Chapter 102 – Messy Event [1]

Saturday finally came.

On that day, the sun blazing over the Kingdom was especially bright, looking as if the celestial body had drawn itself a little closer to the sphere of Sunu Gaal.

Vorn City had always been a city of energy, one that never slept, riddled with people who knew, more often than not, nothing but amusement and excitement.

Yet on that day, the city was particularly tense. Not tense in the way a man feels when facing a wife who has just discovered his infidelity. But tense in the way a man feels walking down a red carpet adorned with flowers, looking at his beautiful, loving bride in white, moments away from becoming his wife.

That feeling was shared by the entire populace of Vorn City, causing many people — especially the reckless young ones — to wander around the Royal Palace, trying, seeking, hoping to catch even a glimpse of those famed Tiered heirs.

They saw nothing. The place was heavily guarded, letting not a single detail slip out through that enormous gate.

Most were disappointed. Others simply assumed the Event had not yet started.

But...

...the Event had already begun.

...

Wearing her usual black Church robes, her head covered by a lightless hood, the glaring scythe tattoo visible on her forehead, the High Priestess — Helene Mars — walked slowly toward the Hall of Welcomes, accompanied by two of her sisters. Sisters sent to watch her every move.

She didn’t mind them.

Her face, this time, carried an expression of pure gentleness knotted with eagerness. To anyone watching, it would simply appear that she was delighted by the occasion.

They could not have been further from the truth.

’I will finally see him!’ Helene cried out inwardly, keeping her outward expression perfectly unchanged. ’Oh, Vorn bless me, I have so many things to tell him! So many things to confess to my Lord Seraph! Which one should I start? Oh, Vorn! I can barely wait!’

Her insides were shaking, her head spinning in anticipation. Yet before any of that, Helene knew she had duties to perform.

Her Lord had given her tasks to accomplish. And accomplish them, she would.

With that in mind, she blinked her black eyes and finally registered what lay ahead: four men, all wearing crimson-black armour that left not even their eyes visible, guarding the door of unknown stone leading into the Hall of Welcomes.

Beside the four men, at the far end, stood a cluster of maids and butlers left outside by the heirs already within.

Helene focused entirely on the guards. She slowed her steps, then clasped her hands together as if in prayer, her face settling into a gentle smile.

The two sisters flanking her exchanged a puzzled glance, unsure what she was doing.

Helene paid them no mind.

She reached the door and the guards. They moved to open it for her, but she stopped them with a quiet gesture.

Instead, she stepped directly in front of one of them, her smile widening without showing a single tooth.

"Today is a blessed day, believers." She whispered, her voice like the tone of an unending lament. "A day where our young generation — talented, gifted, chosen — all gather together in joyous occasion. So forgive me, my dear, for disregarding the law of the Kingdom in this moment. But my heart is heavy with faithful joy. So much, oh, so much, that my tears fall of their own accord."

The guards stood transfixed, confused yet somehow deeply moved by Helene’s tears. Their faith in Vorn stirred.

"So let me bless you." She said after a brief pause. "Let me kiss your head in honour of your effort and your loyalty."

"High—!"

"Let it pass, believers. Let it pass. This is a day of joy. Let it pass. Remove your helmets and allow me to bless you all. Let me kiss you deeply, profoundly, and gently for the love of Vorn, the Lord of Death."

The two sisters at her sides stood aghast, unable to understand what was happening.

Yet the High Priestess stared steadily at the guards, and despite the law forbidding them from removing their helmets while on duty, they obeyed, their hearts softened as if her tears were washing their souls clean.

One by one, each guard carefully removed his helmet and asked the High Priestess, with respectful urgency, to be quick.

And quick, she was.

She took the head of each guard between her cold, deathly hands and kissed their foreheads with overwhelming faith.

It didn’t take long.

Afterwards, Helene smiled through her still-falling tears and stepped inside the Hall of Welcomes — ignoring the watching maids and butlers — her parting words worming their way into the guards’ heads:

"May Vorn, the Lord of Death, have mercy on your souls, believers."

...

The entrance of the High Priestess was announced by the Head Maid of Hood — Persephone — in her flat, emotionless tone.

Helene stepped inside, her hands still clasped in prayer, sweeping her gaze across the wide Hall in search of someone who was not yet here.

