What Became of the Tyrant After the Pregnant Empress Left - Chapter 203

Clang!

The sword aimed at the dark mage’s throat was blocked by a translucent barrier. Kazhan frowned and unleashed a flurry of strikes, but each time, the circular shield enveloping Trienne deflected the blade with eerie precision.

Clang, clang, clang!

“Quite the enthusiastic greeting, isn’t it? How about we calm down for a moment?”

“……”

Kazhan halted, not out of compliance but to assess the situation. The shield had activated too quickly—no incantation, no delay. Thin strands of light radiated from a bracelet on the dark mage’s wrist, forming the barrier.

A magic artifact. One often used by combat mages vulnerable in close quarters.

Kazhan recognized it well. The Imperial Court had once distributed similar devices to royal mages—expensive, invaluable tools that conjured a protective dome with a mere infusion of mana. Extremely useful in emergencies, but with a critical flaw, the caster couldn’t use other magic while it was active. In short, it was a stalling tactic, a plea for reinforcements.

…Unless the caster was capable of double-casting—wielding two spells simultaneously.

“How did you find this place?”

“Is that relevant?”

Kazhan studied the man carefully. There was no sign of additional spellcasting—just the artifact’s shield, likely triggered in panic.

If Trienne wasn’t a double-caster, the counter was simple: kill him the moment he dropped the shield to cast another spell, or overwhelm the barrier with sheer force.

As Kazhan narrowed his eyes, weighing his options, Trienne tilted his head with exaggerated curiosity.

“There’s no conventional way to find or enter this place. And yet, here you are. How could I not be curious?”

This space had no entrance. Even Trienne, its master, could only come and go via teleportation.

That was why his chambers lacked windows—not by preference, but by nature. This place wasn’t connected to the outside world. No wonder it had remained undiscovered all this time.

And yet, the Emperor of Uzephia had appeared. Clearly here for his Empress.

“Did you plant a tracking spell on Her Majesty? No—even then, how did you think to look underground?”

“Your prattle bores me. I owe you no answers.”

Kazhan adjusted his grip on his sword. The journey here had been absurdly convoluted—enough to warrant Trienne’s disbelief—but why would he waste breath explaining himself to the man who’d stolen his beloved?

The marriage ring could only guide him directionally, not vertically. When it led him to the heart of a mountain range, with no sign of Ysaris or even the ring itself, a saner man might’ve assumed she—or her corpse—had been buried.

But Kazhan wasn’t sane.

After scouring the terrain, he’d taken to the skies on his wyvern, scanning until he found a sheer cliffside. A landslide of rubble matched the ring’s coordinates. With Duke Blake and the royal mages, he’d carved and tunneled his way inside.

Luck had favored him: he’d quickly located the artificial space, and the enemy lackeys he’d encountered had died before raising an alarm. But his luck soured when he stumbled upon a chamber filled with black-masked figures—some alive, some not.

Unfortunately, they’d all attacked at once.

Fortunately, none had fled to warn others.

Whether they were too unprepared or simply lacked self-preservation didn’t matter. Kazhan had cut through them, leaving Temisian and the mages to handle the rest while he forged ahead alone.

And now—here.

Clang!

Again, the shield held. Behind it, Trienne tsked.