Alpha's mate is a male?!?-Chapter 115: The Flames Of Judgements.

Ace’s flames stretch across the chamber, curling like living tendrils, sealing every possible exit.

The heat is thick, humming in the air, yet the fire does not consume the walls, nor does it spread without purpose.

It moves as he commands, coiling protectively around him, whispering against his skin but never harming him.

The witches in the room, however, are not as fortunate.

They know they are trapped.

The flickering blue light casts long shadows, distorting their frightened expressions.

They don’t dare move, their gazes darting between Ace and their leader, caught between fear of punishment and a desperate, silent question, ’what now?’

Ace stands tall, his posture unwavering despite the weight of everything pressing against him.

His power, the very essence of what makes him who he is, crackles around him in defiance.

These witches sought to break him, to weaken him, to suppress what they did not understand.

They have failed.

His voice cuts through the heavy silence like a blade.

"If you know you are free from any evil intentions, move to my side!"

The command rings with undeniable authority, reverberating through the chamber, sinking deep into the bones of those who hear it.

For a moment, nobody moves.

The witches are frozen in place, staring at him, then at the leader, their bodies tense with uncertainty.

The leader does not speak, but the warning in his sharp, venomous gaze is clear, ’Dare defy me, and you will regret it.’

Ace’s flames do not burn them, not yet. But the moment is heavy, charged with the weight of impending judgment.

His fingers twitch, his patience thinning.

The leader’s lips curl into a slow, dark smirk, but there is something lurking behind his expression, hesitation. He doesn’t speak, doesn’t order his witches to remain still, and that is how Ace knows.

He is afraid.

Even now, with all his power, all his control over these people, he does not command them to resist.

Because he knows the truth. He knows that some of them are not wicked, that if they cross over to Ace’s side, his fire will not touch them.

If that happens, his control is over.

Ace’s gaze sharpens, his voice dropping lower, cutting through the thick air.

"So both of you have evil intentions?" His flames pulse in warning, growing brighter. "I’ll only count to two. If no one steps forward and comes to this side, then don’t blame me if you are innocent and caught up in what’s coming."

Tension snaps through the room like a whip.

The witches glance at each other, a silent battle raging in their eyes.

Some shift on their feet, uncertainty carving into their features. They know what Ace’s fire does.

They have seen what happens when it meets corruption, how it purges the wicked but spares the innocent.

Their leader may be powerful, but can he protect them?

Ace sees the moment their fear outweighs their loyalty.

One witch, a woman with trembling hands, takes the first step. Then another. And another.

At once, several witches start walking toward Ace.

Their movements are hesitant at first, as if bracing for an attack, but when they realize the flames do not reach for them, do not judge them, they pick up their pace.

The witch watches unbelievably, before he reacts instantly.

A surge of dark energy explodes from his fingertips, a roiling, seething mass of corruption, lashing out at the defectors.

Ace moves before they can be struck.

His fire rushes forward, colliding with the darkness mid-air, sending a violent shockwave rippling through the chamber.

The impact is deafening, magic crackling and screaming as the opposing forces clash. The force of it sends the leader staggering backward, slamming into the wall.

The witches he tried to attack are unharmed.

Ace exhales, steady, controlled.

The leader groans, dragging himself up from the floor, his breath ragged, his rage barely contained. He lifts his gaze, and for the first time, his mask of arrogance cracks.

Ace sees it.

Doubt.

He doesn’t waste the moment.

His flames surge again, circling the remaining witches, pressing in.

The ones who have already crossed stand behind him, their bodies still tense, but their eyes gleaming with something new

, hope.

Ace doesn’t look at them. His attention is solely on the leader, on the ones who remain standing by his side, their fear keeping them shackled to his rule.

"You can feel it, can’t you?" Ace tilts his head slightly, his voice eerily calm. "This fire doesn’t touch the innocent. If you were free from darkness, it would not harm you. So for the last time, if you know you are innocent, walk this side!"

A few witches flinch, shifting uneasily.

The leader snarls, but Ace sees the way his hands curl, the way his muscles tense like a predator that knows it has already lost the hunt.

