Fallen General's Omega (BL)-Chapter 45: Back from the dead-3

The judge’s voice echoes through the courtroom, amplifying the gravity of his words. "The accused has been found guilty of orchestrating the disappearance and possible murder of his own master, the kingdom’s hero, Thorne Alden."

A wave of gasps ripples through the crowd, their collective shock palpable. The reporters’ fingers fly over their notepads and recording devices, capturing every moment of the unfolding drama with intense focus. Amidst the clamor, Victor remains an imposing figure. Despite the chains and the rough treatment, his gaze is steady and unyielding. His eyes, dark and intense, lock onto the crown prince seated in the front row, radiating a palpable hatred that seems to pierce through the murky gloom of the courtroom.

The atmosphere is electric, charged with a mix of anticipation and apprehension. The nobles, their excitement barely contained, exchange hushed whispers about the trial. Their eyes dart from Victor to the crown prince, their expressions a blend of curiosity and glee.

Victor’s defiant stare causes a ripple of discomfort among some of the onlookers. A few nobles avert their gazes, unable to hold his fierce, unyielding stare. The contrast between his grim demeanor and their polished appearances is stark and unsettling. freёnovelkiss.com

The judge continues, his voice slicing through the thick tension. "The evidence against the accused has been overwhelming. Victor, the so-called ’Mad Dog,’ is not only guilty of betrayal but has also sullied the honor of the Crimson General."

With a sharp motion, the judge signals the guards to stand Victor upright. The prisoner’s defiant posture remains unbroken, though his chains clink ominously with every movement. The judge’s eyes are cold and detached as he looks down from his elevated seat.

"Let it be known," the judge announces, "that justice will be served swiftly and decisively. The sentencing of Victor will commence immediately."

The atmosphere grows even more intense as Victor is forced to kneel, his face turned toward the crowd. His expression is one of fierce resolve, his eyes smoldering with a burning defiance that refuses to be quenched by his grim circumstances.

The judge reads out the charges, each word heavy with finality. The crowd watches in a mixture of horror and anticipation as the finality of the sentencing unfolds. The murmurs rise again, a low, thrumming buzz of speculation and conjecture, punctuated by the occasional gasp or hushed comment.

Victor’s gaze sweeps the room, lingering on the crown prince once more. His eyes, though filled with a smoldering rage, also carry a quiet challenge, as if daring anyone to question his loyalty and actions. The crown prince meets his gaze with a mix of curiosity, mockery and detachment, seemingly unaffected by the glare.

The judge’s gavel comes down once more with a decisive bang, signaling the end of the proceedings. The room falls silent, the weight of Victor’s fate settling heavily over the spectators. The execution is imminent, and the sense of foreboding is palpable, hanging in the air like a dark cloud.

The judge’s voice rings out with chilling finality. "I hereby sentence you to death," he declares, his tone brooking no argument. The words hang heavily in the air, reverberating through the silent courtroom.

A collective murmur sweeps through the crowd, their excitement now tinged with a mix of shock and anticipation. The crown prince’s expression remains stoic, his golden eyes betraying no emotion as he watches the proceedings with detached interest.

Victor, though chained and battered, maintains his unyielding defiance. His gaze, fierce and unwavering, challenges the very injustice being meted out. The courtroom’s oppressive atmosphere seems to grow thicker, as if the very walls themselves are closing in on the condemned man.

The judge’s gavel comes down once more, its sharp sound slicing through the tension. The sentence is pronounced, and the finality of the moment resonates deeply within the room. The spectators shift in their seats, some leaning forward, others whispering among themselves as the reality of Victor’s fate begins to settle.

The tense silence of the courtroom is abruptly shattered as a hooded figure enters, gripping a massive axe with an air of grim authority. His steps echo ominously across the gravel as he makes his way toward the center of the room. The crowd’s anticipation sharpens, a palpable sense of expectation hanging in the air.

Following closely behind, a second man appears, carrying an elaborate contraption designed to restrain the prisoner. This device, a cruel apparatus of iron and leather, is clamped onto Victor with a harsh, mechanical click. The contraption is designed to hold his head and hands immovably in place, ensuring that escape is impossible.

The executioner, his face obscured by the hood, watches with cold, sadistic pleasure as the apparatus is fitted. He then turns his attention to the axe, methodically sharpening its blade with a practiced hand. The rasping sound of metal against metal fills the air, mingling with the low murmur of the crowd.

From their vantage points in the spectator seats, the nobles display a spectrum of reactions. Some watch with detached curiosity, their faces impassive as they take in the grisly preparation. Others, however, reveal their true emotions: eyes gleaming with a perverse satisfaction, a sense of triumph dancing in their expressions. They lean forward eagerly, savoring the spectacle unfolding before them.

Despite the macabre scene below, the atmosphere in the upper tiers is almost festive. Conversations bubble with dark excitement, whispers of speculation and comment punctuating the thick silence. The sense of a public execution as a grand event is palpable, and the nobles revel in the theater of it all.

As the executioner raises his axe, the massive iron doors at the far end of the courtroom creak open with a reverberating groan. The sudden intrusion freezes the scene, the axe poised in mid-air, held back by an invisible force. The hush that falls over the courtroom is thick and oppressive, like the breath before a storm.

Guards at the base of the platform, their faces twisted in confusion and alarm, attempt to intercept the intruder. But their swords, once loyal instruments of control, are now turned against their masters. Steel gleams with menacing intent, pointing at the very men who wielded them. The shock is even more pronounced among the guards stationed in the upper tiers, who find their own weapons turning against them in an eerie display of defiance.

Panic ripples through the audience. The nobles, initially filled with an air of detached curiosity, now reveal their true feelings. Their faces contort with a mix of shock, fear, and dawning recognition. Whispers grow into frantic murmurs as the realization of the gravity of the situation sinks in.

Amidst the growing chaos, the sound of measured footsteps echoes through the courtroom. A man in formal black attire steps forward, his every movement deliberate and commanding. His outer coat, a deep and luxurious shade, brushes against the gravel with a soft rustling sound. He carries a cane, its polished surface catching the dim light as he walks, exuding an aura of authority and unspoken power.

The air crackles with tension as this enigmatic figure approaches, each step resonating with a foreboding sense of impending change.