Tamed Monster - Chapter 152

‘Every last one of these bastards is coveting what’s mine.’

Since the Emperor’s lackeys had conveniently picked a fight with him, Kuinan decided he would vent his fury on them in place of the Emperor himself—whom he could not strike directly.

How dare they stare so brazenly at his woman, lust burning in their eyes? Even tearing their limbs off and stitching them back together only to rip them apart again would not be punishment enough. Dark, seething demonic energy began to ripple around him.

“H–hic…!”

The knight closest to him let out a strangled cry, crushed beneath that terrifying pressure—forgetting entirely that the Emperor was watching.

As of that day, the knight would likely be expelled from the imperial guard. For one of the Empire’s elite—men reputed to defeat ten enemies alone—to scream so pitifully at the mere presence of a single opponent was disgraceful.

That was the Emperor’s conclusion.

But the knight facing the monster’s aura head-on did not think his reaction was exaggerated.

It was overwhelming terror.

A suffocating tension that paralyzed his entire body, a savage stillness that made his skin crawl.

The opponent was doing nothing but silently watching him, yet the knight felt as though death itself stood before him. His reason burned away under the weight of that fear.

He had never meant to fight seriously. The Grand Duke had barged into the training grounds and requested a spar, so he had accepted casually, thinking it a friendly bout to measure skill.

As a renowned knight, he had expected crossed blades. Instead, the Grand Duke began beating the knights with his bare hands.

When three out of ten had already been knocked aside by his fists, the imperial guards finally realized that he was no sparring match.

He had no intention of honoring them as fellow knights. What had begun as a dignified duel devolved instantly into a filthy street brawl.

By the time the chamberlain—summoned by the Grand Duchess—had run to fetch the Emperor, six of the ten knights were sprawled on the ground. Meanwhile, the Grand Duke stood untouched, breathing evenly, surveying the unconscious men with the same indifference one might give pebbles by the roadside.

The knight who had screamed drew his sword. It was a reflexive act of self-defense.

Only a handful of courtiers gasped at the dishonorable move. The Grand Duke, the Grand Duchess, the Emperor, and most of the onlookers merely watched, as though they had expected no better.

This was a fight between knights and the Grand Duke. Since even the now present Emperor made no move to intervene, the spectators who were not directly involved found the escalating brutality all the more entertaining.

Only the Grand Duchess seemed displeased. She sighed repeatedly, rubbing her temples, clearly unhappy with the knight who had drawn his blade, her husband who simply watched, and the Emperor who did nothing to stop them.

Even with such a riveting spectacle before him, the Emperor found his attention drifting again and again to her. His head kept turning—five seconds watching the mad Grand Duke dodge attacks barehanded, ten seconds watching the anxious Grand Duchess—his eyes darting back and forth, devoid of imperial dignity.

Clang!

The sword, missing its target, clattered loudly to the ground and was promptly pinned beneath the Grand Duke’s boot. He kicked it aside and seized the knight by the collar.

Then he lifted him effortlessly.

What was that inhuman strength? How could he raise a hundred-kilogram man as easily as a child’s toy ball?

Half the onlookers marveled at how unhuman it seemed. The other half went further, wondering if he truly was human at all.

Feeling the weight of their stares, the Grand Duke seemed to snap back to himself. He feigned strain, as though the man were heavy, and tossed him aside. Just as the remaining two knights charged.

“Lancart!”

When Sylvia shouted his name, Grand Duke Alexander Lancart turned toward her at once, dodged the incoming attacks without effort, and strode straight toward her.

“Yes? You called me?”

Not a trace remained of the murderous aggression he had shown moments earlier. With gentle eyes, he stepped between her and the Emperor and looked down at her.

The Emperor snorted in disbelief.

‘He doesn’t even acknowledge me?’

The Grand Duke stood before a ruler who could throw him into a dungeon for days over the slightest offense, yet he wagged metaphorical tails at his wife like an eager puppy.

Myers glared at the back of the man’s head… and, almost without thinking, drove a hard punch into his back.