Revenge: A Path of Destruction
Chapter 71: Lady Lucy (1)

Chapter 71: Lady Lucy (1)

The moment the dagger slit her throat, the sound of Merit’s choking gasp lingered for only a heartbeat before silence reclaimed the battlefield.

Her body hit the ground with a dull thud, limbs splayed, and blood pooled beneath her. The assassin stood over her corpse, the curved dagger still glinting with a smear of royal blood. His expression was unreadable—neither satisfaction nor cruelty, just the detached calm of someone who had done this a hundred times before.

Then he felt it.

A flicker in the air—pressurized mana signatures approaching fast.

He turned his head, eyes narrowing.

In the distance, three sleek black escort cars hovered low over the ground, racing toward them. Their matte finish shimmered in the moonlight, with the crests of the Earth Clan barely visible on their sides.

His eyes gleamed violet again.

"...Too late."

But even as he spoke the words aloud, a thought crept into his mind. He looked back at the battlefield—the shattered terrain, the blood-soaked earth, the two fallen bodies—and clicked his tongue softly.

If they had lasted just a few more minutes...

Just a little more.

If the princess and her shadow had managed to stall him—just stall—those three vehicles would have reached them. And from the sheer pressure barreling through the air toward him, he already sensed five Grandmasters among them.

He clenched his dagger tighter. That... would’ve been a real problem.

His violet eyes flicked toward the glowing plate artifact still floating faintly above the field. With Merit’s death, the barrier had long since collapsed, and the connection to its wielder snapped clean.

No more suppression. No more restrictions.

The battlefield exhaled. Mana stirred once more.

The Grandmaster stepped forward, eyeing the plate as it hovered listlessly in midair. A rare thing, that artifact. Grandmaster rank—without question. Just lying there now. Unbound. Untethered.

Temptation stirred in his chest.

Artifacts like this weren’t something you just found on a battlefield. Especially not ones that could sever domain control. The type of thing elite families hid in vaults behind layered enchantments and bloodline seals.

He reached out a hand.

Paused.

Then slowly drew it back.

"...Too risky."

Most clans placed tracking runes on their high-grade artifacts. A greedy hand could turn a perfect kill into a future death sentence. He wasn’t here for loot.

He was here for silence.

The hum of the cars grew louder now, their lights piercing the darkness as the mana engines kicked into high gear, closing in fast.

Time to leave.

Without another word, the Grandmaster turned away. His body dissolved into a veil of shadow and flickering movement, vanishing like smoke in the wind.

By the time the first escort car hit the edge of the scorched clearing, there was nothing left but silence, blood, and death.

And the faint, pulsing glow of a priceless artifact—

Drifting in the moonlight like a tombstone.

....

The first escort car touched down with a quiet hum, its thrusters kicking up dust and scattered leaves.

A beat later, the other two followed, forming a triangle around the desolate battlefield.

The doors slid open in unison.

Grandmasters stepped out first—three of them, robes fluttering faintly from the residual pressure in the air. Two wore the black-gold armor of the Earth Clan’s elite response unit. The third, and tallest, his presence exuding an aura of measured authority. He was their unit commander: Grandmaster Khasek.

Behind them, five Master-ranked warriors and six Experts followed, all armed and alert—until their eyes locked onto the scene before them.

And the panic began.

"...Gods."

One of the Masters dropped to a knee, retching at the smell of blood and the person whose blood was among the ones spilled.

Another stumbled back as his gaze landed on the crumpled, lifeless form of Princess Merit. "N-no... That’s— That’s her—!"

"Shut up," barked Khasek, his voice cutting through the rising hysteria like a blade. "Get it together. Now."

The Masters fell quiet, though their eyes remained wide and trembling.

The battlefield was a graveyard. Deep gashes tore through the terrain, the earth scorched and twisted by elemental strikes. Pools of blood still shimmered under the moonlight. Bodies lay where they had fallen—guards, assassins... and the princess, her frame limp, her throat opened clean.

Even Khasek stiffened slightly when he saw her.

"By the pillars..." one of the Master muttered. "We’re dead. We’re all dead. the clan will kill us"

"They’ll kill everyone," another whispered.

"Mankhaura’s death was suicide, so the blame was on no one, " but who will take the fall for this?" murmured another master, fear already visible on his face. "After all, news of a princess dying on her way home would be disastrous."

I cannot imagine the reactions of the public, who are losing their trust due to the recent crisis.

Khasek didn’t speak.

