Chapter 137: Exclusive Murder Rights

The scream of the Black Tiger King was a primal, distorted roar of pure agony.

Carik thrashed wildly in the dirt, his massive paws swiping blindly at the air, ripping up clumps of grass and earth. He rubbed his massive head violently against the ground, trying to dislodge the obsidian dagger embedded in his left eye, but the movement only made the blood gush faster, painting his black fur crimson.

Vara stood frozen, her chest heaving, staring at the carnage. She spun around, her eyes scanning the tree line, searching for the assailant.

A single figure emerged from the shadows.

He moved with a liquid grace that made the very air seem heavy. His long black robes whispered against the grass, untouched by the dirt or the dust of the brawl. His face was a mask of aristocratic boredom, framed by cascading dark hair.

It was the Snake King.

Vara’s heart hammered against her ribs. She knew Syris hated Kael. Surely, he had come to relish in the White Tiger King’s humiliation. She frantically searched the space behind him, looking for the flash of red hair, for the mammal that had ruined everything.

But Ren wasn’t there.

Behind Syris stood only his loyal guard, Viper.

Syris ignored Vara completely. His amethyst eyes drifted to Carik, who was still writhing, rubbing his wounded face into the dirt in a desperate attempt to stop the pain.

There was no intrigue in Syris’ gaze. There was no interest. Only a mild, disdainful annoyance.

“For a beast with that many scars,” Syris drawled, his voice cool and carrying effortlessly across the clearing, “you’d think he’d be able to handle a small poke in the eye.”

Vara gulped. She realized that if Carik attacked Syris in his blind rage, their new reign would end before it began. She rushed forward, bowing low, putting on her most submissive face.

“Snake King!” she gasped, trembling. “This exile,” she gestured to Kael’s broken body, “was attacking us! He is a traitor to the clan! We were just executing justice!”

Syris stopped walking. He looked down at her as if she were a talking bug.

Without a word, his hand shot out.

His pale, elegant fingers wrapped around Vara’s throat.

“Ghk!”

He lifted her effortlessly from the ground. Her feet dangled in the air, kicking futilely. His sharp nails pressed into the soft skin of her neck, drawing tiny beads of blood.

“Why,” Syris whispered, bringing her face close to his, “do you think I care about your petty affairs?”

Vara clawed at his wrist, her eyes bulging, but his grip was iron.

Syris didn’t wait for an answer. He turned his head slightly to his guard.

“Viper. Fetch the tiger.”

He gestured vaguely at Kael, who was lying in the dust, barely conscious, his breathing ragged.

Syris dropped Vara.

She hit the ground hard, gasping for air, clutching her bruised throat. Syris didn’t even look at her. He plucked a large, velvety leaf from a nearby bush and wiped the hand that had touched her, scrubbing his fingers as if he had just handled a rotting carcass. He then let the leaf drift down onto her head.

Viper moved quickly. He scooped up Kael’s wounded body, throwing the White Tiger King over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. Kael let out a pained groan but didn’t resist.

Syris turned on his heel, his robes swishing, intending to leave as simply as he had arrived.

“Wait!”

Vara scrambled to her feet, coughing, her humiliation turning into desperate rage. She couldn’t let them take Kael. If Kael lived, her claim to the throne was threatened.

“You cannot take him!” Vara declared, her voice shrill. “Kael is a prisoner of the White Tiger Clan! Taking him is an act of war against us!”

Syris stopped in his tracks.

He didn’t turn around. But Viper saw the corner of his King’s mouth quirk up into a terrifyingly amused smile.

“Oh?” Syris murmured, the sound vibrating in the air. “How brave of you.”

Behind them, a low, wet growl erupted.

Carik had managed to steady himself. Blood was gushing from his ruined eye, blinding him on one side, but the pain had driven him beyond reason. He saw the blur of the Snake King’s back through his good eye.

“YOU!” Carik roared, his voice distorted by blood and fury. “You took my eye! I will eat your heart, Snake!”

He charged. Five tons of blind, scarred muscle launched toward Syris’ exposed back, claws tearing up the earth.

“My King!” Viper shouted in panic, bracing himself.

Syris didn’t flinch. He didn’t turn. He simply let his robe fall.

FWOOSH.

The fabric pooled on the ground.

In a flash of amethyst light, the lean form of the Snake King vanished.

The air in the clearing suddenly became heavier than lead. A pressure, ancient and suffocating, slammed into every living creature, forcing the air from their lungs.

Rising from the spot where the man had stood was a nightmare.

A Titanoboa.

He was colossal. His scales were a shimmering, impenetrable black that absorbed the sunlight. His body was thick as a tree trunk, coiling and rising, towering high above the charging tiger. His amethyst eyes were vertical slits of pure, frozen power.

The King’s Aura hit Carik like a physical wall.

The Black Tiger froze mid-stride, his paws skidding in the dirt.

Every instinct in Carik’s body screamed Predator. Fear, cold and absolute, consumed him.

Behind him, Vara and the other tigers collapsed, their knees buckling under the sheer weight of Syris’ raw power. It was difficult to breathe. It was impossible to look up.

The massive snake lowered his head, bringing his snout inches from the trembling, one-eyed tiger.

“Know your place, cub,” Syris hissed, the sound vibrating through the bones of everyone present.

His forked tongue flicked out, tasting Carik’s fear.

“In the presence of a true King,” Syris rumbled, his eyes glowing, “you are but a dirty stray.”

Carik whimpered. The massive, scarred killer from the Wastelands whined like a kicked puppy and lowered his massive belly to the dirt in submission.

Satisfied, the giant snake shimmered. Bones cracked and reshaped.

In seconds, Syris stood there again in his beastman form, naked and unbothered. He bent down, picked up his robe, and dusted it off before slipping it back on with practiced elegance.

He turned his back on the trembling Tiger Clan.

“I spare you today,” Syris said casually, as if deciding not to step on an ant.

He glanced at Kael, who was hanging limply over Viper’s shoulder, watching the scene through half-lidded, swollen eyes.

“Because,” Syris finished, nodding toward Carik, “your life isn’t mine to take.”

With that, the snakes walked into the forest, leaving the tigers broken in the dust.

The journey was silent for a long time. The only sound was their bare feet on the leaves and Kael’s ragged breathing.

Finally, Kael forced his dry throat to work. He turned his bruised face toward the Snake King.

“Why?” Kael rasped, his voice barely audible. “Why did you save me?”

Syris kept walking, his gaze fixed straight ahead. His face was devoid of expression, cold and detached.

“Because,” Syris said simply. “I am the only beast allowed to kill you.”

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep