Chapter 107: That was pretty easy.

The sound of iron clashing against marble echoed through the corridors. Duke Paraphal’s hall was now a field of rubble—torn tapestries, broken chairs, and fresh blood staining the floor. The attack had been swift and cowardly. Arrows, coming from within the walls themselves, had cut through the air seconds after the herald announced their entry.

Ester advanced through the rubble, her sword still dripping with the blood of the last guard who had tried to stab her in the back. The cold gleam in her eyes said it all—she wasn’t surprised. She was irritated.

Damon walked beside her, hands in his pockets, his expression curiously serene.

“So… I assume this wasn’t part of the reception?”

“No.” Ester’s answer came sharply, almost a growl. She kicked the still-groaning body of a soldier, flipping him over onto his stomach. The symbol embroidered on his cloak was torn but visible—Paraphal’s silver falcon. “The Duke knew we were coming.”

Damon arched an eyebrow. “So he tried to kill us inside the castle itself. Brave.”

“Idiot.” She wiped the blade on the fallen enemy’s cloak. “Now I have more than enough reason to kill him.”

Damon paused, his smile fading for a moment. “Kill the Duke?” He tilted his head, his voice sounding somewhere between surprise and genuine interest. “Are you sure this won’t cause… diplomatic problems? Countess Elizabeth is respected, but murdering a nobleman inside his own duchy… that could lead to war.”

Ester glanced at him, cold as ice. “The initial order was to kill him.”

Damon blinked. “Excuse me?”

“Elizabeth sent me with a message, yes. But the ’marriage proposal’ was just a cover.” She twisted her wrist, sheathing her sword. “The real reason is to eliminate Paraphal. Harassment, abuse of power, corruption, slave trading. The man is a worm dressed in silk.”

Damon let out a low whistle. “And here I thought it was just a polite visit.”

“I never make polite visits.”

He laughed, shaking his head. “And to think I was surprised when you had a general hanged in front of his own men. I should have known.”

“You should talk less.”

“I should, but I’m irresistibly curious.” He leaned a little closer, studying the dried blood on her blade. “So the Countess ordered you to kill the Duke… and no one else knows about it?”

“Only me. And now, you.”

Damon placed a hand on his chest theatrically. “I’m honored. And cursed.”

“It depends on what you find in the basement,” she replied, walking toward a side staircase. “I have reason to believe the Duke is keeping secrets down there. Secrets that justify what I’m about to do.”

“Let me guess,” he smiled. “More bodies?”

“Worse.”

The corridor leading to the basement was narrow and dark. The sound of their footsteps echoed between the stone walls, mixed with the distant drip of water seeping through the cracks. Damon lit a small flame between his fingers—a purple spark that illuminated the way.

“You really believe there’s something here?” he asked curiously.

“Elizabeth has received reports of disappearances. Children, peasants, servants. All around Paraphal. The Duke claimed wolf attacks.” She took the first step, without looking back. “But wolves don’t leave their victims without blood.”

Damon arched an eyebrow in surprise. “Without blood? You’re saying—”

“Yes. Rituals.”

His smile faded. “Ah. How charming.”

The corridor narrowed further, until it opened into a large underground hall. The dim torchlight revealed cages, torture tables, symbols etched into the floor with something that wasn’t paint. Damon was silent for a moment, the flame in his fingers flickering.

Ester walked to one of the cages. Inside was a body. Or what was left of it. A young-looking man, with completely white eyes and gray skin. He was still breathing, but the sound was faint and irregular.

“Gods…” Damon murmured. “He’s alive.”

Ester knelt, watching closely. The body trembled spasms, as if something inside him was trying to escape. “Forbidden magic. Extraction of life essence. The Duke is using people as a source of power.”

“So he’s not just a worm,” Damon said. “He’s an ambitious worm.”

“And doomed.”

Esther stood, already turning toward the stairs leading back. “Let’s finish this.”

But before they’d taken more than three steps, a sound echoed behind them. A soft, almost delicate rustling. When they turned, they saw something they shouldn’t have seen.

The castle maids.

They emerged from the hallway like shadows—pale faces, empty eyes, bloodied clothes. They walked slowly, their bare feet marking the stone floor with damp footprints. The air seemed to grow colder.

Damon instinctively raised a hand, the flame growing between his fingers. “It seems the Duke doesn’t like visitors in the basement.”

“Wait.” Ester’s voice cut through the air, firm. “Don’t hurt any of them.”

He looked at her in disbelief. “Did you notice what I did? They’re coming to kill us.”

“I know.” She stepped forward, unwinding her cloak from her shoulders. “But not willingly. They’re being controlled.”

The women advanced, and Damon could see clearly now: there were dark marks on their necks, symbols identical to the ones on the ground. A curse of domination. He sighed in frustration.

