The Damned Demon

Chapter 743  It's Finally Time

The dead of night draped the land in a heavy cloak of darkness, the only sounds the distant howling of beasts and the subtle, rhythmic shifting of the earth beneath the underground chamber. The air was thick with tension and the weight of secrecy as Lysandra, cloaked in deep shadow, stood before a gathered council of vassal kings, chieftains, and leaders, each of them draped in their dark battle armor, their eyes cold and full of resolve. They had gathered here for one purpose: to strike down Drakar and claim their victory, no matter the cost.

Lysandra's fiery, dark red eyes gleamed with a dangerous brilliance as she spoke, her voice cold and commanding, "It's time," she said, her gaze sweeping over the room. "We first assassinate those who may be loyal to Drakar or those who fear him too much. I've already tasked some of our women to drug them to sleep. It should be easy to take them down. But the most important part of our plan is cutting off Drakar's head before dawn breaks. Before he has a chance to alert his army, we strike. If we do this, the war will be ours. There will be no more bloodshed. We'll win this swiftly."

A murmur of agreement passed through the group, but one voice rose in concern. "But what about the Dragonblood Knights, Your Majesty?" one of the leaders asked, a look of doubt on his face. "He has twenty of them—twenty of the strongest warriors next to him. They always stand guard near him. They are the most loyal to Drakar, and they follow the crown, not the kingdom. They'll never let us get close."

Lysandra's expression darkened, but her eyes remained sharp. She furrowed her brows as she glanced around the room, her voice unwavering, "Like we discussed before, I will ensure that Drakar is alone, vulnerable. I will strike him down before the Dragonblood Knights can react. Once he is dead, they will follow me and won't care what happened."

The room fell silent for a moment as the plan settled into the minds of the men and women gathered, all of them nodding in agreement, their expressions grim but determined.

"We will make sure to get you to that bastard as fast as possible, Your Majesty!" another leader said fervently, his voice filled with the resolve of a man who had seen too much war to turn back now.

Lysandra gave a curt nod, her lips curling slightly into a cold smile, "We will fight for our people. If we survive this, my kingdom and I will never forget the sacrifices you all have made. Now, let's move forward."

"YAAR!!"

A unified war cry erupted from the group as they dispersed to prepare for the coming battle, their voices echoing through the chamber. But Lysandra lingered for a moment, her gaze scanning the room as a feeling of unease crept into her thoughts. She couldn't shake the feeling that something was off. Where is Rhygar? she thought, her eyes narrowing. He promised to return quickly. Why hasn't he come back yet? Normally, that sick thing would never leave her side, especially not during such a critical moment. n/ô/vel/b//in dot c//om

The whispering sound of soft footsteps drew her attention, and she turned to see a towering woman clad in jet-black armor, step forward. Her crimson cape fluttered slightly behind her as she moved, her presence commanding respect. The middle-aged veteran's eyes gleamed with concern, though there was no hesitation in her demeanor. "Your Majesty, is there something that worries you?" She asked, her voice low and filled with understanding. Her aura was reserved but was boundless enough to make even a low-level Soul Devourer feel helpless before her.

Lysandra's fingers tightened around the hilt of the dagger hidden beneath her cloak. Her lips parted to speak, but before she could respond, the faint hum of her Whisper Stone vibrated against her chest. Her breath caught, and she quickly retrieved it, pressing it to her ear.

"Mother," Rhygar's voice crackled through the stone, the sound of chaos in the background. "I'm back and ready with 5,000 men to ambush his dogs. They're sleeping in their little mansions, and I'm ready to lure him to the place we talked about."

Lysandra's face hardened with a steely resolve, "Wait for my call," she replied, her voice sharp and precise as she placed the Whisper Stone down, glancing at the armored woman beside her.

"It's nothing, Zylandra," she said softly, her tone betraying no sign of concern. "But I appreciate that you decided to stand by me, even breaking your vow. I know how much risk you are taking here."

