

But Yvonne was too far gone. Her obsession, jealousy, and fear coalesced into a reckless need to lash out.

Ignoring the cries around her, she raised the dagger, its point glinting dangerously close to Fiora’s terrified face.

Before she could strike, a sudden, deafening whoosh filled the air. A streak of greenish light shimmered, and in the blink of an eye, a series of wind blades materialized, slicing through the space between Yvonne and her target.

One blade struck the dagger cleanly, sending it flying from Yvonne’s grasp, while others whipped around her, their forceful momentum hurling her backward. She landed hard, skidding across the ground with a sharp cry of pain.

Alaric stood a few feet away, his hand extended and glowing faintly with the remnants of his spell. The air around him crackled with residual energy as his signature wind magic dissipated.

It was his spell ’Razor Blades’ that had found its mark flawlessly.

Cassandra let out a relieved gasp, tears springing to her eyes as she realized Fiora was unharmed. She turned to Alaric, her voice trembling with gratitude. “Thank you, Alaric. Thank you so much!”

Before he could respond, Cassandra surged forward and threw her arms around him. Her body pressed tightly against his, her curves molding against his chest in her earnest gratitude.

Alaric, being aware of this situation, couldn’t help but feel a flicker of enjoyment at the contact. Still, he kept his expression respectful, his hands resting lightly on her back.

“It’s alright, Aunt Cassandra,” he said softly, his voice steady and reassuring. “I told you I’d protect you. Fiora’s safe now.”

Cassandra pulled back slightly, her face inches from his. Her expression was filled with both relief and admiration. “You saved her, Alaric. I’ll never forget this.” Her words were earnest, her hands gripping his shoulders as if grounding herself in his presence.

Eskil, who had been watching the scene unfold, turned his attention to Yvonne, who was struggling to sit up, glaring daggers at Alaric and Cassandra. His jaw tightened, and his steps were heavy as he approached her. When he reached her, he slapped her hard across the face, the sound echoing through the courtyard.

“You’ve disappointed me, Yvonne,” he said coldly, his voice cutting through the tension like a blade. “You’ve gone too far. You’ve not only disgraced yourself, but you’ve also disrupted my duel.”

Yvonne’s head snapped to the side from the force of the blow, but her fury only deepened. She turned back to him, her face flushed with anger and humiliation.

“Disappointed you?” she spat, her voice laced with venom. “Don’t act like you’re some noble warrior. The only reason you’re mad is because you’ve set your sights on Fiora! You’re no better than the rest of them, Eskil.”

Eskil’s face darkened, her accusation striking uncomfortably close to the truth. He opened his mouth to retort but hesitated, his silence speaking volumes. His eyes flicked toward Fiora, but the look of pure disgust she directed at him made his chest tighten.

That expression—the revulsion in her eyes—was like a dagger to his pride. He clenched his fists, his anger turning inward as he seethed silently.

Yvonne wasn’t done. She pushed herself to her feet, glaring at him with unrestrained fury.

“You’re a hypocrite, Eskil,” she hissed. “You’re the one who changed the plan. We were supposed to overwhelm Alaric together, but you insisted on this ridiculous duel. All because you wanted to impress her!”

Eskil’s composure crumbled further, his teeth grinding as Yvonne’s words exposed his hidden motives to everyone.

Around them, his comrades exchanged uneasy glances, the tension growing thick enough to cut with a knife.

Eskil’s gaze darted back to Fiora, who turned her face away, her expression one of utter disdain.

Alaric, having heard enough, stepped forward and ignored the simmering drama between Eskil and Yvonne. He knelt beside Cassandra and quickly began untying her bonds. His hands worked efficiently, his movements calm and purposeful.

“You’re free now,” he said quietly as the last of the ropes fell away. “Can you fight?”

Cassandra stretched her arms, the relief evident in her expression. “I can,” she replied, her voice steady with determination. “Thank you, nephew.”

He nodded, already turning his attention to Fiora. “Go help my mother. I’ll get Fiora out of these binds.”

Cassandra didn’t waste a moment. She rose to her feet, her confidence returning with every step she took toward the ongoing battle between her sister Lyra and Asmund. Though unarmed, her resolve was unshakable.

“Lyra, I’m here to help!” Cassandra called out as she approached.

Lyra, her movements slowing from exhaustion, spared her sister a brief glance. Despite the weariness etched into her face, she managed a small smile. “Took you long enough,” she said wryly. “Let’s finish this.”

Asmund turned to face Cassandra, his mace resting heavily in his grip. His expression was one of grim amusement. “Another one? You’re bold to think you can make a difference without a weapon.”

Cassandra’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t need a weapon to deal with you,” she shot back.

The sisters moved as a team, their attacks synchronized as if they had been training together for years.

Cassandra’s skill as an Expert Martialist was evident in her precise movements, her strikes aimed to create openings for Lyra. And although she was one rank lower compared to a Master Martialist, she was not someone who could be underestimated.

Asmund quickly realized this fact as the force behind her attacks drove him to adjust his stance.

Cassandra darted in, feinting to the left and forcing Asmund to block, while Lyra capitalized on the distraction. With a shout, she drove her blade toward Asmund’s side, her strike landing cleanly. He roared in pain, staggering backward as blood seeped through his armor.

Lyra smirked, her confidence reigniting as she glanced at her sister. “Not bad, Cassie. Let’s see if we can finish this brute off.”

