The echo of flesh against bone cracked through the courtyard like thunder.
Alen's fist, wrapped in raw fury and mana, smashed into the prince's cousin's jaw again. Blood sprayed across the marble floor like crimson rain, and the once-arrogant noble slumped, twitching—barely alive.
And still, Alen wasn't done.
"You said… you'd make her a slave?" His voice, low and shaking, was not the boy Lyra knew—but something darker, older, awakened by rage. "You'd sell her to a brothel?"
Alen's knuckles tore skin and shattered bone again.
And again.
And again.
Only Doren's iron grip on his shoulder stopped the next strike. "Enough," the warrior whispered. "You've made your point, young master. Now stand. You're covered in filth."
Alen stood, blood dripping from his hands. His chest heaved, not from exhaustion—but from the weight of something unleashed.
Lyra, standing just beyond the shattered stone steps, stared in shock and awe. The man before her wasn't a merchant's son.
He was something else entirely.
---
Moments Later — Outside the Royal Court
Crimson-robed guards stormed toward the courtyard, weapons drawn. Their orders were clear: apprehend the boy who laid hands on royal blood.
But then... they saw his face.
The whispers began.
"Crimson Lion mark... Is that their heir?"
"Impossible. The Crimson haven't revealed an heir in decades…"
"Doesn't matter. He touched a royal. That's death."
Alen didn't flinch as they surrounded him. Doren, standing at his side in his full battle armor, tightened his grip on the hilt of his greatsword. "Touch him," he said, voice like steel, "and I paint this court in your guts."
But the guards moved anyway.
"Then so be it," Doren muttered.
---
Inside the Trial Chamber
Alen stood alone beneath the high columns, a circle of nobles glaring down at him from golden thrones. The headmaster was silent, shrunken in his seat. Lyra, unable to enter, watched from behind the marble archway—tears still dried on her face.
A Royal Elder stood. "Alen Crimson—if that is even your name—you attacked noble blood without provocation. Do you deny this?"
Alen lifted his chin, proud, defiant.
"I acted under the vow of my Clan: Kindness returned tenfold. Vengeance, a thousandfold. He dared insult and threaten what is mine—my heart, my honor, my love. I responded accordingly."
"Fool," another noble spat. "A peasant with a lion's tail."
The doors slammed open.
And everything froze.
---
The Arrival of the Crimson Lion
Thirty armored warriors entered in perfect synchronization—scarlet cloaks trailing behind. At their lead: Lord Ragna Crimson, the Clan Head.
Behind him: Elder Caldras, Doren, and the entire Crimson Lion council.
A massive standard was carried in—golden embroidery of a roaring lion on blood-red silk.
"YOU DARE hold my heir on trial?" Lord Ragna's voice silenced the court like death itself. "You dare put your dogs on him?"
Gasps echoed. Even the headmaster's face turned pale.
Ragna stepped forward, face carved of stone. "This court is a farce. The royal brat insulted the daughter of the Northern Dragon Clan and dared to speak of slavery and rape in this hall. My heir showed mercy."
Alen blinked. "Heir?" He turned to Doren, who gave a solemn nod.
Lyra, outside, heard everything.
---
Royal Council Erupts
"Even so," a royal councillor barked, rising, "He is the aggressor. Touching royal blood—"
Ragna roared. "And what of royal filth tainting his honor? Do you truly wish to test whether a Crimson Lion dies alone? Or do we summon all seven generals and cleanse this land of your cowardly rule?!"
Silence.
Until one noble rose. "A blood war… for a woman?"
"She is a daughter of the Northern Dragon," Elder Caldras hissed. "Do you wish to see their wrath? Her brother already stands at your gate."
"And I," a voice called from the shadows of the court, "have had enough."
Lyra's older brother, Ryen Drevaris, stepped into the light. A storm of energy coiled behind his back, twin draconic eyes glowing faintly.
"She is my sister. The insult was to my house as much as his. We support Alen Crimson."
---
Cliffhanger: Ultimatum
The court broke into chaos.
The headmaster tried to speak but was drowned out. Nobles argued. Orders were shouted. One royal drew a blade before being disarmed.
In the center, Alen stood silent, eyes on Lyra outside the door. She looked scared—but not of him.
Of what he had become.
"I didn't want this," he whispered.
She walked in, wiped a tear from his cheek, and said, "But I did. I wanted the real you."
A voice then boomed louder than thunder, from Lord Ragna:
"This is our ultimatum. Your royal court has one day to declare justice—or the Crimson Lion Clan will burn the kingdom to ashes."
---
End of Chapter