Saintess? Not Anymore! I'd Rather be a Destroyer-Chapter 112 - 98: King Girsal’s secret 4

"Your Majesty, here is a sample of Saintess blood," a man donning a purple mask, standing at a formidable height of seven feet, approached King Girsal, presenting him with a clear glass filled with crimson liquid. Without hesitation, Girsal snatched the vessel and downed the entire contents in one swift gulp, savoring every drop as he licked his lips. Chatel sneered in disgust, "You’re repulsive! Despite relying on my blood, you dare to treat me with such cruelty!"

Unfazed by her protestations, Girsal fixed his gaze upon his hands concealed beneath his cloak. Slowly, the mechanical arms transformed, flesh and sinew materializing around it until they resembled the appendages of a human being. A contented grin stretched across his face, an unsettling display of satisfaction born from regaining his former appearance.

"Does that make you feel better, Your Majesty?" the man in the blue mask inquired, to which Girsal simply nodded, his satisfaction evident.

"I’m all done with my business here, now I need to check on the weapon production," King Girsal announced, ready to turn and leave. But just as he was about to go, the man in the purple mask piped up, pointing a finger at Chatel. "What about her?" he asked. "The Saintess’ blood is starting to deteriorate."

"Don’t worry, we can still find some use for her. At least until the new Saintess comes along. By the way, is she being properly fed?" King Girsal inquired, his gaze shifting to Chatel and the women attending to her.

The women quickly stood up, one of them speaking up, "Yes, Your Majesty. We’ve been providing her meals, but she has been refusing to eat lately."

A chilling smile spread across King Girsal’s face as he approached Chatel, his touch devoid of emotion as he held her face in his hands. "You know, starving yourself is a pointless endeavor. With your level of power, you could survive for years without food. So, why bother with this feeble attempt at starvation? Just give up and eat," he coldly stated.

His words hung heavy in the air, dripping with a cruel certainty that struck fear into Chatel’s heart. She knew resistance was futile that her captor held the upper hand. With each passing moment, her almost hope waned, but she defiantly looked at him.

"I’m not going to do it," Chatel defiantly shook her head, her eyes filled with determination.

King Girsal let out a sigh, his voice tinged with frustration. "Listen, it’s not like I’m giving you some lousy food. I’ll ensure you receive the finest dishes this High Land has to offer," he reasoned, hoping to persuade her.

Chatel remained resolute, her gaze unwavering. "I don’t care about your fancy meals. As long as my blood remains tainted, you won’t achieve your goals," she declared firmly with a smirk, her words laced with defiance.

A deep furrow formed on King Girsal’s brow, his expression hardening. "If that’s how it’s going to be," he said, his tone growing colder. "Then force her to eat," he commanded, his gaze shifting to the women standing beside Chatel.

The women nodded in compliance, their faces devoid of emotion as they replied in unison, "Yes, Your Majesty." They approached Chatel, their movements determined and unwavering, but before they could touch her, Chatel spoke up.

A chilling silence settled in the air as Chatel mustered the courage to confront King Girsal, her voice laced with a mixture of longing and pain.

"Girsal, there is but one question that haunts my soul," she began, her words trembling slightly. "Did your heart ever hold even a sliver of love for me?" she inquired, her eyes searching his face for a hint of sincerity.

Girsal’s lips curled into a smirk as he gave his response, "No, I never did."

Chatel’s expression tightened, a mixture of pain and bitterness crossing her features. The weight of his words hung in the air, a reminder of the love she had once believed in, now shattered by his callous admission.

"I should have known better than to expect anything different from you," Chatel muttered, her voice laced with disappointment and a touch of self-blame.

Girsal’s nonchalant attitude only deepened the wound, his lack of remorse fueling her growing resentment. The realization that her heart had been devoted to someone who had never reciprocated her feelings struck her like a cold gust of wind, leaving her feeling exposed and vulnerable.

As the silence settled between them, her gaze hardened. Tears cascaded down her face, mingling with her rage as she unleashed her anguished cry upon the wretched man before her. Chatel’s heartache spilled forth, her voice quivering with a mix of rage, "But why did you deceive me? Why did you play with my emotions?!" she cried out, tears streaming down her face, each droplet a testament to the pain etched upon her soul.

