Stolen by the Rebel King
Chapter 473: Evil Begone

Chapter 473: Evil Begone

"Well," Jonah said with a sigh. "There’s that. Guess you were right."

"Of course I’m right," Atticus said with a knowing shrug. "I’m always right."

The two waited patiently like birds of prey, their sharp eyes watching as Prince Alistair sauntered out of the dungeons. Blood stained his hands, the scarlet shade increasingly bright under the reflection of the silvery moonlight. He brought it to his lips, licking it clean, before stretching his arms above his head.

Even from a distance away, Atticus and Jonah could clearly hear Alistair’s loud sighs of satisfaction.

"Are we going to do anything about it?" Jonah asked, frowning. "He seems to be headed straight for the main wings of the palace. Do you think he might be going after Daphne?"

At the mention of his wife, Atticus perked with attention. His spine straightened a little as he squinted in the direction Alistair was headed. Sure enough, it seemed like he was headed right for the palace bedrooms with a purpose. Atticus wouldn’t be surprised if that said purpose was to kill Daphne, take back the crown, and then ruin the rest of Reaweth.

Well. That wouldn’t do.

"Check the dungeons," Atticus ordered. "By my guess, that old man is most likely already dead."

"Killed by the son he so wished to save," Jonah muttered under his breath, shaking his head in dismay. "I’ll send some men."

Jonah disappeared shortly after, left to carry out the new instructions Atticus had just passed down. That left Atticus alone to deal with the monster. He didn’t need anyone else, of course. Saving the fight for just between the two of them would be much more fun. Finally, he wouldn’t need to hold back in fear of scaring those around him, namely Daphne.

Atticus whistled merrily before hopping off the corner of the roof he had been perched on, soaring through the night sky. The sun had just barely set― Atticus had given King Cyrus until sundown to finish off his demon spawn, only for said spawn to kill him instead.

How awfully pathetic this old king was. It was perhaps better off that he was dead. It wasn’t like Daphne held much care for her father anyway, so Atticus didn’t see a need to keep him alive. King Cyrus was more trouble than he was worth.

His son was an even bigger nuisance. Just the thought of ridding the world of Alistair made Atticus’s blood thrum with delight.

"And where do you think you’re going?" Atticus asked, landing right in front of Alistair, stopping the latter in his tracks.

The prince jumped back in surprise― in this vampiric form, his physical abilities and senses had been heightened. Yet, he hadn’t been able to detect Atticus’s presence until he showed himself. The difference between their skill levels was so jarring that it didn’t even induce fear in Alistair, only rage and jealousy.

"Great that you’ve shown yourself," Alistair said with a sneer. "This will save me time from looking all over the damn place for you."

"That’s a very odd thing to say to your brother-in-law," Atticus said with a click of his tongue, shaking his head in dismay. "Others might misunderstand and think that there’s something going on between us."

That earned nothing but a scowl and a growl before Alistair plunged forward. His claws extended immediately, fresh blood still coating his long nails, unfaded from his previous hunt. Atticus merely casually sidestepped, dodging with ease as Alistair tried — with increasing difficulty — to land a blow on Atticus.

"Face me like a man!" he screamed into the night, his voice reverberating as he missed Atticus’s face yet again.

"Actually, between us two, I am the only man present," Atticus said. "You’re barely even considered as mankind right now."

"You’re dead!" Alistair yowled. "Once I am done with you, I will kill that pathetic sister of mine next. She should’ve died in Drusilla’s place. And Drusilla, another idiot hoping to charm her way into your bed. Another useless harlot, just like her mother!"

Atticus snorted. "I would not give Drusilla a mangy dog I found off the street, let alone a child from my own seed. You should’ve warned her beforehand what an impossible ambition she had."

With every move Alistair made, Atticus merely ducked and swerved, all while making sure he still stood in the way between Alistair and the royal palace. Alistair seemed a lot smarter and coherent than the last time they faced off. Nonetheless, Atticus knew that the disgraced Reawethen prince had no qualms about annihilating his entire family to get what he desired. The drug had already poisoned his brain and he was too far beyond salvation.

