Tous les chapitres de : Chapitre 141 - Chapitre 150

❤️ The Secret Bloodline ❤️​Draevon felt the terrible shift before his mind could fully make sense of it.​A sharp, piercing pain shot directly through his chest, right where his heart was beating. It was sudden, cold, and brutal, feeling as if someone had driven a heavy iron blade straight through his ribcage. His breath caught sharply in his throat, and his vision went blurry for a split second as a wave of dizziness hit him.​And then the awful smell reached his nose.​The poison. It was faint in the air, but it was unmistakably there. A sickly sweet scent that he remembered all too well from a lifetime ago. From a past life, a time he had lived, suffered through, and died in before being reborn. It was the exact same foul poison that Kaelithra had used on him back in that previous life. The very same substance that had brought his life to a cold, painful end once before.​And now that dangerous scent was hanging in the palace air again. Now it was being used against someone he lov

❤️ The Monster Behind Draevon ❤️​The grand palace grounds had completely transformed into a silent graveyard.​Dead bodies lay scattered across the cold stone floors and ruined corridors. Thick red blood painted the walls in dark, drying streaks, dripping down from the walls like paint. The loud battle cries and terrifying screams had finally stopped completely. The brutal fighting had come to an end. All that remained in the halls was a deep, uncomfortable silence.​King Draevon stood right in the middle of the ruined main hall, his pale eyes completely cold and empty. He had just returned from his brief chase through the outer courtyards after King Malgron, but the cowardly wolf king was nowhere to be found. He had managed to open a quick escape portal and slip through the gap, leaving his entire beast army behind to face execution.​And die they certainly did.​Draevon had not even broken a sweat while dealing with the survivors. He had simply raised his hand and snapped his long

❤️ The Lowest of the Low ❤️The Forged Kingdom: Some Centuries Ago:​The Forged Kingdom was a place of impossible beauty.​Its massive towers rose high into the pale sky, crafted from white stone that seemed to glow in the sunlight. Its wide streets were paved with smooth marble that sparkled like scattered diamonds under the boots of the nobles. Its gardens were filled with flowers of every color, blooming in perfect order and scenting the thick air with sweetness. The grand palace at the center of it all was a masterpiece, a sprawling complex of domes, sharp spires, and halls that seemed to touch the heavens themselves.​This was where the high born Forged lived their lives. The strongest. The most powerful. The lords who could shift their flesh into any beast, steal any magic, and become anything they wanted. They walked through the streets with their heads held high, their eyes filled with absolute pride, their mouths curved into permanent smiles of superiority. They were the firs

❤️ The Stranger in the Alley ❤️FLASHBACK:​"Let them go."​The voice cut through the cold air like a sharp blade and it was smooth and so so quiet. It was like a voice that did not need to shout to make every single man in the alley stop dead in his tracks.​The five high born lords turned their heads slowly, their hands still gripping the women tightly.​Two male figures stood blocking the narrow entrance to the dark alleyway. One was tall and a bit lean, with long dark hair pulled back into a neat ponytail that hung past his shoulders. His eyes were pale, almost completely colorless, looking like hard ice or clear glass in the dim light. He wore simple, clothing that seemed to absorb the shadows around him. His posture was totally relaxed, his long arms hanging loose at his sides, his face completely unreadable.​The other man standing next to him was broader, built with thick shoulders and a heavy, powerful frame. His hair was a deep green, the color of wet moss or pine needles, a

❤️ The Khyrador (2) ❤️FLASHBACK:​They walked in silence.​The three women led the way through the winding, filthy streets of the lower district. Their footsteps were quick and uneven against the ground, their bodies still shaking from the violent encounter in the alley. They kept their heads pulled down low, their eyes glued strictly to the ground, doing their best to avoid the cold stares of the few people they passed along the road.​Draevon and Malgron followed close behind them.​Malgron's sharp green eyes darted nervously from side to side, watching every dark shadow and doorway. His hand rested firmly on the hilt of the long dagger at his belt. He did not trust this miserable place. He did not trust these strange women. Truth be told, he did not trust anyone in this kingdom at all.​Draevon, on the other hand, walked with a calm, steady stride. His pale, colorless eyes moved across the crumbling buildings, broken wooden carts, and empty market stalls without showing much inter