Evolution of the Ruined Heir

Chapter 326: Angry

Three figures walked calmly through the halls of the main building of Crimson Hold.

Though there were pairs of footsteps, only one seemed to echo. Firm, resonant, heavy.

’He’s angry.’

Darke tried to hide his unease at the Blood Sovereign’s current state. He walked behind the giant of a man by the left, while the Iron Saint trailed by the right.

The right and left hands of the Giant of the West. It was what the Iron Saint and Darke had come to be known by the other clans across the Dome.

It was a position of great authority and power. One that granted them influence even clan heads of the great clans could not wield.

But Darke had never felt proud of the power, nor the authority. He had always just wanted to serve his sovereign.

His mood always reflected the sovereign’s mood, and his thoughts were the same.

What the sovereign wanted was what he wanted. How the sovereign felt was how he felt.

The air around the main building of Crimson Hold had stilled. The guards were frozen in place, and many trembled as the Blood Sovereign passed by.

That same heavy pressure had spread across the fortress and spilled into the streets of the City of Blood.

Othric Von Sanguine was angry, and the whole city seemed to share in on the anger.

’To think they would dare send someone over.’ Darke held back his anger.

The past week had been… eventful. The Sanguine clan had received multiple letters from the Heliarch clan, one of the grand clans of the Dome.

Each letter demanded the same thing, the summoning of Malakai Von Sanguine, the Ninth Vein of the clan.

To the Sanguine, one of the grand clans of the Dome, the Giants of the West, it was an embarrassment.

Malakai was a direct descendant. To summon him was to declare themselves the clan’s betters.

To summon him was to declare the Sanguine clan lesser.

And the great Giants of the West were lesser to none.

“Who did they send?”

A shudder ran through Darke. The Sovereign had just spoken. Even now, the man’s expression remained the same mask Darke had always known him to wear, with a smile that never reached his eyes.

But the Sovereign had never been one who communicated with expression. He communicated with intent, with action. When he was angry, the world would know. When he was happy, the world would know.

“A Cardinal, my sovereign. His na—”

“I see.”

The Sovereign fell silent. Darke sent an uneasy glance toward the Iron Saint, who simply shrugged.

Even he had a cold glint in his eyes. He was clearly angry.

Darke’s unease stemmed from the Sovereign’s action just now. He hadn’t deemed it necessary for Darke to continue his explanation. He didn’t care for the identity of the person who had come, only the title.

’He wants to confirm if he’s ranked high enough in the Heliarch clan,’ Darke concluded. A higher ranked person meant a chance to send a strong and memorable message to the Heliarch clan.

’What if he kills him…’ Darke shuddered. Only one thing would follow after that: war.

Darke stared at the back of Othric Von Sanguine. It was slender, but mightier than any man he knew.

Darke instinctively knew, if need be, the Blood Sovereign could war with the entire Dome.

Their quiet walk brought them to the front entrance of the clan’s throne room. It was where guests considered lessers were met.

One of Othric’s order, Darke thought. He could already imagine the fuming Cardinal.

The grand doors opened and the trio entered into a vast hall. The hall could scarcely be considered to have great grandeur.

The Sanguine were a people that preferred simplicity, at least most of them.

Othric’s presence was commanding. As he entered, it spread out from him, engulfing the hall with a suffocating weight. A pressure Darke hadn’t seen in a long time.

The frown on the man standing just below the grand stairs deepened. He hunched, knees slightly buckling as he fought against the pressure pressing down on him.

As the Blood Sovereign took his seat, the Iron Saint and Darke stood by his right and left. The temperature in the hall had dropped, and the tension had grown palpable.

There was an uncomfortable moment of silence, especially for the Cardinal. And when it seemed apparent that the Blood Sovereign and his retinue weren’t going to speak, the Cardinal cleared his throat and offered a small bow.

“I extend my greetings to the clan head of the Sanguine clan. My name is—”

Boom.

A heavy pressure slammed against the Cardinal, forcing his knees to the ground.

“You’re in the presence of the Great Blood Sovereign of the Sanguine clan,” Darke’s voice thundered.

“The Giant of the West, one of the mighty Zeniths of the Dome. You will kneel, Cardinal.”

The Cardinal gritted his teeth, eyes wide. He tried to rise, but the aura pressing down on him was iron. He couldn’t move.

’It’s the Sovereign.’ He realized. Darke and the Iron Saint were blooms. A bloom could not have such power over their equals.

The Cardinal gritted his teeth, mind spinning. “I carry the will of the Pope. To ask me to kneel is to request the same from the Pope.”

“The Sanguine will address only what we see,” Darke shot back, his voice cold and reverberating.

“If your Pope wishes to speak, then let him step into these halls himself. Until then, his will means nothing here.”

“Blasphemy!”

Darke watched, coldly, as the Cardinal seethed. Despite the decades of life, he had never been able to understand the fanaticism of the Heliarch clan. Their belief.

The clan was filled with religious zealots who believed themselves to be the chosen of the Dome.

They worshiped the great warrior who ushered the age of the Dome and protected the remnants of humanity.

Of course not all in the Dome shared this belief, but it was of no news to the other clans that the Heliarch believed themselves superior to everyone. However, there was little many could do. Their faith was backed with sheer power.

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