Chapter 284 Chapter 284
Dorian crawled away, but Xenon followed slowly, stealthily. Each footfall was measured. Controlled. The sound of it echoed in Dorian’s skull louder than thunder.
Xenon struck him to the ground, and Dorian groaned in pain.
He rolled Dorian over, pressing his knee against his chest, his hands wrapped around his neck, wringing tighter as seconds passed.
“He would have been seven now, on his way to becoming a powerful king, just like his father,” he seethed, his eyes narrowed with malevolence.
“You’re… an abomination!” Dorian choked out, bloodied spit sputtering from his mouth. “Hybrids—people like you—shouldn’t exist!”
“Like that makes you any more eligible,” Xenon murmured, giving him a hit across the face.
He gripped Dorian’s jaw again, digging his claw into his flesh. “Need I remind you that you’re not of any royal bloodline? Just a noble that got lucky.”
He sunk his claws even deeper, drawing a pained growl from Dorian.
“That throne will never belong to you. Ever,” he growled.
Dorian gagged, feet kicking uselessly, vision swimming as pressure crushed his windpipe. His vision started to whiten around the edges.
“Well, now you’re here to pay for your sins,” Xenon said softly, his voice smooth as drawn steel.
Quite suddenly, he rose from Dorian, and the latter instantly went into a coughing fit, clutching his chest as he tried to rid himself of the nauseating pressure Xenon had placed there.
“I’m giving you a chance to fight me. And you’d better fight. Because if there’s anything I hate more than liars, it’s cowards.”
Xenon’s lips curled upward, but what formed wasn’t a smile. “Fight me for the throne you stole. If you win, you become its true leader. If I win, let’s just say you’re as good as dead.”
Dorian’s mind fractured. His blood ran cold.
This wasn’t a man.
This was judgment.
Still, he rose to his feet, ignoring the pain shooting through his body, as though a thousand arrows had been driven into him.
His body ached from where he had sustained injuries, but he gave a menacing growl and charged at Xenon first, morphing into a half-shift mid-air.
Xenon stepped aside with infuriating ease, the movement fluid and precise, and redirected the charge with one brutal shove. Dorian hit the ground hard, rolling several meters across dirt and broken grass. The impact knocked the breath from his lungs, grit grinding into his teeth.
Before he could recover, Dorian whirled back with a wild swipe, claws slashing through empty air. His attacks were fast—desperate—but sloppy, driven by panic rather than control.
Xenon moved backward, light on his feet, boots barely disturbing the soil. Not a single blow touched him.
That—that calm—scraped raw at Dorian’s nerves.
With a guttural roar, he attacked again, harder this time, throwing everything he had into each strike. His chest burned. His vision tunneled. Still Xenon evaded him, deflecting just enough, allowing just enough.
He wasn’t fighting.
He was waiting.
Finally, Xenon stopped.
He studied Dorian with a faint frown, as if mildly disappointed.
“Is this the strength you possess as a king?” he asked coolly.
Dorian stood there, chest heaving, lungs screaming for air. Sweat mixed with blood ran down his face, stinging his eyes. His limbs trembled with exhaustion.
Xenon clicked his tongue and closed the distance. “You need to do better.”
Dorian turned to flee.
Xenon’s hand shot out.
He grabbed Dorian as the latter tried to escape him, sinking his claws into the latter’s flesh. “I’ll show you what strength looks like,” he growled.
Now, he attacked.
The fight was deadly, but immensely short-lived. Xenon targeted every vulnerable spot in Dorian’s body, breaking bones, slicing through veins and arteries.
Blood gushed out of Dorian’s body, an agonized scream pouring from his lips.
Xenon kicked him off his feet, sending him tumbling to the ground, and struck his heel into his stomach. Dorian vomited blood, eyes rolling to the back of his head. He was so lightheaded, he was stunned he hadn’t passed out yet.
“See? Now that’s how a real king fights. From the looks of it, it seems like I have won,” he muttered in a non-committal tone.
“Please, just… please just kill me,” he gurgled, blood pooling in his mouth.
“Oh no, you’re not going to die. At least, not here. Why do you think I have been careful with you? You’re going to pay for every year you stole from me first. You and all of your accomplices. So you better start identifying them, since misery loves company.”
Xenon picked up one of his legs and began dragging him across the forest. “Now, come with me.”
Xenon returned to the battlefield and saw that the weretigers were clearly winning. Only very few werewolf soldiers and a couple of humans had joined in the fight as well. His chest swelled with pride at the sight; his plan had worked.
He looked up at the sky and saw the first rays of the sun cut through it.
Dawn was arriving.
“Halt!” he cried out, and the weretigers stopped, their attention on him.
His gaze swept across the field once more. “You all have done well. Thank you for your bravery tonight!” he cried, and they responded with a resounding yell, beating their chests.
“However, as much as I’d love to easily make this a massacre and kill every werewolf that marched to war tonight, that’s not what I’m here for.”
He turned his attention to the surviving werewolves, all gravely injured. His eyes narrowed, and he continued with a much colder voice.
“Whether we all like it or not, a part of me still resides with you, still beats for you, still hopes…” He stopped, swallowing tightly against the emotions clogging his throat. “That it would be accepted.”
“So here I am, giving you a choice. Submit to me, bend the knee, and acknowledge that I am your leader, or go and meet your fallen men in the afterlife.”
He spoke, his voice echoing through the entire field.
Some people paled, their breaths hitching in the their chest.
“It matters not to me if you choose to be defiant, because I have already subdued this imposter and will exact my judgment on those that betrayed me. But it is for your own good, so you are not completely ruined.”
He paused, meeting each and every one of their gazes. “So, what do you say, gentlemen?”
Most of the soldiers looked at each other, then at the imposter that dangled in Xenon’s hold, and sighed in defeat.
One by one, they fell to their knees, their foreheads touching the ground in a bow.
“We submit, your majesty,” they said as one, voice raw.