First Legendary Dragon: Starting With The Limitless System-Chapter 267: House Delmire and House Duckvale

Sunlight spilled gently through the curtains, bathing Seraph’s room in a soft, warm glow. The room was quiet, comfortable, and serene, a stark contrast to the chaotic memories still faintly haunting the corners of her fragile mind.

Her delicate figure sat quietly at the small wooden table by the window, her long green hair cascading softly over slender shoulders.

Her emerald-green eyes, gentle yet troubled, were fixated on the neatly arranged parchment before her.

She traced carefully written letters with a trembling finger, mouthing each word silently. Her lips parted, trying desperately to shape sounds she once knew, yet they emerged only as faint, uncertain whispers.

"O... O-ri... Or-ion..." she whispered softly, the effort evident in the furrowing of her brow and the hesitant movement of her lips.

Each syllable was a small victory, yet each required tremendous strength and resolve.

Just as she gathered her determination to try again, a gentle knock resonated quietly through the wooden door, startling Seraph slightly.

A familiar voice called softly from outside, respectful yet cheerful. "Miss Seraph, I’m entering inside."

Seraph’s eyes widened briefly in hesitation, anxiety flashing clearly within her gaze before she steadied herself.

Carefully, she set the parchment aside, smoothing the fabric of her simple gown. Taking a deep breath, she calmed herself down.

The door opened gently, revealing a kind-faced maid in a neat uniform, smiling warmly and respectfully. "Good morning, Miss Seraph. It’s time for your bath," the maid said gently, extending a welcoming hand toward her.

Seraph hesitated, her green eyes filled momentarily with a question she desperately wished to voice.

She opened her mouth slightly, yearning to ask about Orion—why hadn’t he come to visit her for the past few days?

Why had the only bright spot in her life suddenly vanished? Yet the words caught painfully in her throat, fear and uncertainty strangling them before they could escape.

Noticing Seraph’s struggle, the maid tilted her head slightly, her expression gentle and reassuring. "Is something wrong, Miss Seraph?" she inquired softly.

Seraph’s cheeks flushed faintly in embarrassment, her gaze falling toward the floor. She shook her head slowly, unable to muster the courage needed to voice her question aloud.

Instead, she took the maid’s offered hand quietly, allowing herself to be guided gently toward the washroom.

The bath was warm and comforting, gently washing away her lingering anxieties for a brief, blissful moment.

Yet even as she relaxed amidst the soothing steam and fragrant soaps, her mind wandered inevitably back to Orion. Where had he gone? Was he safe? Would he come soon?

After the bath, wrapped comfortably in a fresh gown, Seraph returned to her chamber. Soon afterward, another maid arrived, carrying a neatly arranged platter of fresh fruits and crisp vegetables, the vibrant colors inviting and enticing.

"Please enjoy your meal, Miss Seraph," the maid said kindly, placing the tray gently on the table. Seraph didn’t react to it as she continued to sit still while gazing out of the window before looking at the food as the maid left.

She began to eat slowly, carefully savoring each bite, though her mind remained distracted. Between delicate mouthfuls, she gazed quietly out the window, her heart heavy with worry and unanswered questions.

Orion’s absence was a constant ache within her, a silent worry gnawing persistently at her fragile mind.

The days passed slowly, blending into each other in a repetitive cycle—mornings spent struggling softly with speech, quiet baths while thinking about Orion, and trying her best to avoid her past.

Each day, Seraph hesitated, nearly summoning the courage to ask about Orion, yet each time her voice faltered, anxiety tightening around her words.

And so she remained silent, quietly enduring her loneliness, quietly hoping that soon—very soon—Orion would return to her, bringing back the only warmth and brightness she had ever truly known.

At another part of the mansion, within the solemn atmosphere of his private study, Eldric stood calmly behind his large, elegantly carved wooden desk.

The room was spacious yet dimly lit, the heavy curtains partially drawn, allowing only narrow slivers of sunlight to pierce through, illuminating the dust motes drifting lazily in the air.

Before him, standing rigidly upright and respectfully attentive, was Edgar, whose usually composed expression now bore subtle traces of urgency and suppressed unease.

Eldric’s gaze was fixed upon him, his eyes sharp and penetrating, revealing neither anger nor anxiety—only a cold, calm patience that hinted at his suppressed rage.

"So," Eldric began quietly, his deep voice resonating softly through the study, calm yet undeniably commanding, "what did you find out about the haunted house that Orion and the others went inside?"

Edgar shifted slightly, straightening further as he responded clearly, his voice respectful yet firm. "Yes, Master Eldric. After conducting thorough research and discreetly contacting several sources, I learned that Marquess House Delmire sold that particular property just a few days prior to Young Master’s arrival there. It appears they were unusually eager to finalize the sale, acting with significant urgency."

Eldric nodded slowly, thoughtfully processing the information. The implication was clear to him—such urgency and coincidence rarely aligned innocently. frёewebnoѵel.ƈo๓

His eyes narrowed slightly, suspicion hardening into certainty. "So," he continued calmly, his voice edged with an icy, restrained menace, "you suspect that House Delmire was involved with this kidnapping attempt?"

Edgar hesitated momentarily, keenly aware of the gravity of his next words. Yet after a short pause, he nodded resolutely. "Yes, Master Eldric. Ever since Young Master Orion began rising in prominence within Thunderpeak Royal Academy, certain noble houses have shown unusually suspicious behavior."

"I’ve had my agents quietly watching them, observing every subtle change. Initially, these movements were minor, nothing openly aggressive or overtly threatening. They seemed as if they wanted to form connections with Young Master, so I refrained from immediate action. However, this recent incident strongly points to their involvement—especially House Delmire."

Eldric exhaled slowly, the sound soft yet coldly dangerous, his eyes glittering sharply with barely contained anger. He turned slightly away, gazing toward a far corner of the room where an ornamental crown—an intricate, ornate relic from an older era—stood silently.

His expression grew darker, lines of his age momentarily pronounced by the weight of his contemplation.

After several tense heartbeats, Eldric spoke again, his voice low and chillingly calm. "Contact Marquess House Duskvale. Arrange for them to discreetly eliminate all the heirs of House Delmire." He paused briefly, his tone becoming colder still. "Make sure House Duskvale informs House Delmire clearly of why they’re being targeted."

Edgar’s eyes widened slightly in surprise and shock at Eldric’s ruthlessness, his usually calm composure momentarily disturbed.

Yet he recovered quickly, recognizing Eldric’s decision as necessary—even inevitable—given the circumstances. He suppressed any hesitation, responding crisply, "Yes, Master Eldric. However, House Duskvale typically operates solely under King Reynold’s direct orders. Will they listen to our request?"

Without answering immediately, Eldric turned back toward Edgar, reaching calmly into his storage ring. He withdrew a small yet beautifully ornate token, engraved with intricate royal symbols that gleamed faintly in the candlelight.

He handed the royal insignia to Edgar with deliberate precision, his gaze unwavering. "Show this to House Duskvale. Once they see this insignia, they will comply without question."

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