CHAPTER 85: | THE DESTRUCTION OF ATLANTIS | 6

  ---

  The sound of stone breaking apart echoed across the hallways as a crowd gathered, watching the drama between the three heirs.

  “Did the young heir, that cold-blooded Aubrey, just get kidnapped? It can't be.”

  Simon said with mock amusement.

  He couldn't believe that cold-blooded woman, who had nearly killed her sister from jealousy, was now trapped in an enclosed room.

  “Pfft-hahahaha! Who would believe it, Simon, right?! That bitch, who’s strong enough to overpower a hundred years old sovereign, would be kidnapped?! The heavens must be joking!”

  Jim, the one who had flushed all of his funds to the drain earlier, cackled.

  He, too, had experienced the same thing with his cousin being kidnapped, raped, and disposed of at their residence.

  He was young at the time and couldn't stomach the gruesome scene of his cousin Viera being violated like that in a projection stone.

  So, it served that bitch right.

  What was a projection stone, the answer was simple it was like a camera but in the form of a stone.

  Keshlock, Aubrey’s brother, gazed at the crowd chattering with amusement, then turned to the two noble heirs, Simon and Jim.

  He shouted with rage, his voice a raw, grating sound.

  “Shut up, you damned pigs! How dare you mock the honor of the Seashore clan...!”

  But before he could react, stone walls surged upward, sealing them inside a chamber.

  Then shock and dread clawed at his mind as his gaze fell upon his sister’s bones, gnawed on by what appeared to be a disturbingly handsome man.

  The gruesome sight churned his stomach, bile rising to his throat.

  He cursed inwardly, blood running cold as if frozen solid.

  'D-damnit! ...W-were too late sister.'

  But in the next breath, his eyes swept the chamber, and the words slipped out before he could stop them.

  “W-where… is Lisia…?”

  It was the first thing he asked, with his voice trembling as his gaze darted frantically around the room.

  Yet no matter how hard he searched, the beauty his sister had brought to join the the fun was nowhere to be found.

  Meanwhile, Liam right beside him was seething with rage, as a fire of indignation ignited in his eyes as he shouted.

  “Y-you damned bastard!”

  In a frantic surge, he dragged every ounce of mana from his demonic core, magic circles sparking to life in the air.

  But before a spell could form, the floor erupted, hundreds of needle-thin spikes shot upward, glinting with a cold light as they struck with inhuman precision.

  Liam’s wrists and ankles were skewered, his body slammed against the ceiling.

  Crash!

  Blood burst from his mouth in a ragged cough, as the metallic reek of copper flooded the chamber in the next second.

  Even with the strength of a Stage 1 Sovereign at Tier 8, he could do nothing but hang helplessly, pinned to the ceiling like some grotesque ornament.

  Disbelief twisted his face.

  The idea that anyone could overpower him, let alone with such ease, was unthinkable.

  His gaze flicked to the glowing magic circle he had conjured, a defiant smirk tugging at his lips.

  Biting down hard in rage, he roared,

  “You damned bastard! Take this! Storm Barricade!!”

  Countless lances materialized in the air, each one gleaming with lethal force before launching toward the man seated calmly on the bed.

  Yet to his horror, every lance was shattered mid-flight by needle-like stones striking their weakest points with surgical precision, destroying flow of the magic as it dissolved into nothing.

  Keshlock’s chest tightened from the unbelievable scene that he witnessed as he clenched his fist.

  Still, he forced his shoulders back and hardened his gaze, refusing to show fear before their enemy.

  With a sharp motion of his hand, he summoned the companion who had been with him since childhood, his loyal water elemental.

  A vast and intricate magic circle bloomed into existence, its glowing patterns spinning and interlocking as it drew upon every trace of moisture in the enclosed chamber.

  Droplets formed in the air, threads of mist spiraled inward, and for a fleeting moment Keshlock felt the familiar surge of control.

  But then, his heart dropped.

  The gathered moisture vanished, greedily devoured by the stone walls themselves before the circle could stabilize.

  The patterns flickered and broke apart, leaving nothing but a cold, dry silence that pressed on his chest like a weight.

  Keshlock’s clenched his teeth.

  This spell, this trump card, had once been acknowledged even by their divine ancestor, the God of Water, Veruna.

  And now, it had failed him utterly.

  'Damn it…!'

  His mind roared with frustration.

  “...Sylphid, come out!”

  But his beloved water elemental was nowhere to be found.

  The empty silence where her presence should have answered tore at him, yet Keshlock did not falter.

  He exhaled sharply, sliding one foot back and lowering his stance, it was none other than the unmistakable posture of a martial artist.

  His muscles coiled, as he ixhaled then his gaze hardened, and he locked eyes on the figure before him, a man, utterly naked, yet radiating an unsettling confidence that made Keshlock’s skin crawl.

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  Disbelief gnawed at him.

  That elemental had been his partner since childhood, his shield, his blade, his very soul.

