Chapter 98: THE PANDORA’S CODEX ARC: The Truth About Duke Aldric

Chapter 98: Chapter 98: THE PANDORA’S CODEX ARC: The Truth About Duke Aldric

The name hit Theon like a physical blow.

His breath caught. His heartbeat stuttered. For a moment, the forest, the barrier, even Noel himself seemed to fade into the background, leaving only that name echoing in his skull.

Duke Aldric.

His breath caught. His heartbeat increased.

"No... that can’t be right," Theon whispered, more to himself than to Noel. "Duke Aldric disappeared long ago. He—"

"He didn’t disappear," Noel cut in, his voice trembling now, not from fear but from rage held back for far too long. "He went underground. He built an army. He took people like me and turned us into weapons. And now he’s using me to kill the son of the man he betrayed."

Theon’s expression shifted, shock giving way to a dawning, sickening understanding.

Pieces he hadn’t known were connected suddenly locked together with brutal clarity.

Noel’s family. The noble’s private army. The mission to kill him. The Imperial Academy. The barrier surrounding them now.

And at the center of it all: Duke Aldric.

Theon’s stomach twisted. This wasn’t just a personal vendetta anymore. This was political. This was imperial. This was something far larger and more dangerous than he had ever imagined.

Theon’s mind raced, trying to keep up with the implications.

Duke Aldric wasn’t just some traitor from old court rumors. He was very much alive and was powerful. And he had been pulling strings from the shadows for years—maybe decades.

Noel wasn’t just a rogue mage with a grudge. He was a pawn. A weapon. A victim.

And Theon... Theon was the target.

He looked at Noel again, really looked at him, and in that moment he saw not just the anger, but the built up pain beneath it. The exhaustion. The desperation of someone who had been told that killing Theon was the only way to save the people he loved.

Despite everything—despite the attacks, despite the betrayal, despite the blood already spilled—Theon still couldn’t bring himself to give up on Noel.

"Noel," he said, his voice softer now, pleading. "Listen to me. You don’t have to do this."

Noel’s eyes narrowed. "Don’t tell me what I have to do."

"I’m not," Theon insisted, taking a careful step forward, hands open, non-threatening. "I’m saying... I can help you. I can still rescue your family. You don’t need to keep carrying out this mission. You don’t need to kill me to save them."

He meant it. Every word.

He genuinely wanted to free Noel’s family from their captivity. He wanted to end this without more blood. He wanted to believe that there was still a way out for both of them.

"Noel, please," Theon said, his voice steady despite the chaos swirling inside him. "Calm down. Think about this. I can still save them. Your family. I have resources. I have influence. I can—"

"Seventh prince."

The words cut through the air like a blade.

Theon flinched.

Noel’s lips curled into something that wasn’t quite a smile. It was resentment given form. "You think your kindness means something? You think your offers mean anything? You’re just another noble playing at mercy while people like me suffer."

Theon’s chest tightened. "That’s not—"

"It’s exactly what it is," Noel snapped. "You offer help like it’s a gift. Like I should be grateful. But you don’t understand. You can’t understand. You’ve never had to choose between your conscience and your family’s lives."

Theon opened his mouth to argue, but no words came.

Because Noel was right.

He hadn’t.

And maybe that was why Noel couldn’t trust him.

Noel moved first.

He rushed toward Theon with a speed that belied his exhaustion, magic flaring around his hands like wildfire. Theon barely had time to raise his guard before the first strike landed, a blow that sent shockwaves through the barrier and nearly knocked him off his feet.

He staggered back, arms coming up to protect Lyra, who stood frozen behind him, eyes wide with fear.

"Noel, stop!" Theon shouted, deflecting another strike. "I’m not your enemy!"

"You are!" Noel roared, his voice cracking under the weight of everything he’d been holding back. "You’re the son of the man who let Aldric betray the empire! You’re the reason my family is still in chains!"

Theon gritted his teeth, forcing himself to focus on defense, on survival, on protecting Lyra. He didn’t want to kill Noel. He couldn’t. Not after everything he’d just learned.

But Noel’s anger wasn’t rational anymore. It was raw and desperate. And it was driving every attack.

The confrontation escalated, magic clashing against magic, the barrier humming louder with every impact. Theon’s arms ached from blocking blow after blow. His breath came in short, sharp gasps.

He couldn’t keep this up forever, especially with his injuries.

Theon couldn’t understand it.

He had offered to save Noel’s family. He had put himself at risk, again and again, to give Noel a chance to walk away from this. And still, Noel kept attacking.

Why?

Was his hatred really that deep? Was his pain that unbearable?

Or was it something else? Something Theon couldn’t see?

Noel’s next strike came from the left, a vicious swipe of magic that Theon barely dodged. The edge of it grazed his shoulder, tearing through fabric and skin alike. Blood welled up instantly, hot and stinging.

Theon gritted his teeth against the pain, refusing to back down.

He would survive this. He had to. Not just for himself, not just for Lyra—but for Noel, too.

Because if he gave up now, if he let Noel kill him, then Noel would never be free. And neither would his family.

The barrier remained active, a suffocating presence that pressed against Theon’s magic, dulling his reflexes, slowing his recovery. Every spell he tried to cast felt heavier, every movement more labored.

Noel, on the other hand, seemed unaffected—or at least less affected. He moved with precision, his attacks calculated, relentless.

Theon struggled to keep up.

His weakened condition made it increasingly difficult to defend himself. His arms trembled under the strain. His breath came in ragged bursts. His vision blurred at the edges.

Noel pressed the advantage, launching a flurry of strikes that forced Theon back step by step.

"You can’t win this," Noel said, his voice cold, detached. "You’re already losing."

Theon didn’t respond. He couldn’t, because he was too focused on staying alive.

Noel’s attacks kept landing.

One strike grazed Theon’s left shoulder, tearing through muscle. Another slashed across his right arm, deep enough to send blood streaming down to his elbow. A third caught him in the side, knocking the breath out of him.

Theon stumbled, barely managing to stay on his feet.

His arms felt like they were on fire. His wounds throbbed with every heartbeat. Blood soaked through his clothes, warm and sticky.

He tried to raise his guard again, but his movements were sluggish, uncoordinated.

Lyra watched from behind him, her face pale, her hands clenched into fists at her sides. She wanted to help. He could see it in her eyes. But she couldn’t. Not without putting herself in danger.

Theon couldn’t let that happen.

He forced himself to stand straighter, to focus, to keep fighting—even as his body screamed at him to stop.

He couldn’t keep this up forever. He knew that. But he had to find a way. He had to.

Theon turned inward, reaching for the presence he knew was there.