A Game Of Chess With A Vampire
Chapter 319: What’s The Problem?

Chapter 319: What’s The Problem?

Upon arrival, the chauffeur stepped down from the car and opened the door. He bowed his head, his hand politely extended.

Aurora was the first to get down, and Avelina followed suit.

They raised their heads, gazing at the grand building. With a deep breath exiting their noses, they began to advance towards the entrance door. The royal guard who stood there opened the door, gesturing them in.

Aurora gave a light smile, her hand protectively securing Avelina’s hand. She walked her in, and they strode toward a huge red double door. They needn’t be told to know that this was the door that leads into the tournament hall—the hell where the duel would be taking place.

Avelina came to a stop, her eyes stretching all the way to where Old Master Lenort sat with Lilith beside him. Next to them was the rest of the main family, exempting Ryan and Draven. The others were new faces but she could tell that they were relatives to the Delgaard family and this was because they all had a striking resemblance.

In the center of this hall was a huge ring, a bit propped up from the floor, so that if one accidentally fell off the ring, they would be sure to break a bone or something. The platforms where the guests were seated were very high, so it was not at all a problem to be able to glimpse what was happening in the ring.

"Come." Aurora pulled her along with her, and they proceeded around from behind to meet Old Master Lenort.

In unison, they dipped in curtsy and took their repetitive seats once Old Master Lenort acknowledged them.

The tension in the air was palpable. Never in history had two siblings challenged each other to a duel—a death one at that. It sure was indeed a sight worth witnessing. Who would win? The potential heir to the throne or the son rumored to be nothing more than a devil’s son? A man whom the civilians fear!

The first to appear on the ring were twelve royal guards, all holding no weapon. This left the audience in deep confusion. Why were there twelve men in the ring and not the first prince and the third prince? What was going on?

Old Master Lenort smirked from where he was seated. According to his plan, the twelve men were meant to fight Draven first and wear him out. Then, when it was Aldéric and Ryan’s turn, they would be one hundred percent sure to kill him.

Softly, he exhaled, standing up from his seat.

"Welcome everyone! It is but a pleasure to have you all hear." He smiled. "Since there is nothing left to say, I shall declare the duel begins!" he announced.

A round of heavy applause resounded in the entire hall, attesting to the audience’s unmatchable excitement.

Avelina, from where she sat, breathed heavily. The more she watched, the more reality dawned on her. Draven was really going to be fighting these bulky royal guards.

"Eh, where is the third prince?" one of the audience members inquired of his comrade.

The latter sneered. "Who knows? Perhaps he’d chickened out."

And just like that, murmurs began to spread among the crowd.

Avelina tightened her grip on the armrest of her chair. The tension in the air was leaving her nauseous, thus leading her to stand up and attempt to exit the hall and catch a bit of fresh air. However, before she could leave, a certain familiar presence occupied the hall.

The murmurs died down a bit too quickly as everyone including Avelina herself turned her head to look at the door which had a bridge that led straight into the ring. Her heart skipped a bit.

Of course, she would recognize that presence even in her dreams. It was none other than Draven.

There at the door, he stood, wearing nothing but his white shirt, white pressed trousers, and white gloves, covering his pale hands. His hair was wrapped up in a slightly loose man bun, causing a few strands to fall right over his face and his glasses.

But what caught the attention of the audience and Avelina was the scythe that was in his tight grip.

A scythe? Why a scythe? He couldn’t possibly use that to fight, could he? That was a grim reaper’s weapon. Why would he want to use it?

As vampires, their sharp, long nails and fangs were enough of a weapon. They never required an extra.

Draven raised his scarlet eyes, his gaze stretching far to halt on Avelina. From there, he could sense her worry and fear. He’d wished he could tell her it was alright as though he’d expected his father wasn’t going to allow the duel to be a normal one.

He needed her to calm down, but he had no way to do so, thus, all he could do was simply smile at her.

He strode towards the ring and stepped inside, standing at the center. The royal guards surrounded him vigilantly. With the edge of his eyes, Draven scrutinized each and every one of them

"Five!...Four!...Three!...Two!...One!" the announcer counted down. "May the duel...BEGIN!!!"

None of the royal guards were moving. They were waiting for him to make the first move.

Draven grinned maliciously, the blade of his scythe glistening under the bright light of the chandelier. He asked, "Are you afraid?" He threw his head back, revealing his eyes that brimmed with nothing but bloodlust.

He’d burned to kill—to eliminate each and every single one of them. He’d come prepared.

Avelina could feel it—she could feel the change in his character, his burning desire to kill. She’d never seen or sensed this side of him. He was like a totally different person, just with those few words and a dark aura.

Old Master Lenort scoffed, tightening his fist.

"What’s the problem? Aren’t you all meant to..." Draven began to take a step toward one of them. "... Fight me?"