Dean Godsthorn’s aura flared in response, the very ground beneath him vibrating and threatening to tear apart under the pressure he exuded. “Spare us the pretense, Dethrein. You are here for yourself, not for unity.”
The two witches by Dethrein’s side exchanged glances, their hands subtly moving, as if ready to channel magic at a moment’s notice. The tension in the hall thickened once more, the air so heavy it seemed to press down on the two boys again as they forgot to breathe.
“Perhaps we should test our alliances now?” the silver-haired woman said softly, her words a challenge as much as a threat.
Lord Terrace had remained silent so far but this time, he spoke first, his eyes fixed on the silver-haired woman and ignoring the one staring toward him. “The moment you make one wrong move, I’ll kill you here and then.”
His eyes turned to the second lady. “The same as you.”
It wasn’t a threat. It was a promise and those who knew him knew he didn’t give out empty promises.
The ladies felt the weight of his promise pressed on them and their skins turned cold. It was like a blade had been placed on the throats ready to slit it at any given moment.
The black-haired lady sent another telepathic message to her second, warning her. “You should avoid this one. He might actually kill you.”
Dean Godsthorn’s eyes never left Dethrein. “We are prepared for war,” he said, his tone cold as steel. “But not with you—not today.”
Dethrein turned toward the woman for a brief moment as he addressed her. “Ase, not today.”
Then his gaze fell back on Dean Godsthorn and the silent battle of wills continued, neither side yielding an inch. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Dethrein’s mocking smile returned. “A pity,” he said. “But our paths will cross again soon.”
“I was on my way to see the Twelve Great Elders and decided to stop by your academy for a brief moment. Been a while since I saw you after all.” Dean Dethrein grinned, placing one hand on the shoulder of the silver-haired. “You’re Lord Terrace of the Terrace family right?”
“I’m also the Bloody Sword. Depends on who’s asking.” Lord Terrace answered, meeting eyes with the man without a pinch of fear.
Dean Dethrein raised his head and let out a burst of laughter. “Good good! Godsthorn did teach you well. Hopefully, your mouth keeps you alive as long as his did.”
Lord Terrace remained quiet, refusing to engage the old man any further.
“Sooner than later, we shall see again. For now, enjoy your academy, Godsthorn.” With that, the pressure in the room lessened, though the air remained heavy with unspoken threats. As Dethrein turned to leave, his witches following closely, Lord Terrace and Lord Acheon exchanged a glance.
One of the teleportation arrays lit up under the guidance of the guard operating the arrays. He’d heard Dean Dethrein and his ladies were heading toward the Twelve Great Elders and without a moment to waste, he’d prepared an array for them. He wanted them gone.
Light rose from the array, swallowing them up, and a second later when the light died down, they were gone.
Lord Acheon turned to Lord Terrace and asked in all seriousness. “You’d have killed her, wouldn’t you?”
A shrug from Lord Terrace told the others he was serious. “I wouldn’t have said it if I wasn’t going to do it. I actually wished she’d gone ahead and dared me. They would’ve left here one head short.”
A shocked gasp escaped the mouth of a few guards before Dean Godsthorn managed to calm the whole situation. “You didn’t have to go so far. Dethrein might act all evil but his overall actions are for the good of humanity. I have to acknowledge that even if I find some of his methods… troubling.”
Lord Terrace frowned. “I have no such problems. I’ll deal with him if he comes at me.”
Dean Godsthorn laughed, turning away from the teleportation arrays and facing the door. “Haha… That’s right. But you’ll have to get stronger before facing him. He recently made the advancement into the Legendary Rank and now sits in the same rank as me.”
“It’s only growing stronger. I’ll do just that.” Lord Terrace nodded, him too turning to leave with the Dean.
Damon was so stunned by the events he’d just witnessed that he forgot to move. He wasn’t the only one though. Daveon was in a similar situation. “Alright boys, let’s get going.” Lord Acheon’s voice shook them back to reality and as Damon rushed to meet the man who now stood at the exit, he thought for a split second.
“Lord Acheon, I have a question,” Damon spoke up, drawing the attention of the man whom he knew to be close to his father. He didn’t know the nature of their relationship but they were close so he was certain Lord Acheon would have the answer to his question.
“What question?” Lord Acheon asked young Damon, pausing to look at the boy. Dean Godsthorn and Lord Terrace were already ahead and catching up wasn’t their plan.
Damon then whispered to the man, afraid his father would hear him. The Terrace Family were known for their sharp sense of hearing thanks to a certain young lady with an inhumane sense of hearing. “What rank is my father? Clearly, he isn’t a Legendary Ranked Dunter.”
Lord Acheon didn’t know whether to laugh or cry at the question so he asked a question of his own. “Why don’t you ask him yourself?”
Damon was quick to answer that one with a slightly louder voice. “Because it doesn’t seem like he’ll say.”
“Try asking him. I’ll only tell you that he’s currently stronger than me.” Lord Acheon said with a mysterious smile.
Damon wasn’t satisfied with the man’s answer but now he knew to narrow his conclusion. “Thank you, Lord Acheon.”
Rather than speculate, he would do the necessary. “I’ll ask him the exact rank personally.”
To himself, he thought. ‘If Father is certain he can go against that terrifying man, I have a long way to go before I can catch up.’