Chapter 258 - 257. Crimson Reckoning (1)
I stared at Benedict, my eyes boring into him. Judging by his trembling form as he prostrated himself, he must have misunderstood the look I gave him. Awe, not fear, now dominated his expression as he pressed his forehead to the ground.
"I-I knew it!" he stammered, voice shaking. "We... We have committed a grave sin by harming the Dragon’s descendant! Denril... Denril will be destroyed!"
A Dragon’s descendant?
The words hit me like a tidal wave. Suddenly, everything clicked into place. The strange pull, the restless stirring in my blood every time I was near the child—it all made sense now. My blood had never reacted to anyone like that before. The realization surged through me, fierce and undeniable. He wasn’t just special. He was one of us. He was a Dragon, too.
A low, simmering rage bubbled beneath the surface. Was this why I had those recurring dreams? The ones that left me with a sense of longing and unease? Had the curse clouded my vision, blinding me to the truth all this time?
I clenched my fists, the weight of the revelation crashing down. The child wasn’t just a victim of circumstance—he was kin. And they had dared to harm him.
Was this why I had been haunted by those recurrent dreams about him? The visions had always been fragmented, shrouded in shadows and distortion. Perhaps the curse had clouded my senses, blurring his features so I wouldn’t recognize him. But now, clarity struck with brutal force—it had always been him.
A surge of fury coursed through me.
Without hesitation, I closed the distance between us, my body moving on instinct. In one swift motion, my hand shot out, wrapping around Benedict’s throat. His eyes bulged as I lifted him effortlessly, slamming him against the cold stone wall. The impact echoed through the room like a crack of thunder.
His legs kicked wildly, scraping against the wall in a futile attempt to free himself. His face drained of color, turning an alarming shade of pale. Desperation flickered in his wide, terror-stricken eyes as he clawed at my wrist, nails raking against my skin.
"P-please..." he gasped, his voice a strangled whisper. His eyes pleaded, shimmering with panic and silent begging.