Stolen by the Rebel King
Chapter 364: Free Knowledge

Chapter 364: Free Knowledge

The moment Atticus arrived back at the palace, he headed straight for the explosion. Knowing Daphne’s penchant for getting into trouble, she would be right in the thick of things. Using his powers, he easily entered the room through the burning window, half-expecting his wife to be present.

Unfortunately, all he could see was a room clouded with smoke, with fire on nearly every surface. Standing right in the middle was a lone figure― the monstrosity that was Prince Silas, who looked more like a frightened wounded animal than a prince.

Must be Daphne’s handiwork. Atticus nodded approvingly before he rolled up his sleeves and cracked his knuckles.

He used his powers to grab Silas by his limbs so that he was hovering over the flames like fresh meat over a fire pit. He doused the other unnecessary fires, just to make himself more comfortable. After all, he was going to be here for a long time with his new guest.

Silas twitched, trying to escape, but it was futile. He could only scream with primal fear as he found himself face-to-face with a predator that was scarier than him, one that had no qualms about spinning him around over an open flame to make sure every part of him was cooked thoroughly to perfection.

"I can’t believe I arrived here faster than your sister," Atticus said menacingly. "Oh wait, I can believe it."

Atticus could kill off Silas now, but he wasn’t going to waste the opportunity to find out how good his regeneration abilities were, or how durable he was, and what would be the best way to kill a monstrosity like him.

This was vital information that could help him take down Alistair for good, and Atticus himself would love to have detailed, first-hand information about what Jean Nott’s concoction was capable of if he wished to refine his own in the future. More knowledge was always useful, especially if he wanted to outdo Prince Nathaniel.

Also, it would help him vent some of his frustration at being forced to clean up Alistair’s messes.

Again.

He started with an arm. Silas howled in pain, but the new arm was still regenerated, almost in mere seconds and it looked identical to the one he lost before. The lost arm fell into the open flames, and Atticus saw how it melted into a liquid substance. Said liquid splashed into the flames, causing them to roar higher than before.

Hmm. Perhaps the altered bodies were incredibly flammable.

Now, would the regeneration rate decrease if he lopped off the same limb over and over again?

Only one way to find out. Atticus smirked and proceeded to cut away at Silas’s arm over and over again with magic at the same spot, as though he was a knight striking a training dummy. Silas’s dark veins grew down his neck from his eyes, like creeping vines as he screamed and sobbed with pain, begging for mercy.

Yet his pleas fell on deaf ears. Atticus treated them as background noise, focusing instead on timing the regeneration. He realized that after the tenth regeneration, there was a notable slowing in the regrowth rate.

Which meant that there was no infinite regrowth potential. All Atticus had to do was to keep hacking away at the limbs until the body could not support another growth. It could work, but it was unnecessarily time-consuming, not to mention that Silas didn’t get the full dose of Jean Nott’s work. He had only gotten infected by Alistair, so chances are, Alistair would be more durable and harder to kill.

Unless of course, he hacked off more than one limb. Maybe that would slow the regrowth rate even further― perhaps the body wouldn’t be able to regrow more than two limbs twice.

Well, just like before, there was only one way to find out.

Atticus cheerfully hacked two of Silas’s limbs randomly, varying between an arm and a leg, a leg and an arm, two arms, two legs, and found that his hypothesis held true. Meanwhile, Silas looked up at him through the fog of pain and could only snap at him with his teeth as he tried to escape his tormentor, behaving more like a mad dog than a human.

"Can you hear me? Prince Silas?" Atticus asked, curious if his human mind was still active.

Silas only let out a series of growls, causing Atticus to frown. Too many regenerations might have led to Silas losing all rationality, although that could also be the pain speaking. So if they injured Alistair enough, he might revert to having the intellect of a wild beast, making him a lot easier to trap and kill.

Now, he had to know how to kill. Arms and legs could be regenerated, but what of his head?

Third time’s the charm; there was only one way to find out.

Atticus held out his arm, but just before his magic could land a blow to sever Silas’s head from his neck, Princess Leonora charged in, leaping through the broken window, her sword still on fire.

"Stop it! What are you doing to him?!" Leonora demanded as she stormed up to Atticus. She had felt phantom aches halfway through her journey back to the palace, and she had no doubt Atticus was responsible.

Atticus blinked innocently at her, "Experimenting. If you came any slower, he would be dead."

"Experimenting―! You dare―" Leonora seethed, enraged as she looked down at her poor twin brother who was nearly frothing at the mouth, his veins having spread until there was hardly any skin untouched by them. His eyes were bloodshot, but wet, as though he had been crying. "Silas, Silas, can you hear me?"

Silas’s eyes focused on her, but she couldn’t see any hint of recognition.

Leonora cursed. This was what happened when she trusted her sister to do one simple thing for her! How did Daphne think that giving Silas to her sadistic husband to toy with constituted ’watching out for him’?

Come to think of it, where was Daphne?

"Daphne! Get in here now! Your husband is a lunatic!" Leonora yelled.