The Kingmaker System
Chapter 257 - 256. The Silent Hunt (3)

Chapter 257: 256. The Silent Hunt (3)

Benedict was at a loss for words when he heard me. I let my Dragon’s Presence whip around the room, the energy crackling in the air like a storm barely contained, not even bothering to conceal my intentions. His fear was palpable, rolling off him in waves as he pressed himself against the door, eyes darting for any means of escape.

"Wh-Why... Who sent you?" he stammered, voice shaky but defiant. "The nobles! They sent you, didn’t they?! How dare you! This is the Holy Temple of the Saintess and the Dragons!"

I tilted my head, amused by his desperate attempts to grasp at straws. "I wasn’t sent by anyone, Benedict." My voice was calm, controlled. The way his eyes widened at my tone was almost satisfying.

His hand fumbled with the doorknob, twisting it frantically. When that failed, he pounded on the wood with both fists, the sound echoing hollowly in the empty hallway.

"Y-You won’t get away with this! How dare you break into a High Priest’s room! You’ll be charged with... with a death sentence!" His voice rose in pitch, cracking under the weight of his panic.

I watched him, unbothered. "You’re not royalty, Benedict. I wouldn’t get a death sentence for paying you a little visit." I took a deliberate step forward, watching as he flinched. "Besides, a man destined to die doesn’t need to worry about what comes after. Once you’re dead, everything ends. It’s simple, really."

The color drained from his face, leaving him pale and trembling. His hands scrabbled at the door again, movements growing more erratic. "H-Help! Anyone! There’s an intruder in my room! Is... Is anyone out there?!"

His voice echoed in vain. I didn’t need to glance around to confirm that the wing was empty. My mana senses were sharp, extending outward and detecting every faint presence within the temple. No one was near enough to hear his pathetic cries. He was alone. Trapped.

I pushed off the windowsill, my steps slow and deliberate as I approached him. His back pressed harder against the door, as if willing it to absorb him and offer an escape. His mouth opened again, ready to scream, but the weight of my Presence bore down on him, stealing the breath from his lungs.

My Dragon’s Presence pressed heavier on his chest, tightening around his throat like an invisible noose, suffocating him with each strained breath he managed to take. The fear in his eyes was unmistakable, the desperation growing as he tried, and failed, to muster any semblance of control.

"Want to scream?" I asked, my voice low and deadly, as I stood over him, watching his every trembling movement. His body was trembling with the effort to fight against the mounting pressure, each second dragging him closer to the brink of collapse.

His eyes widened, panic consuming him as his knees buckled, and he sank to the floor in front of me. He struggled to remain upright, but the weight of my Presence made that impossible.

"Sp-Spare me... Please..." he managed to gasp, voice weak and pleading, barely able to push the words through his clenched throat.

I looked down at him, my gaze as sharp as a blade, cold and merciless. "Would you have forgiven me if I had tortured your beloved child?" I asked, the words deliberate, each one landing like a strike to his already battered psyche.

His confused, desperate expression told me all I needed to know—he had no idea who or what I was truly referring to. The tension in his body spoke volumes of his mounting terror.

"Sa-Saintess’s... teachings... are of forgiveness!" he sputtered, his voice cracking under the weight of fear.

I scoffed, "Forgiveness, my foot," I sneered, my voice low and venomous. "Haven’t you seen what Dragons do to those who cross them?"

My eyes narrowed as I swung my leg in a swift, brutal arc, landing a solid kick to his side. The force sent him sprawling to the floor with a guttural groan. He writhed, desperate and disoriented, crawling away in a futile bid for escape.

With cold precision, I brought my foot down on his ankle, the satisfying crunch of bone shattering echoed through the room. His body convulsed as he opened his mouth, ready to unleash a scream—but I was faster. My hand clamped down over his mouth, silencing him as the distant sound of footsteps echoed in the hallway.

Without hesitation, I seized the back of his head and slammed it against the wall. A dull, sickening thud resounded as a dark stain of blood bloomed across the pale surface. The scent of iron filled the air, mingling with the tension that pulsed like a living thing.

Benedict’s eyes, bloodshot and wide with terror, met mine. He struggled to form words, his lips trembling.

"Wh-Who... is your... child?" he croaked, his voice barely above a whisper.

"The boy whom you call the Saint," I replied, my tone cold and unyielding. The color drained from his face, leaving him ashen and hollow.

"S-Saint?" he stammered, disbelief etched into every feature.

