Dragon King's Harem Chapter 459. Hollow
Dragon King's Harem Chapter 459. Hollow
His breathing was rough. Shallow. One hand pressed to his side where I stabbed him, fingers slick with blood he couldn’t stop. Cedric stayed on his knees, the sword slipping from his grip, clattering uselessly against the stone. Frost bloomed weakly under him with each labored exhale, but the chill no longer held the bite of a king’s wrath—just the remnants of what he used to be.
Around us, the wind howled through the arena. The arena guards stood frozen outside the ward, waiting. Watching. No one dared move.
Except them.
A commotion flared beyond the wards. Voices. Screams. A rush of panicked footfalls against the marble walkways that overlooked the combat ground. I turned my head slightly and saw it.
Cedric’s loyalists. A handful of them.
Still armored, still clinging to old loyalties like they’d mean something now.
And they weren’t coming for me.
They were sprinting—straight toward the altar.
The Queen.
I was too far to reach in time. And I knew it.
But she wasn’t a sitting duck.
Her eyes narrowed like blades drawn in silence, and the faint glow of her magic pulsed around her fingertips. She didn’t even reach for a weapon—she was the weapon. Her mana flared in an instant, violet threads weaving around her body like coiled silk, sharp and alive.
They came at her fast. One of them roared, blade drawn, expecting hesitation—maybe fear.
He got neither.
Maria extended a single finger. “Fall.”
A shockwave of Ice magic burst from her like a pulse of gravity, slamming two of the attackers backward into the balustrade. Another tried to rush her blind, slipping through the edge of her spell radius—desperate, blade raised high—
And then it happened.
The toe ring.
The one Jyne gave her.
A crystal embedded in its center suddenly flared—blinding white light lanced out in a perfect radius around her ankle, like a miniature sun had ignited. The attacker never touched her.
He hit the invisible wall of force mid-swing, and for a second his body froze mid-air.
Then—boom—he was hurled back with such violence, he spun three times before crashing to the arena floor like a broken doll.
The others froze, confused.
That was their mistake.
Al was already moving.
I didn’t even see when he shifted back into his witch form. One moment, he’d been quietly watching from the shadows like some phantom courtier, and the next—he towered over the chaos, tall and unnatural. Robes fluttering with invisible wind, black claws gleaming like obsidian, and eyes glowing faint violet like twin curses given shape.
Elven guards—those not aligned with Cedric—mistook him for a threat and charged. Brave. Loyal. But foolish.
He didn’t hurt them.
He just raised a clawed hand and etched a circle in the air—black mana shimmered, old and foul, and a barrier snapped into place between him and the guards. They slammed against it like flies against glass, magic crackling around their bodies as they dropped, dazed but alive.
Al’s attention wasn’t on them anyway.
His gaze drifted… to the far right. Where the delegations sat.
Or used to sit.
Most of them had fled.
Cowards.
Their seats now sat empty, scrolls and drinks and silks abandoned in haste. All except for one figure.
The Witch King.
Still lounging in his seat. Still sipping from his glass. Unbothered.
Al’s eyes narrowed.
Even through the noise—the betrayal, the fading combat, the Queen’s barrier flaring in defense—I could feel that tension between them. Thick. Silent. Personal.
But I had my own score to finish.
I stepped closer to Cedric, the edge of my boot crunching ice and blood as I circled around to face him. He didn’t flinch. Didn’t crawl away. He just… tilted his head up, eyes meeting mine with that same old defiance, even if it was cracked at the edges now.
I stared at him for a second.
Then asked the question I already knew the answer to.
“Do you know your wrongs?”
He snorted, a bitter sound through clenched teeth. “Wrong? No. I only claimed what should’ve been mine. Unlike you. Who just takes…”
I tilted my head, eyes narrowing. “Takes? Is that what you think this is?”
He coughed. Blood hit his lips, but he smiled—gods, he smiled. “You take. You always take. From the outside. From above. Just like your father.”
I stepped closer, blade still lowered, but my voice—my voice turned cold.
“I earned everything I have. I bled for it. Fought for it. Buried pieces of myself along the way just to make sure I wouldn’t turn into men like you.” I leaned forward, locking eyes with him. “You don’t get to call that taking.”
He opened his mouth, but I didn’t let him speak yet.
“You think I wanted to get dragged into this mess? Into your kingdom’s sickness? Into your broken pride and games of blood and control?” I shook my head, almost laughing, but there was no humor in it. “I don’t give a damn about your throne. I don’t even want your land.”I looked him dead in the eye.
“But I stepped in… because she came to me. And she asked for help.”
He didn’t answer right away.
Instead, his eyes shifted.
To her.
Maria.
She was standing tall near the shattered steps. She hadn’t run. Hadn’t flinched. Her gown was torn near the hem, her toe ring crystal still faintly glowing. Her breathing came slow. Controlled. The kind that only came from someone who’d fought before.
Cedric looked at her.
She looked at him.
But not like a lover. Not even an enemy.
Just… hollow.
She turned her gaze away without a word.
His smile twisted.
“I fought for her,” he said. “I gave everything for her. And she hates me.”
I didn’t blink. “You made her son a bargaining chip.”
He laughed. A small, broken sound. “It was… the only card I had left.”
“And you used it on a child.”
He didn’t deny it.
I looked down at him. The blood. The frost. The cracks in his armor and in his pride.
I could’ve ended it there.
But I let one more beat pass. Just one.
Then I raised my hand.