Chapter 137 Don't Command Me
"What am I doing here again?" Lupinum muttered to himself, arms crossed and observing the irritable scene laid before him. Frightened human girls clinging onto their sanity, their innocence branded by white dresses, and rosy cheeks stained with unshed tears. Werewolves prowled amongst themselves, nervous at Lupinum's presence, yet had the guts to chatter about which of these damsels was the most delectable. Vampires remained in groups, chuckling over which blood would taste the sweetest. Supposedly, the younger the girl, the fresher their blood.
Disgusting bastards.
"Overlord Lupinum."
Lupinum turned to see a familiar old friend. The most conniving of all humans that Lupinum had come across, but also the most honorable. Living for centuries, Lupinum had met many. And not a lot of them reminded him of Lord Arnold Eves. The blood of the ancient humans ran through Eves veins. Humans never possessed an admirable ability, when contrasted with werewolves and vampires. They, however, did mingle amongst the Old Gods and it was even rumored that the founder of House Eves had either slept or slain with a god, drinking in their blood, and fusing their bloodline with the terrifying race.
"Arnold," Lupinum mused. "To what do I owe the pleasure of your palling face this early in the morning?"
"I am not one to seek aid," Arnold got straight to the point, a quality that many praised him for. "But today, I must implore you to save my granddaughter."
"Granddaughter?" Lupinum repeated, his mouth twisting into an amused grin. Last he recalled the world knew Arnold had a stunning granddaughter, but Lupinum knew better. Even now, as she remained in that little tent, Lupinum could smell her. The scent of a demi-god. "Roselind?" Lady Eves believed, but her husband ignored her.
"She is just a little girl," Arnold murmured. "I sheltered her the best I could given the circumstances of her birth, but with each passing day, she is beginning to resemble—"
"You want me to save her," Lupinum said. "Years from now," Arnold regretted. "When it is time for her to stand as tribute in this ceremony, you must not let her be chosen by the wrong man. When the time comes, she will be of tremendous use to mankind."
Lupinum released a curt laughter, leaning against the tree and peering straight towards House Eve's tent. His lips twisted into a wry smile. "There is at least a decade before she shows her face to us. Why beg me now?"
Amid the turmoil, tension built, as a little girl stumbled out of House Eves's tent. She was the spitting image of Selene. The splitting image of a goddess.
Her voice split the tension into two. Loud, pure, and clear, she screeched out, "Wait for me, Rosie!" Everyone lunged in her direction, abandoning all rationality. Arnold Eves, despite his age, dashed straight for her. Concern and terror etched onto his face, he rushed towards Ophelia. However, his approach was abruptly halted as a vampire shoved him to the ground, equally overcome with the intoxicating aroma.
"Arnold!" Rose Anne shrieked in fear, dashing to her fallen husband, who rolled on the cold forest floor. Arnold coughed and gasped for air, clutching his chest. His eyes grew abnormally large, as a sudden sharp pain seized his entire body. The intense, crushing sensation felt like a bolder was pressing down on his heart. His breath became ragged and labored, each inhalation a struggle. His wife clutched onto his hand in terror, shouting his name, but he was focused on one thing and only one thing. "L-Lupinum!" he roared, demanding the man into action. With a look of shock and realization drawing upon his wrinkled features, he knew his end was near. He felt it all morning when he could barely breathe. The chaos around him seemed to fade into the background as his focus blurred, his entire body buckling. His attention was on one thing and only one—his granddaughter. Too good for this world. Too kind for his liking, but the only thing of importance to him. Not his panicked wife, not the irritable Roselind running for him, or the wicked Lupinum who ran in the opposite direction of the little girl.
"Grandpa!" Ophelia cried out in fear, noticing him on the floor. She was engulfed in her own terror, noticing everyone suddenly rushing in her direction. Amid the pandemonium, a lanky man with red eyes lunged for her, his pearly fangs bared, ready to sink into her vulnerable neck.
Her terrified shrieks pierced the air. Just as he was about to make contact, another man intervened, forcefully pulling the assailant by his collars. He spun the man to the floor roughly, sending the figure flying against the dirt.
"She's just a child!" he snarled, his voice echoing through the clearing, installing fear amongst the wolves and savages circling them. "Out of my way," another voice demanded, his presence commanding and formidable as he shoved through the crowd. His eyes flickered with recognition, falling upon her and the silver stain on her cheeks. Immediately, he rubbed the spot, causing her to flinch back in fear. "Take her away, Sanguis," he barked, shoving the little girl in his direction. "I'll handle these out-of-control mutts."
Sanguis let out a scoff, revealing frightening sharp fangs. He peered upon the frightened Ophelia, who was shrinking back in worry, her attention darting to all of the people who were beginning to crowd her. She didn't understand what was going on. "Don't command me, Lupinum," Sanguis spat out, but advanced for the little girl anyways. "Get away!" Ophelia shrieked in fear, backing up. Her attempts were futile as he took her into his arms. She froze, releasing a tiny whimper. In response, Sanguis ran a protective hand through her silver hair, her watery amethyst eyes peering helplessly upon him. He inhaled briefly, his eyes burning red like rubies. Lupinoum growled a warning, his presence keeping the crowd at bay. Amid hungry eyes, he noticed that brat, a boy calm and seemingly unaffected by the chaos. Ever the perfect candidate that brat was. The vampires and werewolves parted with a mixture of fear and respect in their eyes, never stepping closer to two of the most powerful supernatural creatures in the entire continent.
"Hear my words, my wolfing kins," Lupinum began, turning to Sanguis. "Ophelia Eves of the human race's House Eves is under my protection. None shall touch her. None shall claim her."
"And the same goes for you noble bloodthirsty men," Sanguis continued, laying his gaze upon his foe and friend, Lupinum. "Ophelia Eves is off-limits. She is to never be chosen as a tribute in any of the upcoming ceremonies. For as long as we are Overlords, she is to be the property of no one, but whoever she declares her protector."
A murmur filled the air, a few in disagreement, but who'd dare challenge the creatures that'd rip their head off their body like nothing? The air was charged with the mingled scent of fear, anger, and disbelief. Once a place of peace and unity, the clearing had shifted into a battleground of primal instincts and rivalries.
The fate of a young girl hung dangerously in the balance. The words of the Overlords were as good as law, as powerful as the sacred treaties signed centuries ago.
One thing was for certain—Ophelia Eves was off-limits.
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