— The Arcane Counterstroke —
Clang!
The iron door slammed shut, sealing Eren and Kane inside the cramped confinement cell.
Kane let out a bitter laugh. As the warden of this very prison, he never imagined he'd see the inside of a solitary cell himself.
In the adjacent cell, Eren sat cross-legged on the cold floor, calm and composed. He held a single strand of hair in his palm and murmured an incantation under his breath. "Dean, you'll learn that some people are never to be crossed."
This strand of hair, plucked unnoticed from Dean's head using a subtle pulse of energy as they passed each other, was the key.
With it, Eren could activate the Liuren Soul-Compelling Art—a mystical technique allowing him to peer into Dean's deepest secrets and compel him to voice hidden truths.
A man of Dean's stature undoubtedly harbored dark, unspeakable secrets. Once exposed, they would ensure Dean's eternal ruin.
Without delay, Eren swiftly carved an intricate, esoteric array onto the floor, placing Dean's hair at its center. Bringing his fingers together, he uttered a low command:
"Array, arise!"
The air instantly warped, a faint, eerie light flashed and then vanished.
In the next instant, Eren's spiritual sense unfurled like invisible threads, piercing straight into the core of Dean's soul.---
Dean, meanwhile, was basking in his triumph, amazed at how easily he had seemingly crushed Eren.
He immediately dialed a secure number. "Mr. Erskine, the task you assigned is complete. Please inform Young Master Vale that I, Dean, pledge my unwavering loyalty to him."
This all traced back to just yesterday—
— The Price of Mercy —
Bay Manor Villa
Damien Vale had just finished his cultivation session, his entire body radiating an intimidating aura of power.
Seraphine, who had been waiting nearby, felt waves of shock roll through her. She had assumed Damien was just another spoiled heir, obsessed with pleasure and women.
Now, she realized how wrong she had been. His cultivation level alone placed him far above any ordinary scion.
Objectively, he was a perfect match. But her heart already belonged to Eren; there was simply no room for anyone else.
Seeing Damien conclude his practice, Seraphine nervously stepped forward.
"Young Master Damien, I beg you, spare Eren. If you grant him his life, I will do anything you ask from now on."
Damien's face darkened instantly, his gaze locking onto her like a vise.
"We're to be married at the end of the month—and you dare plead for your ex-lover?"
"Seraphine, do you truly believe I am incapable of killing?"
His icy stare sent chills down her spine, making her heart pound wildly with primal fear. The man's presence was utterly terrifying.
But Seraphine knew if she didn't stand her ground, Eren was truly finished.
She took a deep breath, forcing down her terror, and gritted her teeth.
"Damien, you stole me away, tore us apart... I've let all that go. I ended things with Eren and agreed to marry you.
So why did you have to frame him?
Have him imprisoned! Sentenced to death!"
Growing more resolute with each word, she ended with a cold threat: "If you don't release Eren, I would rather die than marry you."
"Audacious!" Damien roared, humiliation surging through him as if he'd been publicly shamed. Enraged, he smashed a nearby table with his fist, his eyes burning with fury as he glared at Seraphine.
Unafraid of death itself, Seraphine met his gaze without flinching.
The tension between them crackled in the air, thick and dangerous.
Finally, Damien narrowed his eyes, conceding. "You win. After our wedding, I will find a way to have him released.
But let me be clear once more: I did not have him imprisoned."
In his eyes, Eren was nothing but an ant, unworthy of any significant effort.
Seraphine let out a sigh of relief and turned to leave.
Only once outside the villa did she realize her clothes were soaked with cold sweat.
Two silent streams of tears traced down her cheeks as she whispered to the wind, "Eren... this is the most I can do for you."
Damien immediately summoned his confidant, Erskine. "I've heard that Eren has bribed the warden and can now come and go from the prison as he pleases. I want Seraphine secure and undisturbed until the wedding. Go and have the Mayor handle it."
"Young Master, that fool is seeking death. Shall I have him eliminated?" Erskine offered obsequiously.
Damien, however, shook his head. "I promised Seraphine I'd spare his wretched life. I won't let a mere insect jeopardize my long-laid plans. However... teaching him a sharp lesson is permissible."
— A Will No Longer His Own —
Hanging up the phone, Dean leaned back against the leather seat, a slow, satisfied smile spreading across his face.
The car glided smoothly through the city streets, neon lights streaking past the windows like obedient stars.
Everything was falling into place—too perfectly.
To become a trusted confidant of Young Master Vale...
The thought alone sent a pleasant tremor through his chest.
An entire province, he mused.
Power, influence.
What mayor wouldn't dream of standing at the peak of it all?
"Eren... oh, Eren," Dean chuckled softly, tapping the armrest with his fingers.
"If not for you, I'd never have climbed this high so quickly."
His smile sharpened, turning cruel.
"Don't worry. Before your execution, I'll make sure you suffer properly.
After all—gratitude should be repaid."
He leaned forward slightly.
"Turn around," he ordered casually. "Back to the prison."
The driver acknowledged and smoothly executed a U-turn.
But the moment the car straightened—
Dean's body jerked violently.
A sudden, bone-deep chill surged up his spine, as if icy fingers had pierced straight into his skull.
His vision blurred.
The city lights outside smeared into streaks of color, then dimmed, as though someone had turned down the brightness of the world itself.
Dean opened his mouth to curse—
—but no sound came.
The confident gleam in his eyes vanished, replaced by a hollow, glassy emptiness.
His lips moved.
"Turn around."
The words were flat. Mechanical. Devoid of emotion.
"Head for the Anti-Corruption Bureau."
The driver glanced at him in the rearview mirror, startled.
"...Understood."
As the car turned once more, the driver frowned, irritation bubbling beneath the surface.
What the hell?
We just turned around. Is he playing games now?
Dean sat perfectly still.
Inside, panic bloomed like ink in water.
No—
This isn't right.
Why am I saying this?
He tried to clench his fists.
Tried to speak.
Tried to stop himself.
Nothing responded.
His thoughts screamed, but his body had already betrayed him.
The car came to a stop.
Dean stepped out.
Each movement was precise. Controlled.
Not by him.
He walked into the Anti-Corruption Bureau, past stunned clerks and startled guards, his footsteps echoing unnaturally loud in the marble hall.
Then, before anyone could speak—
"I wish to confess."
The words rang out clearly.
The room froze.
"What?" someone stammered. "You... you're confessing?"
Recognition dawned across their faces—shock, disbelief.
This was the Mayor.
A man untouchable by ordinary means.
Yet Dean stood there calmly, expression blank, eyes lifeless.
The staff snapped into motion, scrambling to escort him into an interrogation room, hands shaking as they activated the recording equipment.
As the door closed behind him—
A single tear slid silently down Dean's cheek.
No one noticed.
And no one heard the final, wordless scream trapped inside his stolen soul.