Chapter 3

I watched Torvin emerge from the shadows of the shattered gate.

He didn't use a shred of magic—just the terrifying abyss aura radiating from his body was enough to send the nobles stumbling back in horror, carving out a path through sheer presence.

At the head table, Phaedra clutched her blood-soaked face, screaming as she staggered into Magnus's arms.

Watching her—so arrogant moments ago, now with wine and blood streaking down her ruined face—I felt not an ounce of sympathy.

His fiancée publicly struck, his authority brutally trampled, Magnus's face turned ashen.

Yet under Torvin's suffocating pressure, he didn't dare retaliate. He could only force a bitter laugh, redirecting his fury at me in a pathetic attempt to salvage what remained of his dignity.

"My lord uncle! Why waste such fury on a barren halfbreed mongrel?" Magnus sneered, his lips curling as he fixed me with a venomous stare.

"She's been in Dragon City all this time—not a single dragonspawn. Who knows? Maybe her filthy bloodline's too rotten inside to breed at all."

Before I could respond, Torvin had already positioned himself directly in front of me, a living shield. Behind his bone-dragon mask, his eyes narrowed with languid, suffocating danger.

"At least she has a brain in that pretty head." Torvin's cold laugh sliced through the air, his gaze cutting over the pair before him.

"What do you two have besides your faces—and look at hers now. Won't be keeping that much longer, will she?"

The humiliation struck precisely at Magnus's breaking point.

Fury shattered what remained of his restraint. With an earth-shattering roar, he shifted instantly into a massive black dragon, his barbed maw opening wide as he lunged at Torvin, waves of destructive magic rippling outward.

Yet before this man forged in the abyss itself, Magnus's vaunted power was laughably pathetic.

Torvin didn't even draw a weapon. He simply raised his hand, abyss-black magic condensing in his palm, and delivered a devastating backhand strike.

The massive dragon was swatted aside like a broken toy, crashing violently into the hall's load-bearing wall and punching a gaping hole through the rune-carved stone. Debris and dust swallowed everything.

Deathly silence fell. Suppressed whispers drifted through the crowd:

"That's the heir? Couldn't even take one hit..."

"Hot-headed with no power to back it—that's our future king?"

Hearing the murmurs, Magnus crawled from the rubble, humiliated. He shifted back to human, one majestic horn broken and bleeding, dust coating his face, black blood trickling from his mouth.

He knew he'd lost everything today—continuing would only make things worse. He grabbed the shell-shocked Phaedra and headed for the exit, teeth grinding.

"I won't forget this! Once my pureblood heir is born, we'll see who's still standing!"

Before leaving, Phaedra locked eyes with me. That once-proud gaze had twisted completely into pure, poisoned hatred.

I knew Magnus—he never forgot a slight. Unable to strike openly, he'd coil in the shadows like a viper, waiting for his moment.

A few days later, while Torvin was away inspecting the borders, Magnus finally struck.

That day, I was walking along the cliff edge in the rear courtyard when the space around me suddenly warped.

Magnus had clearly crushed an expensive high-tier binding scroll, using a concealed barrier to drag me forcibly into the shadows.

Inside, crimson miasma choked the air—Blood Moon Fog, the kind used in black markets to force-breed lower beasts. The potent toxin froze magic and set blood boiling like molten rock.

"Torvin still hasn't touched you, has he?"

As my legs weakened from the toxin flooding my system, Magnus stepped from the shadows.

He closed in, suddenly gripping my chin, claws crushing against my throat as he slammed me against the cold stone wall.

His brutal talons left immediate burning marks on my skin, his greedy, lecherous gaze tearing at my dress without restraint.

"Since your filthy womb can only produce deformed waste, might as well put you to better use today." Magnus tightened his grip, leaning in to inhale the scent rising from my skin, his smile revolting.

"After I'm done with you, I'll tell my dear uncle exactly how his precious wife moaned under another man. Think he'll still want you after that? Think he'll keep his soiled little pet?"

His rough scales nearly crushed my windpipe. Oxygen deprivation sent my vision spotting black.

Even worse was the maddening heat coursing through my veins, the toxin stripping away my last threads of sanity.

Just as he thought he had complete control and reached to tear my dress, he failed to notice the flash of violet-gold light in my fading eyes.

I'd never planned on fighting him physically. The moment he grabbed me, I'd already triggered my hidden nine-tailed illusion magic.

My psychic power didn't attack Magnus—instead, it formed an invisible thread, shooting across mountains to forcibly link with the Dragon Soul Crystal at the heart of the King's Hall.

I'd timed it perfectly. At that exact moment, Typhon sat enthroned, clan elders and foreign envoys lined on both sides in solemn assembly.

The court exploded as the crystal projected our scene in real-time.

Magnus's words about "deformed waste" and "better use," his attempt to violate his uncle's wife—every vile word and action broadcast crystal-clear throughout the hall.

Before the gathered powers, Magnus hadn't just shattered royal ethics—he'd degraded other races as worthless trash.

This wasn't family scandal anymore. This was a knife to the alliance's throat, the kind that sparked rebellions.

"Magnus, you disgraceful whelp!"

Typhon's roar shook the hall as he shattered his scepter against the steps.

His fury descended like thunder. Before Magnus could even remove my outer garment, spatial magic ripped him from the cliff straight back to the royal hall, slamming him onto the marble floor.

No negotiation. No mercy. Typhon stripped every honor from him on the spot and threw him into the deep dungeons.

The once-untouchable heir became a convicted criminal overnight.

I'd won this round spectacularly.

The cost: the aphrodisiac toxin had completely infiltrated my system, burning my sanity to ash.

Guards rushed me back to my chambers. The moment I collapsed onto the bed, consciousness felt like drowning in liquid fire.

Then—BANG.

The door exploded inward.

The man who should have been at the borders stormed in, violence and ice radiating from every movement.

Torvin crossed the room in three strides. No praise. No relief. He grabbed my burning chin, his rough thumb pressing dangerously against the fresh marks on my throat.

Meeting my unfocused gaze, his voice came out raw and barely controlled:

"You used yourself as bait—do you have any idea what could've happened?!"

"If Typhon had been one second slower and he'd crushed your throat?! Or did you think you could just endure this poison alone in your current state?!"