Chapter 121 - Interloper, Part 3

"I assume you're Pops and Bro," Van said, tossing Bernard aside like a ragdoll.

"And who might you be?" Mardallyone asked, approaching slowly. His chin was raised high, though subtly pulled back in caution as he moved past Doyle.

"Call me Van," he replied, his tone cold. "And don't bother asking why I'm here. I trust you're not so mentally deficient that you can't put two and two together."

Doyle tensed visibly, his unease mirrored by Mardallyone in Van's imposing presence.

"Kid," Van said, turning his attention to Doyle, who flinched ever so slightly.

'He called me... Kid?! He sounds no older than Bernard.. But it feels like there's a second Duke standing there..!' Doyle thought before being cut off by Van's voice.

"You were right. He won't be truthful in the face of an obvious threat." Van's words came casually, his gaze shifting to Bernard, who lay on the ground clutching his arm in pain.

"I suppose it was wrong of me to pose such an ultimatum," Van admitted, almost mockingly.

"...A-and yet, you brutalized him, unable to control your emotions—"

"Don't start." Van cut Doyle off sharply. "Your brother committed a crime, he deserved getting beaten up this way. Speaking of..." His eyes narrowed as he caught sight of something behind Mardallyone's back—a faint, swirling black cloud.

"Seems like you're in on it, too," Van said, his voice laced with disgust.

"I can smell it—the slave crest you're hiding behind your back, old man."

The Duke flinched, his composure cracking.

'How... how did he see it?! Is he clairvoyant?' Panic momentarily seized him before he steadied his breathing.

"Unbelievable," Van sneered. "Trying to guilt-trip me while planning to brand me as your slave. I guess being an absolute dogshit excuse for a human being runs in the family."

'Van…' Melanie trembled where she stood, her wide eyes fixed on his unwavering form.

'He came… to save me?' She clutched her chest, feeling her heart race. A faint sense of relief washed over her, despite the tension in the air. 'Again…'

------------------------------

"Mother," Melanie said, her voice soft as she walked alongside Lalyn. Their silver hair danced in unison with the cold night wind, the day Van had first climbed his way into the Capital.

"What is it?" Lalyn asked, her tone even as she kept her gaze forward.

"Uhm… You know pretty much every strong person in the Capital, right?" Melanie ventured hesitantly.

"What of it?" Lalyn replied, not breaking her stride.

"Do you… happen to know a 'Van'?" Melanie asked, her voice more timid. Lalyn flinched ever so slightly.

"He wore armor and flung Bernard with his spirit like he was nothing… I-I'm asking because…" Melanie trailed off, looking down and fidgeting with her fingers.

"I didn't have a chance to thank him," she admitted quietly, her voice trembling with sincerity.

Lalyn paused for a moment, her expression unreadable. Finally, she spoke.

"Hm… I hate talking too much. But I will say this."

Melanie looked up, her eyes wide with curiosity as her mother continued.

"I'm not sure if you two are ever going to come across again."

Melanie lowered her head, disappointment colored her features as she frowned.

"I.. See." She let out. Lalyn glanced at her expression, a moment of silence roamed between them.

"He's..." Lalyn then let out after looking at her daughter's expression. Melanie immediately snapped her attention to her mother, noting the softer tone in her usually cold demeanor.

"Reliable though, isn't he?" Lalyn said with a faint smile.

"...!" Melanie's breath hitched, as she watched her cold mother smile in nostalgia.

----------------------------

Melanie exhaled shakily, her breath unsteady as her gaze lingered on Van's form. The tension in her chest began to ease, replaced by a quiet sense of trust.

"So, let's make this fair," Van said, his voice cold and measured.

"You, or him, will tell me whether he assaulted her before or after branding her as his slave—"

Van then fell silent as his gaze landed on Melanie, her face pale and frozen in place, thunderstruck by everything unfolding before her, yet in her dismay, she looks over to him.

'Right. Forget about that for now. Retribution can come later.' Van took a deep breath.

'You need to get her out of here first.' Van thought as he took yet another breath, taking in her face that was on the verge of tears.

"Never mind." Van let out, startling them with his sudden tranquility, "... Just remove the mark from her. From all of them, and I'm leaving. I don't suppose you want more chaos tearing through your house, and I'd rather not be the one to introduce murder to a bunch of children. For clarification: I am said chaos. Your brat here can be patched up with a decent healer. Don't make me cross that line," Van said, his tone softening as the weight of his words hung in the air.

"ARROGANT…" The Duke's growl shattered the tense silence. The ground beneath and around him trembled as his teeth clenched and his fury radiated outward like a shockwave. Michael, Bernard, and Melanie flinched, feeling the weight of his rage, while Van stood unfazed.

"You come into MY home…" The Duke's voice deepened as he took a menacing step forward. Everyone held their breath—except Van.

