The Tyrant's Pet

"… because it's no fun if I didn't."

Clang.

The dagger slowly slipped out of Joaquin's grip, pupils dilating in fear, lungs constricting. His eyes were fixed on his hand that held the dagger previously, watching how clean cuts appeared around his every finger until his bones peeked from his flesh.

"Ahh!!!" Joaquin's scream erupted, gripping his wrist to stop the bleeding. He twist and turned on the floor, writhing in agony. The cuts in his hand were deep, but not enough to sever them to allow his body to heal.

Abel quirked a brow and fluttered his eyelashes indifferently at him. His lips were drawn into a thin line, watching Joaquin until the latter was dry heaving.

"Her screams were louder than that... but no one heard it," he whispered, eyes glinting with his expression cold.

"Ugh --!" Joaquin, who had barely healed and was still dry heaving, gasped at the unknown gravity that suddenly erupted on his stomach. His mouth fell open, suffocated at the invisible weight pressing down on him.

Not just him, but some of the knights inside even went down to their knees, unable to bear the weight. The ground cracked until a hallow appeared underneath those corpses on the floor.

Abel fluttered his eyelashes ever so tenderly, glancing over his shoulder. A faint exhale escaped his nostrils, arching a brow at Joaquin.

"Do you now understand that I did nothing yet?" his rasped voice sounded overloud in everyone's ears, almost causing them to bleed. "The humiliations you had experienced until now... were simply my suggestions, and you did them all on your own."

Joaquin continued to gasp for air, scratching his neck and rolling to his side. All the quick planning he did just now disappeared without a trace because one thing was for sure; Abel was telling the truth.

From the beginning, he did nothing to Joaquin aside from talking. The aura he thought Abel was pulling on him wasn't meant to intimidate. That... was just the natural air surrounding him.

That was clear now because if Abel did someone, a vampire would certainly know he did something.

His lips quivered, staring back at this monster. "Kill... kill me now..." tears shone in his eyes, imagining what would happen to him if he lived.

"No." Abel smiled. "There's a reason I made you into a vampire, Your Highness. And that is because I want you to live a very, very long life."

A strong sense of dread traveled down Joaquin's spine the more Abel's smile grew wicked. The latter continued;

"Don't worry, Your Highness. Just think of this as a simple act of heroism. I would've killed every single one in this land, but because of you, your life and death will save them all." — meaning, Joaquin would die repeatedly to cover the populations of the empire, which Abel planned to take if not for Aries.

"This is how I compromise," he added with a sinister smile. "And you're doing a good deed... for the first time in your life."

At that point, Joaquin realized this man... wasn't like anybody whose wrath was quenchable with just a moment of rage. It wasn't. His grudges would last for centuries... and unfortunately, Joaquin angered him in a way unimaginable.

Joaquin's mind went blank, but his hand motioned to pick up the dagger. Without thinking twice or leaving Abel's gaze, he unhesitatingly slit his throat.

THUD!

"Hah... how boring." Abel blinked twice, staring at Joaquin's body lying motionless on the floor. He kept his eyes on the latter's figure, and when a minute had passed, Joaquin gasped for air and reopened his eyes.

"Welcome back."

Joaquin panted for air, seeing the same ceiling of the chapel. He looked to his side and saw that everyone had resumed fighting, and then Abel was staring at him with a misplaced innocence in his eyes.

"No..." came out a trembling voice, dread filling his chest. He then once again took the dagger, stabbing his neck, which was followed by darkness. Much to his dismay, he would wake up a minute later.

"No!"

Joaquin tried to kill himself repeatedly, and each time he woke up, he was losing his mind.

He wouldn't die... just as he wished for immortality.

The more he died, the more he cursed the blood running through him. He wouldn't just die, but he couldn't even totally lose his mind, as if the wires in his head would fix themselves every time it snapped.

"Heh... how cute." Abel chuckled, enjoying how Joaquin kills himself repeatedly. When he had enough entertainment, his lips stretched even wider.

Roman was showing dominance, and it wouldn't take long until the victor of this game would be determined. But that was too early for Abel.

"Joaquin, I'll give you a chance," he spoke when Joaquin came back to life once again. "Do you remember the rules of the game?"

Joaquin froze from stabbing himself one more time. He moved his eyes to Abel's back, furrowing his brows.

"The person who wins here will get to live... free from Abel." Abel flashed him a bright smile. "You won against him once. Why not try?"

"What..." Joaquin's mouth fell open, moving his attention to Roman, who just slew a royal knight.

In this situation, Joaquin was desperate to just live far away from Abel. Forget about building an empire or the luxury. All he wanted was to stay as far away from this nightmare as possible.

"I'll kill him." He announced through his gritted teeth, mustering his strength to get up and fight Roman. He stomped his way towards the seventh prince, yelling, "Roman!!!"

****

Days later...

The continuous sound of men fighting subsided the longer the fight lasted until there were only two distinct voices that could be heard. And even after days since the last royal knight's voice faded, those two — Roman and Joaquin — fought without a minute of break.

"Are they... not done yet?" Conan scrunched his nose in dismay, standing outside the chapel. "The Imperial Palace is slowly regaining order, and yet, those two are still going on it."

Isaiah, who was leaning against the pillar under the portico of the chapel, cast Conan a cursory look. His eyes shone genuine wonder, but as usual, he kept whatever question he had for Conan to himself. Asking Conan a question was akin to opening a door for him to diss Isaiah.

"How can His Majesty find joy in here?" Conan wondered, staring at the shut door, imagining the scenario currently happening inside. "I mean, of course, he already knew who will win. But... why?"

"Are you asking me to get answers, or just so you can correct me?"

"Hehe..."

"..." Isaiah chose silence, eyes on the shut door, back against the pillar, arms crossed.

For the past days, no one had ever approached this place thanks to Isaiah's protection and Ismael, who ordered everyone to leave this area alone. No one had left this place since these doors were shut closed.

"He didn't have that much fun as expected." Isaiah's lips parted, and a soft gust of wind followed his cool, deep voice. "How was Lady Aries?"

"Still unconscious and recovering." Conan kept his eyes on the shut doors as well. "That means His Majesty stays here until she wakes up, huh?"

"He has to... since his wrath is something that is quenchless, and he might still destroy this land out of boredom."

A deep sigh slipped past Conan's lips. "What a piece of work. I hope she wakes up since he prepared his wedding gift for her for a year now."

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