Cassandra nodded, her expression fierce. “Together.”

The two sisters pressed the advantage, their movements a fluid dance of precision and power.

Alaric’s sharp gaze swept over the courtyard, locking onto the small group of Eskil’s comrades as they crept closer to Fiora. Her bound form lay helpless on the ground, her chest rising and falling in quick, panicked breaths.

The opportunistic vultures clearly intended to take her hostage, planning to use her as leverage. Alaric’s lips curved into a cold smile as he whispered under his breath, the words slipping past his lips like a soft breeze.

“Skyward Vortex.”

The air around him shimmered, and a low hum filled the space. In an instant, a roaring whirlwind exploded outward. The spell engulfed Eskil’s men before they could react, tossing them backward like ragdolls. Their cries of surprise and pain were swallowed by the vortex as it carved a protective barrier of wind around Fiora, the currents whipping violently and holding the intruders at bay.

Alaric wasted no time. He dashed forward, the wind parting for him as if recognizing its master. He reached Fiora’s side, his blade flashing as it made quick work of the bindings around her wrists and ankles.

As soon as she was free, Fiora surged upward and threw her arms around him, burying her face in his chest. Her body trembled against his as she whispered, “Thank you, Alaric. You saved me.”

For a moment, Alaric allowed himself to feel the warmth of her embrace, his cousin’s youthful yet alluring figure pressing tightly against him. But there wasn’t time to linger. He gently pulled back, his hands resting on her shoulders as he looked into her wide, tear-filled eyes.

“Fiora, listen to me,” he said, his voice firm but kind. “I need you to pull yourself together. This fight isn’t over.”

Fiora blinked, confusion giving way to determination. “What do you need me to do?” she asked, her voice steady despite the lingering tremor.

“Fight,” Alaric said simply. “You don’t have to win—just defend yourself and hold your ground. Stay alive and keep them occupied. I’ll handle Eskil.”

She nodded, her expression hardening with resolve. “I promise, Alaric. I won’t fall. Not this time.”

He smiled, pride flickering in his eyes. “Good. Now go.”

Fiora grabbed a fallen blade nearby and joined the fray, her movements cautious but focused.

Alaric turned his attention back to Eskil, who stood in the center of the courtyard with an impatient scowl.

“This time,” Alaric said, his voice carrying across the battlefield, “I’ll end this.”

Eskil sneered, rolling his shoulders as he prepared for the next round. “Big words, Alaric. Let’s see if you can back them up.”

Alaric ignored the taunt, closing his eyes for a brief moment as he began to chant the incantations for one of his most powerful spells. His voice was low and rhythmic, the ancient words laced with a cold, otherworldly power.

Eskil, realizing the danger, surged forward to interrupt him. But Alaric was ready. With a flash of green light, he activated Bolt Flash, disappearing from Eskil’s path and reappearing several paces away. He resumed the spell without missing a beat.

“You fight well on solid ground, Eskil,” Alaric called out, his tone mocking. “But let’s see how you fare in a different environment.”

The final words of the incantation fell from his lips like shards of ice. “Frost Nova.”

The temperature in the courtyard plummeted. A wave of icy energy erupted from Alaric’s position, sweeping across the battlefield. The ground froze instantly, a thick sheet of ice spreading in all directions. The air grew frigid, each breath visible as a cloud of frost. Eskil stumbled, his movements growing sluggish as he struggled to maintain his footing on the slick terrain.

Alaric smirked, his breath fogging as he took advantage of the transformed battlefield. He raised his hand, summoning his next spell with a sharp command. “Ice Shards!”

A barrage of razor-sharp ice fragments shot toward Eskil, cutting through his armor and leaving streaks of blood in their wake. Eskil roared in pain, swinging his sword wildly to deflect the onslaught, but the cold had already sapped much of his strength.

“Frost Blast!” Alaric continued, his voice ringing with authority. A wave of frost cascaded over Eskil, encasing his limbs in a thick layer of ice. His movements grew even more restricted, his once-powerful strikes reduced to desperate, clumsy swings.

Eskil’s breaths came in ragged gasps, his eyes blazing with fury as he glared at Alaric. “Damn you,” he growled through gritted teeth.

Alaric’s expression remained calm, almost pitying. “You’re finished, Eskil. Stop resisting and accept it.”

But Eskil wasn’t done yet. With a guttural shout, he channeled the last reserves of his strength, breaking free of the ice encasing his arms. He lunged at Alaric, his sword raised high.

“Glacial Spike!” Alaric’s voice cut through the air like a blade.

A massive pillar of ice erupted from the ground, impaling Eskil mid-charge and pinning him in place. Blood dripped down the crystalline surface, and a pained groan escaped Eskil’s lips. The courtyard fell silent, save for the faint hum of Alaric’s magic dissipating.

Alaric approached his defeated enemy, his steps measured and deliberate. He stood over Eskil, his gaze steady and unreadable. “You fought well,” he said finally, his voice devoid of malice. “But you should have known better than to challenge me.”

Eskil’s face twisted in a mix of anger and resignation. “You’ve won, Alaric,” he admitted bitterly. “But don’t think for a second that this is over.”

Alaric’s lips curved into a faint smile. “We’ll see about that. For now, you’re my prisoner. And you’ll do as I say.”