  Now there was… nothing.

  'Think!'

  His mind raced, desperately for an alternative.

  In this suffocating chamber where magic betrayed him, only one option remained.

  He would have to fight this foe with his own body.

  With a growl, Keshlock launched himself forward, leaping high like a predator pouncing on its prey.

  For a split-second, he pictured his fists sinking into flesh, wiping that smug gaze off the man’s face.

  Every grueling hour of training, every scar etched into his body, all of it would finally bear fruit in this single decisive strike.

  But... reality was crueler.

  Bam!

  Agony exploded through his limbs as if molten fire had invaded his nerves.

  Thousands of needle-thin spikes lanced into his wrists and ankles with surgical precision.

  His momentum was shattered.

  The force of the barrage hurled him sideways, slamming him against the wall with bone-rattling impact.

  Crash!

  Before he could draw his breath, the thousands of needle-like spikes itself shifted, twisting unnaturally, reshaping into a pair of cuffs that clamped down on his limbs, locking him to the wall.

  “W-what… what is the meaning of this?”

  Keshlock strained voice broke the silence, trembling as it echoed through the chamber.

  He spoke like a man that was entirely innocencent, as if demanding an explanation that someone might undo the nightmare before him.

  But no answer came, only a gaze.

  The naked man turned toward him, his eyes cold, empty, and unflinching.

  Aubrey’s blood streaked across his bare skin in jagged smears, painting him in a grotesque patterns that looked less like wounds and more like deliberate markings.

  A chuckle escaped his lips, low, smooth, and cruel.

  The sound rolled through the room, mocking not just their struggle, but their very existence.

  “Nothing much…”

  With a fluid motion, the man stroked his chin, a gesture of casual contemplation.

  He then slumped onto the blood-covered mattress in an elegant, almost lazy way, as if this whole confrontation were nothing more than a minor inconvenience.

  His eyes, the same unnerving ruby as before, scanned the two helpless heirs, like a predator assessing its trapped prey.

  Keshlock froze, stunned by the scene before him.

  In that instant, his lust for Lisia and the burning rage over his sister’s death fell away, stripped from him like smoke in the wind.

  What remained was a rare, unclouded clarity as he muttered under his breath, his voice steady, almost unnervingly calm.

  “I see… so after all this, we were fooled.”

  Liam gazed at Keshlock with a dubious expression, then pieced it together.

  This man’s alluring ruby eyes were similar to Lisia’s.

  His body was also strikingly similar.

  He bit his lips and cackled, a nervous, high-pitched laugh that grated against the silence.

  “H-hahah… I see. So all of this was a ploy to lure us, Lisia!”

  Lisia, or the man, cackled at his choice of words as he gazed at the man with amusement.

  “Pfft… t-tell me, Liam, is there any reason for me to attract the attentions of you heirs?”

  Liam’s thoughts raced, scrambling for a thread of logic to cling to.

  Then, with a flicker of realization, his eyes narrowed and he glared at the man.

  “I-It can’t be… you’re after our beauty, aren’t you?”

  ‘Wow, what a disillusioned bastard. After all that pondering and thinking with that small brain of his, all he could think of was me lusting after their appearance? Come on, let's be real. Why would I, a handsome and beautiful being, lust after their imperfect body?’

  I sighed and massaged my temple, irritation gnawing at me, before lifting my gaze back to him, pathetically dangling from the ceiling like some broken puppet.

  “Well, try and ponder more…”

  Liam bit his lip, his eyes widening as a new thought struck him.

  “It can’t be… you’re after our wealth!”

  He blurted, almost triumphant at his own conclusion.

  Keshlock, however, only rolled his eyes.

  A long sigh escaped from him as if his brother in-law words were more exhausting than the danger itself.

  He turned his gaze toward me, his voice low but steady as he muttered,

  “You’re after the big bosses of the underground world, aren’t you?”

  smiled at Keshlock’s answer, lips curling before I broke into a wide beam.

  A soft laugh escaped me, and I even clapped my hands together in mock delight.

  “At last, a correct deduction.”

  My tone dripped with amusement.

  I leaned forward slightly, eyes glinting.

  “Then tell me, Keshlock, what do you think my goal is in meeting them?”

  Keshlock only sighed.

  Then his eyes dropped to his wrist where blood spilled in thin rivulets, soaking the stone cuffs before dripping steadily to the floor.

  A dark pool spread beneath him, each drop a quiet metronome counting down his dwindling time.

  He gave a bitter, hollow chuckle.

  “Why would I tell you? …Sylphid, come!”

  His voice rang through the chamber, and the pool of blood at his feet began to writhe.

  It bubbled, twisted, then rose into a vague humanoid shape, the beginnings of his elemental, straining to descend into the vessel he had carved for it.

  But before it could take form, I flicked a finger.

  Instantly, every drop of blood in the room surged downward, torn away as if gravity itself had inverted.

