The Male Lead isn't Following the Script!-Chapter 303: Collapse

Dimitri stood outside the room, still as a statue, but inside, nothing of the man he once was remained. His hands hung loose at his sides, and his eyes, once sharp and alert, stared forward with unsettling emptiness. There was no emotion. No thought. No resistance.

His mind did not belong to him anymore.

It was hers.

Annora’s.

Through sheer will, sacrifice, and desperation, Annora had done what none of the forbidden magic practitioners had ever dared. She was able to control someone far more powerful than her.

She had taken control of Dimitri, the Archmage, the strongest living weapon of the Empire, and bent him to her command.

She had given up half of her powers.

She had traded away pieces of her soul.

And worst of all, she had shortened her own life.

But the price had been paid. The magic held. Dimitri obeyed.

It was a terrifying thing, really. In the wrong hands, Dimitri could raze cities, annihilate armies. And now he followed Annora like a shadow, her most loyal guardian, her sword, her shield, her monster.

He waited patiently outside the chamber door, listening but not understanding, not reacting, not interfering. Not unless she called for him.

Inside, the atmosphere was thick with the aftermath of Annora’s fury. But Benedict didn’t follow when she stormed out. He believed she needed space. That she would come to understand his actions once the anger settled. That she would see his intervention, his marriage to her, not as humiliation, but as salvation.

In his love-struck mind, he had done something noble. Something necessary.

He’d protected her honour, restored her place, given her something Cassian had refused to. Love and respect.

He remained behind, hands clasped behind his back, eyes cast toward the fading golden rays slipping in through the ceremonial windows. His thoughts drifted toward the growing tension outside the palace walls.

Surely by now, his faction was already moving. The display at the wedding had been clear: Cassian had not shown up. His absence only boosted the third prince’s position. Benedict had claimed the Saintess, and in doing so, the temple would be indirectly aligned with the third prince.

Beyond the politics, however, Benedict’s thoughts occasionally drifted to his father.

The former Northern Duke had come to witness the first prince’s union with the Saintess. Like many nobles of high status, he had come for the pageantry, the politics, and the history that was meant to unfold.

Instead, he had witnessed the story crumble and a new one rise in its place—his son, Benedict, stepping forward to marry the Saintess in front of the Empire.

A marriage executed before the empire. A blow dealt to the imperial family. A power shift that even the Emperor hadn’t been prepared for.

Benedict could only imagine his father’s expression. Not that it mattered, the moment he married Anna, he was dead to him.

Benedict believed he had done the right thing. For himself. For the Temple. For Annora.

He just needed time. Time for her to understand. Time for the others to align.

Out in the corridor, Annora walked with slow, calculated steps. Her hands trembled slightly—whether from fury, exhaustion, or the toll of the magic she used, even she didn’t know.

Dimitri followed soundlessly behind her.

What should she do? Should she use Dimitri to deal with everyone?!

---

Deep underground in the lair of the forbidden magic practitioners, everyone gathered as their leader... Their seemingly competent leader was now descending into madness.

The scent of blood, old incense, and burnt herbs filled the heavy silence until it was broken by manic laughter.

His long, tattered cloak billowed with every step as he paced the cracked obsidian floor, his eyes wild and glowing faintly with the corrupt energy that had devoured his soul over the years. He gripped his staff so tightly that his knuckles turned white, veins bulging from the strain.

"She married Benedict," he spat, the words dripping with venom and disbelief. He let out another jagged laugh, throwing his head back. "Pathetic. Useless. Always useless!"

His voice echoed off the chamber walls like a curse.

Didn’t she want to marry Cassian? She was supposed to marry Cassian! She couldn’t even do one thing right! That useless woman.

He slammed the base of his staff to the ground, a shockwave of dark energy rippling outward.

Then, with a voice like cold steel, he barked, "Release the control on Benedict. RELEASE IT!"

There was hesitation. A robed woman stepped forward, her face covered with a dark veil.

"Master," she said cautiously, "we cannot continue shifting course on every whim. We gave up our strength, our lives to ensure Benedict remained a pawn. If we release him now—"

The leader turned to her slowly, his face stretched in a smile that was all teeth and madness.

"You think I don’t see your schemes?" he whispered. "You think I don’t know you’ve begun to question me?"

He was about to teach that woman a lesson, but these people dared to hinder him! She dared to disobey them, she dared to turn against them!

Behind her, several other followers stood still, exchanging glances. The truth was clear—they had grown tired of his instability. Plans abandoned, alliances broken, all in service of his obsession with Annora, revenge, and chaos. His mistakes had cost them dearly.

"We won’t follow this path anymore," said a tall, broad-shouldered man, stepping forward from the circle. His face was lined with exhaustion, his aura dimmed from overuse of power. "Too much has been lost already. We need to regroup, not destroy what little control remains."

The air in the lair turned cold. Unnaturally cold.

The leader’s eyes narrowed, and before anyone could move, he raised a hand. A blinding surge of neon-purple magic shot forward like lightning, striking the man square in the chest. The impact sent him flying backwards with a sickening crack against the stone wall.

Silence.

Then smoke.

The man’s body twitched once, then stilled. Lifeless.

The smell of scorched flesh and burned bone filled the chamber.

The others stood frozen, horror and disbelief etched into their faces.