Instead, all she found was a scattered gathering of young men and women in luxurious suits and robes. Some alone, drinking and eating. Others in clusters, conversing.

A wide empty space occupied the centre of the Hall. At the far end, where a sculpture of Vorn stood, a long table — at least half a train in length by Earth standards, Cassius might have said — stretched beneath the light, laden with food and drink, overseen by Hood servants of the day recruited by the Princess.

Helene’s face nearly faltered into disappointment at Cassius’s absence, but she caught herself at the last second.

Wordless, she continued walking, heading directly toward a luxurious table set somewhat apart from the rest, where the King and Queen were seated.

She arrived, greeted each of them respectfully, and took the only remaining chair.

"Blood of Death, I see my Lord Vorn in every part of your existence." She said to the King with a smile. "May the Lord bless you all. Still, I notice many are not yet here."

Dantes didn’t answer, looking thoroughly annoyed and bored to be in the company of children. He was eager for all the heirs to arrive so he could deliver his curt speech and disappear immediately afterward.

He had more pressing matters than entertaining young people.

Morenna took it upon herself to answer.

"Oh, you know how the young ones are." She chuckled. "Most have been here since early morning. But they are waiting."

"Waiting for what?" Helene asked.

"Waiting for — ah, here we go." She said, nudging toward the entrance. "The Tier Two and Tier One are entering after all the Tier Three have arrived."

And precisely as the Queen said it, after the last Tier Three Heir entered the Hall — a fat young man with black hair and a wide smile, each of his steps making his cheeks and belly jiggle, walking directly toward the food table — the Tier Two, Tier One, and other unique heirs of major powerhouses began to appear one by one, as if by prior arrangement.

Everyone’s attention sharpened. Everyone except the fat young man, who was already engaged in deep conversation with a servant about his plate options.

Persephone announced each arrival just as the guards opened the door:

"William Castria. Heir of the Tier Two Castria Family."

A young man with black hair and sharp yellow eyes, sword-like eyebrows, wearing a pristine black and yellow suit, stepped inside.

William’s face was as cold as the edge of a blade. He gave a brief nod of respect toward the Royal Family and the High Priestess, then without acknowledging anyone else, took position alone in a corner.

A servant immediately broke away from the table and approached him with drinks and amuse-bouches.

William’s arrival broke the dam.

The heirs began to pour inside in rapid succession, the music stopping each time Persephone spoke.

"Love de Bayard. Youngest daughter of the Runic Tower."

A woman with pink hair and pink eyes — pupils shaped like three hearts stacked atop each other — entered. Tall and slender, wearing a black robe that dragged behind her, each natural sway of her hips captivated every man in the room.

All except William and the fat young man.

Persephone continued.

After Love came another Tier Two family — the Safara — and a woman with dark-golden hair stepped inside, cold indifference burning in her golden eyes.

Then came the Glassscion, with Natalia entering. Her figure looked sculpted from glass itself, wearing a short robe.

She acknowledged no one except Keisha Silver, who waved at her shyly. She looked around the hall as if searching for someone, then clicking her tongue quietly and moving to stand to the side.

Meadow Wealth was introduced next. Her beautiful dark skin shone like polished black marble under the light. With her locks loose and swaying at every step, her pink glasses on her face and her striking figure, the men could barely pull their eyes away.

Klaus Silicin Handoff entered with his I-am-better-than-everyone smile stretched wide across his face, drawing hard glances from his peers.

He only laughed louder, entirely unbothered.

It continued like this until every Tier Two Heir had entered.

Only the two Tier One families and the Tier Zero Royal Hood family remained.

Natalia, standing beside a visibly anxious Keisha and a reluctant Klaus, watched the door with barely concealed eagerness, her grip tightening around her glass of water.

"Breathe, Natalia. Breathe." Klaus said, his green hair tied into a ponytail with a band of compressed wind, his black eyes curving mockingly. "Anyone watching you would think you are Cassius’s wife. Stop embarrassing yourself."

"Klaus." Natalia grated. "Why are you standing next to me?"

"Maybe your name is written on this spot." He exclaimed, looking down at the floor as if genuinely searching for it.

