Chapter 78: Explosion
A door swung open with a soft creak. Tobin stepped inside, her pale face contrasting sharply with the dim room. Her hands trembled visibly as she moved forward.
Each step seemed to weigh heavily on her, as if her legs were made of lead. When she finally turned to face the room, her eyes were wide and glittering with barely contained terror, darting nervously around. She avoided eye contact, refusing to look at Dominic or Harwick, instead fixating on the cold, stained floor beneath her.
"Miss Varn," the serpent coiled, voice smooth but edged with anticipation, "you've been called to testify about the tenth-floor expedition. Please tell the Tribunal what you witnessed."
Tobin opened her mouth to speak, then closed it again, her mouth trembling. Her breathing grew faster, shallow.
"Take your time," the serpent soothed, voice almost gentle, "the truth can be difficult."
The room tightened in anticipation. The nobles leaned forward slightly, eyes sharp and expectant, like predators scenting blood. Harwick's smile widened just a fraction, a subtle indication of his confidence.
Tobin looked up and scanned the room until her eyes locked onto Dominic's across the crowded chamber.
He met her gaze unwaveringly, steady, unflinching, an unspoken promise conveyed through his intense stare: You're not alone.
Drawing strength from that silent message, she felt a flicker of courage ignite within her, her lips parting slightly in anticipation.
Suddenly, the heavy doors at the back of the chamber swung open with a loud creak.
Frank Castle stepped inside, and the room's attention shifted like a tide.
He was dressed in rugged, travel-worn leather, his dark hair tousled and unkempt. His face was set in a stern, almost forbidding expression, as if carved from stone. But up close, the signs of the ride were unmistakable, wind-burned cheeks, cracked lips, the faint tremor of muscles held too long in the saddle. He hadn't stopped. He'd ridden through nights and days, and it showed.
Beside him, a young woman clung to his arm as if her very life depended on it. She appeared to be no more than twenty years old, with flowing dark hair that framed a face pale with exhaustion. Her eyes, strikingly similar to Tobin's, held a mixture of fear and resolve.
Tobin's sister.
The room suddenly fell silent, thick with anticipation.
Tobin fixed her gaze on her sister, who stared back with trembling eyes. For a heartbeat, neither moved, the weight of the moment halting time. Then, slowly and shakily, the sister lifted one hand, a tentative gesture resembling a wave, a silent sign, a fragile promise that she was still alive and present. I'm here. We're safe.
Tobin's eyes welled with tears, a mixture of relief and fear flooding her face.
"The witness is asked to speak," the magistrate said, his voice tinged with confusion as he looked from Tobin to her sister.
"I'll speak," Tobin responded, her voice now steady with resolve.
Her words, once trembling, gained clarity and confidence. And she told them everything, every detail etched into her memory.
"The House Harwick approached me three a week ago," Tobin said, her voice growing stronger with every word. "They took my family, my mother, my father, my sister. They held them hostage in a concealed estate on the outskirts of the city. They told me if I didn't testify, they would kill them. They gave me a script, a carefully crafted speech to deliver at the tribunal. They said I was to say that Lord Kane's expedition was illegal, that Frank Castle had falsified the records, and that the guild was corrupt beyond redemption."
She pointed sharply at Aldric.
"He was the one who paid me, delivered the money in a plain leather satchel. He was the one who threatened my family. And since I've been held captive I have seen House Harwick making deals with a secret society deeply embedded in the city's underworld."
The room erupted in chaos. Nobles were on their feet, shouting and jostling for position. Magistrates banged their staffs on the floor, demanding order. Harwick's face, initially composed, twisted into something much uglier, a mix of rage and contempt.
And then Tobin screamed, a sound filled with raw fear and fury, piercing through the tumult.
She clawed at her chest with desperate, ragged motions. Thick black veins, resembling burning roots, twisted tumultuously up her throat, her eyes rolling back into her skull. She collapsed, convulsing violently, and the room instantly shifted from chaos to sheer panic.
Theresa reacted instantly, moving before anyone else could react.
Within seconds, she was across the floor, her hands already aglow with a radiant golden light as she knelt beside Tobin's thrashing, trembling body. Vex appeared at her side, her cold eyes sharp and alert, scanning nervously. Vora materialized suddenly from the shadows lurking in the gallery's corners, her bronze eyes fixed intently on the black veins spreading across Tobin's pale, sweating skin.
"It's a curse," Theresa said urgently, her voice strained with effort.
"Can you break it?" Vex asked anxiously.
Theresa didn't answer immediately. She poured her mana into Tobin's chest with concentrated determination, trying desperately to slow the relentless spread of the dark veins. The black veins pushed back against her effort, writhing like living serpents. She gritted her teeth, her face a mask of focus and urgency.
