Stolen by the Rebel King
Chapter 349: Underground Labyrinth II

Chapter 349: Underground Labyrinth II

Silas groaned, his body rolling on the slippery tiles. However, he couldn’t lie on the floor feeling sorry for himself.

Contrary to his expectations, Alistair’s sense of smell wasn’t hindered by the disgusting stench of the sewer; that monster had no trouble tracking him down and immediately lunged at him, one of his claws pinning Silas’s own hand to the ground.

His grotesque face, twisted with deranged hunger, loomed over Silas’s neck, his fangs glinting ominously in the dim lighting of the sewer. Blood dripped from Alistair’s mouth, splattering all over Silas’s own wounds, causing him to hiss in pain. It felt like acid was dripping into his bloodstream, poisoning him from within.

Silas screamed as he summoned a flame from his free hand. It was a small chance in hell that anyone could hear him, but it was better than nothing. Alistair didn’t even flinch at his screaming, but the sight of flames near his face caused him to draw back. Silas quickly flung it at his chest, causing Alistair to stumble back.

To his horror, his flame was smaller and weaker than before. Perhaps it was due to his blood loss and weakened body, but Silas knew deep down, there had to be another reason. His magic felt like a flame on a candle that had been burnt to the stub― something that he had never felt before.

Even when he was an utter novice at magic, even when he was punished for escaping his lessons by kneeling outside in winter while starving, his fire had never been anything less than a steady blaze.

It must have been due to Alistair’s blood. He had swallowed a mouthful and they fell into his open wounds!

Silas’s face paled further as he connected the dots; Alistair wasn’t using his flames because he couldn’t. And if Silas continued to tangle with Alistair, he would lose his powers altogether.

There was no time to waste― he had to get out of there.

Silas threw one last, pathetic, fireball at Alistair’s body before he scrambled up and made a last desperate leap for the exit, scurrying up from the floor as though he was an adulterous man caught having an affair with a jealous wife. His arms and legs twinged with pain as the rough rocks lining the pathways scraped at his hands, but he dared not slow down.

Scrapes could heal, but nothing could stitch back his head once Alistair ripped it off!

Unfortunately, the worst was yet to come. Alistair struck at his back, and Silas howled with pain as he felt Alistair’s long claws sink into his flesh, his teeth angling for a second bite. But Silas used the last bit of his strength to summon fire into one of his hands, blasting flames at Alistair’s face.

Alistair howled in pain, his claws immediately retracting to grab at his face. He hadn’t managed to dodge the blast at such a close distance. Even his weakened flames managed to do some damage.

Silas didn’t waste time looking; the momentum caused him to roll to the other side, where the lever was. He staggered to a thud and reached out and tugged, and the gate gave a mighty groan. Silas could have cried in relief when he saw the steel gates creak as they slowly descended downwards to cut off Alistair’s pursuit.

"Come on, hurry up!" Silas watched the gate descend with pleading eyes. Was it not oiled? Why was it moving so slowly?!

A fearsome growl attracted his attention. It was Alistair, and Silas’s blood froze when he saw the burnt red patches of his skin mended to reveal his customary paleness, scarred by his pitch-black veins. His bloodshot eyes glared at Silas with ravenous hatred, and Silas quickly scooted further and began to scream for help.

"Guards! Guards! Assassin on the loose! Leonora! Save me!"

His voice merely echoed down the long corridor, but no one replied to his calls for help.

Alistair howled and leaped for Silas. Silas sucked in a breath as he saw Alistair’s outstretched claw.

This was it. There was no fire left in him. He had no more strength to run. He was going to die and his corpse was going to look like shit―

Alistair howled again, but this time in pain. The gate had descended more than halfway and for its final lap, as if the heavens above had replied to Silas’s pleas for help, the gates fell much more quickly for the final quarter as compared to the initial rate.

The speed of the falling gates was enough to pierce through his hand. Alistair’s hand — ironic as it was — was chopped off once more by the metal gates, sending it flying over in Silas’s direction while the rest of his body writhed in pain on the other side, safely away from where Silas was.

Silas gasped as he collapsed to the floor, nearly crying into his hands in sheer relief.

Oh, he would give so many offerings to the gods. He would never eat meat again. In fact, if they wished, he would shave his head and enter the monastery and never touch a woman again. He was alive! His body felt like he had been run over by an entire herd of rabid stallions, but he was alive!

He turned around to take a closer look at the detached hand. To his utter surprise, it melted into the ground, as though it was a block of ice left outside on a summer’s day. It even fizzled and bubbled a little, making a disgusting glopping sound as steam rose from the popped bubbles.

Silas resisted a gag. What sort of witchcraft was this?

To make matters worse, Alistair wasn’t writhing in pain any longer. Silas watched with disbelieving eyes as another hand regrew from Alistair’s new stump, its fingers curved into claws.

Oh fuck. His brother was really a monster! He couldn’t sit here and cry any longer!

"Monster! Monster in the dungeons!" Silas screamed as he bolted for the palace with unsteady feet, slamming against the castle walls as he lost control of his limbs. "Leonora! Help me!"

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