Revenge: A Path of Destruction
Chapter 51: Neferura and Mankhaure Geb

Chapter 51: Neferura and Mankhaure Geb

A low growl of rage reverberated through the dimly lit chamber, followed by the sharp crash of porcelain against stone. The air was thick, suffocating, as though the very walls recoiled from the fury unleashed within them.

A massive figure stood at the center of the wreckage, broad shoulders heaving with each ragged breath. His black, piercing eyes burned with barely restrained fury, and his brown hair, usually tied neatly, now hung in disarray over his face. Muscles corded like steel rippled with tension, his entire being radiating the suffocating presence of a Grandmaster.

With a snarl, he seized a heavy wooden table and hurled it against the wall. It splintered on impact, the lantern flames flickering wildly in response. More destruction followed—chairs shattered, shelves toppled, priceless scrolls scattered like the remnants of a fallen empire. The once-pristine chamber was now a monument to unbridled rage.

And yet, amidst the storm of chaos, one figure remained unmoved.

A young maid stood in the corner, hands neatly folded before her, gaze lowered. She had delivered the news and now bore witness to its aftermath. She knew better than to speak—no words could quell the tempest of his wrath.

Minutes passed. The storm raged, then gradually abated. His breaths grew steadier, though his fists remained clenched, the fire in his eyes undimmed.

With slow, deliberate steps, he turned toward the unshaken maid, his voice a dangerous whisper. "What does my mother plan to do now?"

There was something lethal in his tone, a barely veiled demand for destruction, the hunger to reclaim what he believed was rightfully his.

The maid lifted her head slightly, her expression composed despite the weight of his presence. She had served long enough to understand that Menkhaure Geb’s fury was like an earthquake—unpredictable, violent, devastating.

Yet, despite the chaos he had unleashed, her voice remained steady. "Stay put, my lord," she said, unshaken. "Do not be a fool and act without thinking."

Menkhaure’s black eyes narrowed at the perceived insult, but the maid did not waver. She was not chosen by his mother, for her obedience alone but for her ability to speak and guide him, where others dared not.

She took a measured step forward, lowering her voice just slightly. "Your mother has foreseen this. She has a plan, that does not involve reckless outbursts or foolish defiance. Authority may have been given to Thutmose, but the throne is far from secure."

Menkhaure’s hands, still tense with residual fury, curled into fists again—not from blind rage this time, but deep contemplation.

The maid held her ground, seizing the opportunity. "Trust in the Lady. Do not let your emotions be your downfall."

The room was still now, the echoes of destruction fading into silence. Only the weight of her words remained.

And the cold, bitter resentment that still lingered in his chest.

....

In another chamber of the grand Earth Clan mansion, the rhythmic clash of weapons echoed through the private training grounds. The air was thick with the scent of sweat and steel, charged with an undercurrent of raw energy as two warriors waged their silent war. Blades glinted under the golden light of hanging lanterns, tracing arcs of impending destruction before meeting in a resounding clash.

A striking woman with flowing black hair and deep blue eyes moved with predatory grace, her long spear an extension of her will. Each thrust and sweep carried the precision of a master, her body a conduit of controlled violence.

Opposite her, a towering man with skin bronzed from years of battle wielded a massive war hammer, his every swing a declaration of sheer, unyielding force.

The ground beneath them cracked and trembled with every collision, loose stone fragments scattering as the duel raged on. Neither yielded an inch, their battle an intricate dance of speed and power, each seeking the decisive opening.

On the edge of the training ground, a lone figure watched silently.

A maid, dressed in the pristine uniform of the Earth Clan’s attendants, stood with hands neatly clasped, her presence as unobtrusive as a shadow. She bore no outward expression, her eyes lowered in respect, yet she observed everything.

The duel reached its climax in a sudden burst of motion. The woman pivoted, her spear weaving past the hammer’s crushing descent. With the fluidity of water, she twisted her wrist, the spear’s tip halting just before it could pierce the man’s throat. A flicker of amusement crossed her sharp features before she lowered her weapon.

The man exhaled, stepping back with a short chuckle. "As always, your precision is terrifying, Lady Neferura."

Neferura smirked, twirling the spear once before resting it against her shoulder. Only then did she turn her gaze upon the waiting maid.

The attendant stepped forward, respectfully bowing to offer a towel. "Lady Neferura," she addressed her formally, her voice steady despite the of the moment’s intensity .

Neferura took the towel without a word, dabbing away the thin sheen of sweat before casting the maid an expectant glance.

"The Patrician has departed," the maid informed her. "He has entrusted the entire administration of the Earth Clan to Lord Thutmose in his absence."

Silence followed.

Where others might have shown shock, envy, or indignation, Neferura merely let out a quiet hum of amusement. Her deep blue eyes gleamed with something unreadable, but no hint of anger tainted her expression. If anything, she seemed... entertained.

"I see," she murmured. Tossing the towel over her shoulder, she adjusted her grip on the spear. "And how is my dear elder brother handling the news?"

The maid hesitated. "Lord Menkhaure is... displeased."

Neferura laughed softly, shaking her head. "Of course he is. He’s never been one to accept reality easily." She ran her fingers along the polished shaft of her spear, her gaze contemplative. "As for me... I have no interest in politics. Thutmose can have the throne if he wants it."

The maid couldn’t help but sigh after hearing her reply. "My lady, you are the First Princess of the Earth Domain. Surely—"

Neferura waved a dismissive hand. "And what of it? I desire no crown. My ambitions lie elsewhere." Her voice dropped to something more introspective, almost wistful. "If there is one thing I envy, it is not Thutmose’s title... but his talent."

A slow, eager smirk played on her lips as she turned back to the training ground, twirling her spear in a fluid motion. "But talent alone can be overcome."

With that, she stepped forward, already preparing for her next bout. The maid lingered a moment longer before bowing and quietly excusing herself.

As the echoes of clashing weapons filled the chamber again, Neferura’s amusement remained. Let them fight for the throne if they wished. She had other ambitions.

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