CHAPTER 208: THE DUNGEON EXPEDITION ENDS

Lady Christiana’s lips parted, her composure as sharp as the blade resting against her skin.

"That’s absurd," she said, her voice steady despite the thin line of crimson gliding down her neck.

But no one in the room echoed her protest.

These were no common nobles—they were tacticians, leaders, and prodigies of their respective factions. Their minds turned faster than swords could be drawn. They studied Kael’s face... and what they saw there wasn’t denial—it was hesitation.

Prince Kael gave a dry, unconvincing chuckle, forcing the tension out of his tone.

"What a ridiculous accusation," he said, waving a hand with mock ease. "This is all a lie. A foolish misunderstanding—"

Eros laughed quietly, the sound low and dangerous.

"In that case," he said, eyes gleaming beneath his lashes, "you won’t mind if I kill her, right?"

The words hit like thunder.

Every breath in the room stopped. Even Butler Pa’s hand twitched near his hidden blade but froze again as Eros pressed the sword deeper against Christiana’s throat. Another bead of blood fell, shattering the silence.

Kael’s smile faltered. His eyes narrowed on Eros, but beneath that royal fury was something else—fear.

Eros saw it.

He knew now. Christiana wasn’t just another pawn—she was important.

His mind flashed back to what he had witnessed outside the castle gates—the towering demon with four arms, its laughter booming as it traded blows with one of Christiana’s war sisters. The woman had fought valiantly... too valiantly. Her attacks looked real, her pain believable—but that her hidden smile had ruined the illusion.

They had been acting.

Eros had watched silently as the demon’s fists crashed into her body, as she feigned defeat under its blows. The others watching from afar would think the demon unstoppable—that challenging it meant death.

A perfect ploy to discourage interference.

But Eros had seen better performers in his past life.

Have these people ever heard of Television?

Their acting had been sloppy, almost childish.

That meant one thing—the demon was theirs. The war sisters, the demon, perhaps even the entire siege outside... all extensions of Kael’s hand.

And now, Christiana stood as the living proof of it.

Eros pressed the blade harder against her neck. "Do you dare me?" he said, voice calm, deadly. His gaze locked onto Kael’s.

The two men stared each other down—silent thunder crackling between them. Then Kael’s expression cracked.

"Okay!" he snapped, voice rising. "What do you want? I’ll give it to you—just let her go."

Eros’s smile was faint, deliberate. His eyes turned toward the shimmering curtain of water—the source of that golden radiance.

"Give me the Golden Anchor Stone."

Kael let out a humorless laugh. "That’s absurd. Even she isn’t worth—"

The sword slid half an inch closer, and Kael flinched.

"Okay! Okay!!" he shouted.

His hand trembled as he gestured sharply.

"Butler Pa. Give it to him."

"But, sir—"

"Do it!" Kael’s tone cracked like a whip.

The butler’s jaw tightened, but he obeyed. He stepped toward the water curtain, reached through the rippling veil, and withdrew the magnificent relic—the Golden Anchor Stone, its light dancing across the room like dawn breaking through a storm.

He presented it carefully, both hands raised.

Eros took it without ceremony, its hum thrumming faintly through his skin. With a flick of his wrist, he stored it away.

Kael’s fury was a palpable thing now, simmering beneath his princely mask. His voice came out like a hiss:

"Do you really think you’ll leave this place alive?"

Eros turned his head slightly, a crooked grin forming.

"Of course," he said softly. "I definitely will. Because you will make sure of it."

Then, raising his voice just enough for all to hear, he looked around the table.

"If any of you wish to leave this place with your heads still attached, you may come with me."

A long silence followed.

But the logic was clear—the Anchor Stone was gone. Kael’s power over them had crumbled in a heartbeat.

One by one, the seats shifted. Sir William rose first. Then Alexis, steadier now, followed. Violet hesitated only a moment before joining them. Monk Jan stood last, murmuring a quiet prayer under his breath.

Only the Viscount of the Grand Order remained seated, her golden eyes fixed on the prince.

Eros looked at her for a moment, sighed, then turned away.

With his sword still pressed to Christiana’s throat, he began walking toward the grand doors of the castle—each step echoing through the hall like the toll of a funeral bell.

As they moved through the castle’s vast halls, Eros raised a hand. A faint shimmer of soul energy glimmered in the air, and his mask materialized once more. He slipped it back over his face, its dark edges settling smoothly against his skin—erasing all emotion, all trace of the man beneath. The same mysterious Baron who had walked in hours ago had now become something else entirely—a myth walking out with the kingdom’s greatest secret in hand.

The heavy castle doors opened with a slow, echoing groan. Outside, the cold dungeon air met them like a wave.

The campfires of Christiana’s troops still burned, their embers flickering across the war-torn courtyard. The moment the soldiers caught sight of their WarEmbrace, bound by the presence of that masked man and a sword still glinting near her neck, murmurs spread like wildfire.

"Is that not the WarEmbrace?" one whispered.

"She looks... she’s being held hostage!" another gasped.

"But that masked man—how did he overpower her?"

Confusion spread fast. Weapons were unsheathed, spears leveled, shields lifted. Yet no one dared make the first move. The sight before them defied all logic.

Amid the rippling tension, Eros turned to Sir William, voice calm and commanding.

"I’ll advise you take charge and lead our retreat. My people already have a way out."

Sir William nodded immediately, understanding the weight of the moment. His sharp voice echoed through the ranks.

"Hold positions! Form up around the wounded and prepare to move!"

At that instant, familiar figures broke from the shadows—Ngozi and Amanda rushed toward Eros. Lady Sayuri appeared, followed closely by Belamorte.

Eros raised the golden Anchor Stone briefly for them to see before storing it away again.

"I have the subject of your contract," he said clearly, his voice resonant. "The Golden Anchor Stone. You and your kind are free from this dungeon."

Lady Sayuri bowed deeply, a rare softness in her eyes. "Then our pact is fulfilled, Baron."

Belamorte gave a small, approving nod, his tone carrying faint respect. "You’ve done what I and the other demons could not. You have our gratitude."

Behind them, the massive four-armed demon shifted restlessly. The earth trembled under his weight as he grunted in defiance, fury boiling in his gaze. He looked ready to strike—until a sharp, cold command echoed from the castle entrance.

"Butler Pa," his monocle glinting with lethal restraint, had stepped into the open.

"Stand down."

The demon hesitated, then obeyed, growling low but retreating a step. The war sisters who remained near the courtyard lowered their blades reluctantly, eyes burning with humiliation and confusion.

Belamorte turned, his cloak sweeping dramatically as he gestured down a shadowed path that curved around the cliffside.

"There is a shortcut out of the dungeon," he said. "Follow me."

Eros gave a single nod and began to move, Christiana still under his blade.

Sir William took control of the rear, barking orders, forming the battered remnants of the army into a disciplined column.

And together—Eros, his women, the nobles, and their soldiers—marched away from the haunted castle and the furious eyes of a fallen prince and out the dungeon.

This was the end of the expedition.