Mated To The Cruel Prince-Chapter 770: Die Next

"What was that?" Aldric turned in tandem with Azrael towards the source of the disturbance, their senses attuned to the disruption in the air.

"I’ll find out," Azreal declared, standing still as a sudden heaviness settled around him. Aldric watched as a raven materialized from Azreal’s body, its loud caw echoing through the space before it flew off to spy on their unexpected visitors.

Azreal’s eyes glazed over, becoming distant, and his voice took on an eerily calm tone as he revealed, "There are a band of witches at the entrance, and by the look of things, they don’t seem happy."

"What do they want?" Aldric asked, his gaze never leaving Islinda, who lay on the couch, her eyes closed in an effort to endure the magical procedure. Lilith stood over her, chanting her spell with an air of indifference, confident that Aldric and Azreal would handle any threats.If the spell failed, they would have to start all over again, and they didn’t have much time left.

"They heard about the arrival of Faeries into their realm and intend to use us as an example to start their rebellion against the Fae King," Azreal explained.

"In that case, we’ll see who ends up as the scapegoat," Aldric responded, his demeanor shifting as shadows began to emerge from him, saturating the room with a dark energy.

Azreal placed a hand on Aldric’s shoulder, stopping him. "I’ll handle this. You keep an eye on them and ensure the process doesn’t get interrupted. I can’t wait to get the hell out of here."

Azrael left the room with anger, ready to face the intruders who dared to cause trouble. He intended to blow off some steam.

Blood was about to spill.

He moved with purpose, approaching the door where the clamor and knocking had grown louder. As he reached for the door handle, he could hear someone shouting to break down the door if no one answered. With a swift motion, he flung the door open, his muscles coiled and ready to unleash.

The clamor ceased instantly. An intense silence stretched between Azrael and the gathered witches and mages, both parties assessing each other warily. Azrael’s towering height and hidden face under his cloak were intimidating. The crowd sensed the dangerous aura surrounding him and instinctively stepped back. freeweɓnøvel.com

Not all chickened out, though, as the crowd parted for their leader to step through. The leader was nearly as tall as Azrael but lankier. His bald head was marred with symbolic tattoos and markings, some obvious runes nearly covering his entire body, including his face. It was clear from his intimidating appearance that he was equally powerful.

The two men stood face to face, power crackling in the air, the scent of dangerous magic palpable. The leader’s eyes narrowed, scrutinizing Azrael.

"What brings you here?" Azrael demanded, his voice a low growl that seemed to vibrate through the very ground they stood on. Although he knew why they were here, this was him giving them a chance.

"You are not Fae," the leader said, scrutinizing Azrael. The Fae were easily identifiable with their pointed ears, but Azrael’s face was hidden beneath the hood of his cloak. However, the witches had their own ways of detecting magical beings, and the leader of the witches knew Azrael wasn’t the one he wanted. Despite this, he could sense power emanating from Azrael, which left him unsettled.

"What are you? What realm are you from? Are you in cahoots with the Fae inside? I warned Lilith to stop taking orders from those assholes, but she wouldn’t listen. Today, we will teach her a lesson. From now on, faeries have no place in our realm," the leader of the witches declared.

"You talk too much," Azrael said with a deep frown on his face. "Here’s a piece of advice for you: take your band of magicians and leave this place. We came here peacefully and will leave peacefully. Start your protest with the next set of faeries, not us. So tell me, do we have an understanding?"

The man laughed mirthlessly. "You are quite a funny one. However..." his eyes suddenly glowed with a malevolent light, "It seems you might end up as a casualty loss!"

The leader raised his hand, and a staff appeared in his grip. He stomped it hard on the ground. Whether it was a show of intimidation or part of spell casting, Azrael remained unafraid, almost appearing bored as he watched the scene unfold. The leader opened his mouth, and what seemed like a miasma of darkness began to pour out, aiming directly at Azrael.

Before the dark mist could reach him, Azrael lifted his hand, and numerous ravens flew out of him, a living storm of feathers and beaks. They descended upon the leader of the witches, their caws piercing the air as they tore into him with unrelenting fury.

The ravens swarmed the witch leader, pecking and clawing with an unyielding ferocity. Their sheer numbers overwhelmed his defenses almost immediately. He tried to conjure a shield, but the birds broke through, their beaks and talons tearing at his flesh.

He screamed, a sound of pure agony, but the ravens didn’t relent. They ripped into him, their attacks so relentless that his cries were soon reduced to choked gurgles. Feathers filled the air as he tried to scream again, but only managed to expel a mouthful of blood and down.

The sight was horrific. The leader thrashed and flailed, but the ravens kept coming, a dark, swirling mass of fury and feathers. His struggles grew weaker, his movements more frantic yet futile. His eyes, wide with terror, darted around for any sign of escape, but there was none. The ravens were merciless.

His screams became gurgles, then whimpers, and finally, silence. The birds continued to peck and claw even after his body went limp, ensuring no movement would ever come from him again.

Moments later, as if on a silent command, the ravens dispersed, flying away in a dark cloud. They left behind a grotesque sight: the leader’s body was a mangled, bloody mess, unrecognizable from the fierce figure who had confronted Azrael just moments before.

Azrael turned to the remaining witches and mages, his expression cold and unmerciful . "Now, who wants to go next?"