Emperor's harem: Transmigrated with SSS mana talent
Chapter 66: [A predator’s]

Chapter 66: [A predator’s]

Aerik slowly turned toward the Duchess, whose trembling grew more pronounced, her composure cracking under the weight of his words.

He spoke quietly but with sharp certainty,

"Right, Mother?"

The Duke’s gaze sharpened, piercing through the Duchess’s facade.

"Are you hiding something from me?" he asked, his voice low but filled with suspicion.

The Duchess’s lips parted, but no words came—only silence, thick and damning.

Her hands trembled in her lap.

Sweat pearled at her temple.

And then—

CRASH.

The doors blasted open with a splintering crack.

Kael flew into the room like a storm, landing knees-first on Aerik’s chest with a heavy thud.

"AH—! You lunatic!" Aerik wheezed, clutching his ribs.

Kael didn’t even glance at Aerik.

"Father, the first brother has rebelled," he said urgently, eyes blazing.

"You need to see this immediately."

The tension snapped.

The Duke’s face hardened, the Duchess froze, and the physician paled—each reacting to the sudden shift with shock, fear, and mounting dread.

###

Outside, the dawn broke red—its light bleeding across the estate like an omen.

The once-proud banners of House Drenlor fluttered in smoke-stained wind, trampled beneath the boots of Veyran’s advancing army.

Most of the Duke’s guards lay broken behind them, their armor dark with blood and dust.

Only scattered resistance flickered from the manor’s inner walls.

At the front of the host, Veyran stood tall, his black cloak sweeping behind him like the wing of a vulture.

Cerin was to his left, eyes cold and calculating; Rael to his right, shouting with fire in his lungs:

"The Duke is no longer our lord!"

"He harbors an evil spirit!"

"We will cleanse Velmora!"

The chants rippled through the ranks, louder, louder still, until they became one roar of righteousness—or vengeance.

Soon they reached the manor gates.

Then... they opened.

From the shadows of the doorway stepped Kael.

He stood alone at first, wind tousling his dark hair, eyes narrowed against the morning glare. He looked at the army before him—his brother’s army—and gave a faint, lopsided smile.

"You’ve hidden well, brother."

Veyran sneered, voice laced with disdain. "Don’t interfere, Kael. If you want to live, step aside."

Kael shrugged, raising his hands. "No, no. What could I possibly do?"

And he stepped aside, joining Selene, who stood calmly in the courtyard’s far corner, her eyes quietly measuring everything.

A hush fell as more figures emerged.

The Duke—wrapped in a dark cloak, pale but upright.

The Duchess—hands clenched in her gown, eyes darting between sons.

General Morien—silent as stone, sword already unsheathed.

Renold—expression unreadable, standing just behind the Duke.

Finally, the Duke’s voice rang out—not old, not frail, but heavy.

"What is this?"

His words echoed like iron dropped into water—deep, rippling, final.

No one answered at first.

The silence threatened to shatter.

Veyran laughed—loud and sharp like steel grinding on stone.

"Don’t act high and mighty, Father," he said, stepping forward, arms spread wide like a man at the center of a grand stage.

"You’re finally cornered. Today, I take the seat. Today, I become Duke."

The Duke didn’t flinch.

He simply sighed, a sound filled with age and bitterness.

"So... my sons. All this time, you only ever wanted my seat." His voice grew quieter.

"What sons I’ve raised..."

He turned then, slowly, to the woman beside him—the Duchess, still silent, still calm.

"But... you?" he said.

"I never thought you would be behind all this. You... my wife."

The silence stretched, heavy.

Then she smiled.

And then she laughed.

It was not a joyful laugh—it was brittle, bitter, forged from decades of resentment.

"Oh, Duke," she said, the title venom on her tongue.

"I hated you from the moment you forced me into this house. Do you think I ever loved this place? These sons?"

Her gaze swept coldly over the gathered family.

"No. I endured. I waited. I swallowed every moment—every touch, every command, every lie—until I had the chance."

She turned her eyes to the bottle in Aerik’s hand.

"And finally... I got that chance. A poison that cannot be detected, no matter the method. But I didn’t rush."

Her smile twisted.

"I tested it first. On our most useless son."

Kael, standing just off to the side, coughed.

A dry sound, not from poison, but from realization.

His eyes narrowed.

"So that was it," he muttered. "I was just a test subject."

"How humiliating," he added, quietly.

Selene, beside him, gave a cold, humorless chuckle.

All around, the courtyard was still.

Only the birds cried in the trees beyond the walls—uncaring.

The courtyard remained still, the air thick with the weight of unraveling betrayal.

The Duchess turned her eyes toward Aerik, her smile venomous.

"...But this bastard," she said, voice slow, cruel, "ruined everything. You were supposed to die tomorrow, quietly... like a good little pawn."

Her gaze narrowed. "But no matter."

She lifted her chin. "Because General Morien—"

Aerik’s breath hitched. "What?"

The steady thud of armored boots approached as General Morien stepped forward—not toward the Duke, but to the Duchess’s side.

The Duke’s face twisted with disbelief. "General Morien... you?"

Morien gave a short laugh, relaxed, almost amused.

"Sorry, Duke. But the King has ordered your removal. Said your ambition is reaching too far... too fast."

He turned to the Duchess and without shame—or hesitation—kissed her on the mouth.

The silence cracked.

Kael visibly recoiled.

"Ugh," he muttered under his breath,

"I’m certain those two have done something behind locked doors..."

Selene whispered, "You think they cleaned the room afterward?"

Kael looked at her strangely.

Behind their quiet revulsion, the Duchess wiped her lips with grace and looked toward the Duke, victorious.

"Don’t worry, dear husband," she said sweetly, "your duchy will be in good hands."

Veyran looked tense, jaw tight as his soldiers shifted restlessly behind him.

The courtyard was quiet—too quiet.

Selene finally whispered, voice low and urgent,

"Kael, do something. The Duke’s lost this game.

There’s going to be a fight. General Morien is a Rank 3 veteran, hardened by war—he can tear through this place.

And Veyran’s no slouch either, even if he’s just awakened as a Rank 3 magician."

Kael didn’t respond immediately. His eyes didn’t leave the Duke.

"Do you truly think he’s lost?"

Selene frowned.

"What else could this be? His firstborn turned a blade against him, his wife’s a traitor, the general he trusted most has betrayed him, and he’s injured. What does he even have left?"

Kael finally turned to her, slowly.

There was something cold and strange in his smile.

"Look at him," he said.

Selene did.

And froze.

The Duke—bleeding, betrayed, cornered—was laughing.

Not weakly.

Not in bitterness or despair.

It was a deep, knowing laugh that echoed across the courtyard like thunder before a storm.

A king’s laugh.

A predator’s.

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