Chapter 41 The Duchess (1)

Ethan's POVMaster strode through the dim, shadowy corridors of Scarlet Hollow Castle, her steps steady and purposeful. The atmosphere was oppressive, and the darkness seemed to cling to every corner like a living entity.

My gaze roamed over the vast towering murals lining the walls. Each painting depicted a figure in it and they looked regal, proud, and commanding. Yet, despite being mere paintings I couldn't shake the eerie feeling that they were watching me, their painted eyes piercing through to my very soul.

"What you feel is not an illusion," Master's calm voice echoed in the corridor, shattering the silence.

"These murals contain fragments of the souls of the Sangrial ancestors. Through the Blood Soul Magic unique to vampires, they have achieved the unthinkable that is imbuing the essence of the dead into their portraits.

They aren't just decorations as they can observe, think, and even act when necessary. Together, they serve as the eternal protectors of this castle."

I was awestruck. The ingenuity and power of the magical beings in this world continued to amaze me. The idea of preserving one's consciousness beyond death and embedding it into a piece of art to guard one's legacy was both brilliant and unsettling.

We reached the end of the corridor and entered a grand hall that reminded me of the throne rooms of kings and emperors from my previous life. It was vast, its ceiling vanishing into the darkness above.

Blood-red chandeliers hung overhead casting an ominous crimson glow that bathed the room in shadows. Gothic designs adorned every surface that evoked memories of old cathedrals and castles I had studied in my past life.

At the far end of the hall stood a massive throne, its size almost absurd capable of seating someone seven feet tall with room to spare. Upon it sat a small shadowy figure shrouded in darkness so dense that even my enhanced vision couldn't pierce it.

"Oh, Nyx," came a sweet, lilting voice from the figure on the throne, tinged with sarcasm. It sounded like a young girl's voice, playful yet disconcerting. "What brings you here after all this time? I thought you'd forgotten about me."

The voice threw me off. How could a being of such immense age and power sound like a child?

Master unfazed by the sarcasm, replied in a calm almost teasing tone. "Hehe... I have a good reason to visit and a favour that only you can grant."

The figure on the throne shifted slightly, her tone growing sharper as she spoke again. "Oh? And who is this pretty boy you've brought with you? Tsk, tsk. Even the younglings of our kind look more rugged than him. And to think they say we vampires are delicate and refined!"

I felt my cheeks flush. My build wasn't exaggerated like a warrior's but was sleek and lean, a work in progress.

My face, though still held traces of youthful softness, much to my annoyance. But deep down, I couldn't deny that my looks had always drawn attention—too much, perhaps.

Well, it's not my fault I'm too handsome for people to handle, I thought stifling a smirk.

Neutral POV

If anyone could hear Ethan's thoughts at that moment, they'd surely be tempted to smack him. His attempt at feigned humility couldn't hide the fact that he was in truth a budding narcissist.

Ethan's POV

"You'd be surprised if you knew his identity," Master said, a faint smile playing on her lips, a smile that seemed designed to provoke curiosity.

Before I could process the Duchess's reaction, a thin hair-like streak of crimson shot from the shadow on the throne. It moved faster than my eyes could track and in an instant it pricked the nerve on my wrist. The suddenness of the attack left no time to react.

I looked down, half-expecting a grievous wound, but all I saw was a tiny puncture mark where the streak had drawn a single drop of blood. I quickly pieced together the reason for this unusual move.

"Hoh, you didn't panic, little boy," the Duchess's voice rang out again, this time with a hint of amusement. "Even grown men would wet themselves in fear if they felt a strike like that, let alone a child like you."

Her words were odd praise but they helped settle my nerves. I took a step forward and spoke for the first time, my voice steady and formal.

"Greetings to the Duchess of Blood Rose, Althera Sangrial. I am Ethan Lucent Void, disciple of the Nightshade Dragoness, Nyx Vytheris. I greet you humbly."

My greeting was precise and modelled after the noble etiquette I had learned in my home. I waited for a response but none came. Instead, I felt the air around us grow heavy an oppressive force filling the hall.

Looking toward Master, I was stunned to see her trembling not in fear, but in barely contained fury. Her golden eyes had narrowed into slitted gold dragon pupils and an overwhelming aura began to emanate from her causing the very air in the hall to quiver.

The ground beneath us seemed to hum with tension and the dim light of the blood chandeliers flickered as if they too were affected by her wrath.

It was the same dragon might I had felt the day we first met, but this time it was far more intense, a raw display of her power that sent shivers down my spine.

"How could you do this without asking me?" Master's voice was low, hoarse and cold, a tone that sent chills through the room.

The Duchess, perched upon her throne seemed momentarily stunned, her childlike demeanour giving way to a flicker of unease.

"I only took a drop of his blood as I was curious about him. Why are you overreacting, Nyx?" the Duchess finally replied, her tone calm but laced with palpable curiosity. Despite her composed words, there was a cautious edge in her voice.

"Heh... you don't know anything," Master hissed, exhaling sharply as if restraining the full force of her anger. Her aura slowly began to recede though the tension in the room remained heavy. She strode toward me her movements precise and commanding and gently took my hand in hers.

Her grip was firm yet protective and I could see the worry lingering in her glowing golden eyes. My chest tightened at the sight. Master's anger wasn't baseless but was born out of genuine concern for me and that realization touched me deeply.

Her emotions, her protectiveness were raw and unfiltered and was impossible to fake.

Two blood-red beams of light shot out from the shadowy figure on the throne. The streaks carved through the darkness surrounding the Duchess peeling it away like mist under sunlight. Slowly, the blurred form began to take shape and as the shadow cleared, I felt my breath catch in my throat.

What I saw next left me utterly dumbstruck.