CHAPTER 213: FALL OF VALTAIR [9]

Alaric’s crimson eyes gleamed with cold satisfaction.

Checkmate.

But before he could savor the taste of victory, a voice pulled him out of his thoughts.

"Enjoying the show, are we?"

Suddenly, a firm, unyielding grip clamped down on his shoulder.

What?

His body went rigid. Eyes widened as a sudden, suffocating pressure washed over him, like a heavy blanket pulling the air from his lungs.

For the briefest moment, he just stood there. Frozen.

Then the pressure eased.

Alaric turned his head around and saw a man stood there. Tall. Broad-shouldered. Built like someone who’d spent decades conditioning their body into a weapon.

He wore black coat and red mask.

"How can I help you, sir?" Alaric spoke, his tone steady.

[Scanner!]

Text appeared above the man’s head.

[Knight Commander Sebastian - Red Mask]

[Rank: S]

S-rank. Fuck.

Alaric’s mind raced.

An S-rank knight here? Grabbing him specifically.

What does he want?

His eyes shifted.

Another figure stood beside Sebastian. Slightly behind. Shorter. Slimmer build.

Younger-looking man, wearing a green mask. Simple but well-made.

Alaric gave a mental command again.

[Scanner!]

But...

Nothing.

No text. No name. No information.

Just... blank.

What?

He blinked. Tried again.

Still nothing.

The hell?

The scanner always worked. Those near his rank showed full stats. Those above showed at least a name.

But this person?

Completely blank. Like they didn’t exist. Like the scanner couldn’t even perceive them properly.

How’s that possible?

Before he could finish the thought, Sebastian spoke.

"There’s so much commotion here." His voice carried friendly concern. "Why don’t we go somewhere else? Somewhere quieter."

It wasn’t a question.

Alaric’s jaw tightened beneath his mask.

Every instinct screamed danger. Screamed to refuse. To make an excuse and disappear into the crowd.

But that hand on his shoulder.

If I run, he’ll know something’s wrong. And an S-rank knight can catch me before I make it three steps.

If I refuse, same problem.

But if I go...

His mind calculated rapidly.

The gathering is full of witnesses. He can’t do anything too overt. Probably just questioning. Suspicion. Not certainty.

He relaxed his posture. Smiled beneath the mask.

"Of course. Lead the way."

His voice carried just the right amount of uncertainty. Cooperation mixed with wariness.

Sebastian’s grip released, he gestured toward a side corridor. Away from the main hall.

The green-masked figure moved first. Alaric followed. Sebastian fell into step beside him. Close. Not crowding but making it clear that leaving wasn’t an option.

They walked down the quieter hallway. Doors lining both sides. The music and noise fading behind them.

Sebastian stopped at one door. Opened it. Gestured for Alaric to enter.

The room was larger than the one with Vivienne. Better furnished.

Alaric stepped inside. The green-masked figure was already there. Standing near the far wall. Watching.

Sebastian entered last. Closed the door.

Then he reached into his coat. Pulled out a small talisman. Pressed it against the doorframe.

A barrier activated. Completely sealed. Soundproof. Cut off from the outside world.

Sebastian turned and faced him fully.

"Now then." His voice came different. Less friendly. More direct. "Let’s talk about what you’re really doing here."

The pressure returned. Heavier this time. Pushing down on Alaric’s shoulders. His chest.

Making it very clear who held all the power in this room.

And that green-masked figure just stood there. Watching. Silent.

Alaric’s mind raced.

His hands stayed loose at his sides. Non-threatening. But ready.

"I’m not sure what you mean, sir." His voice carried confused concern. "I’m just here to network. Make connections and deals."

Sebastian’s eyes studied him.

Assessing.

Calculating.

Then the green-masked figure spoke.

"Drop the act."

Their voice was deep.

"We know you’re not just a merchant."

Alaric’s blood went cold.

How much do they actually know?

Then he smiled nervously.

"I... I don’t know what you’re talking about."

The green-masked figure moved. Crossed the room with measured steps. Sat in one of the chairs with deliberate casualness.

Crossed their legs and leaned back.

"There’s no point in lying. Just tell us what you’re here for, Alaric Glimor."

Alaric froze. Every muscle locking up.

How?

He tried to process this new info.

Before he could form another thoughts—

The pressure crashed down on him again, but heavier than before.

His knees buckled. He caught himself. Barely. Hands bracing against his thighs.

Can’t breathe!

The air itself became solid. Crushing. Suffocating. His lungs fought to pull in oxygen that wasn’t there.

His essence tried to circulate. Tried to push back against the overwhelming force.

But nothing worked. It was like trying to fight gravity itself.

Alaric’s teeth gritted. Jaw clenched so hard it hurt.

Just. Stand. Up.

His legs trembled. Muscles screaming.

[WARNING!]

[HOSTILE INTENT DETECTED]

[THREAT LEVEL: CRITICAL]

[RECOMMENDATION: IMMEDIATE WITHDRAWAL]

The system’s warnings flashed across his vision. But he couldn’t respond. Couldn’t think past the pressure.

Then—

[WARNING!]

[SECURITY PROTOCOLS: 100% → 97% → 80%]

Something broke loose inside him.

His eyes glowed.

His fists clenched, knuckles white. Then slowly unclenched.

His fingers curled into claws.

The pressure didn’t lessen. But his body stopped caring.

Stopped feeling it the same way.

You dare.

The thought formed in his mind.

You dare, mongrel?

Faint red lightning crackled, about to shape form, but...

"That’s fine, Ser Sebastian."

The green-masked figure raised one hand. The pressure vanished.

Gone.

Like it had never existed.

Alaric gasped. Sucked in air desperately. His lungs burning.

[SECURITY PROTOCOLS RESTORED: 80% → 100%]

His eyes dimmed. Returned to their normal crimson behind the mask.

He stood there. Breathing hard. Sweat soaking his clothes beneath the coat.

Then he straightened slowly.

Looked up.

The green-masked figure stood now. Had risen from the chair while he’d been recovering.

They smiled. Pleasant. Like they hadn’t just nearly crushed him to death.

Their hand reached up. Fingers found the edge of the wig.

Pulled it free.

Auburn hair spilled out. Cascading down in waves, catching the lamplight with rich, warm tones.

Then the hand moved to the mask. Removed it with the same casual grace.

Revealing striking features. High cheekbones. Strong jaw softened by feminine curves. Skin like porcelain.

And eyes. Vivid green.

Beautiful in a way that transcended conventional prettiness. The kind of face that commanded attention. Respect.

Alaric blinked.

Recognition hit him.

"Your Majesty?"