Keisha smiled nervously. "P-Please, you two, this isn’t the time. Klaus, stop provoking her!"

"Are you giving me orders, crybaby?"

"W-What?" Keisha shook her head vehemently. "No, no! I am just—!"

"Don’t answer him." Natalia hissed, pulling Keisha by the hand and placing herself slightly in front of her like a shield. "And you, you damn bas—!"

"Emrys Stormblessed." Persephone’s voice cut through the Hall, and silence fell instantly. "Heir of the Tier One Stormblessed Family."

The man stepped inside.

And suddenly, it felt as though the very air inside the room had changed; a volatile electricity settling upon all of them.

Instinctively, every back straightened. Every pair of eyes went alert, as if a ferocious beast had turned its gaze upon them.

Klaus’s playful expression melted away, his black eyes hardening. William pressed his lips together, his hand instinctively moving to his waist, grasping for a sword that wasn’t there. He cursed under his breath.

Jonathan — son of the Second Knight of the Deathless Crusaders, grey hair, blue eyes — smiled like a man watching his enemy succeed, sipping his drink with quiet humorless amusement.

Meadow raised a curious eyebrow. Love smiled beautifully, looking at Emrys with something unmistakable.

Klaus, catching sight of his future wife’s expression, felt his face darken.

Emrys himself looked like a celestial descended from the heavens. He wore a golden-white suit that framed his body perfectly, white gloves bearing the sigil of the Stormblessed.

He entered without looking at anyone and took position beside a table, alone, not far from where Love stood surrounded by several Tier Three heirs.

The pressure remained until Persephone’s voice rang out again, and everyone expected to hear one particular name.

But no.

"Raven Hood, Prince of the Kingdom, accompanied by his Chosen Partner, Anesthesia of Amaris, and the Princess Esmeray Hood."

The three entered together. Beautiful beyond measure, draped in the black and red of the Hood.

Raven was in the middle, Anesthesia on his right, her hand openly, proudly held in his.

The Chosen Heiress’s appearance was like a beacon of light. Every eye in the room found her, hearts skipping involuntarily.

"Ah, damn." Klaus muttered, genuinely caught off guard by her beauty. "How did Cassius fumble this and choose the big sister?"

Even the women were not spared.

She was only Tier Three, yet barely anyone spared the heirs of Death more than a glance.

Anesthesia smiled, and people whispered in awe, and she walked forward doing her best not to look at Emrys — whose blue eyes were fixed on her, the cold of his gaze frosting the air at the back of her neck.

’Oh Lord...’ she pleaded inwardly, instinctively tightening her grip on Raven’s hand. The pressure in the room subtly increased.

Raven and Emrys’s eyes locked. Esmeray joined the staring contest a breath later, licking her lips at the sight of Emrys’s celestial appearance.

’Oh, dear nephew, this one can match you.’

Thoughts and envy began to bloom inside her, but before they could fully take root, a sound was heard.

Tak!

Like a cane striking a hard floor. Soft, yet impossibly resonant.

And with that sound came the illusion of a snake’s hiss.

Instantly, every head in the Hall turned toward the entrance.

There, walking inside with a gloved hand holding a white cane with purple stripes — its pommel carved into the Snake-Eating sigil — his body wrapped in a splendid white suit, was a young man whose face made half the women’s hearts tremble.

Helene nearly leapt in joy. Dantes and Morenna watched with their own varying expressions.

A quiet smile rested on the young man’s face. He cast his red eyes over the room without the slightest hesitation, each of his steps producing the sensation of a snake coiling slowly around every person in the Hall, tightening in a way that felt, strangely, pleasurable.

They all already knew who he was. No introduction was needed.

Yet Persephone spoke. And this time she did so with a faint glee entirely absent from every previous announcement, going far beyond the simple introduction required:

"He is a Kin of Death," she said, watching him, "for the blood of death courses through his veins. He is an Heir of the Tier One Desdemona Family, protected and loved. He is the grandson of the Plague King of Hood and of the Soul Queen of Hood. He is..."

Persephone paused.

The air became suffocating, as if an enormous mouth had drawn every breath from the room.

She finished just as the young man came to a complete stop, smiling gently.

"Cassius Desdemona. The Last Born of the Desdemona."

—End of Chapter 102—