The Assassin's Seven Principles of Manipulation

Chapter 336: Chapter 331 — Message

Demorian was grinning from ear to ear. ”Oh, don’t tell me my cold-stone protege actually missed me.”

”I didn’t.”

”Then what was that look? You missed me! I saw it!”

”...what look?”

Zephyrion’s expression had already frozen over, not a trace of warmth left on his face.

Demorian scoffed.

”Nice try, my protege, but too late. This ancestor has the evidence right here.”

Pointing towards his head, he casually waved a hand, and a screen appeared before him, replaying the brief moment Zephyrion’s lips had curled into a wistful smile.

Zephyrion’s expression darkened immediately.

”Erase that. Now.”

”Ah, my protege, so it was all false bravado! You’re actually hopelessly in love with this ancestor!”

”Did you not hear me?”

”But alas! It was never meant to be.” Demorian shook his head with deep regret. ”You see, this ancestor of yours is far too devoted to the plumpness and beauty of the female body. Something a bloodthirsty man like yourself could never provide. So take heart, my protege. Take heart.”

He turned towards Zephyrion and gave his shoulder a few reassuring pats, as though comforting someone suffering from a terrible heartbreak.

Zephyrion felt his brow twitch.

After a long moment, he nodded.

”Fine then. Your choice.”

The next moment, an overwhelming force came crashing down around the ancestor.

Demorian’s eyes widened in horror.

”What? No! No! My protege, wait!”

”I gave you your chance,” Zephyrion said. ”Now it’s too late.”

Demorian’s body immediately began shrinking, his figure rapidly being dragged back towards the rod despite his frantic resistance.

The truth was, with Demorian awake again, Zephyrion now had full access to the rod. He didn’t even need the ancestor to explain what had happened during his absence. He could simply study the rod himself and find out.

Which meant there was absolutely nothing stopping him from locking this ancestor inside for as long as he pleased.

’A week, maybe a month.’

Zephyrion remembered Demorian’s mocking grin and scowled.

’At least a year.’

It was a surface thought. And Demorian heard it loud and clear. His face instantly went white as a sheet.

”Wait, you can’t do this, my protege! Alright, alright, I’ll tell you what happened! I’ll tell you everything! It’s important!”

The overwhelming force stopped.

”Start talking.”

Demorian sniffed, wiping at a nonexistent tear as though he were some poor, bullied child.

”My protege, how can you be so heartless? You haven’t seen me for more than a year, an—”

The force came crashing down again.

”Alright, alright! Sorry, I’ll talk!” Demorian hastily raised both hands.

”Last chance,” Zephyrion said.

Sighing, Demorian shook his head and slumped back onto the bed. ”Sheesh, I don’t even know why you’re in such a hurry. Enjoy life a little.” As Zephyrion’s fingers twitched, Demorian cleared his throat. ”Yeah, yeah, okay. So, you’ll never believe what happened, my protege.”

His grin returned, his earlier predicament apparently forgotten.

”It’s amazing, incredible even. I certainly wasn’t expecting it, but it caught me completely by surprise. And trust me, you’ve just gained an incredible resource.”

Zephyrion slowly narrowed his eyes. ”...What happened?”

”Well, I—”

Beep!

Zephyrion turned towards his rune tab, where a green light was fading.

’A message?’

He quickly opened it, and the next moment, his eyes narrowed slightly.

”...what is it, my protege?”

Zephyrion stared at the message for a long moment, then lifted his head.

”The heads of each dynasty are requesting an audience.”

...

A knock came from his door shortly after. Opening it, Zephyrion found a soldier standing on the other side.

”I’ve been sent to escort you, First Prime.” The soldier brought a fist to his chest in salute.

Zephyrion held back any reaction.

’First Prime.’

It was supposed to be a title given to the overall winner. While he had clearly been the last one standing, nothing was supposed to be certain until the results were announced. It only went to show just how far word of his achievements had spread.

”Alright. Lead the way.”

Zephyrion followed the soldier towards the central part of the main academy grounds, and into the largest structure he’d ever seen within the academy.

As they walked through the lobby, he received several looks of recognition and awe from the instructors and academy staff around him. Zephyrion paid them no mind, instead focusing on the task ahead. He was about to meet some of the most powerful men in the entire Ferran Empire. Right now, his mind and heart had to be nothing less than steel.

The soldier soon stopped at the end of the hall, before a large door.

”This is as far as I go, First Prime. They’re waiting inside.”

Nodding, Zephyrion didn’t bother wasting time with preamble. He opened the door and walked in. As expected, the air that greeted him was oppressive, bearing down on him as though demanding he kneel. But he steadied himself, sweeping the room in a glance.

Nine heavy gazes settled on him. Four men were seated on massive thrones, their mere presence seeming to make the air tremble.

He recognized Kastor immediately, and the others, he’d met at banquets before. The silent, observant Torvak Kharadun, the sharp, cold-eyed Severin Sanct Sarakhel, and the imposing King Cassian Aur Eryndor.

Garaxe stood behind Kastor, High General Rathen a little closer to him, while Garrick leaned against a far wall. A bald man with a sword plunged into his heart stood directly behind Severin. Zephyrion recognized him as well. Valdris Sanct Sarakhel, head of the Heartbound Order, the blade of the Ferran Church.

They were the giants of the empire, some of its most powerful men, and the sheer weight of their gazes was enough to remind him of their significance.

However, Zephyrion kept his head high and his face calm as he approached them and offered a bow.

”I pay my respects.” Then, he turned towards Kastor and bowed even deeper. ”Lord Calderalth.”

It was only when Kastor nodded that he lifted his head. The nine gazes were still fixed on him, observing. They felt like apex predators sizing up their prey, and Zephyrion felt his skin crawl.

’The silence... are they trying to intimidate me?’

The silence stretched for several more seconds before Cassian finally broke it.

”So, you’re the brat who beat the shit out of my son.”

Zephyrion felt an overwhelming bloodlust wash over him, so vast it felt bottomless. Cassian’s throne had begun to tremble, as though the king was on the verge of pouncing on him. Zephyrion immediately glanced towards Kastor, then Garaxe and even Garrick, only to find them simply staring at him.

’...what is this?’