The remaining witches move to Ace, even those who were supporting their leader, his right hand men and women. They did it with orders, not that they are evil and wanted to do it.

The leader shifts again but Ace throws him a warning glare. "Don’t act so recklessly because this time you might not be lucky enough!" Ace roars.

But the leader can’t believe his right hand people have abandoned him too, his anger pushes away Ace’s warning and he attacks again.

Ace was just trying to protect them from the attack, but his fire seem to have been tired of the little games, this time when their powers collide... the flame bursts outward, swallowing the leader in an instant.

Screams fill the chamber.

Not from the ones who had already chosen to defect. Not from those who hesitated. Only from the leader.

Ace doesn’t flinch.

He watches as the flames consume the darkness, as the wicked is purged, as the power that once held these people captive is incinerated.

The screams don’t last long.

When the fire fades, all that remains is silence.

And ash.

Ace lets out a slow breath, his shoulders relaxing only slightly. His flames still glow faintly, but they no longer threaten. They hover around him protectively, alive but patient.

The witches who stand behind him are wide-eyed, staring at the place where their leader once stood.

Some press their hands to their mouths, some exchange glances, disbelief etched across their faces.

Ace finally turns to them.

"You’re free now." His voice is quiet, but it carries through the space with certainty.

A shuddering exhale comes from someone in the crowd. Then another. Then a broken sob.

One by one, they drop to their knees, not in fear, not in submission, but in relief.

Ace watches them, the weight of everything pressing against him.

He did not expect this.

He had only been focused on survival, on escape, on purging the corruption in this place.

But now...

These people are looking at him like he’s something more than just a warrior, more than just an enemy or a captive.

They are looking at him like he’s their savior.

Ace clenches his fists, his flames dimming slightly.

He doesn’t want to be a savior.

He just wants to end the cycle of cruelty.

A deep breath steadies him.

He doesn’t feel any evils now, if there was, his fire would be forcing itself to the evil.

Ace looks at the remaining, walking through them, and when he finishes and smiles a bit. ƒreeωebnovel.ƈom

There comes ragged breaths. Choked sobs.

Someone exhales sharply, as if they’ve been holding it in for years.

One by one, shoulders sag. Hands unclench. The weight of the oppression they’ve lived under for so long, gone.

The relief is staggering.

A woman steps forward, hesitant yet determined.

Her dark eyes shimmer with emotion, her hands trembling slightly as she clasps them together.

She is young, but there’s exhaustion in the way she carries herself, as if she has lived a lifetime of suffering in far too few years.

"My name is Rika," she says, voice thick with emotion. "And I... I thank you, protector Ace." She lowers her head in a deep bow. "You have freed us."

She lifts her gaze, determination shining through her hesitation. "He was powerful. Too powerful. We were bound to him, not by choice, but by fear." Her voice tightens, her fists clenching at her sides. "He never hesitated to punish those who questioned him. He..." her breath shudders "...he didn’t just kill those who opposed him. He made examples of them. He forced us to watch."

A murmur spreads through the witches. Some nod, others avert their eyes, grief flickering in their expressions.

Ace says nothing, letting her continue.

"He wasn’t always like this," Rika admits, her lips pressing into a thin line. "He was our leader, our guide. At first, we believed in him. We trusted him. But over time, he changed. He sought power above all else. He convinced himself that control was the only way to maintain strength, and those who didn’t submit..." Her voice falters.

She doesn’t need to finish the sentence.

Rika swallows hard. "We weren’t all blind to it. Some of us wanted to leave. Some of us tried." A bitter chuckle escapes her lips. "But he didn’t allow that." Her fingers graze her wrist, and for the first time, Ace notices faint scars. Restraint marks. She wasn’t just serving under him. She was his prisoner, just like the others.

She lifts her gaze, eyes locking onto Ace’s. "You were right," she says, voice steadier now. "Not all witches are evil. And not all of us wanted this."

Ace watches her with thick emotions.

Some witches sag in relief, while others wipe their eyes, as if truly realizing they are finally free.