Chapter 77: Chapter 77: The Executioner’s Justice

Three Days Later - Cathedral Plaza

The execution platform stood in the center of the plaza. Ten feet high. Solid oak. Three chopping blocks arranged in a row. Three executioners in black hoods. Three axes sharpened to mirror shine.

The crowd filled every available space. Thousands of people. Nobles in their finery. Merchants in their best clothes. Commoners pressed shoulder to shoulder. All here to witness justice.

Public executions were rare. Reserved for the worst crimes. Treason. Regicide. Patricide.

Today, the kingdom would see all three.

Draven stood on the raised dais reserved for nobility. Duke Valerius beside him. Elise on his other side, wearing the official robes of the Dowager Duchess. Behind them—the rest of his harem, positioned as advisors and companions.

All watching. All waiting.

The cathedral bells tolled. Noon. Time.

High Justice Thorne appeared on the platform. Voice magically amplified to carry across the plaza.

"Citizens of the realm! Nobles and commoners alike! We are gathered to witness the execution of those found guilty of patricide and conspiracy against the Crown!"

The crowd roared. Approval. Bloodlust. Justice.

"Bring forth the condemned!"

Guards marched out. Surrounding three figures in chains.

Marcus Arclight. Lord Edmund Redwyn. Baron Garrett Sterling.

All three wore plain white robes. The color of death. No noble finery. No symbols of rank. Just cloth and chains.

Marcus looked... broken. Eyes hollow. Face gaunt. Three days in a cell awaiting execution had destroyed whatever pride remained. He shuffled forward. Defeated.

Redwyn walked with dignity. Head high. Accepting his fate.

Sterling had to be dragged. Still crying. Still begging for mercy that wouldn’t come.

They were positioned at the blocks. Marcus in the center. Redwyn to his left. Sterling to his right.

Thorne read the charges. All of them. Every crime. Every conspiracy. Every betrayal.

"Marcus Arclight. You have been found guilty of patricide. The murder of your father, Duke Aldric Arclight. For this crime, you are sentenced to death by beheading."

Marcus didn’t react. Just stared at the block. Empty.

"Edmund Redwyn. You have been found guilty of conspiracy to commit patricide. For this crime, you are sentenced to death by beheading."

Redwyn nodded. "I accept my judgment. May God have mercy."

"Garrett Sterling. You have been found guilty of conspiracy to commit patricide and bribery of Crown officials. For this crime, you are sentenced to death by beheading."

Sterling sobbed. "Please! I didn’t—I was only—please—"

"Do the condemned have final words?"

Redwyn spoke first. "I regret my actions. I dishonored my house. I failed my oaths. I accept this punishment as just. My family should not suffer for my sins. Please, Your Grace—" He looked at Draven. "—spare them. They knew nothing."

Draven nodded. Once. A promise. House Redwyn’s innocent members would not be punished.

Sterling couldn’t speak. Just wept.

Then Marcus. He lifted his head. Found Draven in the crowd.

"You," he said. Voice hoarse. "You did this. You destroyed me."

"You destroyed yourself," Draven called back. "I just made sure everyone saw it."

"I should have been Duke. It was mine by right. By birth. By—"

"By murder?" Draven’s voice cut like a blade. "You killed your own father for a title. You conspired with traitors. You tried to frame me. And you got caught. This isn’t my doing, Marcus. This is yours."

Marcus stared. Then laughed. Broken. Mad. "Maybe you’re right. Maybe I did this to myself." He looked at the executioner. "Just make it quick."

The executioner nodded.

Thorne raised his hand. "Let justice be served."

He dropped his hand.

The executioners moved.

Redwyn was first. He knelt. Head on the block. Calm. Accepting.

The axe rose. Fell.

THUNK.

Clean. Quick. Merciful.

His head rolled. The crowd roared.

Sterling next. They had to force him. Push him down. Hold him.

He screamed until the axe fell.

THUNK.

Another cheer. Louder.

Then Marcus.

He knelt on his own. Placed his head on the block. Stared at nothing.

"Any last words?" the executioner asked.

"Tell my mother... tell her I’m sorry."

The axe rose.

Draven watched. No emotion. No satisfaction. No pity.

Just cold observation.

The axe fell.

THUNK.

Marcus Arclight’s head separated from his body. Rolled to the edge of the platform. Stopped.

Blank eyes staring at the sky.

Dead.

The crowd erupted. Cheering. Chanting. "JUSTICE! JUSTICE! JUSTICE!"

Draven felt nothing. The Abyss Core had taken fear. Taken hesitation. And in moments like this, he wondered if it had taken more than that.

He felt no joy at Marcus’s death. No triumph. Just... completion. A task finished. A threat eliminated.

[Marcus Arclight: DECEASED]

[Lord Edmund Redwyn: DECEASED]

[Baron Garrett Sterling: DECEASED]

[Succession Crisis Arc: OFFICIALLY COMPLETE]

Elise squeezed his hand. "Is it wrong that I feel nothing?"

