Chapter 28: Veltha

Alix tilts his head slightly, pretending not to hear. His crimson eyes gleam with amusement as he leans in just a little closer.

"What was that?" he asks, his tone smooth and mocking. "I can't hear you."

Thurn's broken body trembles, his wounds searing with pain. Every breath feels like fire in his lungs, his limbs barely responding. But he knows this is his only chance. If he hesitates, he will die.

With all the strength he can muster, he forces his mandibles to move. His voice is weak, pitiful, but the words escape.

"Please… save me," he begs, his pride shattered.

Alix watches him for a moment, expression unreadable. Then, slowly, his lips curl into a smile—cold, knowing, victorious.

"Should've said that earlier," he muses, standing up. "You're about to die."

Thurn lets out a faint, choked noise, too weak to protest.

Without breaking eye contact, Alix reaches into his inventory with a flick of his fingers. A faint shimmer appears in his palm as a medium-grade healing potion materializes. The glass vial is filled with a swirling, golden liquid, radiating a faint warmth.

He kneels once more, lifting Thurn's head slightly with one hand.

"Lucky for you," Alix murmurs, bringing the vial to his lips, "I don't let useful things die so easily."

He tilts the potion forward, forcing Thurn to drink. The liquid glides down his throat, and almost instantly, the wounds across his body begin to mend, cracked exoskeleton sealing, torn muscles repairing. A deep, shuddering breath escapes Thurn as relief washes over him.

Thurn lies still for a moment, his breathing ragged but steady. The pain that once wracked his body is gone, replaced by a lingering exhaustion. He flexes his limbs, testing his strength, and to his astonishment, he finds himself fully restored.

Alix stands over him, arms crossed, watching with quiet amusement as Thurn realizes the extent of his recovery. The crimson-eyed ruler tilts his head slightly, then speaks, his voice smooth but carrying an undeniable weight.

"Now that you are healed," Alix says, his gaze piercing, "I will ask you a question."

Thurn stiffens, his eight crimson eyes locking onto Alix with caution.

"Are you going to bow down to me?"

A heavy silence hangs in the air. The question is simple, yet the weight behind it is suffocating. Thurn knows that his answer will determine his fate. His pride as a lord screams at him to refuse, but the memory of that overwhelming power—the effortless destruction, the sheer gap between them—claws at his resolve.

His mandibles twitch, hesitation clear in his posture. His mind races, searching for any option that does not end in his death or servitude. But deep down, he already knows the truth. There is no escape.

Alix watches him, unbothered, as if he already knows the answer.

Thurn swallows hard, his voice low but clear.

"...Do I have a choice?"

Alix's lips curl into an amused smirk. His eyes gleam as he leans slightly forward, his voice smooth and calm.

"Of course you have a choice," he says. "As long as you're prepared to die."

Thurn flinches. His legs tremble beneath him, his exoskeleton still aching despite the healing. He glances at Grixx, whose eyes remain indifferent.

A deep shudder runs through Thurn's body. His pride has already been shattered. His strength means nothing before Grixx's overwhelming power. He knows resisting would only lead to a swift and merciless end.

Slowly, painfully, he lowers his body to the ground. His eight legs fold beneath him as he kneels, his mandibles clicking softly.

"I, Thurn, Lord of the Arachne," he declares, voice strained but steady, "swear my loyalty to you. From this day forth, my fangs and my brood are yours to command."

Alix watches him for a moment, then nods, satisfied.

"Good," he says simply.

Thurn remains kneeling, his pride a distant memory. The weight of his oath settles over him like chains, yet he dares not resist.

After a brief pause, Alix steps forward, placing a hand on Thurn's head. There's no warmth in the gesture, only the undeniable weight of ownership.

"Now," Alix says, his tone casual, "tell me who we should visit next."

Thurn hesitates for only a moment before responding. "Your Majesty… what about Veltha?"

At this, Alix raises an eyebrow. "The water serpen?"

Thurn clarifies. "She rules the marshlands and commands the creatures of the swamp. She will not submit easily."

Alix hums in thought. He doesn't particularly care about the order in which he subjugates the monster lords—he will visit them all in time.

"Then let's go to Veltha," he decides.

Shortly after, they arrive in Veltha's domain—the marshlands. The air is thick with mist, the scent of damp earth and stagnant water clinging to every breath. Towering trees loom overhead, their twisted roots disappearing beneath the murky swamp. The water is dark, hiding whatever lurks beneath its surface.

Yet, despite the eerie silence, not a single creature attacks.

Alix walks forward calmly, his crimson eyes scanning the area. Shadows shift within the trees, glowing eyes peering from beneath the water's surface. But none dare move against them.

"Ohh, they are not attacking," Grixx muses, his tail flicking lazily behind him.

Thurn nods, his voice low. "None of these beasts will attack as long as I am with you. The monster lords know each other. Veltha and I… we've fought before."

Alix raises an eyebrow. "And?"

Thurn hesitates before responding. "I win," he admits. "But she's cunning and strong. Even if she knows she can't win, she won't surrender easily."

Alix smirks, unconcerned. "Then we'll make her."

A ripple disturbs the water beside them. A massive shape slithers just beneath the surface, barely visible in the dim light. The swamp falls deathly silent.

Then, a voice—smooth, cold, and echoing—rises from the mist.

The voice hisses, dripping with venomous disdain.

"Thurn, why are you here again? Didn't the meeting get scheduled for next month?" The water churns as the massive serpent shifts beneath the surface.

"Or… are you here to humiliate me again?" Her tone darkens, the glow of her eyes narrowing dangerously. "This time, you might not leave this place in one piece."