The Tyrant's Pet

Humans were fascinating. They had the silliest and the most obvious questions. Still, they asked anyway, even when they already knew the answer.

"Who... are you people? Why are you addressing him as 'Your Majesty'?"

Abel simply cast Ismael a nonchalant glance when the question flew out of his pale lips. The third prince had seen Abel's eyes, and then Dexter's fangs. Isaiah and Conan were here too — although he had already met Conan, which was supposed to make it easier for Ismael to guess who they were.

"Third Prince, I didn't know you were there!" Conan gasped, breaking the immediate silence that fell on them. "I don't know if you're lucky or plagued with bad luck! Why are you here?"

"I don't think you are in the position to ask questions," Dexter announced in a dead tone, still parading his fangs as he rarely let out. "I will kill him."

His declaration caused Ismael's shoulder to tense up and before he knew it, his feet already left the ground.

"Wait!" Ismael held on to Dexter's arm on instinct, wide-eyed. The latter's olive eyes slowly changed into red, lifting him with barely a hand.

The third prince held his breath at the disturbingly stunning shift of his eye color. He wasn't seeing things when he caught Abel's eyes, which changed up close.

These people... weren't normal people.

They were... monsters.

"Yes, we are." Ismael's breath hitched when Dexter hissed coldly. "We are, indeed, monsters clad in human skin."

Ismael looked around to see if anyone would help him. Much to his dismay, Conan was just looking back at him with no sign of stopping Dexter. Isaiah, on the other hand, had his eyes fixed on Aries. Left with no choice, Ismael gazed down at Abel, but his heart sank.

Abel doesn't care. All he cared about was Aries, who finally freed herself from her own hands.

"Kill him... and you will kill her savior," Abel spoke after a minute while Aries was coughing and gasping. "She would've suffocated to death if not for him putting his neck in between that cursed animal's teeth."

"Really?" Conan raised his brows as he gazed up at Ismael. "You did?"

"P — please — I won't tell anyone about you... don't kill me," Ismael stuttered as Dexter's eyes never left him. "Please..."

"Marquess, the third prince is crucial to your sister's plans. She will be very disappointed if you snap his neck now. After all, he is not someone anyone can replace." Conan rubbed his chin before he sighed quietly, a bit surprised Ismael had gone that far to save Aries. He thought this third prince was all for show, but it turned out Aries was right about him.

That was... no matter how Ismael faked it, he couldn't change his nature. He was... foolishly principled for his own good.

"And what makes you all think he won't talk?" asked Dexter without taking his fiery gaze from Ismael, despite knowing the answer himself.

"Why — why will I purposely get myself killed?" Ismael returned with a shaking voice.

"He is right, Marquess. Even before he can think about it, Lord Isaiah would have silenced him." Conan nodded and then glanced at Abel, who was patting Aries's back. He frowned as the emperor was oddly silent, staring at Aries with an inexplicable emotion in his eyes.

Meanwhile, Dexter scorned as he stared deep into Ismael's eyes. He knew he shouldn't kill Ismael after saving Aries, but there was one reason he wanted to kill him. Ismael had seen him; he had seen his fangs, which he never asked to have.

"Say a word to her and I will kill you myself," he warned, which sent a shiver down the third prince's spine. "You're lucky you got in here a few seconds earlier."

THUD!

Ismael winced as soon as his buttocks hit the ground. The large scratch on his leg wasn't helping. When he glanced up, Dexter was still staring down at him before he shifted his eyes to Abel.

Abel carefully cradled her in his embrace and then carried her up when she had lost consciousness. Standing tall to his stature, his eyes studied her face. Aries had already calmed down. Although she was still pale, she wasn't lacking in oxygen, thus, out of harm's way.

"They had touched her…" came out a whisper, fluttering his eyelashes ever so tenderly. He carefully peeled his eyes away from Aries and faced his people, then cast Ismael a quick look.

"Morro." To Ismael's surprise, a figure suddenly appeared behind Abel out of nowhere while black feathers floated down, swinging slowly in the air before landing on the ground. "Take that prince…"

"What —"

"… back and treat his injuries." Abel's eyes were cold but nonchalant despite the silly assumption in the prince's head. "I don't want him limping on the morrow."

He paused as he raised his eyes, glossing over at Dexter, Isaiah, and Conan. His eyes narrowed as a glint flickered across his eyes. Everyone waited for Abel's next order — even Ismael was staring at him blankly while holding his breathing.

But alas, Abel was silent. He just stood there with Aries in his arms, as if that was all he had to say. Nothing more. Yet Isaiah, Dexter, and Conan's eyes slowly dilated as they all looked up. Ismael was baffled at their change of reaction when Abel didn't even speak a word, nor did his somber expression changed

After a second, the lines on the third prince's forehead deepened as the bright surrounding dimmed. Before he could look up, a drop of liquid landed on his forehead. Ismael touched his forehead only to see a bit of what seemed to be blood. But since his hands were dirty, and he had a few scratches, he didn't think much about it.

However, the drop of liquid was followed by another until it pattered on his palm.

"What the…" Ismael cupped his hand and narrowed his eyes. The rain wasn't clear. It looked like diluted blood. When he gazed up, he caught Abel's unfazed countenance while his people were looking at him with horror in their eyes.

"Send a word to the coven of witches in this empire. I only want the witches involved." Abel blinked ever so slowly and on the third blink, a powerful gust of wind came from his spot.

Ismael's eyes went round as he held his breath as the surrounding trees on this trail were cut as if the wind itself was a huge, sharp blade cutting everything down. He gazed at Abel and saw him staring in a direction, following the latter's gaze on instinct.

There, in the very far distance where the last cut tree at least one kilometer from their vantage point, was someone in a cloak standing, facing them. Only then did Ismael realize Abel was talking to that person and not the people in here.

"Tell them I want them in an hour or… I will open the gates of hell." Abel tilted his head a little to the side as the side of his lips curled up subtly. "A trip to the devil's den… is definitely something they do not want."

To Ismael and to everyone who doesn't know the terror of the current phenomena would never understand the severity of Abel's anger. However, those who had been with Abel, and even those who were simply aware that a person like him existed, knew one thing; the Hell's Gate.

To put it simply, this Maganti Empire... and everyone — innocent or corrupt, men, women, elderly, children, human or not — who was standing on this very land would disappear... overnight.

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