Transmigrated as the Crown Prince's Mate
Chapter 208: Under Attack...

Chapter 208: Under Attack...

The alarm bell rang clearly once.

Then again—twice. Three times.

The sound rang out in the large hall, bouncing off the stone walls and glass windows, and cutting through the chatter.

People froze.

And then, panic rippled through the crowd like a crack through ice.

King Lucien stood in a commanding voice. "All guards to your posts! Secure the gates! Move the guests to the inner court—now!"

The Highlanders were already rising, hands going to the hilts of their weapons. Caelen barked something in his native tongue, and his men formed up like a single living wall, surrounding the noble delegation from the mountain clans.

Evelina turned, heart hammering. "Jasper!" she called, already searching the room.

He came out from behind a column with his cloak thrown off and his swords drawn. "Inner garden tunnel’s clear. We can move them there."

Damian was already by her side. Though he looked calm, the silver in his eyes burned bright. "The outer perimeter is compromised. They’ve breached the southern tree line."

"How many?" Evelina asked.

Storm growled low in Damian’s chest.

"All of them."

Evelina moved to the Highlanders. "We’ll get you to safety. There’s a sealed path through the west garden. Go now."

Caelen looked at her, unreadable. "You lead."

She didn’t argue.

With a firm nod to Jasper, they began moving the delegation out of the hall, even as more soldiers rushed in to form a wall at the main doors.

Then the first shriek tore through the air.

Not human. Not fully animal. It was the guttural howl of a creature twisted between both forms—muscle stretched too far, limbs too long, mouth too wide.

The southern gate exploded inward—splinters flying as a wave of bodies crashed against Arcadia’s defenses.

Rogues. But not just wild ones.

These were different—bigger and sharper. Their eyes glowed with sickly red light, their movements almost in sync, like they were answering to a single command.

"Fall back!" one guard shouted.

Another screamed as he was dragged into the shadows, his armor no match for the beast that ripped through it like parchment.

Flaming arrows arced overhead from the outer towers, but many were caught midair—caught, Evelina realised, by rogues who climbed the walls like spiders, bounding from stone to stone with terrifying ease.

"Close the second gate!" someone shouted.

Evelina shoved open the hidden side door, waving Caelen’s people through. Jasper and two Highland warriors stayed behind with her, flanking the passage as she scanned the chaos.

Damian was at the front.

Of course he was.

Half-shifted now, silver claws extended, his armor etched with blood and smoke. Storm was just beneath the surface, his snarls rumbling through Damian’s chest.

He looked like a prince of war—like the stories sung in taverns, like the kind of hero the blood-soaked past worshipped.

She didn’t know whether to scream at him to retreat or run straight into battle beside him.

But she couldn’t move. Not yet.

The choice wasn’t hard.

Evelina dashed forward, catching the momentum of a falling rogue as it lunged for Damian.

She drew sword from a fallen rogue and slashed upward.

Damian glanced over at her, breathing heavy but grinning through blood and grit. "What are you doing?"

"I’m trying to help."

"You should find some place to hide. I don’t need you getting hurt."

"Or you are scared I’ll outperform you. This is the best time to put my sword skills to the test."

"In a live battle?"

"What other way?"

Damian didn’t know what to do at this point, so he gave in. "Well, you’re here already. Took you long enough, though."

"I had a delegation to babysit," she snapped back, ducking under a rogue’s claw and jamming her dagger through its gut with brutal precision. "Unlike some people, I don’t get to charge straight into chaos for fun."

"I’m fun now?" Damian growled, his voice deepening as Storm began to push forward. "Admit it—you missed me."

Another rogue lunged from above. She didn’t flinch. Together, they moved like twin storms—his claws shredding the creature midair as Evelina spun beneath, slashing its legs from under it.

"I miss the part where you actually listen," she shot back.

"Keep sweet-talking me like that, and I’ll make you my queen and general."

Relia roared with laughter inside Evelina’s mind. "This is the foreplay of battle gods. Rip and flirt, I approve."

Her vision began to blur at the edges—not from fear or exhaustion, but from the rush of the shift.

The power surged through her, claws sprouting at her fingertips, her eyes glowing gold. Her bones lengthened, skin rippling as fur shimmered just beneath it, flickering like flame beneath flesh.

Damian was already half-wolf beside her, his voice now thick with Storm’s power.

