A Game Of Chess With A Vampire
Chapter 408: Demon!!

Chapter 408: Demon!!

But Prince was unmoving. He was...dead.

Old Master Lenort smirked at this. "Oh...he’s dead. That was quite fast. But I suppose I did do a number on him." He burst into laughter, chortling to his heart’s content.

Draven’s body shook, his head rising.

"Prince...? Avelina...?" he called, but none of them answered him. Avelina, on the other hand, seemed to have lost consciousness.

Draven’s tone was utterly devoid of emotion. There was no plea, no heartbreak, but just emptiness in his tone. He turned his head in the direction Old Master Lenort stood.

"You killed them," he mumbled.

Old Master Lenort gave the nastiest smile. "Yes, I did. Are you going to fight?" he asked, taunting him with a mirth in his voice.

No response came from Draven. He rather knelt there, uttering not even a single word.

Old Master Lenort cocked an eyebrow, wondering what exactly he could possibly be thinking. Was he finally giving up? Was he going to kill himself finally? Although that was quite useless. There was still a good amount of poison in his system, and it was only a matter of a few minutes before he would die.

Struggling was useless anyway.

Old Master Lenort chuckled softly, genuinely amused. He walked over to him, squatting down to his height. Taking a deep breath, he said, "You know, I’m not exactly enjoying this as much as I hoped to. Seeing you in this state isn’t really giving me the satisfaction I crave."

"I suppose I can only acquire such a feeling when you finally die. So for that, I’m going to do you the favor and—"

All the chains on Draven suddenly came off, dropping to the floor with a heavy thud.

"H-huh?" Old Master Lenort was confused, watching as Draven stood up to his feet.

Darkness, utter darkness, was oozing from him. His nails—no, claws, much bigger than the average vampire nails, were glistening under the burning light in the room.

Atop his head was one sharpened horn, and his elongated fangs were pressing against his bottom lip.

"Demon!" Old Master Lenort screamed. "I knew it! I knew it; you were the devil’s son! I knew it all along, and everyone thought I was crazy."

Indeed, Old Master Lenort was right. Draven was the devil’s son. The night Erewada was to give birth, the devil himself had sent his son into the earth, forcing Erewada to give birth to the child without her knowing.

It was the reason for the odd happenings on the night of the delivery, such as why it had been stated that he was the son of the devil and Old Master Lenort was set on killing him.

Though Old Master Lenort formed the physical body of the child, Draven’s true father was the devil himself. And the devil was none other than the man in the cloak whom Draven had met back there at Old Master Lenort’s birthday.

It was as if he’d been watching over him. But why? Why was he monitoring him?

"Ryan, run!! Leave this mansion, right—" Old Master Lenort hadn’t even finished his words when Draven appeared before Ryan in the blink of an eye.

He gripped him by the throat, slamming his head into the wall. All this he was doing with nothing but instincts, despite being blind.

He continued smashing Ryan’s head against the wall until he had no voice to even scream anymore. To finish him off, Draven punched his stomach with his claws, killing him just like Old Master Lenort did Prince.

Ryan’s body plummeted to the floor, and he spared one last glance at the frightened Old master Lenort, before breathing his last.

Old Master Lenort breathed heavily, his chest heaving up and down in what one would call severe fear.

Draven turned his head in his direction, and slowly but steadily, he began to approach him. Old Master Lenort shook furiously, immediately beginning to back away, hoping for somewhere to crawl into and hide.

"Stay away from me!!! Stay away from me, you devil!" he shouted at Draven, but Draven paid him no heed and continued to advance toward him.

"If you come any closer to me, I’ll kill you!!" he threatened, pulling out the knife he’d given Draven before to kill himself with. It was a holy water-infused knife, and if he truly managed to stab Draven with it, he could possibly kill him.

"I’m not sure you would want to do that," an unfamiliar voice suddenly sounded.

Old Master Lenort quickly turned his head in the direction the voice was coming from, only to see a man seated with his legs crossed, his head tilted, and a fisted hand supporting his head. He had long, dark hair stopping just at shoulder length, red eyes, and a height just like Draven.

An amused smile was plastered on his face, as though he were enjoying what he was witnessing.

Old Master Leonort flickered his eyes, confused and startled. Who was he? How did he even get into the royal mansion? Why was he there?

Draven turned his head in the direction the unknown man was seated, his hands falling to his sides. The presence felt like one he’d been in before. His mind was going back to the ceremony where Old Master Lenort celebrated his birthday. That was where he felt he’d met the presence in the room.

"Who...are you?" he mumbled.

The man shifted his attention to him, a wide smile spreading across his face. His red pupils glimmered, and with eyes that crinkled along with his smile, he said, "Hello, son!"

—

"Let go of me!! Let me go!!" Ava, who was being pulled away from the royal mansion by Lucien, struggled, begging. "Please let go of me, Lucien. I can’t...I can’t feel him anymore. I can’t feel Prince anymore! Please let go of me. Something is wrong, and I know it. Please let me save him, I have to save him!"

But Lucien shook her head at her, unwilling.