What Became of the Tyrant After the Pregnant Empress Left - Chapter 201

“…An earthquake? It’s been ages since the last one.”

Trienne tilted his head slightly before brushing it off. It had been a century since this hideout was built, and not once had it ever been discovered. It was only natural to think of a natural disaster before considering an intruder.

So, he dismissed the series of faint tremors as aftershocks. If something truly serious had happened, his subordinates would have contacted him. Since there was no such alert, there was no reason for him to worry.

“Well, let’s get back to work. The birth of another purification wielder—what a touching, historic moment!”

“Waaaaaah!”

“No, stop!!”

The black smoke coiling from Trienne’s left hand grew darker and thicker. Ysaris didn’t know exactly what it was, but she instinctively understood—it could not be allowed to touch Mikael.

Probably some kind of hallucination-inducing black magic, just as Trienne had said.

She couldn’t just stand by and let her son experience such a horrific death. What good was an unharmed body if the mind was shattered? It would be no different from dying.

“Let go—let go of me right now!”

She thrashed desperately. If neither pleas nor threats worked, she had no choice but to act. The door was still open—if she could just break free, she could snatch Mikael and run.

She didn’t even consider the possibility of being caught halfway. The outcome didn’t matter anymore. Ysaris focused solely on getting Mikael out of this situation. If she could protect him from Trienne, she would do anything.

Yes, anything.

Crunch!

“Gah!”

Ysaris sank her teeth as hard as she could into the hand gripping her right arm. Among the men surrounding her, this one stood out—a subordinate she had known for some time, the one who always brought her meals.

She bore no particular grudge against him. But in her violent struggle, she had realized he was the weakest link.

“You damn—!”

The man, recoiling in pain, cursed and tried to grab her again, but he was too slow. With her right arm now free, Ysaris swung with all her might at the man holding her left.

Thud!

“…Let go!”

Wham! Thud!

For a brief moment, Ysaris faltered—the man didn’t even flinch. She quickly followed up with another strike. By all logic, he should’ve at least staggered, but the man, his entire body tightly wrapped in black cloth, didn’t loosen his grip.

No, it was worse—he didn’t even react. It felt like hitting a wall.

“Is this for real?!”

Slash!

“Ugh…!”

“Mommy! Waaaaaah!”

Meanwhile, the first man she had bitten seized her right arm again, his grip like iron, and struck her across the face. Still unsatisfied, he raised his hand again—only for a bored voice to cut in.

“Don’t damage the face. It’d be a waste.”

“Yes, Lord Trienne.”

The man obediently lowered his hand but glared at Ysaris. Blood seeped from his bitten hand—it must have hurt.

Not that Ysaris cared. The shock of wasting her hard-won chance stung far worse than the slap.

“Are you… even human?”

Her trembling question was met with an easy answer from Trienne.

“Well, for now?”

“……”

She had to escape. She had to take Mikael and run.

But now, Ysaris realized the men surrounding her weren’t ordinary humans. The vague sense of helplessness and fear solidified into something tangible.

A terrible premonition gripped her—no matter what she did, she wouldn’t escape this place. And that feeling was utterly horrifying.

“I told you, you wouldn’t be able to run. But thanks for the show. Desperate people really are the most entertaining, aren’t they?”

Even Trienne, grinning and spouting nonsense, no longer seemed human to her. Something wearing the skin of a person. The dissonance was unsettling.

And that wasn’t a welcome realization. The terror of the unknown gnawed at her.

But what she feared most was—

“Now, for the highlight. Our little prince must awaken, yes?”

—Mikael coming to harm.

“…No.”

Ysaris’s wide, tear-filled eyes took in the sight: her son, drenched in tears, and the black smoke now swirling into eerie, sinister patterns, radiating a malevolent glow. Anyone could tell—nothing good would come from touching it.