The World Is Mine For The Taking-Chapter 672 - 104 - The Rise Of The Republic of Andras (1)

Princess Myrcella answered my call almost instantly.

She must've heard the news already. That, or she was bracing herself for what she expected me to say. Either way, I didn't bother easing into it. There was no time for pleasantries or roundabout words.

"I'm going to tell your father tomorrow... that I want to be your groom," I said firmly.

As soon as those words left my mouth, time seemed to freeze. The air around me grew thick, and the people who had been standing nearby fell into a stunned silence, their expressions blank, like statues carved out of stone.

But I didn't spare them a glance. I didn't owe anyone an explanation right now... not when the future of this kingdom was about to pivot on this very moment.

"I'll be waiting tomorrow, then," Myrcella responded. Her voice, though calm, had a slight tremble, not of fear, but something more complex... expectation, or maybe even hope. "But… considering how fast all of this is happening, I assume it's related to the attack in the Holy City, isn't it?"

I didn't skip a beat. "Tell me exactly, who deployed the Magic Knights to the Holy City?"

"I did," she admitted, no hesitation in her voice. "Though, I begged my brother to be the one to take action. He asked our father to issue the order. So yes, technically, it was my father who commanded them, but they only arrived as fast as they did because I made sure they did."

"I see…"

The king really had become a husk of a ruler, hadn't he? Not just powerless... he was uninterested. Passive. The kind of man who would watch his own kingdom rot from the inside out and do nothing. The kind of king who wouldn't even flinch if his crown was swept away in fire and ash. At this point, I didn't care if he lived or died. What I needed was someone who could lead. Someone with the will and conviction to act. That someone was Myrcella.

If that greedy bastard wasn't removed soon, this entire kingdom might crumble before I had a chance to take hold of it.

"Leon, let me ask you something," she said. "Can my kingdom win?"

My kingdom. She said it with fierce ownership. There was no hesitation and pretenses. This wasn't about legacy or bloodlines. It was hers. In her voice, I heard fire.

But then, after a breathless pause, she corrected herself.

"Can our kingdom win?"

That single word shift cracked the surface of her royal pride. Our. Not just hers anymore. She was including me in this, acknowledging me as more than just a political move or a warrior. That one word carried the weight of trust… maybe even something deeper.

"You don't have to worry," I replied, locking my voice into steel. "This kingdom won't fall. Not while I'm still here."

On the other end of the call, I heard her exhale, a soft, breathy chuckle, a rare sound that felt strangely intimate.

"Fufufu… I'm quite glad you're my ally, then."

The line went dead after that.

I lowered the device, my eyes sweeping across the room. The silence hadn't lifted. Every gaze was on me.

"We need to prepare for war," I said coldly.

***

???'s POV

The general lounged lazily on the blood-red throne, one leg draped over the other, a goblet of wine balanced loosely between his fingers.

The royal hall was quiet, save for the soft clink of liquid swirling in his cup. The wine he sipped was supposed to be legendary. It was brewed from a century-old recipe, aged to perfection in the deepest cellars of the kingdom. Or so the woman beside in front of him claimed.

She was a former entertainer... once the favorite concubine of the late prince, who had been executed just earlier. A woman purchased to serve the prince's endless carnal cravings, reduced to nothing more than a plaything wrapped in scraps of fabric that barely qualified as clothing. Her outfit—if it could even be called that—clung weakly to her hips, the thin cloth swaying with every breath, revealing flashes of skin that should've been seen only in the heat of passion.

It was clear she'd been trained to tempt. But to the general, her presence was little more than a reminder of the filth that had once festered in this palace.

And she wasn't the only one. The prince had surrounded himself with prostitutes like trophies—and worse, with slaves. Children ripped from their homes. Families shattered by royal decree. It wasn't just depravity. It was evil, systemized and sanctioned.

Even the royal guards had bathed in the filth, their hands no cleaner.

The general took another sip, letting the bitter liquid linger on his tongue, then spat it back into the goblet with disgust.

"This doesn't taste like anything aged for a fucking century," he muttered. His voice, deep and venomous, echoed off the high marble walls. Then, with a flick of his wrist, he hurled the goblet across the hall. It shattered on the floor, wine spraying like blood.

He stood, looming like a beast rising from the shadows. His cold eyes fell on the woman beside him.

"This is nothing but garbage," he hissed, stepping closer, boots thudding with weight. "Trash like this isn't fit for those of us who stand above you."

He reached her. She flinched. Too late.

His hand flew out, slapping her across the face with brutal force.

"Hiik!"

The sound rang out like thunder. The sheer impact sent her crumpling to the ground, her breath caught in her throat. A red welt bloomed across her cheek. She didn't cry. She didn't scream. But her entire body trembled. freewёbnoνel.com

"You filthy woman," the general growled, towering over her. "How dare you look at me in the eyes? You'll lower your gaze from now on. You belong beneath my boots... and don't you fucking forget that."

He paused for a moment, watching her shiver.

"Let me make it even clearer."

He stomped his foot against the polished tile with a loud thud.

"Lick my boot," he ordered.

Without hesitation, the woman crawled toward him, desperation in her eyes. Her tongue extended as she leaned forward, her lips trembling. She grasped at his ankle for balance, trying to steady herself.

Another mistake.

With a snarl, he lashed out, kicking her hard in the ribs. The force knocked her sideways.

"Ughhh!?"

She gasped, curling up on the cold floor.

"Who said you could touch me?" he barked. "You're only allowed to lick, not touch. Do it again. But this time... keep your disgusting hands off me."

The woman scurried across the cold floor again, her bare skin brushing against the rough surface as she repositioned herself in front of the general.

Without hesitation, she leaned in, her posture now more humiliating than before with her hands pressed tightly beneath the arch of her lower back, elevating her chest as she bowed her head and brought her lips to his boot.

Her tongue trembled against the polished leather, yet her eyes never left his.

"General," I called out.

Interrupting a man in the middle of indulging in his twisted sense of dominance wasn't ideal. He looked like a king relishing the depth of his authority, basking in the power that came with every demeaning lick placed on his foot. But there was something urgent I needed from him, something far more important than the sick pleasure he was soaking in.

"This has gone far enough. We need to find your daughter."

The general didn't lift his eyes. Instead, he looked down at the woman as her tongue traced his boot again, his voice like ice.

"My daughter is no longer of any importance," he said flatly. "That woman chose to soil herself by fraternizing with a filthy outsider from this world. She's just another insect that lost its wings, and what do we do with trash that mingles with filth? We toss them into the gutter."

I clenched my fists.

"But don't you think… maybe Zoey was forced into this? That otherworlder could've used her and manipulated her into following his agenda, all to get back to wherever the fuck he came from."

Finally, the general looked at me.

His stare was still. Eerily still. There was no rage. There was no sorrow. Just a terrifying calmness that crept into the room and squeezed the air from my lungs.

"You know the truth," he said quietly. "Zoey is already a lost cause. And lost causes don't get redemption. They get forgotten. Buried. Left to rot with the rest of the trash."

There it was.

The finality in his voice made my stomach twist. The man had carved out any trace of fatherhood from his heart. There was no hesitation in his eyes. Zoey, his own blood, no longer existed in his world.

But despite everything, despite how far she'd fallen or how deep the betrayal cut...

I still hoped.

Somewhere inside me, I wanted to believe he'd spare her.

Because no matter what... she was still his daughter.