Girsal’s expression twisted into a cruel sneer, his words dripping with disdain and mockery. "Deception? Manipulation? My dear, it was merely child’s play. Women like you are so dumb, gullible and easily swayed, falling for empty gestures and sweet nothings. I shower you with some few gifts, some hollow compliments, and a single night of passion, and you dared to proclaim it as love within a mere week."

His callous laughter filled the space, a taunting melody that cut deeper than any blade. Chatel’s anger surged within her, her eyes blazing with defiance.

"You see how dumb it sounds, don’t blame me, but rather your stupidity and ignorance," King Girsal stated.

As Girsal turned his back and began to walk away, Chatel’s voice rang out, her words laced with unyielding resolve.

"I will never forgive you!" she screamed, her voice echoing through the corridors, a declaration of her shattered trust and the ember of her unwavering vengeance.

"Do you think I would care if you forgive me? Please spare me the useless tears," he spat, his tone dripping with arrogance as he sauntered away.

"Makes sure she eats!" King Girsal’s voice thundered through the chamber, his command echoing with an air of malevolence. The women standing by Chatel’s side nodded obediently, their faces masked in cold indifference.

"Girsal, you despicable bastard! I despise you! I hope you die!!" Chatel’s voice reverberated with seething anger, her words dripping with venomous hatred.

As the ladies closed in on Chatel, her instinct for survival surged, fueling her desperate attempts to break free from the chains that bound her. Despite her restrained hands and legs, she fought against her captors, lashing out with every ounce of strength she possessed.

But the odds were stacked against her, and the struggle proved futile. Overwhelmed by the combined force of her captors, Chatel was overpowered. Helplessly pinned to the cold, unforgiven ground.

One of them, devoid of empathy, pried open Chatel’s mouth with brutal determination, while the other callously thrust sustenance past her lips. Their actions were a cruel testament to their unwavering commitment to sustain her against her will, each morsel a vile reminder of her captivity and the ceaseless torment inflicted upon her.

Bitterness coated her tongue with each forced bite, a venomous reminder of the cycle of suffering that ensnared her existence. The taste of captivity mingled with her tears, blending into a bitter symphony of despair that resonated within her being.

As Chatel reluctantly swallowed each bitter mouthful, a sense of defeat washed over her. The weight of her captivity pressed heavily upon her, dimming the flickering flame of her spirit.

Eva, an observer to the scene, casts an indifferent gaze upon Chatel, her eyes devoid of empathy. "So, this is the fate that befalls a former Saintess," she remarked nonchalantly, as if merely commenting on the weather.

With a sigh of disinterest, Eva decided she had seen enough. "Well, I suppose my little adventure ends here. It’s time to make my way back," she mused, her voice tinged with weariness. In an instant, she vanished from the chamber, reappearing in the darkened halls of the castle patrolled by knights.

However, as Eva made her way through the labyrinthine halls, her senses heightened to the whispers of unseen forces. It was then that her perceptive gaze caught sight of something peculiar.

Tiny dolls, no larger than half a thumb, skittered surreptitiously around the corner, their diminutive forms expertly blending with the shadows and surroundings. Intrigue piqued within Eva’s mind, and a mischievous smile curled upon her lips.

"A puppeteer’s creation, huh? And it carries the unmistakable aura of a powerful demon," she mused, her voice barely more than a soft breath.

Gliding through the corridors, Eva’s eyes widened as she observed numerous puppets, stealthily infiltrating the castle. "Well, well, seems there’s a lot more of them than I anticipated," she remarked, a mischievous grin playing upon her lips. "I bet Aurianna would be thrilled to know about this," her lips curling into a chilling smile that sent shivers down one’s spine.

With a flicker of movement, Eva materialized in Aurianna’s chamber. Her gaze fell upon the slumbering form of Aurianna, a small smile tugging at the corners of her lips. There was a sense of protectiveness and admiration in her eyes as she watched over the young girl.