The Grand Duke's Son Is A Heretic-Chapter 140:Upcoming Crisis

TAP! TAP! TAP!

Robert drummed his fingers on the table, his sharp gaze fixed ahead as he listened.

"And with that, he ran off to sneak in," Albert grumbled, slamming his fist on the table. His frustration boiled over, and he screamed, "I told him this was a bad plan! A very bad plan! For fuck’s sake, this was—"

BAAAM!

The door burst open, and a man hurried inside. Robert narrowed his eyes at the intrusion. "What happened?"

"My Lord, we have a message from Lord Kael!"

Albert shot a skeptical look. "A message? What is it?"

The man hesitated before speaking. "My Lord... It’s trouble. A monster tide with massive titans will hit us at midnight."

"WHAAATT?!" Albert jumped up, grabbing the messenger by the collar. "Tell me you’re lying!" freёnovelkiss.com

His voice cracked with panic. Fighting at midnight was a nightmare—the freezing cold, the pitch darkness. It was suicide.

Robert clicked his tongue in annoyance. "Stop whining like a damn dog."

"But Father—My Lord!" Albert turned to him, wide-eyed. "How the hell are we supposed to fight them at night? We’re walking into death!"

The messenger, Paim, pulled out a note. "Sir Kael sent this, delivered by Sir Vic."

Robert took it, unfolding the paper. His eyes skimmed the contents, his frown deepening. Then, without a word, he rubbed the note between his fingers and tossed it into the candle’s flame, watching it turn to ash.

Albert stiffened. "What did it say?"

"Nothing much," Robert scoffed, standing up. He strode to the window, staring out at the frozen land beyond. "Bring my armor. I will personally lead this battle. And send a message to Kael—tell him to stop fooling around."

He exhaled slowly before adding, "His so-called ordinary life is worth more than the entire North."

Albert and Pain froze. Their breath caught in their throats. Robert Frost had just openly admitted Kael’s importance.

....

Chris paced back and forth, his unease clear as day. Barret moved in the opposite direction, both of them crossing paths at the center like restless ghosts.

Gare sat nearby, watching them with a sigh. "Stop worrying over nothing."

"But Gare, it’s been too long! We haven’t heard from My Lord, and don’t forget—Miss Lyria is with him!" Chris argued, his voice tight with concern.

"Yeah, she’s just a normal person, not a monster like our Lord," Barret added, his arms crossed.

Gare, who had been about to dismiss their worries, nearly choked on his words. His eyes widened as he stared at them in disbelief.

’You’re more worried about Miss Lyria than Lord Kael?! If he heard this...’

A shiver ran down Gare’s spine, and he clicked his tongue. "She’s a demoness."

"So what? Even demons start off weak," Chris shot back.

"Who told you that nonsense?" Gare’s sharp gaze made Chris shrink back. "Demons are born strong. Even a child demon has the strength and stamina of an F-rank warrior. It’s all brute force, but that doesn’t make them any less dangerous. If you underestimate a demon, you’ll die before you even realize it."

"Yeah, remember that. Never let your guard down," Barret warned.

Chris smirked. "Just like you underestimated Lord Kael?"

Barret’s face turned red instantly.

It was emotional Damage.

"You’ve been running your mouth a lot lately," Barret growled, his eyes turning cold. He reached for his sword. "Maybe it’s time for some proper training."

Chris’s grin faded as Barret drew his weapon, but before the blade could swing—

CLANG!

A sharp gust of wind blew past, and Barret’s sword came to a dead stop. A single finger held it in place.

Barret’s breath caught. He took a step back, instantly recognizing the man before him. Without hesitation, he bowed.

"I apologize for my misconduct, Sir Vic."

Chris and Gare straightened, saluting.

Vic ignored them and pulled out a small, worn-out letter. "Your Lord sent me. This is for you, Gare."

Gare reached out cautiously, his fingers brushing against the rough paper as he took it. His eyes flickered with anticipation.

Barret, still tense, finally spoke. "Where is My Lord now?"

Vic’s voice was calm, but his words sent a chill through the room.

"He has infiltrated enemy territory. He’s inside the mines."

For a moment, silence hung heavy in the air.

Then—

"WHATTTT?!"

Vic said nothing more. Without a glance back, he turned on his heel and walked away, his dark cloak swaying behind him. His silent departure left an unsettling weight in the air.

Barret and Chris exchanged glances, then slowly edged closer to Gare, their curiosity getting the better of them.

Gare had just unfolded the worn-out letter when—

"The message should only be read by Gare."

The voice rang out like a blade slicing through the tension.

Barret and Chris froze, their hands instinctively jerking back. Vic was already gone, yet his warning lingered in the air like a ghostly presence. Gare, ignoring their guilt-ridden expressions, turned his attention back to the letter. His eyes darted across the inked words, his frown deepening with each line.

Then..

BWOOM! BWOOM! BWOOM!

A deafening alarm roared through the camp. The ground vibrated beneath their feet as the warning bells rang out in rapid succession. The night air filled with frantic shouts and the thundering of boots against dirt.

Soldiers scrambled into position. Torches flared to life, casting flickering light on hardened faces. Commanders barked orders, and within moments, knights in full armor formed rigid battle lines.

Robert’s personal guard, their silver crests gleaming under the moonlight, took their places at the front. At the center of the chaos, Robert himself stood tall, his eyes cold and unreadable.

"Prepare the defenses," his voice cut through the commotion. "Reinforce the barricades. I want trenches dug along the outer perimeter. Archers, take position on the watchtowers. Set up the spike traps in the eastern sector and reinforce the palisades near the supply routes."

Men rushed to obey. Wooden spikes were driven into the ground, hidden beneath layers of loose dirt. Oil barrels were rolled to the flanks, ready to be ignited. The blacksmiths hurriedly distributed freshly sharpened weapons while scouts rode out to survey the enemy’s movements.

As Gare stuffed the letter into his pocket, he exhaled sharply. Whatever was coming... it wasn’t going to be a simple battle.