Slaughter

Baron Mortimer's face twisted into a grotesque mask of fury and disbelief. His entire body trembled as he glared at Adrian, now disguised as Darian, the man he had trusted with such vital tasks.

"You… You bastard!" he roared, his voice echoing through the courtyard, laced with a hatred that seemed to burn hotter with every word.

"You're the one responsible for all the chaos in my castle! You caused me to lose face! You ruined my entire stronghold!"

Adrian's smile was cold, his gaze unflinching. He dropped the disguise with a flicker of mana, his features returning to normal as he regarded Mortimer with an almost detached amusement.

"Yes, I did," he replied evenly. "But it's your fault, Baron. You dared to target my family, so now I'm here to settle the score."

Mortimer's eyes bulged, and he took a threatening step forward, his aura flaring dangerously. But the moment he did, Seraphina moved.

Her presence manifested like a tidal wave crashing over him, the sheer pressure of her aura sending shockwaves through the air.

Mortimer's breath hitched, his movements frozen in place as if an invisible hand had wrapped around his throat, squeezing relentlessly.

The other generals and commanders recoiled instinctively, fear etched on their faces as they turned to look at the source of the overwhelming power.

Seraphina stood calmly beside Adrian, her eyes glowing with a fierce blue light. With just a glance, she exerted enough pressure to make Mortimer's strongest men feel as if their bones were about to snap under the strain.

"Trying to move, Baron?" Seraphina asked softly, her tone carrying a gentle mockery. "I wouldn't recommend it."

Mortimer gritted his teeth, his anger boiling over as he felt utterly powerless in front of this woman.

Every fiber of his being screamed to fight, to attack, to crush this insolent brat and the woman who dared to stifle him. But he couldn't move, couldn't breathe properly under the crushing weight of Seraphina's aura.

Meanwhile, Adrian turned his gaze away from the fuming Baron and raised his hand, giving a single, commanding gesture.

"Begin," he ordered, his voice calm but carrying an edge of finality.

In an instant, the courtyard erupted into chaos.

The Everhart forces moved like a well-oiled machine, precise and ruthless. The front line surged forward, greatswords swinging in wide arcs that cleaved through Mortimer's soldiers as if they were made of straw.

Armor and flesh split apart under the devastating strikes, blood spraying in thick crimson streams as men fell in droves.

Archers released volley after volley, their arrows whistling through the air with deadly accuracy. Each arrow was tipped with a mana-infused head, exploding on impact and turning Mortimer's men into pincushions of mangled flesh and shattered bone.

The Draconic Battalion marched forward with other soldiers of Everhart territory under them, their steps shaking the ground beneath them.

Each of these warriors was a force of nature, their attacks infused with raw draconic energy that incinerated everything in their path.

One soldier attempted to block a strike from a Draconic warrior's massive halberd, but the moment their weapons made contact, the halberd split his sword like glass.

The sheer force of the impact sent the soldier's body flying backward, his chest caving in under the crushing blow.

Another Draconic soldier opened his maw, unleashing a torrent of fire that swept across the courtyard, reducing a dozen men to little more than charred husks within seconds.

The smell of burnt flesh and the acrid tang of smoke filled the air, mingling with the screams of the dying.

Mortimer's elite warriors, the best of his forces, tried to put up a resistance. But they were hopelessly outmatched.

One of the commanders lunged at an Everhart greatsword-wielder, his spear aimed directly for the man's heart.

The Everhart soldier sidestepped smoothly, his greatsword coming down in a brutal arc.

The commander's armor crumpled like tin under the blow, his body nearly cleaved in two as he was slammed into the ground, blood pooling beneath his broken form.

"No… No, no, no!" Mortimer's voice was a strangled cry as he watched his men fall, helpless to intervene. He could feel his rage building, a searing, blinding fury that made his head pound and his vision blur.

These were his finest soldiers, his most trusted generals—and they were being slaughtered like cattle, reduced to bloody heaps on the cobblestone.

Adrian observed the massacre with an impassive gaze, his mind drifting to thoughts of how formidable Baron Mortimer had once seemed.

He had expected a challenging confrontation, a battle that would test him to his very limits.

But now…

The Baron looked so small, so utterly helpless against the forces arrayed before him.

A man who had once been a terror, a tyrant within his territory, was now nothing more than a cornered animal—snarling, desperate, but completely at the mercy of a far greater power.

The power of the Everhart family. The power granted to Adrian by the system. And, of course, the presence of his aunt, Seraphina.

Without Seraphina, this battle would have been vastly different. Even with his enhanced stats and newly acquired skills, taking on Mortimer in his own stronghold would have been a daunting task.

The Baron was not weak—far from it. But with Seraphina's might backing him, what had once been a challenging foe was now just a footnote in his path to vengeance.

The remaining soldiers scrambled back, terror filling their eyes as the last of their commanders fell. Blood stained the cobblestones in thick pools, the ground littered with severed limbs and twisted corpses.

The massacre continued, one-sided and brutal, until Mortimer's forces had been reduced to a few trembling survivors, their weapons clattering to the ground as they dropped to their knees, begging for mercy.

Adrian turned his gaze back to Mortimer, who stood rigid, his entire body trembling as he watched his castle's forces decimated before his eyes.

"All of this," Adrian said softly, his voice carrying a chilling edge. "All of this could have been avoided, Baron. If only you hadn't made the mistake of crossing the Everhart family."

Mortimer's teeth ground together so hard he thought they might shatter. His hatred burned hotter than ever, but it was laced with a bitter, gnawing despair.

He couldn't move, couldn't lift a finger to stop the massacre unfolding right in front of him.

And that realization—the sheer helplessness of it—gnawed at his soul.

"You…!" he snarled, his voice breaking as he struggled to contain the wild fury threatening to consume him. "I'll kill you, Adrian Everhart! I'll—"

But his words were drowned out by a sudden surge of energy from Seraphina. The very air around Mortimer constricted, and he found himself gasping for breath, his words cut off by the force pressing down on him.

"You'll do nothing, Baron," Seraphina said softly, her tone icy and unyielding. "Not while I'm here."

Mortimer's gaze darted wildly between Adrian and Seraphina, his face twisted in a mixture of hatred, fear, and frustration.

All he could do was watch—powerless, as the last remnants of his forces were wiped out, the courtyard awash in blood and death.