Fangless: The Alpha's Vampire Mate
Chapter 171: A Blinding Veil

Chapter 171: A Blinding Veil

Everyone fought with all their might. Lisbeth distanced herself from her father, creating a significant space to establish her battleground. Meanwhile, King Valentin stood firm, channeling his formidable power primarily against Elder Alfred.

Though powerful, even the mighty king found himself overwhelmed by the sheer number of enemies. The palace’s layout and the unpreparedness of his forces left them at a severe disadvantage.

Enemy troops surrounded them, closing in from all sides, while King Valentin’s forces were trapped and pressed into a confined space. This bottleneck severely limited their defensive capability, as they couldn’t effectively mobilize all their warriors.

Margrave Nicholas fought bravely to hold off the other elders. Despite being a seasoned warrior, he struggled against the combined might of his opponents. At the same time, his troops worked tirelessly to eliminate as many enemy knights as possible.

"Flank them from behind!" he shouted with urgency.

"But, my Lord, it will take time. Wouldn’t it be wiser for our troops to stay here and provide support?" one of his trusted soldiers suggested hesitantly.

Margrave Nicholas was an astute war strategist, and he had a different perspective. "If we linger here any longer, we’ll be like fish in a pond, with the enemy as the humans casting their net. Our soldiers will merely be waiting to be slaughtered," he countered sharply.

At last, the soldier grasped the purpose of Margrave Nicholas’s plan. He nodded and hurried off to mobilize the knights who had been trapped in the courtyard.

"Secure the walls! Keep them from breaching our defenses! Slash anyone who gets too close!" Margrave Nicholas shouted, his voice ringing with determination as he sought to push the enemy back and defend the inner courtyard.

The enemy was slowly advancing toward the northern wing of the palace, and they couldn’t afford to let that happen. The northern side housed vital supplies, the training compounds, and the essential source of water for all palace residents.

Cielo provided steadfast support, shielding Lisbeth from behind as the vampire princess sprang into action. There was no time to rest; each person faced their own battle in this desperate fight.

Despite their formidable defense, the opponents were simply overwhelming in number. Lisbeth had taken down countless knights, yet the enemy ranks only seemed to swell.

Glancing into the distance, her heart sank as she spotted even more troops advancing toward the palace.

Oh, no. There are too many of them.

"Father! About five hundred more knights are closing in!" she shouted, urgency lacing her voice.

King Valentin clenched his teeth, frustration boiling within him. He unleashed a surge of power that wiped out the soldiers standing just feet away, but the elders remained steadfast, shielding themselves with their magical barriers.

A relentless barrage of attacks soon rained down on the king. While he defended himself and launched counterattacks, he took a moment to assess the condition of his troops.

The sight was distressing, to say the least. Injured knights far outnumbered those who were still combat-ready. King Valentin clicked his tongue in frustration.

Should he abandon the idea of protecting the palace—a symbol of their history—and instead choose to safeguard their future?

In the end, King Valentin made his choice. Taking a deep breath, he centered himself and summoned a surge of his power, raising his arms slowly.

With a decisive motion, he slammed his arms downward, unleashing a wave of magical energy that reverberated through the air. The ground beneath him cracked as the invisible magic rippled outward.

King Valentin’s primary ability was telekinesis—a power that excelled in one-on-one combat, whether at close range or from a distance. However, in the chaos of an all-out war, relying on telekinesis was a double-edged sword, leaving him vulnerable to harm.

Using his telekinetic powers required intense concentration on those he aimed to control, creating a tunnel vision that was perilous in a battlefield where enemies could strike from any direction.

Yet he pressed on, targeting none other than Elder Alfred. Their eyes locked as the elder groaned in pain, fighting against the king’s force.

In a silent struggle, they engaged in an invisible tug-of-war within Elder Alfred’s body, each trying to assert dominance over the other’s power.

Elder Helena, standing closest to Elder Alfred, quickly grasped what was happening. There was a reason Elder Alfred had been so determined to bring her to his side—she wielded the one power King Valentin feared most.

With swift movements, Elder Helena raised her hands, conjuring a thin, veil-like mist that shimmered in the air. She wrapped it around King Valentin’s eyes. Deprived of his sight, the king could no longer focus his telekinetic powers.

The moment King Valentin was blinded, Elder Alfred was freed. He collapsed to his knees, coughing violently. But his brief weakness was soon overtaken by rage. With a furious growl, he extended his hand, summoning a golden rope of energy.

The rope coiled through the air and latched onto King Valentin’s ankle. With a sharp tug, Elder Alfred yanked the king off balance, sending him tumbling backward.

The king clawed at the mist covering his eyes, but it was futile—being intangible, the veil slipped through his fingers. Frustration mounting, he struggled to free his ankle from the rope. Swinging his arms wildly, he hoped to sever the binding while striking down any nearby enemies.

While he did manage to injure some enemies, his attacks also struck his own soldiers. Realizing this reckless method was causing more harm than good, King Valentin abandoned the approach.

The rope around his ankle tightened with every movement, refusing to let him go. Gritting his teeth, he lifted his leg and tried to wrench it free through sheer physical strength, engaging in a raw tug-of-war with Elder Alfred.

Determined to break free, the king centered his power inward, drawing in a deep breath. Moments later, he unleashed a massive surge of energy that exploded outward. The force shattered the veil of mist and snapped Elder Alfred’s rope.

But as his vision cleared, the first thing King Valentin saw was the devastation he had caused. The western wing of the palace lay in ruins. The ground beneath it was split wide open, leaving a gaping chasm.

The once-proud ten-story tower had collapsed into rubble, burying many of his own soldiers beneath the debris. Hands, legs, helmets, and dust-covered faces protruded from the wreckage, a horrifying reminder of the cost.

What had he done? In his desperate attempt to free himself, he had destroyed the western palace. And now, they were losing, badly.

Just when King Valentin thought the situation couldn’t get any worse, something caught his eye—a flash of familiar color among the rubble.

In the distance, a bright red fabric stood out amid the devastation. Among the broken stones, something glinted. His heart sank as he recognized it. He hurried toward it, his pulse quickening.

Trembling, he knelt and picked up a small object—an earring, delicate and unmistakable. It was the very one he had given to Lady Maris, his mistress.

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