"Left!"

Evelina turned just in time to parry another beast. Its breath stank of rot and fire. She snarled and headbutted it, stunning it enough for Damian to tear it apart with a roar.

Around them, guards and Highlanders formed ranks, trying desperately to hold the line. But the rogues kept coming—mindless and many.

"Where are they coming from?" she shouted, slicing through a rogue’s throat.

"No idea!" Damian growled back, turning just in time to block another attack. "They’re too many. Too organised."

They pressed back-to-back, a circle of corpses forming around them.

And then—

BOOM.

The southern wall of Arcadia exploded.

A sound like the sky cracking in half. Fire and smoke burst outward, sending stone shards flying through the air like shrapnel. The shockwave hit them both like a hammer—Damian stumbling, Evelina crashing into the ground.

A crater now yawned in the southern corner of the courtyard. The wall was simply... gone.

Obliterated.

Not torn. Not breached.

Annihilated.

Damian staggered upright, coughing, eyes wide. "What... what kind of sorcery was that?"

Evelina coughed out dust, shielding her eyes from the smoke. "That wasn’t magic," she murmured, heart thundering. "At least... not any we know."

Because if she didn’t know better, if she weren’t standing in a world where technology hadn’t touched the skies—

She’d say that was a bomb.

A real one.

The kind that didn’t exist in this realm.

Not yet.

Relia was silent.

Then: That wasn’t Arcadian. And it wasn’t Highland. That... she hesitated, then growled. That felt like your world, Evelyn.

Evelina’s blood ran cold.

A new sound broke through the air—unlike the howls before. It was more like a crackling hum, almost electric and definitely unsettling.

As the smoke cleared, strange figures emerged. They didn’t look like the rogue creatures; instead, they were masked and wore armour. Each one carried a curved blade that shimmered with glowing blue runes.

One raised a hand, and the remaining rogues stilled.

Like puppets waiting for a master’s voice.

Damian grabbed Evelina’s arm. "Those aren’t rogues. What the hell are they?"

She didn’t answer.

Because standing behind those masked figures, partially obscured by the smoke and ruin... was a tall man in black robes, half of his face hidden beneath a silver mask.

But she knew that shape.

Knew that walk.

Evelina’s heart slammed against her ribs.

"Is that not..." she began again, eyes locked on the tall figure beyond the smoke. "Luther?"

But before she could get another word out, the figure moved.

Not toward them—but sideways, back into the fray, vanishing behind the surge of rogues and masked soldiers now flooding through the gaping breach in the southern wall.

"Wait—!" Evelina made to charge after him.

A clawed rogue lunged instead.

Damian grabbed her arm and spun her into a pivot. Together, they countered—his claws tearing through sinew while Evelina’s blade punched through its chest.

"Later," Damian growled, breathless. "We survive this first."

Around them, chaos reigned.

The courtyard had turned into a war zone—flames licking at the sides of the outer towers, stone tiles split and crumbling beneath the weight of monsters and men.

The Arcadian guards were fighting tooth and nail, swords gleaming red with blood, but they were being pushed back—hard.

And the Highlanders, too, were fully engaged.

Lord Caelen roared orders from the battlements, a great war axe in hand as his warriors formed defensive lines at the northern terrace.

But they were being surrounded.

The rogues, mindless but fast, acted like shock troops—ripping apart the first line of defenses, then pulling back just in time for the masked warriors to sweep in behind them, precise and organised.

It was a tactic Evelina had never seen before.

"Get the wounded behind the western columns!" Jasper shouted from across the yard, slicing through a rogue that had nearly tackled one of the page boys. "Archers, cover the roofline! They’re scaling it!"

More shapes climbed the broken edges of the courtyard like spiders. Arrows flew, but too few found their mark.

"We’re being overrun!" a guard yelled, blood streaming down his temple.

"No," Evelina muttered, grabbing a fallen spear and hurling it through a rogue’s neck. "We hold the line."

But the truth hit her like a punch to the gut.

They weren’t just under attack.

They were being laid siege to.

From above, the castle bell tolled again—three slow chimes. The signal not for invasion, not for breach.

For full lockdown.

Damian’s eyes widened. "They’re closing the gates. Arcadia’s sealing itself."

Evelina turned to him. "Then we trap them inside with us."