The Dragon King's Hated Bride
Chapter 111: Defeat

Chapter 111: Defeat

>>Ariston

The stone beneath my boots trembled. I stood at the edge of the shattered wall on the second floor of the palace, wind tugging at the loose ends of my uniform, carrying with it the scent of ash, blood, and smoke. Below me, the courtyard was chaos incarnate—shouting, steel, and shadow twisted together in a relentless dance of war.

And then I saw her.

The spider nun.

All limbs and shrieking fury, her grotesque form lunged downward from the high ramparts with terrifying speed, crashing into Draegon like a falling mountain. The impact shook the entire courtyard. Stone cracked. Dust exploded. I flinched, hand flying to the crumbling edge of the wall to steady myself.

My breath caught. "That’s not good," I whispered, already stepping forward. "I should go down. Help him."

But just as my foot shifted, just as I bent my knees to leap down into the fray—

I saw something.

Or... someone.

Far, far beyond the battle. At the distant edge of the broken fortress wall, half-wreathed in crumbling ivy and haze, a figure reclined as if the battle meant nothing to him at all. He leaned on one elbow, hand tucked behind his head, long legs stretched out across the uneven stone like he’d claimed it as a throne. A leather belt clung low to his hips, dark pants hugging strong thighs. His button-up shirt hung open, loose and careless across a broad chest.

And those eyes.

Red. Bright. Burning like molten garnet in the shadows.

I froze.

Every breath I’d ever taken felt like it rushed out of my lungs at once.

It was him.

I knew that face. That mouth. That gaze, lined with apathy and something far too dangerous to be called boredom.

I’d been searching for it—him—throughout every battlefield. Through every whisper of enemy movements. Through fire and rot and ruin. I went to fight that war in hopes I would run into him.

And there he was.

Watching.

Smiling faintly.

As if this war were a play staged for his amusement.

My body moved before I could think, a step—two—toward the edge. I wanted to leap. To chase him. To scream his name if I had to. But—

A crash below snapped my head down again.

Drakkar.

I saw him. Claws drawn, flanked by two soldiers, rushing the spider nun. His movements were sharp, determined—he was shouting something, I couldn’t hear what—but I saw the way his boots skidded across broken stone, how the soldiers fanned out in practiced rhythm.

The nun moved like a nightmare. She stayed in the spot she had crushed Draegon under, but her limbs too many, her screech piercing as she spun in that spot, catching one of the soldiers mid-strike and hurling them against the far wall like a rag doll.

Drakkar didn’t falter.

He drove forward, slashing against one of her thick limbs. Blood—dark and oily—splattered the ground.

But it wasn’t enough.

She turned on him, limbs clamping around his frame, dragging him off his feet before hurling him across the courtyard. His body slammed into a wall with a dull, heavy crack, crumbling stone around the impact.

"No," I breathed, fists tightening against the crumbling ledge.

It looked like a loss.

And then—out of the blue

She shrieked.

I flinched again as her body arched unnaturally, smoke curling from beneath her.

What?!?

She jumped, then stumbled, screeched again, and fell forward, convulsing in the dust.

And there—underneath her—

I saw the source of the smoke.

Draegon.

His body was half-buried under her collapsed limbs, arm extended, smoke still licking from his mouth. His clothes were scorched, cracked open at the shoulder and thigh. Blood streamed from his ribs, but his eyes—his eyes—were open.

Focused.

Alive.

And very much angry

I exhaled slowly, lips curling upward into a smirk despite the dread pounding in my chest.

"He’s a war hero for a reason," I whispered.

But my gaze didn’t linger.

Because even as Draegon dragged himself upright—injured, but burning with the kind of fire that made people follow him into hell—I looked back toward the wall.

To the man with red eyes.

And found the spot empty.

Gone.

Just like that.

My heart fell.

It was as if he’d never been there at all.

"Ariston."

The voice behind me was low, clipped with urgency, laced with authority I had long grown tired of. I didn’t turn.

Boots clanked against stone as a group of men approached. I could feel the weight of their presence pressing in behind me—polished armor, silken robes, the scent of wax and scrolls and too much perfume for a battlefield.

King Orin stepped up beside me, his gaze trailing the carnage in the courtyard below. The humans’ so-called noble delegation followed like obedient shadows.

"You need to come with us. Now," he said, voice hard.

I didn’t answer. My eyes were locked on Draegon—bloodied, swaying slightly where he stood. The spider nun was recovering again, already crawling back to her feet with inhuman ease, shrieking through her torn, half-burnt face. The courtyard was stained with ichor and flame.

"I said," King Orin snapped, stepping closer, "we’re leaving. You’re coming with us."

I finally turned to look at him.

"No," I said, voice calm, "I am staying here."

Orin’s jaw clenched. "That thing clearly isn’t going to die easily." He pointed down at Draegon, who staggered, wiping blood from his temple. "Look at him. His head’s spinning. He’ll fall before she does."

"That’s exactly why I need to go," I said, stepping forward again, fingers tightening at my sides. "If you’re all so afraid, then go. Run. No one’s stopping you."

A silence fell. Cold. Tense.

"But I’m not leaving." I gave him my final decision.

"You dare defy your king?" Orin spat, his velvet robe whipping in the wind as he stepped in front of me. "If you come back to Havenmoore now, I’ll grant you anything you want—mansions, lands, gold, titles. I’ll give you servants to feed you grapes and call you lord. Is that not enough for you?"

My heart beat steady. My gaze returned to the battlefield below.

"What I want," I said slowly, "is here." My voice faltered for half a second—barely noticeable, but heavy with everything I couldn’t say. "Somewhere here," I finished.

Orin stared at me like I’d lost my mind.

Maybe I had.

Good.

Without another word, I turned from him. The wind lifted the edges of my coat as I stepped to the edge of the broken stone. I bent my knees once, deeply—

And jumped.

The wind roared in my ears as the world rushed past. I landed hard in the courtyard, boots hitting cracked flagstone with a thunderous crunch.

The spider nun turned her many eyes toward me, her screech splitting the air again. I didn’t flinch. My blades were already in my hands.

I charged forward, straight into the fray.

>>King Orin

"That fool!!" I cursed out. Clearly these monsters are getting out of hand.

I looked at the battle. Draegon looked beyond exhausted. And if he can’t defeat that creepy grotesque thing, we are doomed!! If a demon hero like him can’t win, what can the rest of us do??

I looked at the spider nun, she was beyond terrifying. Even worse than the other abyss monsters.

The sound of lazy heels clicking reached my ears, someone was approaching us.

We need to leave and plan!! We need to retreat to Havenmoore and think this through. Train more soldiers and then attack

And we need our hero for that!!

I watched as Draegon tried to speak but couldn’t and the spider-nun attacked him. He was so weak he fell to the ground and was going to get eaten now.

I let out an anxious sigh

We really are done for.

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