CHAPTER 62: WARNING

The crowd of more than five hundred people had gathered around the graveyard.

In the middle stood a small group of five — surrounded, glared at, and met with open hostility.

Emma frowned as she realized the crowd wasn’t there just to remove the grave.

They were there to fight.

Could it be that... a thought crossed her mind.

Kevin stepped forward, a deep frown on his face. Aether swirled faintly around him, no matter how hard he tried to keep his calm.

"Why in the world would you disrespect someone who’s already dead?" he said sharply. "All of you know what tragedy my mother went through, yet instead of showing sympathy, you come here to destroy her grave?"

No one looked away. No one seemed guilty.

A middle-aged man, who appeared to be their leader, stepped out and said coldly,

"We’re not mad enough to remove that grave without a reason." His tone turned bitter. "That grave is cursed. The woman buried there brought a curse on us all."

Kevin’s patience began to break.

Clenching his fists, he warned, "Watch your words. One more insult—and no matter how many people you’ve brought here—I swear on my mother’s name, I’ll tear your head from your shoulders."

His words sent a chill through the man. His face went pale, his confidence shaken.

For a moment, silence hung heavy in the air.

Then, a woman stepped forward, tears running down her face as she carried a shrouded body in her arms.

"How many mouths can you silence," she cried, "when your mother’s grave keeps taking lives from us?"

She knelt and gently laid the body on the ground.

A gust of wind blew, pulling away the white sheet.

Underneath was the pale face of a young man—lifeless and still.

The woman glared at Kevin, her voice breaking with grief.

"Every year on this day, people die—tens of families lose their loved ones! All since the day your mother died! And this year, my son too!"

Before anyone could stop her, she stepped forward and slapped Kevin across the face.

Kevin’s head tilted to the left from the slap, the sharp sound snapping everyone out of their trance.

"You...!" Laila shouted and lunged at the woman, but Kevin raised his hand, stopping her in her tracks.

Natalie quickly stepped forward, grabbing Laila’s arm and pulling her back. "Don’t," she said quietly. "You’ll only make it worse."

The crowd’s spokesman shouted over the noise, his voice trembling with emotion.

"You heard her! Every year on this same day, people die—just like her son! Even those who moved away from this town aren’t spared. It follows them wherever they go!"

Kevin’s hands curled into fists. Could they really be telling the truth?

He looked at the woman’s tear-streaked face and saw the emptiness in her eyes—the kind only someone who had lost everything could have.

And the crowd... their anger wasn’t fake. It was raw and real.

That kind of hatred couldn’t be bought with gold or stirred up by someone else.

For the first time, Kevin realized—the Baron might not have sent them here just to torment him.

The only one who didn’t seem shaken was Emma.

She had already guessed the reason behind their arrival.

As the lover of the King of Heavens, it was inevitable—those who had watched her die without lifting a hand to help would one day face punishment.

It wasn’t Emma’s perspective.

It was the curse left behind by the one who had doomed this town.

But Lord Michael had forgotten one thing—

humans can retaliate.

If he wished to make their lives miserable forever, then they would make sure his love found no peace, not even in death.

"For now, capture them," the spokesman ordered harshly. "Make sure they don’t get in the way."

At his command, several soldiers began to advance toward the group.

"Eh?" Lizel gasped, startled.

Laila and Natalie’s eyes widened as they saw the soldiers carrying iron cuffs.

Emma frowned, readying herself to fight back—but then—

BOOOOM!

An explosion thundered behind her, shaking the ground. Everyone turned toward the source.

A soldier lay sprawled on the dirt, blood pooling beneath him, his eyes rolled back.

Emma froze. The man had been creeping up on her from behind—quietly enough that even she hadn’t noticed.

Someone had struck him down first.

But who...?

And then she realized.

"Quite daring of you," a voice rang out—mocking, sharp, tinged with restrained anger.

A figure descended from the sky with inhuman grace, landing between Emma’s group and the crowd.

He stood before Emma like a living shield, body still, eyes locked on the crowd as if they were nothing but drifting smoke. The air around him tasted colder; every whisper seemed to slow.

The woman who had slapped Kevin spat at him, venom in her voice. "What a monster, siding with them."

William didn’t answer at first. He simply looked at her — a stare so hard it felt like a blade. Then, quietly, he let out a sliver of his presence, a low hum that crawled across the ground and settled over the people like a warning. When he spoke, his voice was calm, but the words carried a weight that left no room for argument.

"I’m not taking anyone’s side, but..." He paused, and the pause stretched long enough for everyone to notice their own heartbeat. "...whoever reaches for the girl behind me will die."

A hush fell. The crowd’s shouts quit mid-breath. Soldiers who had been leaning forward found their hands going numb, their feet rooted to the dirt. The metal of their cuffs seemed suddenly heavy in their grips. William’s gaze did not flicker; it pinned them as if he could see straight through bone and soul.

Someone nearby shouted, desperate to regain control. "Why don’t you tell the soldiers to take them down, Minister Campbell?!"

The spokesman’s face tightened — not because of the shout, but because of what he saw. A ripple of recognition moved through him. He stammered, voice thin: "Those red eyes... that platinum hair... are you—are you related to Count Delimore?"

William’s answer was a single, cold command. "Bring Baron Ranthox here. Or I will not be responsible for what happens next."

That confirmed it.

People sucked in sharp breaths; the bravado that had filled the crowd evaporated. Faces that had been contorted with fury now turned pale, mouths hanging open. The soldiers looked at one another, confused and afraid — the balance of power had snapped in an instant.

Where there had been a mob, there was now a silence so thick it pressed against the ears

_____**_____

A/N:- Senior Delimore would be introduced soon.