Evolution of the Ruined Heir-Chapter 15: Corner

Hamada bowed once more.

"As you wish. Follow me."

As he spoke, Malakai suddenly spoke up.

"Just me and Nyx."

Verek's expression shifted instantly. A frown formed on his face as he took a step forward.

"I'm afraid that—"

Just as he was about to object, an intense chill ran down his spine.

His words were caught in his throat. And he instantly turned, eyes narrowing as he saw that Hamada was looking at him.

His expression darkened.

'Is he... threatening me?'

A scowl twisted Verek's lips. His aura surged, flooding the entire area with crushing pressure. He was a captain of the Sovereign's Faction, the strongest faction in the entire Sanguine clan.

Hamada might be a Blood Champion, but so was he.

To think that a mere exile from Black Reach, a place barely considered part of the Sanguine clan, dared to challenge him!

Unacceptable.

However, Verek's eyes suddenly narrowed to pinpricks in the next instant.

It was quiet.

Far too quiet.

His gaze swept the area, and his blood turned cold.

He was right.

The courtyard had turned utterly silent. And cold.

The warriors of Black Reach, who had previously been watching Malakai, had shifted their attention.

All of them now had their gazes locked onto him.

It was subtle at first. Slow. But then, it came.

Killing intent.

A quiet, suffocating force that settled into the bones. One by one, the warriors of Black Reach reached for their weapons.

Their fingers brushed against hilts. Their knuckles tensed.

They did not care that he was Sanguine.

They did not care that he was a captain of the Sovereign's Faction.

All they knew was, he was not a direct descendant. He was an outsider.

And an outsider had just threatened one of their own.

A single word from Hamada, just one, and they would cut him down without hesitation.

Verek's jaw tightened.

His fingers twitched, itching to summon his blade.

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"What is the meaning of—"

Before he could finish, Hamada cut him off once more.

"I have been directed by the Blood Sovereign himself to escort the Ninth Vein to the Pit."

The temperature dropped further. A slow, unbearable silence followed.

Hamada's voice had not risen. He had not bared his aura. But the moment those words left his lips, the tension deepened.

"It is the Ninth Vein's choice who he wants to accompany him."

Hamada's gaze bore into Verek.

"Are you going to disobey the Sovereign's orders?"

The air turned razor-sharp. The warriors of Black Reach gripped their weapons tighter. Their hostility was no longer hidden.

The next move was up to Verek.

"Captain... we're outnumbered."

A whisper drifted into his ear, coming from one of his subordinates.

Verek's expression darkened, anger surging through his entire body.

'That bastard.'

Hamada had backed him into a corner. If he resisted, it would be seen as defying the Sovereign's will.

If a fight broke out, he would be the one held responsible.

'Fuck.'

His teeth ground together.

He had wanted Malakai dead, but more than that, he had wanted to see it.

The moment Malakai broke.

He had always been so composed. So calm. But in the Pit?

In the face of absolute death?

Verek had been sure, certain, that Malakai would crack just as he was about to enter the Pit.

He had wanted to see the fear.

The panic.

But now, he wouldn't even get that.

Verek clicked his tongue. His teeth clenched so hard his jaw ached. Then, with a sharp turn, he spun on his heel.

"This way, Ninth Vein." Hamada gestured toward a particular direction.

Malakai hadn't even looked at Verek. Not once.

As the tension dissolved, Malakai and Nyx silently followed Hamada toward the massive gates in the distance.

The walk was quiet.

The warriors of Black Reach watched Malakai with varying expressions.

Some with pity.

Others with curiosity.

Verek hadn't been wrong in his assessment.

Black Reach was in the South, far from the Sanguine clan's stronghold in the West of the dome.

To those in the West, the warriors of Black Reach weren't even considered part of the clan. They had no influence, no say in the grand decisions of the Sanguine clan.

To many, being stationed here was the same as exile. Which was why... many of them could sympathize with Malakai.

Regardless, none intervened in the matter. He was just an unlucky child. Maybe... in his next life.

Their walk brought them to the massive gates of the fortress.

The fortress itself was built a few kilometers away from the South Dome. It was stationed behind a wall that directly faced the dome, with the wall stretching endlessly in both directions.

Hamada reached the gate but gestured to the side, leading them toward a smaller structure nearby.

A shed. Or rather, a breeding ground.

The shed was lined with Gravethorns, sturdy, muscular mutated beasts that were bred for travel.

As they entered, the warrior in charge of the area turned, his sharp eyes locking onto them before his expression shifted into a formal bow.

"Ninth Vein. Blood Champion Hamada."

Hamada gave a brief nod.

"We'll need three for our journey."

The warrior nodded and disappeared into the shed. A few moments later, he returned, leading three massive Gravethorns.

Hamada turned to Malakai.

"Ninth Vein, as you saw earlier, the fortress is quite a distance from the Pit. We'll be using these to traverse the land quickly."

Malakai nodded.

The warrior handed them the reins, and each chose a mount.

Malakai approached his Gravethorn calmly.

The beast was massive, towering over him with thick, muscular limbs and a rough, dark green hide. A large, pointed black horn jutted from its forehead, and its short tail swayed subtly.

At Malakai's cold touch, the mutated beast stirred, its muscles tensing as though sensing something unnatural in him.

It stomped its feet, restless. Then, it met his eyes. Cold.

The Gravethorn froze.

Then, slowly, its body settled, the tension in its frame loosening.

Gravethorns were common among the masses, as they were easily tamed and exceptionally fast.

With no vehicles in this world, they were the best land transport available.

Malakai ran a calm hand along the creature's head a few times before mounting it effortlessly.

As he did, his gaze subtly shifted toward his maid, Nyx, who had already mounted her Gravethorn.

Their eyes met.

And for the first time... she didn't look away.

As a maid of the Sanguine clan, looking a direct descendant in the eye was a cause for instant death. Yet, she didn't seem to care.

She stared at him, her expression troubled. It was obvious she had something to say, but she was struggling to say it.