Chapter 273 - 272. Fragmented Truths (1)
"I’ll have one of the men here bring you to the Temple. Until then, stay here." I told Asher.
I lifted the weight of my Dragon’s Presence from him, watching as he greedily inhaled the now-lighter air. His chest heaved, but his gaze remained fixed on me, defiant yet betraying something else—hesitation, or perhaps a primal unease he couldn’t fully suppress.
"Why are you going against the Temple? Even if you are strong, you won’t be able to do much," Asher said, his voice steady, but his body betrayed him—his fists clenched tightly, his shoulders tense, and his eyes darting ever so slightly toward the exit as though calculating his chances of escape.
I smirked. "Humans don’t really understand unless they see the whole picture, do they?"
"What do you mean?" he asked, his voice lowering, but there was a slight edge to it—a subconscious recognition of the predator in front of him.
I stepped closer, slowly, deliberately, watching as his muscles stiffened with every step. He wasn’t moving, but I could see it—the subtle, involuntary flinch of his fingers, the faint trembling in his legs. His instincts screamed at him to run, yet his pride kept him rooted.
I leaned in closer, my pupils shifting into slits, the glowing blue rings around them casting an eerie light on his pale face. His breathing hitched, and I saw it—the moment his primal instincts took over. His pupils dilated, his pulse quickened, and his entire body froze as though caught in the gaze of a predator.
"I am no human, brat," I said, my voice a low, dangerous growl. "I have all the authority, along with the power, to destroy this kingdom for angering me."
The beads of sweat forming on his forehead were visible now, and his breathing was shallow. Despite his fear, his jaw clenched stubbornly. "Wh-What are you?"
I smirked, leaning back just enough to give him room to breathe but not enough to ease the tension. "Try and make a guess, human. What am I?"
He hesitated, his mind racing. His intuition screamed at him to submit, to lower his gaze and avoid provoking me further. But his pride wouldn’t let him. Instead, he forced himself to speak, his voice trembling but defiant.