"Yes," I said, my gaze never wavering. "My child, whom you picked up from the black market and are now parading as your Saint."

His jaw fell open, his eyes widening to the point that I briefly wondered if they would fall from their sockets before I had the chance to claw them out.

"Ho-How do you..." His voice faltered, his mind clearly struggling to comprehend the reality before him.

"I am that child’s parent," I said firmly, my voice cutting through his confusion like a blade. "I know he wasn’t found at your so-called holy place."

His lips trembled as understanding dawned. "Tha-That day at the parade... You came to get your son back..." His voice was barely audible, more a breath than a statement, as if recognizing me at last.

"Yes," I confirmed, my eyes narrowing. "I didn’t expect to see him there, but it turns out he was caught up in something nasty."

The words dripped with cold fury as I closed the distance between us. Gripping the front of his hair, I yanked his head back, forcing him to meet my gaze. He whimpered, the sound pitiful and broken, tears streaming down his bloodied face. His body trembled, a pathetic contrast to the smug confidence he’d exuded earlier.

Tears streamed down Benedict’s face as he grasped at my trousers, his fingers trembling with desperation. His voice was hoarse and cracked, barely holding together as he pleaded.

"Please... Spare me... I beg for forgiveness... Please..."

I stared down at him, my gaze cold and unforgiving. "Are you really thinking I’d let you live after you’ve been torturing him so much?" My voice was low, carrying the weight of a threat that left no room for doubt.

"I-I didn’t... I didn’t do anything... I! I was merely... following orders!" His words spilled out in a frantic rush, his eyes darting around the room as if searching for an escape that didn’t exist.

"Whose orders?" I demanded, my voice cutting through the air like a blade. He swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing nervously.

"H-His Holiness..." he stammered, barely getting the words out.

I scoffed, narrowing my eyes. "You’re telling me that easily? You think I’ll be fooled?"

"It’s the truth!" he shouted, desperation ringing in his voice. Before he could say another word, I gripped his face, slamming the back of his head against the wall once more. The impact sent a fresh spray of blood across the surface, a web of crimson cracks spreading outward like fractured glass.

His eyes fluttered, dazed and unfocused. I could see consciousness slipping away from him, but I wasn’t done yet. Releasing a controlled burst of my power, I healed his head just enough to keep him lucid.

"Fine, I believe you," I said, my tone icy, "but then again, why is he suffering so much despite being your Saint?"

"I-I didn’t..." His voice trailed off, his body sagging against the wall. He blinked, as though trying to make sense of his surroundings.

"Stay awake," I growled. "You’re not getting out of this conversation."

But his body seemed to be giving up, slumping against the wall as his eyes fluttered shut. I released an exasperated sigh, frustration simmering beneath the surface. Reaching out, I allowed a controlled pulse of power to flow into him, healing only the bare minimum to keep him conscious. His ragged breathing evened out slightly, and his eyes flickered open, glazed with pain but alert enough.

"I’m not done with you yet," I said coldly. "I want answers first."

His head snapped up, and he blinked rapidly to clear the haze. "I... I was against it from the beginning... I wanted the boy to be presented to the people in his real form..." He gulped, his gaze flickering over me as if assessing whether he should continue.

"So that the people would see your power as absolute," I finished for him, my voice laden with disdain.

He nodded quickly. "Y-Yes. I-I thought if they knew... if they saw him for what he truly is, it would elevate our standing. But His Holiness... He needed to keep control. That’s why he—"

"That’s why he shackled my child like an animal and locked him in a dark cell." My words were laced with venom, each one striking him with the force of a lash. His entire body trembled, his face drained of all color.

"Ye-Yes..." His voice was barely audible, a pitiful whisper.

I chuckled darkly, stepping back as I ran a hand through my hair. The hood slipped from my head, revealing my bright blue hair, which caught the breeze blowing through the open window, shimmering like liquid sapphire.

Benedict’s eyes widened further, his expression shifting from terror to something bordering on reverence. "Y-You... Are you also a... Th-There is no doubt... That... That pressure I felt, and even... your presence itself..." His voice wavered, filled with awe and fear in equal measure.

I frowned, tilting my head slightly. "What?" I asked, irritation threading through my voice.

He dropped his gaze to the floor, as if unworthy to meet my eyes. Then, with a tremor that rattled his entire frame, he whispered the words that almost knocked the breath from my lungs.

"Are you... also a descendant of Dragons?"