The Kingmaker System
Chapter 279 - 278. Players And Pawns (3)

Chapter 279: 278. Players And Pawns (3)

After the meeting, the nobles began to file out one by one, each offering their parting respects to the King and Damon.

Damon and I made our way toward the grand entrance of the palace, our steps echoing in the long corridors.

"Why wasn’t I informed of this new man in the palace?" I demanded, my voice low but edged with an undercurrent of irritation.

"Please forgive me, Master. That man... he has been living in the palace since the banquet a couple of months ago. I didn’t see how that would be significant," Damon explained, his tone apologetic but tinged with the hint of unease I’d come to expect from him.

"Every damn tiny thing is important, Damon," I sneered, my eyes narrowing as I watched him flinch. The tension in my chest made my pulse quicken. There was always more to the story—there always was.

"I’m sorry," he muttered again, clearly flustered.

I exhaled sharply, running a hand through my hair in frustration. The situation, though still precarious, was slowly falling into place. I had more pieces now, more clarity, and that was a small victory.

Just as I thought that, a presence I hadn’t expected brushed against my senses—dark, suffocating, like the air had thickened. A cold void. I turned instinctively, sensing it even before I heard the footsteps.

"Your Grace!" Zale called out, his voice smooth but carrying an unsettling undertone.

Damon and I turned to face him. Zale was walking toward us with a casual, almost practiced grace, his smile wide and serpent-like, as though he were unfurling his fangs. He stopped before us, his eyes glinting with a strange, predatory amusement.

"Apologies, I didn’t mean to stop you, but I was truly intrigued by your plan. Using a fake Dragon, and then... announcing the possibility of fighting a real one if the need arises," he continued, his tone laced with mock sincerity.

His gaze flickered to me, lingering just a moment longer than necessary, amusement dancing in his eyes. His pupils—slit-shaped and shimmering with an unnatural glow—sent an icy chill down my spine. Something was off. I couldn’t place it, but my instincts screamed that Zale was not as he seemed.

I watched him carefully, noting the way his presence seemed to distort the very air around us. A low hum thrummed in the air, like a silent pressure—something suppressing the mana in the vicinity. Was he carrying an anti-mana device, or was it something else entirely? His presence... it was wrong. I knew it wasn’t Aura because I knew how that felt, it wasn’t mana but it still seemed like the other side of the coin but what Zale had seemed different, way different.

What was I missing here?

Still, I kept my expression neutral, though every muscle in my body screamed to distance myself from him. Damon stood by my side, as always, but I could see his discomfort as he glanced between us.

"Your interest is appreciated, Lord Turquoise," Damon replied, though his tone was more guarded now, "but we’re not here for idle speculation. As you well know, the situation is delicate, and there is much at stake."

Zale’s smile didn’t waver, but there was a flicker of something darker in his eyes—an unreadable depth. He stepped closer, as though closing the distance between us was a game he intended to win. I could almost feel the pressure in the air intensify, as though he were testing something.

"Of course, Your Grace," he said softly, his voice dropping an octave. "But I must admit, I can’t help but wonder—what if this ’fake Dragon’ ends up being more than just a distraction? What if the threat is real? A real Dragon... threatening Denril?" He tilted his head slightly, his smile sharpening into something colder. "A creature of that power... it’s not something you can control, not even with your plans."

I felt my pulse quicken. The air was growing heavier, darker. Zale’s presence was not just unsettling—it was suffocating. He was trying to provoke a reaction, to unsettle us. But why?

"We are investigating all possibilities," Damon replied firmly, though there was a slight tension in his voice. "And even if there is a Dragon threatening the kingdom, we will do what must be done to protect the people."

Zale’s eyes shifted to me again, locking onto mine. For a moment, the world seemed to fall away, leaving only the cold, unspoken challenge between us. His gaze lingered—his eyes glowing unnaturally in the dim light—and I felt the creeping suspicion that he knew more than he let on. His smile widened ever so slightly, but it was not a smile of friendliness. It was the smile of a predator circling its prey.

"But of course," he murmured, taking another small step toward me. "Protection is paramount. And yet, even the First Ruler of Sestia couldn’t defeat a Dragon without significant cost." He paused, his voice dropping into a whisper that felt like a caress, but carried an edge sharper than any blade. "Tell me, Your Grace... do you truly believe your strength is enough to face a real Dragon?"

