The Kingmaker System
Chapter 273 - 272. Fragmented Truths (1)

Chapter 273: 272. Fragmented Truths (1)

"I’ll have one of the men here bring you to the Temple. Until then, stay here." I told Asher.

I lifted the weight of my Dragon’s Presence from him, watching as he greedily inhaled the now-lighter air. His chest heaved, but his gaze remained fixed on me, defiant yet betraying something else—hesitation, or perhaps a primal unease he couldn’t fully suppress.

"Why are you going against the Temple? Even if you are strong, you won’t be able to do much," Asher said, his voice steady, but his body betrayed him—his fists clenched tightly, his shoulders tense, and his eyes darting ever so slightly toward the exit as though calculating his chances of escape.

I smirked. "Humans don’t really understand unless they see the whole picture, do they?"

"What do you mean?" he asked, his voice lowering, but there was a slight edge to it—a subconscious recognition of the predator in front of him.

I stepped closer, slowly, deliberately, watching as his muscles stiffened with every step. He wasn’t moving, but I could see it—the subtle, involuntary flinch of his fingers, the faint trembling in his legs. His instincts screamed at him to run, yet his pride kept him rooted.

I leaned in closer, my pupils shifting into slits, the glowing blue rings around them casting an eerie light on his pale face. His breathing hitched, and I saw it—the moment his primal instincts took over. His pupils dilated, his pulse quickened, and his entire body froze as though caught in the gaze of a predator.

"I am no human, brat," I said, my voice a low, dangerous growl. "I have all the authority, along with the power, to destroy this kingdom for angering me."

The beads of sweat forming on his forehead were visible now, and his breathing was shallow. Despite his fear, his jaw clenched stubbornly. "Wh-What are you?"

I smirked, leaning back just enough to give him room to breathe but not enough to ease the tension. "Try and make a guess, human. What am I?"

He hesitated, his mind racing. His intuition screamed at him to submit, to lower his gaze and avoid provoking me further. But his pride wouldn’t let him. Instead, he forced himself to speak, his voice trembling but defiant.

"If you’re so powerful, why resort to kidnapping and manipulation? Shouldn’t you be able to fix this on your own?"

The corner of my lips twitched, amused by his audacity. Even when his instincts told him to cower, he still clung to his misplaced courage.

"You have a sharp tongue for someone in no position to question me."

"I don’t care about positions," he shot back, his voice faltering slightly but growing louder as though trying to convince himself. "If you’re so determined to act like a savior, then why let the Saint suffer in the first place? Why now?"

I straightened, crossing my arms as I regarded him coldly. His words, though bold, were driven by the desperation of a man who felt trapped.

"You humans and your limited understanding," I said, my tone dripping with disdain. "Do you think I owe you an explanation? That I act on your timeline?"

His breathing quickened again, his body rigid with the effort to suppress the primal instinct to flee. "You don’t owe me anything," he said finally, his voice quieter now but laced with anger. "But you owe it to the Saint. You owe it to him for the pain he’s endured while you played whatever game you’re playing now."

My eyes narrowed, and I leaned down again, letting the full weight of my presence bear down on him once more. He tensed immediately, his primal instincts kicking in with the force of a tidal wave.

"You better follow my orders, Asher Lewington," I said coldly, "or you shall face the same fate as the Pope and others."

His body trembled under the weight of my aura, his defiance crumbling as his instincts screamed louder than his pride.

Without waiting for a response, I turned on my heel and left the room, satisfied with the silence I left in my wake.

As I descended the staircase, I pulled the black cloth mask over the lower half of my face, concealing my identity. In the lobby below, Lyall waited for me, his posture rigid, his piercing eyes meeting mine.

He inclined his head slightly before falling into step beside me.

"What about the news?" I asked.

"The news has been spread as per your orders, Master." He responded, his voice low and measured.

I nodded, my pace brisk and unwavering. The air in the underground corridor was damp and heavy, the faint scent of stone and iron lingering. Each step echoed ominously as I absorbed Lyall’s report.

The rumors had spread like wildfire—carefully curated by my network. The kingdom was ablaze with speculation: the disappearance of the Pope and the Saint, the drying up of the Holy Lake, and the testimonies of the Templar knights who claimed the Saintess had been abducted by a Dragon.

The masses were in a frenzy, fear rippling through the kingdom like an unstoppable tempest. Even the king, with all his influence, was paralyzed, powerless to control the chaos.

Time was short, and the stage was set. Every move I made now had to be precise, calculated, and decisive. There was no room for hesitation. The foundation of this kingdom would crumble under the weight of its own lies, and I would make sure it began with the Pope.

Marvoni Venil was in the dark, damp, and filthy cell, its air heavy with the stench of mildew and despair. The setting was eerily familiar, a grim reflection of the place I had seen in my vision where the child was once confined. But this time, it wasn’t the child who occupied the cell.

