CHAPTER 114: CHAPTER 113. MIXED BLOOD & FORBIDDEN ART I

Roxanne moved first.

She lunged with a measured step toward Dietrich, her full mixed-blood form radiating a cold, devastating clarity that Dietrich had never seen in her. The air shimmered around her, charged with the intensity of her dual lineage, her eyes glinting like shards of ice.

Dietrich’s beast hunkered low, claws digging into the marble floor with an ear-splitting scrape. He had twisted himself into something barely resembling a wolf—limbs elongated and grotesque, his spine arched into jagged ridges that seemed to threaten to tear him apart. Eyes sunk deep into his skull burned with a feverish gold, reflecting his unrelenting hunger for power.

As she drew closer, the distance between them filled with tension. His fur is patchy and darkened, pulsating with stolen mana, the remnants of the omegas he’d devoured. Veins crawled beneath his skin like living black roots, each filled with corrupted energy and radiating a malevolent glow. He snarled, a sound that could curdle blood, echoing off the walls like a death knell.

Roxanne launched herself into the air, her bat-like wings propelling her with speed and grace. Just as she’s about to strike, Dietrich unleashes a powerful howl, a challenge that reverberates through the air, shaking the very foundation of their battleground.

She twisted midair, landing deftly, and lashed out with clawed hands, aiming for Dietrich’s throat. He dodged, swiping back with vicious strength, his elongated limbs striking out like shadows in the dim light. The clash of their powers sent a shockwave through the air, each strike echoing with the weight of their entwined destinies.

"Traitor," Dietrich snarled, the word splitting through the air in a grotesque harmony—multiple voices layered atop one another, distorted, wet.

His monstrous form shifted with each syllable, muscles rippling, fur bristling, and eyes burning like fractured suns. "This empire is mine to perfect. Mine to rule. Mine to ascend."

Roxanne didn’t so much as blink. Her stance is steady, her presence a wall of unshaken dominance. "The only thing you perfected," she said, voice low, razor-sharp, "is your own madness."

Dietrich lunged forward, claws gouging divots into the marble. His roar shook the throne hall. "And Vivianne de Rothschild was supposed to be mine!" The bellow ricocheted off gilded pillars, echoing like a curse from the depths of a nightmare.

Roxanne’s lips curled upward, not in amusement, but in a predator’s smile, slow, cold, claiming. "Supposed," she echoed, as if the word itself were beneath her. "But she isn’t yours. She’s mine."

Her demon magic surged, violet fire roaring across her veins. Boosting the overflowing power of her wolf between fire. For the first time in her life, the two forces didn’t clash.

They obeyed.

Roxanne drove a fist into his jaw, the blast sending him flying. He crashed into the emperor’s own throne, shattering it into splinters of gold and marble.

Dietrich roared, his limbs elongating further, fur bristling like steel needles. His chest expanded until his ribcage warped, the souls trapped inside him screaming through the fractures. His tail split into two barbed whips, lashing the air as he rose onto distorted hind legs.

He charged again, moving faster than before, almost too fast to follow. His claws raked across Roxanne’s ribs, tearing deep. Blood spattered in an arc; Roxanne’s knees buckled for a heartbeat before she dug her claws into the floor, anchoring herself.

She retaliated with her wings, slashing him with demon-forged edges. One cut tore through his cheek, slicing off a chunk of flesh. It regrew instantly, malformed and twitching.

"Vivianne was meant to strengthen me," he hissed, voice layered with the cries of souls. "She was an omega born to serve the throne, not bond with a mongrel!"

Roxanne’s snarl is low, vibrating the air. "She chose me. She loves me. She carries my child." She said it purely to taunt Dietrich.

Dietrich blinked. And then he lost what remained of his sanity.

He became a blur, a massive, grotesque shadow propelled by monstrous limbs. He raked his claws across the air, each swipe strong enough to carve the stone floor open like soft clay.