Vora crouched on the other side of the room, her hands weaving intricate patterns through the air as she focused intently. "It's ancient magic,Blood-bound. It's tied to the people who placed it," she explained softly, her voice tense with effort.
"Then we can't break it here," Vex said flatly, voice grim with realization. "We can only delay it, buy time."
The three of them worked in grim silence, each pouring their remaining strength into the failing girl. The curse's hold slowed visibly; the black veins beneath her skin receded by inches, dark streaks fading but not disappearing.
"She's stabilized," Theresa breathed.
Around them, the once-ordered chamber had descended into chaos. Guards rushed in, shouting orders and trying to clear the room. Harwick's men moved swiftly toward the exits, disappearing into the shadows. The magistrates were still shouting commands and accusations, while the nobles screamed in panic and anger, their faces pale with fear.
And then Dominic stood tall, unwavering.
Quietly, he moved to the center of the open floor, where the witness stand lay abandoned, and stepped onto it. His hands remained steady; his face was impassive.
Through their unspoken bond, he reached out to Theresa. She held Tobin's fate in her hands, but she sensed his request, not with words or emotion, but through pure intent. She responded without hesitation.
His next words thundered across the room, smashing through the silence like a force of nature.
"Harwick did this."
The chamber vibrated with his proclamation. Conversations ceased, guards froze, and nobles turned, all captivated by the weight of his voice, too raw and vivid to ignore.
"House Harwick placed a death curse on a witness, manipulating her family by taking them hostage and using blackmail. They forged official documents to falsify evidence and fabricated testimony to distort the truth. All of this is overseen by the Church of the Eternal Will, an organization officially dedicated to the complete destruction of this empire, employing forbidden magic and clandestine alliances."
He wasn't merely asking for silence; he was demanding unwavering attention, and his commanding presence ensured he received it.
"You want to know how I obtained the core? I fought my way through the treacherous tenth floor of the Caldmore dungeon, battling monsters and overcoming deadly traps alongside my loyal companions. You want to know who my companions are? They are the reason I'm alive today, trustworthy allies who risked their lives with me. You want to know if the raid was legitimate? Then examine the evidence carefully, every detail, every clue, confirms our story."
He raised his hand, signaling for silence or perhaps readiness to reveal more.
Claire Summerstone was already moving with purpose. She stepped briskly from the back of the chamber, gripping a polished recording stone that gleamed under the dim light. The projection suddenly flared to life above the room, images of documents, handwritten letters, detailed maps, locations of safe houses, weapon schematics, and lists of names scroll across the screen. Everything they had secretly gathered, everything the Church had desperately tried to conceal.
Dominic's voice carried through the chaos, amplified and unrelenting.
"Everything that has happened here today was planned by your beloved House Harwick! The true traitor to everything the empire stands for! They've lied to you, manipulated you, used you as shields while they sold the empire's safety to a cult that wants to watch it burn! They are a snake in our prestigious nobility, a rot that has spread through every hall of power—"
The reaction was immediate.
Nobles who had been leaning forward in eager condemnation were now recoiling. Some paled. Others looked toward Harwick with wide, uncertain eyes. A few rose from their seats, shouting for order, but their voices were lost in the growing roar. Harwick's mask was cracking, his jaw tight, his knuckles white on the armrests. Aldric was half out of his seat, his eyes darting toward the exits.
The Church's people, scattered through the galleries, were already moving. Hands slipped beneath robes. Weapons shifted.
Dominic saw it all, but he didn't stop.
"The evidence is before you! The letters, the weapons, the names of those who serve the Church of the Eternal Will! This was never about the core! This was about silencing the truth before it could—"
Then, the explosion erupted suddenly.
It originated from the council's side of the chamber.
A deafening blast shattered the window behind the magistrates, sending a torrent of fire, glass shards, and debris cascading inward. The force lifted bodies off their feet and hurled them through the air like ragdolls. The elevated platform beneath the magistrates crumbled instantly. The noise was overwhelming, an oppressive pressure that struck Dominic like a solid wall, knocking him backward off the witness stand with a jarring force.
Florence grasped him firmly. Her arms wrapped securely around his chest, her body pressed against the cold, hard floor as they slid together through the wreckage. Wobbly was already hardening his surface layer, spreading across Dominic's back to absorb the shock and prevent the impact from crushing his spine.
Thick smoke billowed through the room, mingling with dense dust clouds. Screams echoed amid the chaos. People were dying amid the debris. The council's bench was obliterated, massively shattered and swallowed by the explosion, along with the magistrates who sat there.