Published at 26th of January 2026 9:36 am

Chapter 1447: Everyone is Dead

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Count Ward’s manor had been reduced to a scene of bloody mayhem.

Bodies lay strewn across the halls and chambers, sprawled where they had fallen, while dark blood stains smeared the walls and pooled along the stone floors.

Marlow stood at the center of it all, hands clasped behind his back, his expression cold and unreadable. Leila’s blood still marred his face and robes, but he did not care — or at least, showed that he did not.

He did not intervene as the Magi of House York moved methodically through the manor, cutting down anyone tied to the Count. Whether they were family members, servants, guards, or accomplices, they were all murdered.

This was a complete execution. It was the most efficient course of action, albeit cold and ruthless. By erasing anyone even remotely connected to the traitorous Count, Marlow ensured there would be no loose ends and no surviving accomplices to grow into future threats.

Mercy would have invited uncertainty. Leniency would have allowed resentment to take root. In choosing decisiveness over compassion, the Crown secured its stability at a terrible but effective cost.

Such were the choices demanded of those who ruled.

"My Prince." A middle-aged man clad in bloodstained armor stepped forward and bowed. "It has been done."

This was Gillian York, the interim patriarch of House York, a Mana Liquefaction Magus, and also the eldest son of Kaspar York.

Marlow looked at the man and asked in an even voice, "Everyone?"

"...Yes." Gillian nodded after a brief pause. "Everyone is dead."

A cold gleam flashed in the red-haired prince’s ruby eyes. "Good job."

A few moments later, a messenger entered the manor. He arrived behind the Prince and dropped to one knee.

"My Prince," he reported respectfully. "Duke Quinn and Duke Bray have completed their actions. All of Count Ward’s businesses, properties, and assets have been seized under royal authority. All of his holdings have been transferred to the Crown."

He paused before continuing:

"All individuals known to have frequent dealings with the Count have been apprehended. They are currently being detained and questioned to determine the extent of their possible involvement in this conspiracy."

Marlow nodded slowly, his expression unchanged.

"Good," he muttered evenly.

The messenger hesitated for a moment, then said, "There is... one irregularity, My Prince."

A light frown appeared on Marlow’s face. "Go on"

"The Count’s private vaults were already empty when Duke Quinn’s men arrived," the messenger said. "No coins and no gems were found. Even the money and jewelry he habitually kept hidden in his office were gone. Completely."

Marlow’s frown deepened.

"Gone?" He couldn’t help but ask. "Seized by someone else?"

"No, Your Highness," the messenger replied. "There were no signs of forced entry. It was as if the contents had been removed ahead of time."

Marlow remained silent for a few moments.

"Investigate," he said evenly. "I want to know when the vaults were cleared, how, and by whom. Leave no assumption unchallenged."

"Yes, My Prince." The messenger bowed deeply and then quickly left.

Marlow’s gaze drifted towards the bloodstained halls, and he couldn’t help but wonder:

So even in death, you managed to slip something past me?

He couldn’t help but scoff at that thought. He turned around and was just about to leave, when suddenly...

"Your Highness!" A Magus emerged from the depths of the manor, running towards him with a tense look on his face. "We found something!"

Marlow paused, his expression turning dark. He turned to the Magus and asked, "What is it?"

"It’ll be better if you see it yourself."

***

Marlow descended into the underground basement, the air growing colder with each step he took.

At last, he stopped before a massive sealed door embedded in the stone wall. It seemed that it had been only recently fashioned, compared to the aged walls of the rest of the manor.

An ominous aura radiated from it. It was heavy and oppressive, prickling at his senses like a dark warning.

The Prince studied it in silence before speaking in a slightly tense voice, "Have you checked for traps?"

One of the Magi stepped forward and bowed. "Yes, Your Highness. We’ve examined what we can, but strangely enough... we didn’t find any."

The frown on Marlow’s face deepened. "No traps?"

He paused for a moment before adding, "Have you tried opening it?"

"We didn’t dare to," said the Magus. "There’s a... strange, unsettling aura emanating from within. We thought to report to you first."

Marlow’s eyes narrowed, and he thought to himself with a grim look on his face:

Burne, just what are you hiding?

Gillian York had a deep frown on his face as he studied the door. "The seal is... abnormal."

The Prince nodded in agreement. He could feel a powerful aura etched on the doors, suggesting that a strong Magus had put a seal on it.

His lips parted, and he was about to instruct his men to retreat momentarily. For obvious reasons, he didn’t like the ominous aura radiating from the gate, and his instincts were telling him to move away from this place.

But before he could utter a word, the ground trembled.

Rumble!

A deep, grinding rumble echoed through the underground chamber as the doors began to move on their own. Cracks of dull light moved through the gap, and the faint runes etched on the doors glowed eratically.

And then... the doors slowly started to open.

A thick, suffocating stench of death poured out from within, flooding the basement and causing several Magi to recoil instinctively.

Marlow, who was standing right before the towering doors, suddenly felt his heart sink. He froze on the spot as the rotten aura of death assaulted him directly.

In that moment, he knew that whatever he was facing was far more powerful than him and all his men combined!

A towering silhouette slowly took shape beyond the widening doors. The very air seemed to tremble around this figure, radiating decay and malice.

Suddenly, two orbs of sickly green light flared to life.

Eyes.

They burned with unrestrained, murderous fury as they locked on to Marlow Fireborne.

Before the red-haired Prince could even form a thought, the towering, deathly figure was almost upon him, its greatsword only a heartbeat away from severing his neck!

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