The Grand Duke's Son Is A Heretic-Chapter 101:Departure To North

Kael was heading towards the room when Lydia stepped in front of him, her usual cold, emotionless gaze meeting him.

"Take me with you."

Kael stopped in his tracks, narrowing his eyes. "Why?"

"It’s dangerous," he stated, watching her closely.

Lydia remained unfazed. "I can’t live in the estate without you."

Kael almost stumbled at those words. If she hadn’t been so expressionless, he might have thought she was confessing. He crossed his arms. "Why?"

She hesitated for a moment, then spoke. "I need to repay you. Not the others. So I must serve you. Besides... I feel uncomfortable here without you?"

Kael’s expression darkened. "Did the old man have a hand in this?"

Lydia hesitated again, then nodded.

Kael exploded seeing this.

"FUCKKKKK!"

His roar echoed through the halls, startling nearby servants. Without another word, he stormed off, his boots slamming against the marble floors.

"OLD MAN! GET YOUR ASS HERE! I’M TEACHING YOU A LESSON!"

"HOW DARE YOU MOLEST MY MAID.."

The entire estate shook with tension. Servants scattered, and knights froze in place.

Ramos, having been dragged before Ruth by Kael in confusion, was beaten senseless by the Grand Duke after Kael shoved the blame onto him. Only after the dust settled did they realize it was a misunderstanding.

Ramos, now grumbling with a bruised face, muttered, "Ungrateful bastard..."

Kael, rubbing his temples, just snorted. "Serves you right.

...

The station was buzzing with activity, filled with merchants, travelers, and workers rushing about their daily business. But today, an unusual tension ran through the air.

People had gathered in small groups, whispering among themselves as they stared at the massive gathering of knights and soldiers lined up in perfect formation.

The station platform was vast, made of dark stone with intricate mana lines running through it, pulsing softly as the energy from the city’s core supplied power to the entire place.

The magic train itself was a marvel of craftsmanship, its black metal frame reinforced with glowing blue mana veins. Instead of running on wheels, it hovered slightly above the ground, emanating a low, thrumming hum.

Amidst the murmurs of the onlookers, a vendor selling roasted nuts nudged his neighbor. "You ever seen this many Blue Knights at a station?"

His friend, an older man with a missing tooth, shook his head. "Never. Something big’s going on."

Another traveler, a woman clutching her child, glanced at the soldiers with unease. "Do you think there’s a war?"

The tension only increased as Kael arrived.

Back at the station, the Blue Knights were lined up in tight, disciplined rows, their polished armor reflecting the midday sun. Their captains barked orders, ensuring everything remained orderly.

Baret, Gare, and Chris were among the troops, standing at attention but chatting among themselves.

Few knights cracked his knuckles. "Tch, another damn escort mission? I was hoping for something more... entertaining."

Another one smirked. "You just want to break something."

One of them adjusted his gloves, sighing. "Just don’t screw up this time, Baret. Last time, you nearly wrecked a whole village."

Among them, a man of high stature grinned. "Not my fault. They pissed me off."

The three of them straightened up as Kael approached but unlike the other Vic didn’t give Kael a salute but Kael wasn’t in mood to mess today.

He had plenty time to straighten some dork.

Kael’s eyes scanned the platform. The knights were disciplined, but the people watching them were anything but calm.

Some whispered in awe. Others are in fear.

A noblewoman in a lavish dress murmured to her companion, "Why would the Grand Duke send so many knights? Who is that man leading them?"

Her companion, an older merchant, adjusted his spectacles. "That’s Kael. The mad dog of Veydrin."

A few bystanders stepped back as Kael passed, his reputation preceding him.

At the front of the formation,Captain Hadel stood at attention, his expression sharp and respectful.

Beside him, Vice Captain Vic barely acknowledged Kael’s presence, his face neutral but his stance slightly tense.

Hadel took a step forward, bowing slightly. "Lord Kael, please forgive Captain Vic’s lack of respect. He has... unpleasant memories with nobles."

