Chapter 237 Knee Bent

Chapter 237 Knee Bent
"Do not interrupt your betters, mud-crawler," Valerius snarled, the threat completely bare. "You will stand there in silence until we tell you where to walk, or I will cut your singing throat and take the Grand Admiral's head as a trophy myself."

Klaus moved faster than the human eye could track. He stepped around me, his large hand snapping out to grip the thick steel blade of Valerius’s sword. The sharp metal cut deep into his bare palm, drawing a thick line of hot, red blood, but he locked the weapon in place with terrifying, immortal strength.

"No," I ordered Klaus, my voice cracking like a whip. "Let him go."

Klaus froze. His bright sapphire eyes burned with a dark, consuming violence, but he obeyed. He opened his hand, letting the bloody steel slip from his grip. He took a single, deliberate step back, leaving me entirely exposed to the heavy blade.

Valerius let out a dark, triumphant laugh, assuming Klaus was terrified of the ancient steel.

"Smart dog," Valerius mocked. He pushed the tip of the sword closer to my collarbone. "Now, Siren. Kneel."

I looked at the heavy, polished steel hovering inches from my skin. I looked at the smug, entitled sneer on his aristocratic face.

I reached out with my bare right hand and grabbed the center of his ancestral blade.

I did not just leak the magic. I opened the floodgates.

The dark, oily rot exploded from my palm with the force of a physical strike. The freezing, toxic acid surged directly into the heavy metal.

A deafening, violent shriek of boiling steel ripped through the quiet clearing.

The pristine broadsword turned pitch black instantly. The heavy steel did not just melt; it violently dissolved. The rot raced up the blade toward the hilt in a fraction of a second.

Valerius gasped, trying to pull the weapon away, but it was too late. The black sludge hit the ornate silver crossguard, eating straight through the expensive metal and into his thick, leather-gloved hand.

The Vampire Lord screamed. It was a high, tearing sound of absolute, unfiltered agony.

He dropped the dissolving hilt, scrambling backward. He clutched his right hand against his chest. The heavy leather glove was smoking, the dark decay actively eating through the material and into his pale flesh. He collapsed onto his knees in the wet dirt, thrashing wildly.

Cassian and Seraphina scrambled backward, their crimson eyes wide with sheer, paralyzing horror. The dozen armed guards behind them drew their weapons, but they did not take a single step forward. They stared at the bubbling, black puddle of melted steel hissing on the forest floor.

I did not stop. The cold, ruthless fire in my chest demanded a complete surrender.

I dropped to a crouch, slamming both of my bare palms flat against the damp earth.

I pushed the heavy, pressurized rot deep into the root system of the forest floor, aiming the decay outward in a wide, sweeping arc.

The ground beneath the Vampire Lords erupted.

The wet dirt turned pitch black, bubbling into a thick, hissing moat of toxic sludge that rapidly encircled Cassian, Seraphina, and the screaming Valerius. The dark magic ate into the massive, ancient pine trees surrounding them.

The thick bark dissolved. The massive trunks rotted from the inside out, turning to soft, black ash. Three towering pine trees groaned loudly, their structural integrity completely destroyed, and crashed to the forest floor in a shower of dead, black splinters.

The foul, heavy metallic stench of decay flooded the clearing, choking the clean scent of the pines entirely.

I pulled my hands from the dirt and stood up.

I did not leak a single drop of sludge. I contained the magic instantly, leaving my skin perfectly clean. I looked down at the three powerful, arrogant lords of the Resistance.

They were trapped inside a perfect, bubbling ring of black rot. Valerius was weeping on the ground, cradling his burned, hissing hand. Seraphina’s pristine crimson silk gown was soaked in mud, her sharp face completely pale. Cassian stood frozen, his chest heaving, his rapier half-drawn and entirely forgotten.

They looked at me, and they finally understood. I was not a political pawn. I was not a symbol. I was a walking, breathing plague.

"You want to talk about old blood," I said. My voice was quiet, steady, and entirely merciless in the echoing silence of the fallen trees. "You want to divide the spoils before the battle is fought. You think the Emperor kept me in the Ivory Spire to sing for your entertainment."

I stepped forward, stopping right at the edge of the hissing, black sludge.

"The Emperor kept me in a cage because I rot the earth," I told them, staring directly into Cassian’s terrified crimson eyes. "I am the Blight. I dissolve steel. I melt stone. I do not need your gold, Seraphina. I do not need your veteran blades, Valerius. If you walk away from me today, I will march my scavengers to the capital, and I will rot the Ivory Spire until it falls into the sea."

I tilted my head, the cold, heavy command settling deep into my bones.

"But if you stay," I continued, my voice ringing with total, unyielding authority. "You do not lead. You do not argue. You follow me. You follow the Grand Admiral. You follow Riven. You are no longer the lords of the dark. You are my vanguard."

I pointed to the wet, freezing dirt just inside the ring of decay.

"Kneel," I commanded.

Cassian stared at me. He looked at the bubbling black rot inches from his expensive leather boots. He looked at the massive, ancient trees I had effortlessly turned to ash. He looked at the cold, dead fire in my turquoise eyes.

The high lord of the eastern covens slowly lowered himself to the ground. He dropped to both knees, pressing his pale, trembling hands into the wet mud.

Seraphina followed a second later, her rich silk gown pooling in the dirt as she bowed her head deeply. Even Valerius, shivering and clutching his ruined hand, dragged himself onto his knees, his massive frame shaking with terror and pain.

Behind them, the dozen armed guards dropped their weapons into the dirt and fell to their knees in perfect, terrified synchronization.

I stood over them, listening to the hissing decay and the rushing river.

Klaus stepped up to my right side. He did not say a word. He looked at the kneeling, arrogant nobility of the Resistance, his bright sapphire eyes burning with a dark, feral pride. He reached out, his hot, calloused fingers wrapping securely around my raw hand.

I squeezed his hand back.