Roxanne dodged the first strike, twisting her demon-sharpened torso to the side, but the second claw grazed her ribs, tearing through hardened skin and spilling dark, steaming blood.

But she didn’t make a sound. She countered in an instant. She pivoted, slammed her heel into the beast’s chest, and used the momentum to deliver a brutal punch straight to Dietrich’s jaw. Bone cracked. The impact echoed through the throne room like thunder, shaking dust free from the ancient pillars.

Dietrich stumbled, claws skidding across the cracked marble, but he didn’t fall.

His monstrous frame shuddered, muscles swelling with another pulse of rage. The blow hadn’t weakened him, only insulted him. His many-layered growl vibrated against the pillars, a warped echo that made the chandeliers tremble.

Those watching barely dared to breathe.

Knights, nobles, every single one of them stood rigid, pinned by the suffocating collision of dominance that filled the throne hall. The air is thick enough to choke on, heavy with two alphas’ wills clashing like storms.

Even Maxim and Mara, who had fought alongside Roxanne for years, found their knees dipping and backs bowing with the instinctive urge to submit. Their instincts screamed at them to lie flat, to bare their throats, to stay out of the path of forces far beyond mortal battle.

And everyone knows that it wasn’t Dietrich’s power that unmanned them, it’s Roxanne de Borgia’s power.

Roxanne’s alpha dominance, pure, uncut, and overwhelming, poured from her like a second skin. It isn’t loud or violent, it pressed into the marrow of those who watched, quiet but absolute, unyielding as iron.

Even Dietrich’s elite, the silver-furred werewolves who prided themselves as the emperor’s unbreakable shield, buckled. One by one, their legs trembled, bodies shaking under a force they had never known could exist outside their own emperor. Those closest to Roxanne’s aura collapsed entirely, their snarls breaking into involuntary whimpers as their instincts forced them prone.

He launched back with frightening speed, his claws slashing in a frenzy. Roxanne blocked the first with her forearm, ducked the second, and took the third straight to her shoulder. Flesh tore open. Blood sprayed across the marble in a violent arc.

Maxim and Mara could only watch from afar, eyes wide, breaths held. No one dared to intervene, not with Vivianne behind Undine’s barrier, guarding both herself and the unborn child. Vivianne’s expression remained steady, but her heart hammered violently as she felt each tremor of Roxanne’s pain.

Dietrich roared and leapt high, using his monstrous hind legs to launch himself from a shattered pillar. He came down like a falling star, full weight, full speed, claws extended.

Roxanne caught him.

Her demon wings unfurled and wrapped around her body as she anchored her feet. The explosion of force cracked the floor beneath her feet, sending fissures racing outward like webs. She shoved back with a strength that’s no longer berserk but sovereign.

"You finally learned control," he hissed, saliva dripping from fanged maws. "A pity. You could have become my perfect weapon."

"You broke every omega you touched," Roxanne replied, voice colder than steel. "That’s not power, that’s idiocry."

Dietrich snarled, pupils contracting. "Vivianne was mine."

"She was never yours," Roxanne snarled, her voice deepening, layered with both demon resonance and wolfish rumble.

Undine’s healing waters shimmered faintly along her skin where Vivianne had wrapped her earlier, stitching torn flesh together with unnatural speed. Even so, she could see Dietrich’s body knitting itself back together just as fast, twisted sinew pulling tight, broken bones grinding as they repaired.

Forbidden regeneration. "The Covenant of the Crimson Veil," she muttered, venom dripping from every word. "You damned fool."

Dietrich’s monstrous head jerked toward her, eyes glimmering with feral hunger and mad triumph. Roxanne didn’t give him a chance to speak.

She blurred forward, faster than ever before. Faster than any wolf, faster than any demon, faster than Dietrich’s warped senses could register. She hit him with the force of a falling star, driving her shoulder deep into his ribcage.

