’I eliminated one of the bosses without lifting a finger. Now, it’s my turn to repay Morrathis, and this is the perfect place to do it,’ Ashok thought with a smirk on his face.
Turning on his heel, Ashok began walking back to the sofa. As he moved, he glanced at the Head Butler and commanded, "Clean up this mess."
The old man didn’t even wait for the Duke’s command this time and instantly waved his hand.
In the next moment, there was no trace of Karzan left in the room. His lifeless body, along with the spilled blood and scattered body parts, were all completely erased.
Even the blood on Ashok’s uniform vanished without a trace.
’Magic truly is useful. Alas, I can’t use it—at least, not yet,’ Ashok mused as he settled into the sofa, crossing one leg over the other.
He stared at the Duke, noting the change in demeanor. Unlike when he first entered the room, the Duke and his two rankers no longer wore their arrogant expressions.
"What about my daughter?" asked the Duke.
"Ah! Yes, I almost forgot about your daughter, due to that Cultist," Ashok replied, causing the Duke to glare at him with hatred. "The reason your daughter is in her current state is because of your wife."
"Speak carefully—" The Duke began, but Ashok cut him off with a commanding tone. "It seems you still cannot comprehend, or are you pretending not to understand. The reason behind your daughter’s condition is rooted in your wife’s past, or rather, the identity she held before becoming your wife."
The Duke’s eyes began to tremble, and Cassius interjected suddenly, "Speak clearly! What do you mean?"
"You may not understand the meaning behind my words, Sword Saint, but the Duke and the Head Butler have already grasped my intention," said Ashok.
In the corner of his eye, Cassius noticed the Duke’s reaction—a subtle, involuntary tremor in the Duke’s gaze.
The Duke’s face turned ashen, his jaw tightening in a barely controlled mix of disbelief and dread. Beside him, the Head Butler closed his eyes slowly, his posture slumping as if burdened by the weight of an unspoken regret.
"Remember your wife’s final words, Duke. The last words she uttered, the warning she gave right before her death," said Ashok.
The Duke’s eyes glazed over as memories flooded his mind. His lips parted, and a shaky breath escaped him before he murmured, barely audible, "They will come…"
Cassius leaned forward, his brow furrowed in confusion. "Who will come?" he asked, his voice edged with urgency.
He could see the Duke’s trembling hands, his knuckles white as he clenched them into fists as if struggling to hold back the flood of emotions threatening to overwhelm him.
Ashok remained unfazed, his gaze steady, his voice cold as steel. "Witches,"
The sourc𝗲 of this content is frёeωebɳovel.com.
Cassius moved swiftly, his hands grabbing Ashok’s collar "You’re telling me the Miss was a witch?" Cassius snarled, his voice rising. The muscles in his jaw clenched tightly as his grip tightened "How dare you speak such lies about her?"
The Duke, still caught in the grip of his own grief, flinched at Cassius’s outburst.
"Unhand him," said the Duke, his voice firm yet strained.
"How could I unhand him when this kid is spouting such lies? Head Butler, hand me the sealing collar,I will teach-"
"UNHAND HIM!" The Duke shouted this time, his voice strained and brittle, as though the very command tore at him from the inside.
Cassius’s hands clenched around Ashok’s collar, lost all strength at that moment. His fingers trembled, and Ashok’s collar slipped free from his grasp.
The reason for Cassius’s intense reaction was simple and devastating: being a Witch meant a single, damning fate—Enemy of the Entire World.
Despite the tension and titles in the room, who was Ashok? Would he let anyone grab his collar and walk away unscathed? No. Even his own traits wouldn’t allow such an affront to slide.
[Sole Survivor]
[STR: F --> D]
SLAP!
Ashok delivered a resounding slap to Cassius, amplifying his strength with the Sole Survivor trait.
The crisp sound of the slap echoed through the opulent chamber, causing the Duke and the Head Butler to stare at him in utter shock.
"Whose collar are you holding, fucker?" Ashok demanded, standing up and glaring down at Cassius.
Cassius, for his part, stood completely still. He possessed the strength, speed, and reflexes to dodge or stop any strike with ease. A slap from Ashok should have been nothing—nothing to someone of his caliber. But that wasn’t the issue here.
No, the issue was the moment the Duke had shouted. That command had shattered everything Cassius thought he knew. The Duke’s shout confirmed something he could barely comprehend: What Ashok spoke was the truth.
In the grand chamber, illuminated by flickering candlelight, Cassius simply looked at Ashok, who had slapped him. The physical sting of the slap was nothing compared to the searing truth it conveyed.
"If the truth hurts that much, then go hold the collar of the Duke who married your ’Miss’ despite knowing she was a witch," Ashok’s voice was cold as he pointed at the Duke then at the Head Butler.
"Or hold the collar of the Head Butler, who used to be an Imperial Mage and was present at their marriage but still did not say a word." With that, Ashok sat back on the sofa.
The grand chamber seemed to grow colder as the weight of Ashok’s words settled. The Duke and the Head Butler both lowered their heads in shame.
The Duke had married a witch, fully aware of her true nature, and the Head Butler—once a mage who served the Empire—had stood by, silent, complicit in a crime that could cost them everything.
If the truth ever came to light, there would be no mercy, no wealth or influence that could protect them.
The Empire’s laws were clear: Witches were to be eradicated. Anyone who aided them, anyone who colluded with them, was just as guilty.
No matter how powerful the Duke was, no matter how much wealth he held, the entire world would turn on him in an instant.