“Good. A necromancer with a sense of aesthetics.”

“Emotional control, Damon.”

“I have control. I just don’t like being bitten by possessed maidens.”

Ester didn’t answer. She drew her sword and held it at her side defensively. When the first maid advanced, she moved like a shadow—dodging, disarming, pushing without hurting. Every blow was calculated, every movement precise.

Damon, on the other hand, seemed to be enjoying himself. He glided between them, dodging with dancing steps, his wings spreading slightly when he needed momentum. He used minimal magic—just enough to create small gusts of wind or invisible pushes that pushed them away.

“You’re really holding back,” he commented, laughing. “That’s new.”

“I don’t want to kill them.”

“You and your noble conscience.”

“Someone has to have one.”

One of the women tried to stab her with a kitchen knife. Ester blocked it with her forearm, twisting her wrist and twisting the weapon until she fell. With a shove, he threw her back, knowing the impact wouldn’t be fatal. But the servant’s gaze, even as she fell, didn’t change—empty, soulless.

“They don’t feel pain,” Damon observed. “Their control is total.”

“Then we have to break the spell.” She looked around, searching for something—and then she saw it. In the center of the hall, between the cages, a statue. A black iron falcon, ruby ​​eyes, pulsing with reddish energy.

“There.”

Damon followed her gaze. “The control artifact.”

“Destroy it.”

He smiled. “Finally, something I can destroy.”

As Ester held the maids at bay, Damon advanced toward the statue. The energy around the artifact seemed to react to his presence, sparking in the air. He raised his hand, gathering power, and a purple orb began to spin between his fingers.

But before he could cast the spell, something moved above them.

From the ceiling, a figure slowly descended—Duke Paraphal himself. Or what was left of him. His body covered in ornate black armor, his face pale and distorted, his eyes glowing the same red as the artifact.

“Deathstriker…” the voice echoed, guttural, distorted. “You came to destroy… what you don’t understand.”

Ester looked up, cold. “I understand well enough. You sold souls in exchange for power.”

“I freed them from misery,” the Duke replied, floating a few feet above the ground. “And in return, they serve me. Eternally.”

Damon gave a short laugh. “It’s amazing how you humans always call ’freeing’ what is essentially murder.”

The Duke looked at him, his eyes flashing. “And you… a demon next to the Countess’s murderer. What an interesting pair.”

Ester stepped forward. “Show less interest and more fear.”

He smiled. “You can’t kill me. Not without killing them too.” He gestured to the maids. “The bond is mutual. Touch me, and every one of them drops dead.”

Ester hesitated. Damon watched her silently, sensing the conflict behind her cold gaze. Then he murmured, “Do you want me to distract him?”

“No,” she replied. “Just keep the maids away. I’ll take care of the rest.”

She walked slowly, her sword lowered. “You speak of liberation, Duke, but you live trapped in your own sins.”

“Sins gave me power.”

“And I came to take it from you.”

In a sudden movement, she threw the sword—not at the Duke, but at the artifact. The blade sliced ​​through the air with a slicing sound and struck the iron hawk dead center. A white flash exploded through the room. Damon covered his eyes, recoiling, as screams echoed from all around.

The maids fell, fainting. The red glow faded from the Duke’s eyes for an instant—just long enough for Ester to leap, catching her sword in mid-swing and plunging it into his chest.

The impact shook the ground.

The Duke screamed, a mixture of pain and rage, the dark energy dispersing in bursts. Damon gripped one of the walls to stay upright, watching his body freeze completely before shattering into crystalline dust…

When silence fell, only the sound of Ester’s breathing remained—slow, heavy.

Damon approached, looking at the limp body. “…that was…”

Ester wiped the blade humorlessly. “Pretty easy, it happens when a fool who knows nothing tries to use power. I hate stupid people.”

“Well… considering you were a general… it makes sense.” He looked around, seeing the still unconscious maids. “Will they survive?”

“Yes. The bond has been broken.”

Damon sighed, cracking his neck. “You know, for a diplomatic visit, this turned out to be quite lively.”

“For me, it’s Tuesday.”

She turned and started up the stairs, not looking back. Damon followed her, the sound of his boots echoing through the destroyed corridor. Outside, snow fell slowly, covering the blood and iron as if the world were trying to erase what had happened there.

When they reached the courtyard, Damon spoke again:

“You know this will cause chaos among the nobles, right?”

Ester didn’t respond for a moment. Then he simply said,

“Elizabeth will know what to do. And Paraphal… deserved the end he got.”

Damon nodded, half-serious for the first time. “Sometimes I forget how dangerous you are.”

“Remember next time you want to tease.”

He smiled, spreading his wings and walking beside her. “Oh, I remember. But that’s what makes things interesting.”

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