At least back then, he was just a prick. Now, he was an entity of evil.

"I’ll kill you!" Alistair screamed, but no sooner than when the words had left his mouth, Atticus brought his sword down and severed his head once more.

His actions were so fluid and smooth that Alistair didn’t even notice the sword was unsheathed from Atticus’s side. By the time he realized it, he was already rolling across the lawn, blood spilling from the fresh wound like there was no tomorrow.

"You’re too loud," Atticus said. He walked over, using magic to control Alistair’s body so that it couldn’t reattach itself, all while smirking at the severed head. "Careful. I don’t want an audience around."

"Fuck you!" Alistair spat out, though the glob of spit easily missed Atticus. "You are just a homeless peasant. You might have wiped the world clean of your history, but we true royalty and nobility know that you were nothing more than a starving beggar from the slums who clawed his way to the throne. You’re not of royal blood and you never will be―"

"I hate to break it to you, but you can’t be more wrong," Atticus said with a laugh. "You, on the contrary, aren’t of royal blood. I am."

With his free hand, Atticus withdrew the syringe from his pockets. He tapped the bubbles out of the serum, observing the liquid under the light of the moon.

"Even your title as the crown prince of Reaweth is nothing but a sham," Atticus said, shaking his head. "The Molineros aren’t the real kings and queens of Reaweth. I am."

Confusion rolled through Alistair’s eyes before he eventually belted out in laughter, his voice echoing through the deserted front lawn of the royal palace.

"My my, King Atticus," Alistair said, tears in his eyes. "It seems like you’ve gone even madder than I have."

"Quite the contrary," replied Atticus. "I am quite sane. But you’re right in that the same can’t be said for you."

"Your lust for the throne has driven you insane," Alistair said, chortling. "You? The rightful king of Reaweth? Don’t make me laugh!"

"You’re a smart man," Atticus said patronizingly. He squeezed Alistair by his cheeks, forcing the head to look at him. "I’m sure you can connect the dots. You’re no master of all magic, just one."

He needn’t say more. Atticus simply brought Alistair’s body a little closer, allowing him to see the eggshell-colored shimmer that was encasing the body. Alistair’s eyes roamed across Atticus’s body. He didn’t want to believe whatever Atticus said but he couldn’t help but be a little bit curious. It was true. He didn’t see the telltale sign of a glowing crystal. There was no conduit King Atticus used for his magic.

Realization slowly dawned in Alistair’s eyes, a sight in which Atticus reveled.

"Don’t you see, Prince Alistair?" Atticus asked with a smile so wide it resembled the crescent moon. "You’ve been fighting a losing battle all this time. Reaweth was never yours to begin with and will never be."

With that said, Atticus jabbed the needle right into Alistair’s head. The matter’s screams tore through the courtyard, sending a flock of birds that had been nesting in the nearby trees to soar through the air in fright. Without caring for the wriggling head’s cries, Atticus injected the contents of the syringe into Alistair’s head before he released the body and allowed it to fall to the ground with a thud.

Both the head and the body spasmed. The transformation started in the body first. Even though it wasn’t attached to the head, once the serum was in, the body began to change. Claws turned to nails, his skin regained its color, and the veins weren’t as visible as before. His blood turned a brighter, crimson red, as opposed to the black tar-like mess it previously was.

Then, came the changes in the head. Alistair’s eyes regained their normal color, slowly turning from red to purple then to blue. His fangs dulled down into ordinary human teeth, and at last, rationality filled Alistair’s eyes― followed by fear.

"No! No, wait. No―" Alistair’s screams were cut off abruptly as the serum completely washed over his entire body, turning him human once more.

Alas, with his head and body separated, that also meant that he was instantly killed. Alistair never got the chance to utter his final words before life disappeared from his eyes. They rolled back, only showing the whites of his eyes along with his parted lips, still separated from a scream that never left the throat.

Just like that, Prince Alistair was finally dead.

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