Chapter 50
The entire forest fell into an cerie silence. The only sounds were the chirping of insects and the occasional bird call.
Damian’s large hand reached out, and in an instant, he pulled the sword from the guard’s waist through the air toward him.
He raised the sword, its tip now aimed directly at the kneeling guard. “Speak. Who ordered you to ambush Princess Deborah?”
An ambush on Princess Deborah?‘ The people around them were stunned, completely caught off guard. ‘Why target Princess Deborah?‘
She had no power or influence. Even her husband, Simon, had been frail and sickly since childhood, never involved in court politics. They wondered, ‘What reason could there be to ambush her?‘
The guard trembled, his voice barely a whisper. “I–I didn’t… Ah! Ahhh…”
The guard collapsed to the ground, screaming in pain.
“Ah!” Someone screamed in fear, stumbling back.
A severed hand rolled across the ground, landing at the feet of one of the women, bloodied and mangled.
The women stood frozen in fear, too scared to breathe. Those who hadn’t screamed were still visibly shaken, casting wary, fearful glances at
Damian.
He held the sword with no blood on it, his motion so swift that he had severed the guard’s hand without even touching it directly. The guard was still writhing on the ground, howling in agony, while Damian simply watched, his expression cold.
His disheveled hair, streaked with dried blood and dirt, fell across his strikingly handsome face. Though he looked utterly battered, the cold, murderous glint in his eyes made him even more mesmerizing.
His beauty was almost otherworldly, but his intense gaze was terrifying. He was wild, domineering, ruthless, and flamboyant–both beautiful and fearsome.
“Still not talking?” Damian’s sword rose once more.
This time, everyone could see clearly–he was aiming for the guard’s head.
“Your Highness…” Deborah tugged at his sleeve, shaking her head.
The sight of the bloodied hand was enough to make her stomach churn. Deborah thought, ‘If he strikes again, would the next thing to roll on the ground be the guard’s head? He really does resemble a demon in this moment–terrifying!‘
Damian lowered his sword with a cold, indifferent expression. “Princess Deborah doesn’t want to see bloodshed. So, the master should step forward and take responsibility.”
“Damian…” Nigel started.
“I’ll take the blame,” a voice came from behind Nigel. It was Gwendolyn, stepping forward hesitantly, her fingers trembling. But she gathered her courage to meet Damian’s chilling gaze.
“I–I’m just trying to play a prank on Princess Deborah. But I didn’t arrange the black–clad assassins. It wasn’t my doing, Your Highness…” she said.
“Play a prank?” Damian glanced at Thomas.
Thomas bent down, walking over to the severed hand, and carefully pulled an arrow from the guard’s quiver. He respectfully offered it to Damian.
Damian took the arrow, his eyes still fixed on Gwendolyn.
The air seemed to freeze.
The women were too terrified to speak, and the men remained silent, well aware of Damian’s infamous temper. At this moment, anyone who spoke would only make things worse.
Gwendolyn was trembling all over. She hadn’t expected that someone would be caught by Damian’s people, nor had she imagined the fearsome coldness in Damian’s gaze.
“Your Highness…” Gwendolyn was so frightened that she couldn’t even muster the courage to beg for mercy.
“No one plays games in front of me.” Damian’s eyes darkened. Without warning, he flicked his wrist, and the arrow shot through the air, whistling
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Chapter 50
toward Gwendolyn.
“Your Highness!” Nigel rushed forward, but it was already too late.
Instinctively, he reached out to grab the arrow, but Damian’s internal energy made it impossible to stop. With a sharp “thud,” the arrow pierced Gwendolyn’s chest.
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