Zylandra placed her hand over her heart in a gesture of respect, her voice unwavering. "I never broke my vow, Your Majesty," she said, her voice tinged with pride, "I am still following the true ruler of this kingdom—and that is you. A true ruler is someone who cares about our kingdom, and without Agonon's father's and his family's help, I wouldn't be standing here. It might seem like I'm here for revenge, but I only want to see you sit on the throne. I should have acted sooner, but I'm here now. For you."

Lysandra's eyes softened for a moment, a rare flicker of warmth passing through her cold demeanor, "That's okay," she said quietly. "What matters is that you are with me now. But don't interfere unless it is necessary. You are the strongest of the Dragonblood Knights, and you are the only one I trust fully within our kingdom. That is the only reason that I have still hidden your cooperation from others."

Zylandra nodded, her gaze intense as she donned her helmet, "I will wait for your orders, Your Majesty," she said, her voice filled with resolve as she disappeared into the shadows, leaving Lysandra alone once again.

Lysandra stood for a moment, the weight of the task ahead settling on her shoulders. She reached beneath her cloak, retrieving a dagger—its dark red handle adorned with ancient draconic symbols that pulsed with a faint, dark light. She ran her fingers over the blade, her gaze unwavering.

"It's finally time," Lysandra murmured to herself. "And I pray you find solace through his blood."

With a final glance around the chamber, Lysandra stepped into the shadows, disappearing from the chamber.

—

The blood moon hung high in the sky, its eerie red glow casting an unnatural light across the slumbering yet massive Draconis Kingdom. The once-proud spires and towering castles were cloaked in darkness, the streets eerily quiet, as if the city itself held its breath in anticipation of the carnage that was unfolding beneath its silent surface.

The glow from the moon turned everything it touched a sickly shade of crimson, bathing the city in an unsettling, almost unnatural light.

Inside the kingdom's noble mansions and brothels, the peaceful slumber of some of the wealthy was violently interrupted by the sharp hiss of blades cutting through flesh. Muffled sounds echoed within the opulent walls, the cold steel finding its mark with precision, as lives were quietly snuffed out. Noblemen, women, and their servants fell one by one, their final gasps of air barely audible as they collapsed onto luxurious carpets, their blood staining the fine fabrics beneath them.

But outside, there was no hint of the bloodshed. The streets remained untouched by the slaughter taking place behind closed doors. Guards, servants, and bystanders walked past unaware, their lives continuing as if nothing had changed. The chaos within the homes of the kingdom's elite went unnoticed by the world around it.

The only sign of unrest came in the form of Lysandra and her silent, deadly group, moving with purpose, their dark cloaks barely rustling in the night air. They had come for Drakar—and they knew his days were numbered.

-

The cold stone walls of the royal palace felt like a tomb. The corridors were devoid of life, and the only sounds that filled the air were the muffled footsteps of the men in Lysandra's company. They moved swiftly and quietly after coming in through a secret entrance with their queen's guidance, their eyes set on their target. Lysandra's fiery red eyes burned with a deadly, controlled fury. The anticipation of this moment , something she had been waiting for over a century, coursed through her veins, but she didn't let it show.

She wasn't here for a fight—she was here for a reckoning. Remembering the painful events that took place within this very palace only hardened her resolve. There was no turning back now.

The air in the chamber grew colder as they neared a certain chamber. "You little bastard, what is that you wanted to show me in the middle of the night after bringing me here in such secrecy? There is nothing here. You better tell me the truth before I have you flogged a thousand times," Drakar's irritated voice echoed from within followed by Rhygar's trembling voice, "Apologies, Father! Please just give me a few more moments, and it will be here."

Lysandra stopped before the heavy wooden door, her heart steady and her grip tightening around the hilt of her dagger, the dark red handle gleaming in the dim light. She signaled her men to step back, then, with the quiet ease of a seasoned warrior, she thrust the door open with a force that echoed through the room.