Kael grinned, tilting his head. "No problem."

Vic didn’t react. He simply turned his gaze forward, his jaw tight.

As Kael was about to board the train, a familiar grating voice rang out behind him.

"BASTARD! TAKE CARE OF YOURSELF! THE WORLD ISN’T AS PLEASANT AS IT SEEMS!"

Kael smirked and waved a hand lazily. "Don’t worry, old man."

Ramos huffed, turning toward Ruth. "You don’t want to say anything?"

Ruth barely spared him a glance. "No."

Ramos’s face twisted in frustration. "Then why the hell are you here?"

Ruth’s voice was cold as death. "To oversee if he causes any trouble."

Then, after a moment of silence, he turned to Kael and spoke with his usual icy authority.

"Remember to not mess around and cause trouble, or else I will make sure to punish you."

Kael laughed loudly as he stepped onto the train. "As if I care about your punishment." He turned back, his grin dangerous. "Get back and enjoy your days, old man. The moment I return, I’m aiming for your seat."

Ruth’s expression didn’t change, but a glint of challenge flashed in his eyes.

With a low hum, the magic train roared to life, lifting slightly off the rails. The blue runes along its body flared to full power.

As the train departed, Kael stood at the window, watching the station slowly fade into the distance. His grin never wavered.

....

Somewhere in the North.

The air was sharp like a blade, each breath burning their lungs as they ran through the endless white hell. The knights in red armor staggered across the frozen wasteland, their boots crunching against thick ice. Their once-proud armor was now dented, stained with blood, and covered in a thin layer of frost. Some clutched wounds, their fingers numb and trembling.

The trees around them were lifeless, their blackened, skeletal branches cracking under the weight of ice. Every step was a battle, the snow knee-deep and dragging them down like unseen hands trying to pull them into the abyss.

One of the knights stumbled, nearly falling face-first into the snow before another yanked him up by his cloak.

"Fuck! That bastard of a lord didn’t opened the gates sent us to die!" one of them spat, his voice raw with exhaustion.

"No supplies, no warm shelters, and the rations he gave us? Rotten! Fucking. Rotten!" another cursed, his breath coming out in ragged gasps.

"We were never supposed to win... This was a goddamn death march!"

Their bodies ached, their muscles screaming for rest, but there was no stopping. Not when they were here.

A deep, thunderous boom echoed across the tundra. The knights froze for a second.

Then the sky split open.

Massive blocks of ice the size of carriages came hurtling down, smashing into the snow with earth-shaking force. Some knights barely dodged, diving out of the way as the ground beneath them cracked apart.

"FUCKKK!"

A knight wasn’t fast enough. The ice crushed him instantly, blood spraying across the white snow.

"THEY’RE HERE!" someone screamed.

From the blizzard, dark figures emerged.

Humanoid ice sculptures, their bodies carved from jagged, translucent ice, moved unnaturally fast, their hollow, glowing blue eyes locked onto the fleeing knights. Their arms ended in razor-sharp claws, and with every step, frost spread beneath their feet.

And they weren’t alone.

Snow orcs, towering beasts with frost-covered fur and jagged bone weapons, charged through the storm, their snarls deep and guttural. Their breath came out in thick, white clouds, and their eyes gleamed with the thrill of the hunt.

"RUN! FUCKING RUN!"

The knights pushed forward, desperation in their every step.

But they were slowing down. Their legs felt like lead, their energy long since drained. The freezing wind bit into their exposed skin, turning flesh pale and lifeless. Some could barely feel their fingers anymore, their nerves dying from frostbite.

One knight turned his head, just for a second.

A clawed hand speared through his chest.

His eyes widened in shock as blood dribbled down his lips. The ice soldier ripped its arm free, and he collapsed, steam rising from his cooling corpse.

The knights didn’t stop. They couldn’t stop.

Survival was all that mattered now.