  The crimson mass collapsed into the sacred space I had prepared, vanishing like a reverse waterfall swallowed by the stone floor.

  The summoning was undone.

  Keshlock’s spell was shattered.

  “…Now what will you do?”

  I asked softly.

  His gaze lifted to meet mine.

  Then, with a violent grunt, he clenched his fist and tore his wrist against the sacred earth cuffs pinning him.

  Flesh split, blood gushed, and the stone floor greedily devoured the crimson as it fell.

  But even as pain twisted his face, Keshlock only pulled harder, his teeth bared in defiance, his whole body straining against the restraints.

  ---

  ? The Empire of Atlantis — Endless Ancient Forest — Seashore Ancestral Residence ?

  Meanwhile, deep within the ancestral residence of the Seashore Clan, an estate hidden in the heart of an endless kelp forest, an elderly man stood in quiet contemplation.

  His draconic features glimmered faintly in the dim light as his gaze swept over the thousands of jade slips lining the walls of the Life Palace.

  Each slip carried a lifeline, the fragile tether of a clansman or disciple, glowing softly in the silence.

  “Hmm… it seems the ancestor’s worries were unfounded.”

  He murmured, his voice was calm as the ocean, and almost indulgent, as he remarked.

  “After all, who would dare slay a descendant of the Seashore Clan? A clan renowned for its cruel, unrelenting vengeance?”

  With his hands folded behind his back, the elder walked leisurely between the rows, his steps slow, deliberate, unhurried.

  His eyes scanned every slip for the slightest crack or dimness, searching for any sign of a broken life.

  Finding none, he allowed himself a faint smile and turned toward the next corner of the vast hall.

  “Then it's in the heir room…”

  He halted his strides, gazing at the two towering guards guarding the heir life palace as he pondered.

  ‘But it can't be that someone would harm the heirs, right? But it can't be that there's someone insane enough to do that… but chances are never zero.’

  The elderly man closed his eyes, bracing himself for the shock as he raised his hand then muttered.

  “Open the gate.”

  The two guards nodded and pushed the heavy stone gate that was fifty meters tall and weighing tens of thousands of tons as he nodded.

  “Thank you for the good work.”

  The guards smiled in greeting as they positioned themselves back at their post without speaking another word as the elder entered the room.

  Fad, the elder, entered the heir life palace as he braced himself, then opened his eyes to look at the life jade of the two most prominent heirs of the clan.

  The sight hit him like a physical blow.

  He slumped to the ground as he shouted.

  “I-it can't be?! It can't be!!”

  Fad shouted in despair as he saw that the lifelines of the two most promising and prominent heirs of the clan were broken.

  Trembling from the pain of the clan's loss, he clutched their fractured jade slips, then shouted with rage.

  “Who dare! Who dares to kill the successors of the clan!!”

  The guards, hearing his shouts, tensed at the news.

  They couldn't believe that two of the clan promising heirs, who have the average strength of a Stage 1 sovereigns, would fall.

  But before they could mourn their loss, the elder Fad shouted with rage.

  “G-guards! …inform the ancestor that the jadeslips of the two heirs, Aubrey and Keshlock, are broken!!”

  Meanwhile, outside of the enclosed place that I created to trap the heirs of the two clans, the crowd gasped as they pulled a jade slip from their storage pouch and trembled.

  “A-aubrey and Keshlock… i-is… dead.”

  ---

  The crowd fell into silence, their expressions hardening into dread as they pulled communication devices in their waist vibrating violently.

  Within moments, the chilling news spread like wildfire through their clans, that the two heirs of the Seashore Clan’s was dead.

  The weight of the revelation crashed over them like a storm.

  And then came the sound of fury, Seashore clansmen storming through the hallways, their wrath unrestrained as they struck at the white walls that dared to confine their bloodline.

  Their footsteps thundered like crashing waves, their draconic aura pressing down on all who stood nearby.

  With eyes blazing and fury burning in their veins, they struck at the pristine white walls that dared imprison their heir.

  Every blow carried not just strength, but the wrath of a clan whose vengeance was feared across the seas.

  Simon, from a distance, smirked as he walked away from the scene, with tears on his face.

  “Finally, those bastards… have met their judgment.”

  Jim, in the background, chuckled as he walked alongside Simon and offered.

  “How about a drink, Simon, to celebrate their demise?”

  Simon nodded as he laughed with joy.

  ---

  Meanwhile, down the streets in the underground city, Solia chuckled as she felt the presence of her master in the [Elra Casino].

  “It seems that master is having fun by himself, don't you think so, Ishtar?”

  Ishtar nodded in a cute manner as she gazed at her big sister then beamed.

  “Then, sister, are we joining the fun?”

  Solia patted Ishtar’s head as she gazed at the vendors down the streets then sighed as her form turned into a streak of lightning before vanishing from the crowd.

  “Well, of course.”

  Maybe give it a try? ??