"Hit and shame MY son…" His eyes blazed with fury.

Doyle's heart pounded in his chest.

'There it is… The Duke has finally decided to act. He's equal to Lalyn Veil in magic power and summoning. He's about to unleash everything he has on this intruder.' A glimmer of hope crossed Doyle's face.

'Van… this is where you die.'

"AND NOW YOU MAKE DEMANDS OF ME—" The Duke roared, his power surging like an erupting volcano. But before he could finish, a deafening boom cracked through the air as Van blurred forward, faster than the eye could follow, and appeared directly in front of him. The Duke froze mid-sentence, his breath hitching.

"..!!!!!!!!!"

"Pretty much," Van said casually, his voice cold and unbothered. His hand pressed firmly onto the Duke's shoulder, forcing him down.

"Now sit... There are children next to you." He scolded.

The Duke's knees buckled under the sheer pressure, and he fell into a kneeling position, his entire body trembling.

'I… I can't move…!! Who… WHO IS THIS!?' His thoughts spiraled as his strength faltered, overwhelmed by Van's overwhelming presence. 'He said his name is Van… VAN HELLIX, MAYBE!? HOW IS HE THIS STRONG!?'

Doyle stood frozen, his jaw slack as he stared at the sight of his once-invincible father kneeling. Bernard, still gasping for air, could only watch, wide-eyed, his earlier confidence shattered into dust.

Doyle, shaking himself out of his daze, disappeared in a blur of motion.

'D-Doyle just activated his power!' Michael thought, his eyes darting to the empty spot Doyle left behind.

'He has one of the rarest magic forms—perception manipulation. He slows down his own perception of time and moves faster than anyone can follow. Even S-Rankers can barely keep up with him!' Michael thought, his heart pounding.

Van, still focused on the Duke, didn't even flinch as Doyle vanished in a blur. Moments later, Doyle reappeared, gripping Melanie tightly from behind, his palm aimed at her throat.

"Haah…!!" Melanie gasped, her breath hitching.

"Even breathe," Doyle snarled, his eyes wild, "and I'll slit this bitch's throat!"

"Mel!" Michael cried, panic filling his voice, but he stayed rooted in place. He knew any sudden move would only make things worse. His helplessness was written all over his face.

'Good... GOOD... DOYLE!' the Duke thought with pride. 'With this mark in my hand, I'll brand him. And then he will be our permanent slave!'

Melanie's wide eyes darted to Van. For a fleeting moment, fear consumed her, but then her expression hardened. She glared at him, her jaw tightening as if to send him a silent message.

Do what you have to do. She gave him a small nod.

Van chuckled softly, the sound so out of place that it sent a chill through the room.

"You're really brave, aren't you?" he said, amusement flickering in his eyes.

"STOP MOCKING ME!!" Doyle screamed, tightening his grip. "I WARNED YOU!"

Doyle's mind raced as he activated his ability.

'I'll activate my perception manipulation now.' The world around him slowed to a crawl, colors fading into monochrome as time seemed to freeze. He smirked, confident in his advantage.

And then—he felt it.

A pinch in his shoulder.

Doyle's eyes darted down. A small rock had embedded itself deep in his shoulder, its speed so incomprehensibly fast that it had bypassed even his enhanced perception. Blood trickled down his arm as his grip on Melanie faltered.

His palm snapped away from her throat as he stumbled backward, clutching his shoulder in disbelief.

Melanie stumbled forward, free, gasping for air. She turned to Van, who stood exactly where he had been the entire time, his hand lazily extended as though he'd tossed the rock without a second thought.

"Was that fast enough for you?" Van asked casually, his voice calm, almost mocking, as Doyle crumpled to the ground, groaning in pain.

Michael's breath hitched.

'... What… what just happened?' He couldn't process what he'd just witnessed.

Van stood tall, turning his unyielding gaze back to the Duke. "Now, how about you free them?"

The room fell into tense silence. The Duke's eyes scanned his surroundings, his sharp mind racing for a way out, but none came. Finally, he spoke.

"Bernard," the Duke rasped, his voice low and strained as he addressed his son. "Do it. Release them. This is not an enemy we can defeat."

"B-BUT FATHER!! OUR PRIDE—" Bernard protested, his voice cracking under the strain of his injuries and humiliation.

"DO AS I SAY!!!" the Duke thundered, his booming voice silencing Bernard. Bernard recoiled, trembling as he lay on the floor, gritting his teeth in frustration.

After a long pause, the Duke exhaled heavily.

"We've… met our match. Do as I say," he repeated, his tone subdued but firm.

Michael's eyes widened as the realization sank in.

'Unreal… In just a few minutes, he made the Duke Von Brayle… this docile and compliant. Just… who have I made an enemy out of?' He looked down, his chest tightening as memories of Lizzy and Anne flooded his mind. Shame clawed at him.

