The Tyrant's Pet

Meanwhile…

"Hell's Gate."

Abel licked the side of his fangs as the red mist thickened. Despite the fog inside the great hall, he could see very clearly. The corner of his lips stretched even broader, eyes glinting with murderous intent. Everyone around him showed fear. However, they had stopped taking a step back, ready to fight for their life.

That was the spirit. It would be a shame if they all died without putting up a fight.

"Your Majesty!" someone from the night council bellowed. "Are you truly planning to end us, the night council, who served you for years?!"

"What a dumb question." Abel laughed with his lips closed, looking around in satisfaction. "The coven was created for one reason, and you all failed to finish the job. Each year, the coven loses its effectiveness and you keep disappointing me."

His eyes drooped until they were partially closed, hiding his eyes, which were glowing in bright red with inked black sclera. His veins under his skin had already turned black as his horn stretched. He combed his hair with his fingers, brushing it back until he could feel his rough horn in between his fingers.

"The coven wasn't supposed to grant me any power, but now that it was broken… I have more reasons to stop it." He dropped his hand, looking from his left and then to his right. The night council had brought forth their weapons or their hands were already flexed to cast a spell to stop him.

From another person's perspective, if one didn't know, they would mistake it as a group of people trying to subdue the devil. Technically, that was the truth.

It was either them or Abel. There was no in-between; there wasn't a mediator.

Only one party would walk out of this great hall, and that would definitely be Abel.

"Open."

"Ahh!" Just as Abel whispered, "open," someone charged toward him with his sword. And in a blink of an eye, the sword went through the side of Abel's abdomen through his back. However, Abel simply tilted his head and gazed down at the sword in his body.

His lips stretched, holding onto the blade, raising his eyes up at the person before him. The latter tried to pull the sword back, but because Abel was holding onto the blade, it didn't budge.

"You…" the person's voice shook as a sense of dread went up his spine. All he saw was the large grin plastered on Abel's face before Abel grabbed his face, just like how he grabbed Firion before smashing the latter's skull.

But instead of smashing the person's skull, Abel pulled the man closer. Without a second hesitation, Abel sank his fang into the man's neck, clasping the person's hair to the side while the latter squealed in pain.

Crack…

The man's spine broke loudly while Abel sucked all his life forces out of him. When he pulled his fangs away, a few of the person's flesh was taken out. Like a withered fruit, the man landed on Abel's feet.

Abel spat out the skin and flesh, licking his bloody mouth like a monster.

"Oh… how nice," was all he said, drunk with the taste of blood lingering in his cavity. His eyes drooped as it clouded, casting everyone a look like a hungry monster looking at his prey. "It had been a while… since I had a feast to maintain my figure. Should I call it a cheat day?"

Abel laughed at his own joke while the rest were harrowed by it. They narrowed their eyes at him, swallowing down the tension building up in their throat.

This was Abel. The real Abel Grimsbanne. The one everyone had seen and feared.

Abel breathed out, pulling the sword out of his stomach. He then tossed it to the side, letting the clank of metals echo in everyone's ears like thunder.

"Who is next?" he asked, his eyes fastened with excitement and amusement.

The witches present looked at each other, getting the approval of the high priestess. They all nodded at each other before setting their focus on Abel, chanting the same ancient words to restrain Abel. Meanwhile, the vampires present took a step forward to fight the emperor head-on.

There was no point in asking for mercy. Abel had warned them and they didn't listen, confident they would succeed in tonight's coven. They still have to succeed, even though Firion and another member of the night council had perished right before their eyes.

Only if Abel was forced into a forced slumber would they all get real freedom.

"How enthusiastic —" Abel arched a brow as he raised a hand, but the chains around his wrist tugged it back. His lips, however, curled up despite the added heaviness the witches had cast upon the chains. "Is that all you can do?"

Abel ground his teeth and pulled his hand, waving them as if the added heaviness didn't affect him in the slightest. Yet, the witches didn't stop chanting solemnly and in unison. The situation, somehow, reminded them of the previous coven, where everyone nearly died. But Abel, at that time, simply walked away midway as he changed his mind, telling them he was in a rush to make love with his lover.

"How disappointing." His smile faded and in a blink of an eye, he disappeared from his vantage point, standing in front of a night council. The member of the night council's breath instantly hitched, and he wasn't even able to grasp the situation or react when Abel slapped him using the back of his hand.

Squash!

The person's head was squashed like a bug, dispersing in the air, only for his blood to add thickness to the red mist. When his body landed, blood leaked out of his severed neck, which the floor simply absorbed.

Seeing this, Conan, who was able to get back to his knees, had his mouth agape. His heart sank to his stomach, watching this side of Abel, he hadn't seen for a very long time.

Berserk.

"This is bad," Conan whispered as his hand trembled, holding his sword in panic. "I should stop him."

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