A Game Of Chess With A Vampire
Chapter 322: She Can’t Be That Weak!

Chapter 322: She Can’t Be That Weak!

Aldéric lowered his head to look at his suit, which had been cut open. This made him realize that even though he had relatively dodged on time, he could have taken some serious damage if he wasn’t so fortunate.

Three uses of his ability! Seven more to go! But seeing as he had no intention to use up his seven remaining chances, he stood on using just five, meaning he had only two uses left.

"How did you predict my attack, young master? I am curious." He began to walk in circles.

Draven cocked an eyebrow. "Don’t speak to me." His tone was filled with nothing but hate and disgust.

This actually had Aldéric coming to a momentary stop. He frowned, displeased by Draven’s attitude. "You are cocky, Your Highness, I don’t like cocky people. Now, I just want to kill you even more!"

With that, Aldéric disappeared.

Draven’s eyes vigilantly darted around. For some reason, his precognition wasn’t kicking in. Does this mean Aldéric wasn’t going to attack yet? Where was he?

He frowned and took a deep breath to compose himself. He looked to his left, but before he could glimpse his right, his precognition kicked in. However, it appeared to have come in too late because Aldéric had emerged in the flicker of an eye, thus landing a hit on Draven.

Draven rapidly staggered back, hurrying away from him. He lowered his head and touched his belly to realize that he was bleeding. Aldéric had successfully slit his stomach, and it was quite deep because it’d hurt like hell.

His eyes twitched uncontrollably in pain, and he spurted out a mouthful of blood the moment he felt a good amount of blood rush to his throat.

"Do you want me to tell you something, young master?" Aldéric smirked.

Draven looked at him with a darkened expression. Something was wrong—he could feel it. His body was starting to become weak at a rapid speed, which wasn’t supposed to be. Aldéric had only wounded him, and even though it was deep, it was not enough to render him weak.

"You must have noticed by now." Aldéric chuckled. "You see, these fingers of mine..."

He began to approach Draven. "...were properly smeared with a lethal poison that takes less than twenty seconds to kill. First, it makes you weak, paralyzing you. Then, you will begin to cry in agony because it is painful. Yes, it is very painful!"

The audience gasped at this information. Old Master Lenort, on the other hand, smiled, amused. Lumian nervously gripped the armrest of his chair, suddenly losing hope that Draven would even survive it. If he had known about the poison, he would have told Valentine about it.

Speaking of Valentine... Lumian quickly whipped his head to his side to glimpse Valentine. His eyes broadened at the sight of Valentine, who sat still with heavily dilated pupils, as though he’d seen a ghost.

His chest was rising and falling in heavy breathing, and it looked as though he could collapse any moment from then.

He wanted to go to him—to help him, but he was afraid that their father would begin to question and suspect him. He had no other choice but to look away.

Avelina slowly blinked. "D-Draven..." Her heart skipped a beat as fear washed all over her.

Aldéric came to a stop in front of Draven, who had fallen to his knees due to his weakened system. His vision was becoming blurry, and it felt as though he would collapse anytime soon. His skin had become as pale as paper, and a darkish color had settled under his eyes, confirming the speed at which the poison was spreading through his body.

"Just as I’d stated to myself, young master, I was only going to use my ability five times before I took you down. Come to think of it, I actually did." He harshly gripped Draven by his hair, tilting his head back and forcing him to look at him. "You aren’t being cocky anymore, why?"

"Tsk, it’d really gotten on my nerves, you know. And that is why I’m going to kill you right here, right now," he whispered into his ears.

Draven already saw him stab into his belly with his sharp fingers through his ability of precognition, but he couldn’t do anything due to his paralyzed body.

Am I going to die like this? Draven abruptly chortled, mocking himself. Surely not after surviving and coming this far, right?

He shifted his eyes, exhaling a deep breath the second he felt Aldéric’s hand penetrate his abdomen, severely and brutally injuring him.

He spurted out a mouthful of blood and calmly breathed, unwilling to die just yet.

Avelina... Was the only one he could think of at that moment. If he died, what would happen to her? He was sure they would hurt her.

Ah, he would never forgive himself, not even in death. He cannot possibly die without giving her freedom. Not without taking her home safely and making sure she’d lived her life properly.

He can’t possibly be the death of her. What would they say?

"DRAVEN!!" his name was suddenly clamored from atop the high platform.

That voice! snapped him out of his senses, causing him to forcefully turn his head in the direction the voice came from.

There at the high platform, Avelina was struggling to jump off—to run and come to him, but the royal guards whom Old Master Lenort had given an order were forcefully pulling her back.

Their grip on her was so tight that she could feel them crushing her bones. But regardless, she didn’t care. She didn’t have time to think about the pain because all she desired to do at that moment was to reach Draven and protect him.

True, she was weak compared to these creatures, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t going to try. She could not possibly sit and watch the only man she’d ever loved die before her eyes. She can’t be that weak.