Chained Hearts: From Slavery to Sovereignty
Chapter 61 -r 61: Demonic Aura

Chapter 61: Chapterr 61: Demonic Aura

Inside the banquet was filled with cheerfulness, courtesy, and warmth, while the outside of the banquet was filled with chilling silence.

The herald fell sweet, dripping from his forehead as he looked at the two outstanding figures of the empires.

He would have been thrilled to meet them, but he does not know. He felt like running away from there and hiding somewhere.

It is hard to bear the presence of these ancestors, who were constantly glaring at each other and emitting a cold aura.

He was unsure: should he announce their presence or let them have their way?

Prince Vincent looks at Prince Dorian, and he could not believe that he would have encountered Dorian here. But alas, it is good that the opportunity fell at his feet.

They have not met each other since the sparing day.

After a moment of silence, Vincent was the first to break it, a smirk curling on his lips. "Well, well. I didn’t expect to see you here, Prince Dorian. It’s been a while since our last... encounter. What brings you here tonight? I hear you hardly attend this type of banquet."

Dorian’s gaze remained distant, his expression calm yet unreadable. He raised an eyebrow but didn’t immediately respond.

When he finally spoke, his voice was measured, disinterested. "To celebrate peace, of course. What else would bring me here?" He glanced at Vincent, his expression dismissive. "Though I doubt you’re here for the festivities alone."

Vincent looked at Prince Dorian, and his eyebrows rose when he felt that Dorian’s aura was slightly different from the last time. Now it contains more of a demonic aura; albeit it was faint and almost easily unnoticed, but it cannot hide from his eyes.

That means His Lord is finally taking over this body. Vincent’s eyes shone with profound light. He could not wait for the day to come; his lord will not have to share his body with a pathetic human.

Dorian’s eyebrow furrowed as he looked at the bright expression on Prince Vincent’s face, and he had a bad feeling in his heart. He really couldn’t understand what was going on in his mind.

One time he behaves like he regards him in a high position, but other times he could not see more than the pest in his eyes. This thought was always in his mind, but he really could not care less; if he started thinking about everyone’s perspective, then sorry, he could not even live his life like he was leaving.

After all, he had seen these types of emotions on almost everyone’s faces, like they were looking at a monster, pest, or someone inhuman, and more importantly, fear and terror.

They are afraid of him, but still they dare to show disgust in front of him when he could easily twist their necks and make them forever asleep.

A shallow smile appeared on Dorian’s face, and without giving another look to Prince Vincent, he walked straight towards the door, and Vincent was dumbfounded at his ability to ignore him; he shouted, Hey! Where are you going? We could have walked together too. Why are you running?

But Dorian did not give Vincent another glance and stepped forward, entering the door without hesitation. The herald, momentarily stunned by the tension between the two princes, snapped back to attention as he watched Dorian stride inside.

Gathering his composure, he cleared his throat and made the official announcement, his voice echoing through the banquet hall: "Presenting His Royal Highness, First Prince Dorian of Aetherlyn."

Just as the guests turned their attention toward Dorian’s entrance, Vincent followed directly behind him, ignoring every ounce of formality expected of royal arrivals.

The herald’s jaw tightened as he muttered to himself, feeling his patience stretch thin. Couldn’t Vincent wait a few moments, just a minute even, before following suit?

It was nearly unheard of for two royals to enter so closely one after the other; such protocol demanded a respectful pause, a moment of separation to allow each presence its due regard.

But no—Prince Vincent swept in as though he couldn’t be bothered with such traditions, adding to the herald’s frustration.

Resigned, the herald immediately raised his voice once more, calling out over the hall before the guests even had time to respond to Dorian’s entrance.

"And Crown Prince Vincent Raconius Lysander of the Kingdom of Drakonia," he announced, fighting the urge to sigh in exasperation.

There was a commotion among the nobles when Vincent walked into the hall. Many odd looks were exchanged, and whispers spread like wildfire.

With Vincent’s black eyes blazing with such piercing confidence that some felt bordered on arrogance, the nobility were quick to notice every feature of his commanding presence.

His arrival, which came so soon after Dorian’s and without the customary interval, wasn’t overlooked and caused whispering among the audience.

Dorian, however, strode into the banquet as though he had not a care in the world, his expression distant and unreadable.

He barely acknowledged the countless eyes following his every move, his cool indifference giving him an air of mystery that captivated as much as it unsettled.

"Look at him—Prince Dorian. Always so composed," one nobleman murmured to his companion, his tone mixed with awe and wariness.

"And Crown Prince Vincent, too," a noblewoman whispered, her eyes lingering on Vincent. "I’ve heard rumors about his powers and his ambitions."

Another noble chuckled, but his laughter held an edge of discomfort. "They may be rivals, but there’s something dangerous about the two of them in the same room."

Amid the low hum of conversations, Vincent’s gaze swept the room, pausing briefly on those who dared to meet his eyes before sliding dismissively away.

He was well aware of the effect he had and made no attempt to soften his imposing presence. Instead, his attention returned to Dorian, his smirk widening.

"So quick to slip away, aren’t you?" Vincent called out to Dorian, his voice low but carrying. "Isn’t it rude to ignore a fellow prince so thoroughly?"

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