The Grand Duke's Son Is A Heretic-Chapter 94:That Damned Bastard

TAP! TAP! TAP! TAP!

The sharp sound of fingers tapping on the wooden desk echoed through the room. A heavy silence followed, mixed with an ominous aura creeping from the man sitting with authority.

"The journey to Old Castle takes three days... No, let’s make it four. For the test and awakening, we’ll take one... no, two days. I’ll add some leeway, so at worst, it should take around twelve days to go and return, considering all variables," Ruth spoke coldly.

His gaze shifted toward the young man slumped in the chair, lazily sprawled like he had no care in the world.

"You left on February 2nd, right?"

"Yeah," Kael answered with a yawn, clearly uninterested in the conversation.

A thick vein bulged on Ruth’s forehead. His grip tightened on the armrest, and with a sharp CRACK, the wood splintered under his strength.

"THEN WHAT THE HELL WERE YOU DOING ALL THIS TIME?! IT’S ALREADY THE 25TH! YOU TOOK ALMOST A DAMN MONTH FOR THIS FARCE!"

Kael rubbed his ears, unimpressed by the outburst, and gave Ruth a deadpan look.

"You mean to tell me you don’t know what I was doing?"

"No!" Ruth snapped.

Kael clicked his tongue. "You’re the Grand Duke, and you can’t even keep tabs on your only son? Damn, Rami, this man is useless."

"YOUUU—!"

Rami, who had just finished preparing tea, almost dropped the tray. His face paled as he looked at Kael, then at Ruth’s dark expression, which resembled someone who had just stepped in shit.

’Young Master, please... have mercy! Someone’s going to die at this rate!’ Rami wiped the sweat off his forehead and quickly placed the teacups on the table. Ruth controlled his urge to throw one at Kael’s face.

Of course, Ruth knew exactly what Kael had been doing. He had his own secret forces keeping track of everything. He just wanted to hear Kael’s version of the events and compare it to his reports.

’But this bastard... he’s testing my patience.’

Ruth took a deep breath and leaned forward. "Since you already know I was keeping tabs, tell me this—why the hell did you appoint a Baroness? That’s a blatant violation of authority."

"Do you even realize the punishment for this?"

"YO! YO! YO! Hold up for a second," Kael interrupted, waving his hand.

"Tell me, if you were there and the Baron’s family got wiped out, and you needed someone to stabilize the situation, what would you do?"

"I... I’d follow proper procedures and appoint a new Lord," Ruth answered firmly.

Kael grinned. "Great idea! But see, I don’t know any ’proper’ Lords, and that girl was more than qualified to handle the situation. She had experience."

"You’re joking, right?" Ruth’s glare hardened.

Kael sighed dramatically. "I know, I know. It sounds crazy. But if you had seen her in action, you’d have appointed her too. Besides, Uncle Ramos agreed with me."

Ruth narrowed his eyes. "He did?"

"Yep." Kael lifted his teacup and took a sip. "Damn, Rami, this tea is chef’s kiss perfection."

Rami, relieved to be out of the crossfire for a moment, straightened up and saluted. "Thank you for the praise, Young Lord."

Ruth opened his mouth to say something important, but Kael cut him off.

"Oh, right! I have something to tell you."

Ruth sighed. "What now?"

"Break the engagement."

Ruth’s eyes sharpened instantly. The air turned ice cold.

"You know what you’re saying?" His voice was low, dangerous.

"Yeah." Kael grinned. "She sent an assassin to kill me. It’s only fair if I return the favor, don’t you think?" He pulled out a small glowing stone and placed it on the table. "Here’s the proof."

Ruth didn’t even glance at it.

"I don’t need it," he said flatly.

"Huh?" Kael raised a brow.

Ruth ignored his confusion and leaned back. "The engagement is your problem. Handle it however you want. I don’t care—as long as the Veydrin name isn’t tarnished. If it is..."

A dark, suffocating pressure filled the room. Kael felt an eerie chill crawl down his spine.

’Damn... I’m not dreaming, right?’

Meanwhile, Rami, who had just taken a sip of tea, nearly choked when he looked at Kael’s face. His heart almost gave out.

Despite Kael’s shocked expression, his lips were twitching... and slowly stretching into a wide, devilish grin.

"I...I really can take care of it on my own, right?"

A grin that screamed pure madness.

........

In the depths of an underground temple, hidden beneath the ruins of an abandoned fortress, a gathering of hooded figures stood around a massive stone altar.

The air was thick with the stench of burning incense and dried blood. The walls were painted with grotesque murals—scenes of past sacrifices, offerings to their dark deity, the god Peru.

At the center of the room, a man in tattered robes kneeled, bound in chains. His eyes darted around in terror, but his mouth was gagged. He could not scream, though the horror in his eyes spoke volumes.

A high-ranking cultist, clad in black robes adorned with crimson markings, raised a jagged ceremonial dagger. His voice echoed through the chamber.

"The rise of Black Omen draws near. The Red Moon shall shine, and our Lord Peru will descend upon this world!"

The cultists erupted in a chorus of dark chants, their voices merging into a twisted hymn of devotion.

The dagger plunged down. Blood splattered across the altar. The air grew heavier as the body convulsed one last time before going still.

A low hum filled the room. The torches flickered violently. A dark, sinister energy coiled through the air—a sign of their god’s satisfaction.

The sacrifice was complete or so they thought.

"WHATTT!"

"One orb isn’t lighting up?"The man shouted as he saw 11 out of 12 orbs glowing.

But this was only one. The real offering was yet to come.

The cult had been preparing for the ultimate ritual for years. Twelve sacred spots across the land had been marked for sacrifice. On the night of the Red Moon in March, thousands would be offered in a grand ritual to awaken Peru fully.

Their agents had already begun moving, kidnapping people, raiding villages, and preparing the altars.

Everything was going smoothly.

Until today.

A messenger, drenched in sweat, ran into the chamber, breathless and pale. His panicked voice echoed through the temple.

"Archbishop! We have a problem!"

The cultists turned toward him, their murmurs filling the hall. The Archbishop, an elderly man draped in dark robes, sat on a stone throne, his piercing red eyes gleaming under the torchlight.

"Speak," his voice was calm but carried an air of terrifying authority.

The messenger hesitated before blurting out, "We have lost contact with our men in Astros City!"

A heavy silence fell.

Then, chaos erupted.

"What?!" one cultist shouted.

"Impossible! That city was secured!" another hissed.

"We sent our best! What happened?!"

The Archbishop’s cold gaze silenced them all. "Who is responsible for this failure?"

The messenger swallowed hard. "It... it was the Son of the Grand Duke."

The room fell into stunned silence.

Then, an explosion of disbelief.

"Him?!"

"That useless waste of a noble?"

"Kael Veydrin?! The unawakened son? The good-for-nothing brat?"

"Are you sure? That worm couldn’t even handle a wooden sword, let alone foil our plans!"

The murmurs grew louder. The cult had always dismissed Kael as a joke—an embarrassment to the Veydrin family. A powerless fool who had no future.

Yet, somehow, he had managed to ruin their work.

The Archbishop raised a hand, and silence fell once more. His voice was calm, yet laced with venom.

"Something has changed."

He exhaled slowly.

"This is no coincidence. Our god is watching. And for that... we shall seek guidance."

He stepped forward and knelt before a massive idol of Peru,an abomination of writhing limbs attached to a fish head.

"Bow your heads," he ordered. "We shall pray."

The cultists dropped to their knees, chanting in low, guttural tones. The room darkened as shadows danced wildly along the walls.

From the depths of the temple, a sinister force stirred.