“I want your daughter. Give her to me.”
My voice reverberated through the grand chamber, filling every corner. I made certain that no one could ignore it. The guards stood frozen, their expressions mirroring the shock etched on the faces of the King and the four Argonauts. Clearly, my bold declaration was the last thing they had anticipated.
Behind me, Semiramis hesitated, caught off guard by my straightforward demand. Yet, there was no room for hesitation. My purpose here was singular: I sought Medea.
“Who… who are you?” the King finally managed to ask, his voice tinged with bewilderment. The question hung in the air, a reflection of the curiosity and uncertainty shared by everyone in the room. It was evident that he sought to gauge my status before deciding on his response.
“I will answer that,” Semiramis interjected, her voice steadying as she spoke. “Lord Samael is the Lord Commander of the Tenebria Kingdom.”
“Tenebria? The Demon Kingdom?” The King’s eyes widened in shock, a reaction mirrored by the others present. Their wariness was palpable, yet absent was the outright hostility I had often encountered from the Empire of Light. This continent, it seemed, operated under different rules, almost as if it were a world apart.
“Are you here under the official orders of the Demon King? Does he seek my daughter’s hand?” the King pressed on, his tone a mixture of apprehension and formality.
I exhaled sharply, my patience wearing thin. “I am here on my own accord. It is my desire to have your daughter, not the Demon King’s. Instead of wasting her time within this kingdom or with other incompetents,” I cast a disdainful glance at Hero Jason, “she should come with me. I will show her a life worthy of her talents and beauty.”
Medea remained silent, but I didn’t need to be an expert in reading emotions to see that my words had struck a chord. Her eyes betrayed a longing, a desire for something more than the monotony of her current existence. I was right about her—she craved excitement, and I intended to give her both the spice and sweetness she yearned for.
“Is that a threat from the Demon King?” King Aeëtes asked, his voice tinged with nervousness.
My irritation deepened. Once again, he brought up the Demon King, despite my clear indication that this was my personal mission. Now, I began to understand why Azariah kept the Demon King’s fall a closely guarded secret. His very name instilled fear and could be wielded as a powerful tool of leverage against other kings.
“It’s my threat,” I responded coldly, locking eyes with the King. Did he need me to beat him into understanding that I was the one dictating this conversation?
I had already breached the castle, causing no small amount of distress to Semiramis, who clearly feared that my actions might draw the ire of the Olympian gods. Her anxiety was palpable, mingled with anger at the potential consequences.
“If you wish, my King, we can eliminate this nuisance,” Jason offered, his voice brimming with bravado.
I scoffed inwardly at his audacity. Whether it was this Jason or my former classmate, they were both fools of the highest order.
But engaging in a fight with demigods would be more of a nuisance than a challenge. Handling all of them simultaneously was beyond my current capabilities. After all, it had only been a week since I recovered and reawakened my darkness magic.
The King of Colchis scrutinized us, his gaze shifting between Jason and me.
“Sir Jason desires the Golden Fleece, and you seek my daughter. To be frank, I’m reluctant to part with either. However, I’ve devised a more fitting solution,” he announced with a shrewd smile.
Jason’s brow furrowed, clearly displeased. Before my arrival, he had likely been confident about securing his prize.
“The one who claims the Golden Fleece shall also win my daughter’s hand,” the King declared.
Jason’s frown transformed into a triumphant grin. This arrangement suited him perfectly. Winning the Golden Fleece alone was a prize, but adding the beautiful princess to it made the reward even sweeter.
“I thank you, my King,” Jason said, his voice brimming with satisfaction.
I regarded the King with suspicion. This challenge was proposed because he believed we had no chance against the dragon guarding the Fleece. The myths of old hinted at Medea aiding Jason, but in those tales, she was hopelessly in love with him.
I glanced at Medea. She did not appear enamored with Jason. If anything, her furtive glances were directed at me.
“Alright,” I finally accepted the challenge.
The King’s smirk broadened, but I ignored it and asked, “Where is it?”
“I will send my guard first thing in the morning to escort you. Until then, how about some rest? A farewell dinner party for my esteemed guests. Please, do join us,” he insisted.
“Whatever,” I nodded, my mind already plotting how to extract information about the dragon from Medea during the feast.
Afterward, guards led us to the guest houses for the night.
“The Lord Commander of the Demon King in person, and so young?” Orpheus commented curiously as he followed behind.
Their knowledge of Demon Kingdom affairs was evidently lacking. The previous feared Lord Commander was dead.
“They must be quite desperate, Orpheus. He’s just an arrogant kid,” Jason laughed.
“I agree about the arrogance, but he doesn’t seem like an ordinary kid,” Atalanta murmured.
Heracles remained silent, his gaze fixed on me. I had no time for their idle chatter, nor did I care for their opinions, so I walked ahead. Or tried to.
“You think so? I just think he’s an arrogant kid whose mother was likely off playing around,” Jason sneered.
BADAM!
My figure blurred, and my fist was mere inches from Jason’s astonished face.
Unfortunately, Heracles’ strong hand caught my wrist.
“Are you mad, Lord Commander?” Heracles asked, bewildered.
He must have sensed it—my fist was aimed to kill Jason.
“Move,” I commanded, channeling more strength into my fist.
Heracles’ arm trembled under the sheer force as I slowly inched my fist closer to Jason’s face.
“Jason, get out of here,” Heracles ordered.
Jason quickly retreated. With him gone, I yanked my hand free.
“The next time, I will kill him and you for stopping me,” I warned coldly.
“Do you have any idea who we are?” Jason laughed, disbelief coloring his voice.
Ah, the arrogance of one protected by gods and the pseudo-son of Poseidon. Poseidon, the bastard who dared to lay eyes on Khione.
I wondered how he would react if I sent him his son’s head.
Lost in that thought, I ignored them and walked away, with Semiramis close behind.