The impact sent him skidding backwards in a screech of claws on polished stone before his body smashed through two marble pillars. The hall shook, dust raining from the vaulted ceiling.

Dietrich’s snarl warped into something between fury and disbelief. And then she’s on him, again.

Roxanne descended fast and heavy. Her fist cracked across his jaw, the strike so powerful his snout flattened against his skull. Before the bone could fully re-form, she drove her knee into his ribs, hard enough to feel cartilage and bone warp under the blow. Dietrich’s roar vibrated through the shattered columns, a broken, choking sound.

But she didn’t stop.

She seized one of his massive arms—thick as a tree trunk, corded with unnatural muscle, and jerked it sharply. The limb resisted for half a heartbeat, then snapped, the bone shattering like dry branches under her grip. A wet crack echoed across the throne room.

Dietrich bellowed, the sound inhuman, shaking the very air.

Her eyes glowed, her lips curled into a feral, victorious snarl. "You think forbidden magic makes you a king?" she hissed. "It only made you a monster."

Dietrich lunged at her brokenly, rabid, desperate—the arm already beginning to twist grotesquely back into place. He howled, and he’s far from done.

Before Roxanne could land a finishing blow, Dietrich’s tail, barbed like a spear, whipped around and stabbed into her side. She gasped, only for a breath, but it’s long enough.

Dietrich seized her by the throat with his newly healed hand, slamming her into the ground so hard the tiles shattered beneath her. He roared and dragged her across the floor, grinding her through broken marble before flinging her against the far wall.

Stone caved inward. Dust billowed. Vivianne tensed—but the barrier held, she trusts her wife is stronger than whatever monster Dietrich is. Roxanne pushed herself out of the crater, wiping blood from her lips. Her demon horns glinted, her wolf-gold eyes blazing with fury.

"You’re slower than I remember," Dietrich taunted, stalking toward her.

Roxanne lowered her stance. "You’re uglier than I remember."

He charged again. This time she met him halfway.

Their collision shook the entire palace. The impact sent a shockwave ripping across the throne room, tearing banners from their mounts, shattering stained-glass windows, and sending fragments raining like lethal petals.

Roxanne’s claws tore across Dietrich’s chest, slicing fur, skin, and muscle open in long, savage gashes. Dietrich retaliated by sinking his fangs into her forearm, tearing a chunk of flesh away as she snarled in pain.

They grappled, a chaotic blur of teeth, claws, wings, and fury.

Roxanne slammed her head into Dietrich’s skull. Bone cracked.

Dietrich raked his claws across her abdomen. Blood poured.

Roxanne grabbed his tail and ripped, violently—tearing flesh and causing Dietrich to scream as blackened blood sprayed. Dietrich seized her by the waist and hurled her upward, then leapt, catching her midair to smash her back down, driving the breath from her lungs in a sharp, searing jolt.

Roxanne’s fingers dug into his throat. Dietrich’s claws plunged into her hip. They’re destroying each other.

Vivianne watched in silence, heart steady, trusting Roxanne with the whole of her life. The spirit kings hovered near her, tense but waiting, because this clash of titans isn’t theirs to interrupt.

At last, after another brutal exchange—Roxanne’s fist slamming into Dietrich’s jaw as his claws raked across her ribs—both combatants staggered back.

Breathing hard.

Bleeding openly.

Roxanne’s demon wings flickered, tattered at the edges. Her crimson eyes glowed dangerously, her body torn but unbowed. Dietrich’s monstrous form heaved with unnatural breaths, parts of his body twitching from mana overload, fur matted with blood, and bones misaligned beneath the skin.

For a moment, just a moment, they’re equals. Two monsters shaped by fate, fury, and the sins of an empire.

Dietrich spat blood onto the floor, the liquid hissing like acid. Roxanne wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, smearing crimson across her jaw. They glared at each other, both refusing to fall.

And then—slowly, inevitably—they stepped toward one another again.