The tension in the air was unbearable. I resisted the urge to step back. Instead, I held his gaze, masking the turmoil within me. Zale’s presence was oppressive, as if he were suffocating the very air around us. I could feel it now—something ancient, something far darker than the man standing before us. His connection to the forces of anti-mana, to whatever was controlling him, was undeniable. I had no doubt that he was not acting alone.

"You should be careful, Lord Turquoise," I said softly, my voice laced with a coldness that matched his. "Your words may carry weight, but they may also bring consequences."

Zale’s smile flickered, though his amusement never fully faded. He tilted his head again, studying me with that unnerving, unblinking gaze. "Consequences," he murmured. "Yes. I do enjoy a good consequence, don’t you?"

The silence stretched between us like a taut wire, the unspoken understanding that something larger than this conversation was at play. Zale was no ordinary man, and neither was I. We both knew it, and yet, we were playing the same dangerous game—testing the waters, waiting for the right moment to strike.

And in that moment, I realized with a sickening certainty that the calm before the storm was far from over.

I and Damon took our leave, the carriage was waiting for us outside, we got on and I pulled the glasses off my face and ran a hand through my hair messing them a little.

"Master, I-"

"Go ahead with the plan, I’ll take care of my end." I spoke before he could say anything.

Damon nodded in understanding and flew over to the inn in the slums to give Asher his instructions.

I climbed the creaking stairs to the third floor, but as I neared the landing, a suffocating presence stopped me in my tracks.

The air was heavy, thick with something unnatural. Black mist seeped from the cracks of the last door in the corridor, coiling like tendrils of shadow. My jaw tightened, and I felt my blood begin to boil. Something was wrong.

Inside, chaos greeted me. Lyall and Asher were struggling to hold down the child, who was writhing on the bed, his cries echoing through the small room. His small body trembled violently, scales shimmering with an unnatural sheen. Black mist poured from his pores, and a dark, malevolent energy clung to him like a second skin.

stepping forward as the child’s agonized cries cut through me like a blade.

"I—I don’t know!" Lyall stammered, struggling to keep the child from thrashing off the bed.

I moved swiftly, placing my hand on the child’s shoulder. The moment I did, a searing pain shot through me, as though my very blood had ignited. My Dragon’s Presence flared instinctively, and the icy fire coursing through my veins intensified.

The child groaned loudly at my touch, his small hands clawing at my sleeve. Black markings were spreading over his scales like cracks in fragile glass, and his pupils—once clear—were darkening with an unnatural blackness. He sniffled, clutching at me with a desperate, pleading gaze. His lips parted in a silent cry, and I caught the faint glow of red incantations etched into his skin like molten magma.

"What’s going on?! Who is this child?!" Asher shouted, his voice cutting through the haze of tension.

"The Saint," Lyall said curtly, his tone laced with urgency.

Asher froze, his disbelief written plainly on his face. "You’re lying!" he shouted, turning his wide-eyed stare to Lyall and then to me.

The child let out another wail, his small body convulsing in agony. My patience snapped.

"That can’t be the Saint—he’s—"

The child was wailing and clinging to my arms while my anger was skyrocketing. I wanted to destroy something and a kingdom sounded just right at this moment.

Asher and Lyall were still at it in the background which was not helping at all.

"Get out!" I snapped releasing my Dragon’s Presence which made both of them to stumble back.

"Why?" Asher countered.

Lyall didnt have to be said twice before gripped Asher’s arm and dragged him out of the room closing the door behind them.

The child was in great agony and the way his scales seemed hot was enough, he was a water element, but his scales were boiling hot.

"Child, listen," I inhaled deeply before I spoke up.

The child didn’t seem like he was in the state to listen.

"I need to do it now, you need my essence if you don’t accept it you’ll die right now." I spoke up.

The child cried and shook his head making me release an exasperated grunt.

"Why? Why don’t you want it? You’re dying! You can be free if you don’t want to go with me, you can go anywhere you want, do anything you want!" I shouted and he wailed.

I had only felt this hopeless in my life once, when I couldn’t save my mother from my past life. Why couldn’t these people just once let me handle it? Why couldn’t they just trust me?