SSS Ranked Dragon King: My Innate Ability is Unbelievable.-Chapter 212: Moving on, no time to waste.

Chapter 212: Moving on, no time to waste.

’To not only survive but to seize victory... he’d have to be a late-stage third-tier combatant at the absolute minimum. No...’ Henry’s internal assessment spiraled into a darker, more visceral dread. ’Stronger. Perhaps a peak-stage third-tier? And you’re telling me a monster like that has been prowling our territory without a single whisper reaching my ears?’

Henry was floored. In the hierarchy of the kingdom’s color districts, an unaligned warrior of that caliber was a rare find, a blue diamond amidst common quartz. Within the borders of their own viscounty, those who could truly claim the title of a peak third-tier were few enough to be counted on a single hand.

The Head Knight Captain was the primary pillar of such strength in the district. Beyond him, one might find a few reclusive old masters, a handful of scarred military veterans, or perhaps the enigmatic leaders of the premier guilds. These were known quantities, documented assets that Henry made it his business to monitor with predatory focus.

Yet, here he sat, receiving word that a phantom had emerged from the shadows. This unknown entity had performed a feat of absolutely unexpected proportions right under his nose, and the sum total of Henry’s intelligence was that the man had a penchant for rescuing his younger sister. It was a failure of reconnaissance so staggering it left him feeling blind and exposed, two sensations he loathed above all others.

He drew a slow, agonizingly deliberate breath, fighting to steady the frantic rhythm of his heart. The very air in the patio felt thin, stripped of its oxygen. "Did your sources," he began, each syllable heavy with forced composure, "happen to put a name to this person in question?"

Charles’s smile broadened, edging into the territory of a cruel theatrical mask. "Of course they did."

"Honestly, Henry, the truth is far more entertaining than fiction."

"I used to think the cliche about the world being a small place was just lazy writing, but it seems life has a sense of irony after all." He paused, letting the silence stretch for maximum dramatic tension, his gaze pinning his brother’s. "It was the same man who escorted Esmeralda home."

"The very same fellow who fished your darling little sister out of whatever mess she’d stumbled into."

A laugh bubbled up from Charles then, a deep, genuine roll of amusement that echoed across the patio. It was the sound of a man who had just shared what he believed was the best joke he’d ever heard.

"See?" he managed between bouts of chuckling, dabbing a nonexistent tear from the corner of his eye. "I told you the bastard must be favored by the gods themselves!" He broke into another fit of mirth before plucking one of the few remaining grapes from the bowl and savoring it with visible relish.

"What...."

The sound was flat, a dead vibration that lacked the inflection of a question. It wasn’t even a word so much as the audible snap of a mind reaching its breaking point.

Henry’s world didn’t fade into darkness; instead, it bleached into a blinding, sterile white. His consciousness was shoved into a state of total, humming static.

In that heartbeat, his intellect went void, as if an invisible hand had reached into the machinery of his skull and wrenched out the primary fuse.

His ears registered nothing but a piercing, high-pitched whine, the frantic buzzing of a thousand locusts trapped within his cranium.

He could still see, but the images were divorced from meaning. He watched his brother’s chest heave with laughter, noted the vibrant purple of the flowers and the cold grey of the stone, but it was like staring at a distant, unmoving painting.

The connection was severed. His mind was a television set tuned to a dead channel of roaring white noise.

He sat paralyzed, neither blinking nor drawing breath. The prestigious future lord of the viscounty was, for a long and harrowing interval, simply... gone.

As Charles watched, his own laughter gradually ebbed away. The spark of gleeful amusement in his eyes cooled, replaced first by clinical curiosity, then by a fleeting shadow of something much more predatory.

He had anticipated a flustered outburst, after all, this news suggested a wild card was threatening his carefully laid plans, but this catatonic collapse was an unexpected bonus.

He remained silent, content to observe the wreckage of Henry’s composure, mentally filing the reaction away for future leverage.

A full minute passed before the tide of static receded, leaving Henry washed up on a shore of cold, jagged reality.

He soon regained himself, though barely, the rigid pressure of the chair against his spine, the metallic tang of blood where he had bitten through his lip were evidence of his prior disbelief.

Recognizing that the light of reason had returned to his brother’s eyes, Charles decided not to overplay his hand. The incendiary had been tossed; the fallout was already doing its work.

Now was the moment for a tactical withdrawal, allowing the poison to circulate before Henry could turn his shock into suspicion.

"Well," Charles said, his voice smoothing back into its habitual, pleasant lilt. He stood and brushed a speck of lint from his trousers with practiced elegance. "I’ve monopolized enough of your afternoon, brother. I’m sure you have a great deal to... process." He offered no further context and no hollow comforts.

Instead, he transitioned into meaningless pleasantries about the shifting weather and their father’s unpredictable emotions as of late, his tone light and utterly conversational.

With a final, inscrutable smile that never reached his eyes, Charles Montgomery turned his back on his shell-shocked sibling. His footsteps were hushed on the marble as he retreated across the patio, leaving Henry alone.

***** 𝕗𝕣𝐞𝐞𝘄𝐞𝚋𝚗𝗼𝘃𝗲𝗹.𝚌𝕠𝚖

The southern district finally fell away, its cacophony of cramped tenements and the raw, shouting energy of the slums fading into a dull, rhythmic hum. Victoria stepped onto the broad, scrubbed cobbles of the Merchant’s Quarter.