Death to Power
Copyright© 2025 by TheSmartOne
Chapter 50: No way in hell...
Darklore, Waverith Stronghold, Cerveau’s Estate—
Inside the bluish-white castle of the Cerveau estate, Brain Cerveau sat silently in his office, his expression—as always—neutral, unreadable, without even a hint of emotion.
The office was exactly what you’d expect from someone like him. Blue with white streaks, clean and clinical. There was only a table, two chairs, and one small bookshelf filled with orderly rows of books. Nothing more.
Everything in that room was arranged with cold precision. Not a thing out of place.
And right now, on his desk, Brain was slowly flipping through a file of papers. He read each one with care, without commenting, without blinking, without anything.
After a few minutes, he finished reading and placed the papers back down with deliberate grace.
“Is that all?” Brain asked, leaning softly back into his chair.
“Yes, my lord. Those are the recent movements of the beasts outside the stronghold,” came a soft, girlish voice. The voice echoed from nowhere, disembodied, but the chill behind it was unmistakable.
Brain tilted his head. “What about that snake?”
“She hasn’t moved, my lord. I’ve sent more men to gather information, but none returned. She’s reinforced her defenses.”
Brain frowned slightly.
He preferred enemies who moved. Enemies like that brute—predictable, violent, open.
But that snake? She always stayed in her territory. Quiet. Hidden. Silent. Waiting.
She was bothersome to deal with. And worst of all, there was no clear way to gather more intel on her.
And that ... that bothered him greatly.
“Use our elite. I want to know what made her shut herself in like that and turn her domain into a fortress.”
A pause.
“Or better yet ... capture a few of those talking snakemen,” he added, a cold, lifeless smile creeping across his face. “I’ll make them talk.”
“Understood, my lord,” the voice replied, completely unshaken.
“But also, my lord,” she continued, “there is the matter with the Warborns.”
Brain raised a brow, his hand coming to rest under his chin.
“What should we do about them?” she asked.
Brain remained silent for a moment before answering.
“The Warborns are a clan of brutes. And outside our walls ... we have a beast that also likes bloodshed.”
He smirked.
“Let’s make sure they meet. I think they’ll be great friends.”
Then, more firmly—
“I don’t care what methods you use. Just make sure that beast and the Warborns clash.”
He paused, his tone darkening.
“And I’m not talking about small skirmishes, Selene.”
“I want them in full war.”
“You understand me? Do whatever it takes.”
Silence followed those words, cold and heavy—before finally:
“By your will, Lord Brain,” Selene responded.
Her voice was calm and resolute.
Ready to do anything ... to please her master.
...
Back in Fokay—inside the Tycoon’s Merchants building, somewhere within its many room...
A middle-aged woman sat across from two youths.
One was a girl with flowing purple hair and gleaming silver eyes—her beauty unmistakable, refined, enchanting.
The other was a boy, seemingly her age, with bright orange hair and black eyes. His posture was upright, his expression serious and focused—but that seriousness cracked every time he side-glanced the girl beside him. His cheeks became instantly pink. Clearly he was flustered.
The girl, of course, was Meris Elamin.
And the boy in question was Kenan Fireborn—a prodigy with noble blood.
“You two are now my pupils. My disciples,” the woman said with a warm, inviting smile.
She had soft blue hair and dark eyes. Her presence was gentle but not weak.
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