'Man… I'm so fucking stupid.' Michael's shoulders slumped in defeat. 'That's probably why Mom and Sis left in the first place. Why Father called out her name… and not mine.'

His gaze shifted to Melanie.

'Yeah… I have to accept it. They'll never forgive me. Not after this.' Michael clenched his fists, his head lowering further. 'I won't try to play the victim anymore. I'm done...' His body sagged as he planted his face to the floor, as if trying to vanish into it like an ostrich burying its head in the sand.

Van remained steady, his expression unreadable. He didn't spare Bernard a glance but instead addressed the room, his voice cutting through the tension like a blade.

"Well?"

Bernard opened his mouth, his lips trembling before he finally croaked, "Rellales..." His voice faltered, and his jaw clenched tightly. He bit down his frustration, refusing to say more.

The Duke's sharp gaze locked onto his son, his expression darkening.

'Don't get any ideas, Bernard! If we live through today, we can fight another day! Just release them for now!'

The words hung in the air, heavy and suffocating.

Van's eyes narrowed as he studied Bernard's hesitation. 'Something's wrong… What's he thinking?'

The tension snapped as Bernard's lips curled into a manic sneer, his voice echoing across the field.

"Melanie. Stop breathing until you fucking die. That's an order!" he shouted, his fingers making a sharp motion over the slave crest etched on his arm.

A collective gasp rippled through the group. Melanie's breath hitched—once, twice—and then stopped. Her eyes widened in terror as she clawed at her throat, her body trembling. Bernard's twisted grin deepened as he took in the horror around him.

"BERNARD, NO!!!" the Duke roared. Michael's head shot up, panic flooding his face as his gaze snapped to Melanie, who struggled to inhale but found no air.

"MELANIE!!" Michael screamed, rushing to her side as her legs buckled. He caught her in his arms, holding her upright as her face turned pale and her movements grew sluggish.

Van clenched his teeth, his gaze darkening. 'Alright. I guess I'm going to have to kill—'

Before Van could finish his thought, Bernard's head and torso were obliterated in a single, crushing blow. A sickening crack echoed as blood and flesh splattered across the grass.

Van's eyes shifted to the source. Standing over Bernard's remains was a tall, red-headed, tanned warrior woman. A crude mace, soaked in blood and tissue, rested in her grip. Her cold, unflinching gaze swept across the scene.

'Marcy…!' Van recognized her immediately.

"I wasn't sure whether to destroy the head or the heart to annul the slave crest," Marcy said coldly, her voice as sharp as her actions.

"So I did both." She stepped forward, her boots crunching over the crimson-stained grass. "I heard everything. Be grateful I'm stopping with this."

Michael's jaw dropped, his mind racing. 'She… She just killed him!'

The Duke and Doyle stared in wide-eyed disbelief, their faces pale and frozen.

Marcy's lip curled as she turned her furious gaze toward the Duke.

"Your son shouldn't have fucked with my daughter… or my half-daughters." Her voice dripped with venom, her expression a mix of hatred and disgust.

Michael, though horrified, felt a flicker of hope as he turned to Melanie, desperate to see her breathing again.

But Melanie… still couldn't breathe.

"What…!? But she killed him!" Michael shouted, his voice frantic as he supported Melanie's weakening body. "Melanie!! You can breathe now! Come on!"

Melanie flailed helplessly, her hands clawing at her throat as her eyes darted around in panic. Marcy's expression faltered as realization struck her.

She rushed toward the Duke, her mace hanging loosely at her side as she crouched beside Van and grabbed the Duke by the hair.

"If you don't tell me what's going on, I'll kill your other son next," she hissed, nodding at the pained and bleeding Doyle.

The Duke remained frozen, his lips trembling as he struggled to comprehend the chaos.

"She's still… branded, somehow," Van interjected, his calm voice cutting sharply through the panic. His gaze lingered on Melanie, his expression unreadable.

"What…!? Wasn't he the slave owner?!" Marcy shouted, her fury bubbling over as her knuckles tightened around the Duke's hair.

"He was," Van replied, his tone steady, though a hint of thoughtfulness crept in.

"I can tell… but…" His words trailed off, his eyes narrowing as if dissecting an invisible puzzle.

'There's still that cloud of black smoke around her. Except now, there are no strings... it's just wrapped tightly around her. Is this some sort of dead man's switch Bernard activated?' Van thought, analyzing the ominous aura clinging to Melanie.

"MEL!!" Michael's desperate scream snapped Van out of his thoughts. Michael clutched Melanie tightly, panic consuming him as her movements grew slower, her strength draining rapidly.

Van glanced at his hand, flexing it slightly, his expression calm yet focused.

'...Hmm... Would this work?'