"No," Draven said quietly. "He tried to destroy us. Tried to exile you. Tried to kill me. Feeling nothing is mercy."

"I suppose." She leaned against him. "It’s over. Really over."

"Yes."

Duke Valerius cleared his throat. "Your Grace. The crowd is waiting."

Draven stepped forward. To the edge of the dais. Looked out over the thousands of faces.

All watching. All waiting for him to speak.

He raised his voice. Projected with magic. "Citizens. Today you’ve witnessed justice. The murder of a Duke has been avenged. The guilty have paid with their lives. And the Arclight Duchy begins a new era."

Cheers. Louder now.

"I am Duke Draven Arclight. Son of Duke Alaric. Nephew of Duke Aldric. I did not seek this title through violence or conspiracy. I claimed it through law. Through evidence. Through justice."

He paused. Let it sink in.

"I promise you this. The Arclight lands will be ruled fairly. The mistakes of the past will be corrected. The corruption will end. And those who serve loyally will be rewarded."

More cheers. The crowd was his now. Completely.

"Long live Duke Draven!" someone shouted.

The chant spread. "LONG LIVE DUKE DRAVEN! LONG LIVE DUKE DRAVEN!"

Draven raised his hand. Acknowledged them. Then stepped back.

The executions were over. The bodies would be buried in unmarked graves. The families would mourn in private.

But the message was sent. The Arclight Duchy had a new Duke. And he would not tolerate traitors.

That Evening - Duke’s Private Chambers

All seven women were there. Waiting for him.

Seraphina. Elise. Astrid. Lyra. Elara. Mara. Celeste.

His harem. His loves. His support.

"How do you feel?" Seraphina asked.

Draven considered. "Empty. Not bad. Not good. Just... empty."

"That’s normal," Celeste said. She’d seen executions before. "Watching people die, even enemies, takes something from you."

"Or maybe I just don’t have anything left to take." He looked at them. "Maybe it removed other things too. Empathy. Guilt. Whatever makes killing feel wrong."

"Do you regret it?" Lyra asked. Soft. Concerned.

"No. Marcus deserved death. They all did." Draven sat. "But I should feel something, shouldn’t I? Satisfaction? Relief? Something?"

"Maybe you feel what you need to feel," Elara said. "Maybe being Duke means you can’t afford to feel too much. To second-guess. To regret."

"Elara’s right," Astrid added. "You did what had to be done. You protected your people. Your family. Us. That’s enough."

Elise crossed to him. Knelt in front of him. "You’re not broken, Draven. You’re just different. The Core changed you. Made you what we needed. What the Duchy needed. A Duke who can make hard decisions without hesitation."

"Is that really better?" he asked.

"It kept us alive," Mara said simply. "Marcus would have killed you. Exiled Elise. Destroyed everyone who stood against him. But you stopped him. And you didn’t flinch."

Draven looked at each of them. Seven women who loved him. Seven women who accepted what he’d become.

"Thank you," he said. "All of you. For standing with me. For trusting me. For loving me despite... this." He gestured vaguely at himself.

"We don’t love you despite what you are," Seraphina said. "We love you because of it. The power. The ruthlessness. The protection. All of it."

"She’s right," Elise agreed. "Draven. My son . And I wouldn’t want you any other way."

They gathered around him. Seven pairs of hands. Seven voices. Seven hearts.

United. Devoted. His.

"Tomorrow," Draven said, "we begin the real work. Rebuilding the Duchy. Establishing my authority. Facing whatever threats come next."

"Together," they said.

"Together," he agreed.

Outside, the capital celebrated. The executions complete. Justice served. A new Duke crowned.

Inside, Draven planned.

The Succession Crisis was over. Marcus was dead. The Duchy was his.

But in a kingdom full of ambitious nobles, dangerous dungeons, and political intrigue?

This was just the beginning.

[But for now? You’ve won. Enjoy your victory, Duke Arclight.]

Epilogue - One Week Later

Marcus’s grave was unmarked. As ordered. Just a plot of dirt in the common cemetery. No headstone. No flowers. Nothing to indicate a noble once lay there. 𝕗𝐫𝚎𝗲𝘄𝐞𝕓𝐧𝕠𝘃𝕖𝐥.𝐜𝚘𝚖

Draven stood over it. Alone. Final visit.

"You could have been Duke," he said to the grave. "If you’d just waited. If you’d let your father die naturally. If you’d been patient."

Silence. Only the wind.

"But you weren’t patient. You were greedy. Arrogant. Stupid. And it cost you everything."

He turned to leave. Paused.

"Goodbye, Marcus. I’d say rest in peace, but we both know you won’t."

He walked away. Back to the estate. Back to his new life.

Duke of Arclight. Ruler of lands. Lover of seven women.

Master of his own fate.

And he would never stop climbing.