The Duke's Reluctant Bride

Chapter 12: The Veiled Bloodline

The man struggled, gasping for breath as Lucien's icy grip tightened around his throat. His hands twitched, ready to cast the dark spell, but the freezing cold had already numbed his throat, spreading down into his voice box. Even in his near-death state, he managed to let out a sinister chuckle, his eyes burning with malice.

"I suppose the High Priest underestimated you after all. Those eyes... just like your brother's. And that swordsmanship, it is so similar, not to mention, you don't even look traumatized at all." He let out a ragged laugh. "Hah... ahaha!"

Lucien remained silent, his eyes flat and expressionless, like a frozen seas. His grip tightened, and the frost crawled steadily up the cultist's head, enveloping him in ice.

The cultist's lips twisted into a bitter smile as his hands glowed with dark energy. "If I die..." His voice cracked, but his eyes burned with triumph. "I'm taking you with me."

Lucien didn't flinch. The dark magic flared, But just before the spell completed, a shimmering barrier of light enveloped him. The cultist's eyes widened in shock as his own spell backfired, burning through his body instead.

The last thing he heard was Lucien's voice, low and indifferent. "Soul Bind? A foolish attempt."

The cultist screamed as his body began to disintegrate, the dark spell consuming him from within. His final deranged laugh echoed through the cold covered air before he crumbled into ash.

"She's useful," Lucien mumbled, he lowered his arm and surveyed the scene. Blood stained the earth in dark, jagged pools, creeping across the roots of trees like black veins. The lifeless bodies of the cultists lay scattered, their chests split open by his blade. He slowly put the blade back to its scabbard as he glanced down at them without emotion, as though they were nothing more than broken dolls abandoned by a child.

The captives, eyes wide with terror, stared at him as if uncertain whether to thank him or fear him. Their ropes suddenly got severed, releasing them from its hold. The tallest of them, a man with dirt-streaked cheeks, opened his mouth as if to speak but the words stuck on his throat when Lucien's cold gleam eyes landed on them.

"Leave this place. Now," He ordered. His voice was sharp and without room for question.

They didn't need to be told twice. With quick, stumbling steps, they fled into the forest, the sound of their footsteps fading into the trees.

Watching the freed captives disappear into the distance, Lucien sensed a familiar presence approaching from behind.

"Duke, I am here to report the situation," came the voice of Sir Leo.

Lucien turned to see the knight approaching. "What's the situation?"

"Everything went according to plan. Thanks to your strategy, we located all the captives and rescued them without trouble. We tried to interrogate the cultists harshly, but the moment they started talking, they disintegrated out of nowhere."

Lucien gave a short nod, his expression unreadable. "As I suspected. I sensed a dark spell cast on them-any confession triggers their death."

"I see... Still, without knowing their plans exactly, we're still left in the dark."

"We know enough," Lucien replied calmly. "Their goal is to obtain the cursed sword. Whoever is behind this is clever. They demand sacrifices-hence the abductions and killings."

Sir Leo hesitated before continuing. "Yes, Your Grace. From what we got so far, the people they were offering... they all had the Blood of Eldren and most of them were mages."

Lucien's gaze sharpened. "Eldren Blood?" he murmured.

"Yes, your grace. I assume you were already aware of these traits?"