The Pope sat in the center, his once-imposing figure now slumped, his arms shackled high above his head while his feet were bound to the cold stone floor. His white robes, now soiled and torn, hung loosely on his frail frame.

As I stepped inside, his head lifted, and his bloodshot eyes locked onto me, burning with venomous fury.

"You seem well," I remarked, my voice calm, almost mocking.

His glare sharpened, his expression twisted with hate. "You fiend!" he spat, his voice hoarse yet seething with rage. "How dare you keep me here like this? You shall suffer—you will face the wrath of the heavens!"

I chuckled softly, the sound echoing ominously in the confines of the cell. Crossing my arms, I took a deliberate step closer, letting my gaze bore into his.

"The wrath of the heavens?" I repeated, tilting my head slightly. "Do you think the heavens still look favorably upon you, Marvoni?"

His face contorted, a mixture of indignation and fear flashing in his eyes. "You know nothing!" he hissed. "I am the voice of the divine! What I do, I do for the will of the gods!"

He began shouting, his voice grating against my ears, and I sighed, scratching my ear in irritation before stepping forward and swinging my leg. The impact of my boot against his side sent him crashing to the filthy floor. His howl echoed through the damp cell as he coughed and groaned, curling in on himself.

"You—You—"

"I haven’t brought you here to listen to your nonsense," I said coldly, cutting him off. "You’re here to answer my questions."

His defiant glare sharpened as he snarled, "I shall die before I say anything!"

I sighed again, feigning boredom as I stepped closer. My eyes dropped to his shackled ankles, the heavy chains biting into his skin, and an unbidden image of the child flashed in my mind. The same chains, the same weight.

"You put cuffs like these on the child’s ankles too, didn’t you?" I asked, my voice laced with venom.

He frowned, his confusion genuine—or perhaps feigned. "What in the devil are you talking about?"

Without hesitation, I brought my boot down on his ankle with a sharp, satisfying crack. His scream tore through the silence, bloodcurdling and raw, as he writhed in agony.

I watched him squirm, his body jerking as he screamed profanities at me, before grabbing a fistful of his hair and yanking his head up so we were face-to-face. His pained eyes glared up at me, but the fear brewing behind them was unmistakable.

"I’m not done, Marvoni," I said, my tone ice-cold and steady. "There are 206 bones in the human body. I’ll break every single one if you don’t start answering my questions. And I’ll make sure to take my time, just as you made that child suffer."

He gritted his teeth, trembling from the pain but refusing to yield. "Wh-Who are you? You—you will die for this! I will kill you with my own hands!"

A chuckle escaped my lips as I tightened my grip on his hair, forcing him to look directly into my glowing eyes. "A human is nothing before me," I said with calm certainty.

His voice wavered, yet his defiance lingered. "I—I shall—"

I interrupted him with a backhanded slap across his face. The force of it snapped his head to the side. Without giving him a chance to recover, I let loose a flurry of punches and kicks, my strikes precise and unrelenting. His body crumpled under the assault, his grunts and cries of pain filling the room until he lay in a near-unconscious state.

Once his head lolled and his breaths turned shallow, I placed my hand over his chest, muttering the incantation for a healing spell. Warm light enveloped his broken form, knitting his fractured bones together just enough to keep him awake.

His wide eyes snapped open, staring at me in disbelief. "Y-You’re a healer!" he gasped, horrified.

I smirked, leaning down to meet his gaze. "No," I corrected, my voice like steel. "I am the scion of the one who was the origin of Healing and Purification."

The weight of my words settled over him, his disbelief written all over his face. His eyes widened to the point where they might have fallen out of their sockets if I didn’t scoop them out first.

"Y-You’re lying!" he stammered, a desperate laugh escaping him. "It can’t be true. You—you can’t be a—"

"You can sense the extent of a human’s mana, can’t you?" I interrupted, a smirk tugging at the corners of my lips. "Have you ever tried sensing the extent of a Dragon’s mana?"

His body froze as fear began seeping into his features. Before he could reply, I gripped his face, letting my raw mana flow into him. The pure, unfiltered energy surged through his being like a tidal wave, overwhelming every nerve in his body.

The effect was immediate. His screams reached an inhuman pitch as his body convulsed under the sheer intensity. Dragon’s mana wasn’t something a human could endure—it was too vast, too powerful, too destructive. It felt like being crushed under the weight of ten tsunami waves crashing simultaneously, threatening to shatter his very existence.

As his eyes rolled back and his body slackened, I released his face and cast another healing spell, reviving him before he could succumb to unconsciousness.

"Get up, Marvoni," I said, my voice eerily calm. "You still have a lot of pain to go through."