The Grand Duke's Son Is A Heretic-Chapter 215

The news spread like wildfire faster than merchant caravans, swifter than smoke on a stormy wind. The entire frontier trembled when word arrived that the four outlaw kings who ruled Shareon City… were dead.

They weren't just common thugs. These were seasoned A-rank warriors—bandit overlords who had carved a bloody empire at the edge of the wilds.

Shareon, the city of outlaws, had stood like a steel wall between chaos and civilization. Now, that wall has been shattered.

Inside the fortified council chamber of Greyshade a major town at the border—a meeting of mayors, lieutenants, and informants was already underway.

Crimson banners swayed as the heavy wooden doors creaked open. A messenger stumbled in, his face pale, tunic torn, as if the news itself had scorched him.

Mayor Lindra of Mossend was the first to speak. Her voice was laced with tension.

"Speak. What happened in Shareon?"

The man swallowed hard. "All four… dead. Their bodies were found mangled, some unrecognizable. There was nothing left of their guards. Witnesses say it was a massacre."

Gasps and shocked murmurs filled the room.

Mayor Brell rose to his feet, his usually calm face drawn tight with dread.

"Massacre? What army? Who dares attack those butchers? They've ruled Shareon for over a decade!"

The messenger's voice trembled.

"It wasn't an army… just one man."

Dead silence. ƒreewebɳovel.com

Mayor Tull, fingers trembling against his cane, asked hoarsely

"One man? You're lying. No one,no one can walk into a city like Shareon and leave alive. Not even a top-ranked adventurer dares that."

The messenger looked at each of them and nodded grimly.

"A witness described him. Cloaked. Masked. Black hair. Carried a blade that shimmered with some… unnatural energy. He cut through them like they were nothing."

A heavy silence followed, like the calm before a storm.

Mayor Hamer, who had until now sat wordless, folded his arms and said coldly,

"Do we know who he was?"

"No name," the messenger replied, "but many believe… he's with the Assassination League. Or worse—something new."

A cold tingle swept through the room. Some gulped audibly. Others clenched their jaws.

Mayor Lindra leaned forward, eyes sharp.

"This isn't just a threat to Sharon. This is a message to all of us. If someone is out there who can kill four A-rank bandit kings alone… then we're all exposed."

Mayor Hamer stood and turned to his butler.

"This is bigger than regional politics. Inform the Lord immediately. This masked figure might be a destabilizing force across the entire frontier. We can't act without his orders."

The butler nodded. "Right away, my Lord."

As he rushed out, Mayor Tull whispered,

"Gods help us if he sets his eyes on our cities next…"

And in the uneasy silence that followed, every leader in that chamber knew Sharon's fall wasn't the end. It was the beginning of something far more dangerous.

However little did they know it was just a man who was pissed off about his bounty and had gone to smoothen things as gently as possible.

......

The sun dipped low beyond the twisted silhouettes of the Duskwood trees, casting long, serpentine shadows across the narrow dirt road.

Gnarled roots jutted from the ground like claws, and the whisper of distant leaves in the wind sounded eerily like hushed voices. It was a forest travelers often avoided unless they had no other path—or the protection of blades.

A caravan of seven wooden carts moved cautiously along the crooked road.

The lead wagon bore the worn but proud insignia of Trevor's Trading Guild—two golden coins atop a crimson flag.

The wheels creaked, horses snorted, and boots of grizzled mercenaries thudded against the forest floor as they escorted the convoy. Each guard had a sword drawn or a bow in hand, eyes constantly scanning the woods for movement.

Inside one of the center carts, a few passengers sat quietly. Among them, two figures stood out sharply.

The first was a striking red-haired woman, wrapped in an elegant yet travel-worn cloak. Her beauty was haunting, her expression distant and cold.

A long cloth-wrapped bundle rested protectively in her arms—large, oval, and clearly heavy. Beside her sat a man whose face was obscured behind a simple black mask. His jet-black hair swayed gently with the movement of the cart, and though he sat still, there was a sharpness in his presence, like a blade sheathed in silk.

Trevor, the caravan leader, rode in the cart ahead, occasionally glancing behind with curiosity. His merchant instincts had been piqued the moment the two strangers had approached him two days ago, offering a decent sum for passage. But now… his attention was fixed on the woman—and more precisely, the item she clutched.

A faint shimmer of mana radiated from beneath the cloth. Trevor's merchant senses twitched. An egg. Not an ordinary one, either. The kind of egg nobles bid wars over. Beasts of mana… perhaps even a wyvern?

He coughed lightly, then turned his cart to ride beside theirs. Lifting his voice politely, he said,

"Lady, that thing... it looks rather heavy. Exhausting to carry through such rough terrain. By chance... would you consider parting with it?"

The red-haired woman remained motionless, gaze fixed on the forest ahead. Not a word.

Instead, the masked man turned slowly, lifting his eyes to meet Trevor's with a penetrating stare.

"No," he said curtly. "It's personal. I hope you understand."

Trevor blinked, caught off guard by the cold tone. But he was not one to give up easily.

He smiled nervously, scratching the side of his head.

"Ah, I meant no offense. Just... it's quite a treasure, isn't it? You see, I know buyers—noble clients, collectors. I could fetch you a fortune. Enough to buy peace for years. Don't you think that's better than risking it in a forest like this?"

The man's gaze narrowed.

"You didn't hear me. It's not for sale."

Trevor's eyes darted to the woman again, trying a different tactic."And you, Miss? Maybe you'd like to reconsider—"

But her eyes were cold without any emotion.Just… hollow. As if he didn't even exist.

Trevor swallowed the tension in his throat. He forced a chuckle, raised his hands.

"Right, right. I get it. Family heirloom or whatnot. But if you ever change your mind..."

He clicked the reins and rode ahead, but his thoughts lingered like flies around honey.

'This could fetch me a mansion in the capital... I can't let it go. What if I snatch it at night? A little force, a little trick…'

His lips twitched with greedy imagination.

But suddenly—

BOOM!

The cart jolted violently, nearly throwing him off his seat. A loud clattering erupted outside, followed by the panicked yells of guards.

"What's going on?!" Trevor shouted, gripping the edge.

A voice shouted back, breathless and alarmed.

"Sir! We've got a big problem! A big one… We might need help!"

Trevor's face paled.

"Huh?!"

From the trees, chittering echoes and skittering shadows began to rise—unnatural, fast, and many.