His eyes scanned the area, sharp and calculating. He moved toward the glowing artifact still suspended above the ground. The moment he got close, his senses tingled.

"Artifact still active. No... wait," he muttered.

He raised his hand. A disc-shaped device slid over his palm—an appraisal lens flickering to life.

"...Grandmaster-rank artifact," he said. "Suppression type. Interference with domain synchronization... and high-grade mana disruption."

The other Grandmasters moved in behind him, grim expressions darkening further.

"Domain severance artifact," the second Grandmaster confirmed. "That explains the lack of any active domain residue. Our killer was a Grandmaster. No one below that rank could’ve stood under this and still carved through trained Masters like this."

Khasek nodded. "We can confirm this wasn’t a squad of enemies. Just one. The rest were decoys or support. The actual killer was surgical."

He looked at the artifact again—then at the trail of footsteps leading away from the bloodied ground before they vanished into nothing.

"He can’t have gone far."

Without another word, three of the Grandmasters vanished, blurring into the night like ghosts.

Khasek turned toward the remaining soldiers. "Secure the scene. Retrieve all bodies. Prioritize the princess."

The Masters hesitated. One stepped forward. "Sir... what are we going to tell the Patrician? And Lady Lucy?"

Khasek’s eyes narrowed. "We tell them the truth."

Silence fell again.

He moved to Merit’s body himself. Carefully, almost reverently, he knelt, brushing a lock of blood-matted hair from her face. He didn’t speak. Didn’t scowl. Just studied her features—the final expression frozen on them.

Then he motioned. Two Masters stepped forward with a sealed stasis coffin, etched with gold lines and protective runes. They placed her inside, sealing her body from the elements.

The other bodies were gathered next—her Shwt, the guards, and the assassins.

Khasek turned once more to the artifact as his men packed it.

Within minutes, the area was cleaned. No words were spoken as they finished their grim task.

The escort cars lifted from the blood-soaked earth and turned back toward the Earth Clan estate, cutting through the night like blades of mourning steel.

The battlefield was silent once more.

Only the echo of Merit’s last stand remained—buried in the earth, in blood, and in the cold knowledge that they had come just minutes too late

....

The estate gates parted at their approach

The convoy of three black escort cars glided through.

No sirens.

No alert flare.

Just silence... and dread.

As soon as they entered the outer perimeter, the cars split. The lead vehicle peeled off toward the central complex—the towering black stone pyramid known as the Heart of Geb, where the Patrician’s court resided. The other two escort cars diverted right, taking a winding path that led toward the estate’s grand hospital—a sprawling multi-tiered structure surrounded by healing springs and many trees.

Inside the cars, no one spoke.

The Masters sat rigid, their hands clenched, the memory of the scene still fresh in their minds.

In the lead vehicle, Grandmaster Khasek sat, eyes fixed on the road as they made their way to the heart of Geb. His jaw was set like stone.

The gates of the Heart of Geb opened without request.

Guards recognized the escort car instantly and cleared the path, their expressions shifting from formality to confusion...

At the base of the steps, five elite guards waited.

And standing between them... was Thutmose.

He had not been summoned but was making his over to his office when he saw the convoy who don’t usually have time to visit without a reason.

But he was there—arms crossed, brow furrowed, eyes narrowing at the sight of the incoming vehicle.

The car stopped with a low hum. Khasek stepped out first.

His expression said more than any report.

Thutmose asked. "What happened."

"...Assassination sir," Khasek said. "Confirmed Grandmaster-ranked killer. Shwt deceased. Guards deceased.

"No survivors?" Thutmose’s voice was even, but quiet. Too quiet.

"None."

More people were arriving now, and so were whispers.

Word was already spreading. Too fast.

Khasek didn’t look at them.

He turned to Thutmose. "We need an immediate audience with the Patrician."

"That might be hard," Thutmose said, his tone like flint against flint. "Because he said no one is to disturb during his hunt"

"But sir his daughter just died. am sure he would make an exception right."

"I can’t say for certain, but I will try to reach out to him. Losing two children in just three weeks should be reason enough for him to come back," Thutmose said as he glanced at Khasek. "You can go back now. Also, tell your men that they won’t face any consequences for the assassination."

Khasek let out a breath of relief upon hearing this, as he was somewhat afraid of the repercussions that would follow her death; they wouldn’t be able to walk away unscathed.

Then Thutmose entered the building, calling for a family meeting in a few hours to announce the shocking news.