Chapter 382: Puppet King

FWOOSH.

The abyssal armor, the crown of black flames, and the twin horns dissolved into shadows. Kael’s pure white hair shifted back to its normal dark hue, and his eyes returned to their cold, silver-flecked state. He let out a long, slow breath, the exhaustion of the battle finally catching up to his muscles.

He looked down at the weeping Queen Astrid, her severed wrist still bleeding onto the shattered ice.

"Next time," Kael said, his voice calm and chilling, "you should know that even though I did not put an absolute slave rune on you, I can easily snap you or your children out of existence with a single thought. Do not test me again. My mercy is very limited."

THUD.

The Void Behemoth stomped forward, its massive claws dragging a groaning, bloody Varkos across the ruined floor. The assassin’s black robes were shredded, his poisoned daggers shattered, and his Origin Realm aura flickered weakly. The Behemoth dropped him at Kael’s feet like a piece of trash.

Kael then crouched down, looking directly into the eyes of the paralyzed King Bjorn.

"Now," Kael said softly, "onto my final act to taking over the Kingdom of Dawn."

Bjorn glared at him, his body frozen by the Abyssal Nightshade Extract, but his eyes burned with unyielding hatred.

"You... you coward," Bjorn rasped, blood bubbling at the corner of his lips. "You couldn’t defeat me in a fair fight. You had to use my wife... my own blood... to poison me. You are a demon. A soulless, pathetic creature who relies on tricks and shadows."

Kael didn’t flinch. He simply smiled. "Fair? Your Majesty, the concept of fairness is a lie invented by the weak to comfort themselves. I don’t need a fair fight. I need a conquered kingdom."

"You think you’ve won?" Bjorn spat. "The people of Dawn will never bow to a foreign demon. They will tear you apart the moment you show your face."

Kael chuckled. "They will bow. Because you will order them to."

CLINK-CLANK!

Shadow devouring chains erupted from the ground, wrapping around both Bjorn and Varkos, pinning them to the ice. Kael formed a series of intricate hand seals, his soul power flaring. A massive dark formation spread beneath them, glowing with sinister violet runes.

"Soul Weaver’s Requiem: Soul Executioner’s Mark."

BUZZZZZT!

Two unique, jagged runes shot forward, lashing directly onto the souls of Bjorn and Varkos.

"AHHHHHH!" Bjorn roared, his body convulsing as the rune seared into his very spirit. Varkos let out a silent, strangled gasp, his crimson eyes rolling back in agony. The mark’s purpose was brutal—it weakened the soul’s natural defenses, making it pliable for a slave brand.

"What are you doing?!" Astrid screamed from the floor, clutching her bleeding stump. "Stop! Please!"

Kael ignored her. He waved his hand toward the mind-controlled nobles.

"Go outside," Kael ordered, his voice echoing with authority. "Tell the soldiers the commotion has been taken care of. Ensure that what happened in the palace today does not get out. Anyone who speaks a word of this will be executed publicly, along with their entire family."

The nobles bowed deeply, their hollow eyes devoid of emotion. "As you command, My Lord." They shuffled out of the shattered throne room, heading toward the main gates where the soldiers were still frantically pounding on the cracked rune barrier.

Kael turned back to Bjorn and Varkos. He released the Soul Executioner’s Mark, their souls now vulnerable. He immediately formed another hand seal, condensing two dark, pulsing slave runes in his palms.

BZZZT!

He pressed the runes directly into their foreheads.

Kael’s soul power began to drain rapidly, a violent torrent of energy flowing out of him. He gritted his teeth, sweat pouring down his face. Damn it, he cursed internally. Their souls are too dense. Branding two Origin Realm cultivators at the same time is too much.

The runes fought against him, the souls of the King and the Assassin instinctively resisting the intrusion. Kael poured more of his soul power into the branding, his vision blurring.

Just a little more!

SIZZLE!

With a final, violent flash, the dark runes sank into their foreheads, disappearing into their skin. The resistance vanished. The branding was complete.

Kael stumbled backward, his legs giving out. He felt incredibly dizzy, his soul completely drained.

"My Lord!" Soren rushed forward, reaching out to support him.

Kael raised a hand, signaling he was fine. He reached into his storage ring and pulled out a glowing, translucent pill. It was a Soul Nurturing Pill (Tier 6), personally refined by Kelvin. It radiated a soothing, cool aura.

He swallowed it. GULP. The pill dissolved instantly, a gentle wave of soul energy flooding his meridians, replenishing the void left by the branding.

He stood up straight, breathing heavily. If branding an Origin Realm cultivator takes this much out of me, I can’t imagine how difficult it would be to brand a dedicated Soul Cultivator. I’ll need to be careful.

A Few Days Later.

The Kingdom of Dawn had fallen.

Kael sat on the grand throne of Snowfall, his posture relaxed, his eyes scanning the court below. To his left, King Bjorn and Queen Astrid sat on lower, subservient thrones,.

Varkos stood in the shadows behind his new King.

Kael had spent the last few days consolidating his power. He had sent a deceptive invitation to the First General—the loyal, Peak Spirit Soul, Peak Tier 5 body cultivator—summoning him to the palace under the guise of an emergency war council. The moment the General stepped into the throne room, Kael had ambushed him, overpowered him, and branded him.

Now, the entire Kingdom of Dawn was his.

"The Shadow Hounds are to spread out immediately," Kael commanded, looking at the masked figures kneeling before the throne. "I want every city, every fortress, and every hidden path in the Kingdom of Elenoir mapped. I want to know the Elven Queen’s daily routine, the location of their ancient armories, and the weak points in their forest defenses."

"As you command, My Lord," the Hounds replied in unison, vanishing into the shadows.

Garrick stepped forward, his brow furrowed. "My Lord, what about the Kingdom of Britannia? Their army is still camped at the border, and the First General reports that the war front is... not looking good."

Kael just smiled, a mysterious, predatory curve of his lips. "Don’t worry about the Britannians, Garrick. I have a plan for them."

He turned his gaze to the First General, a towering, scarred man who now knelt before the throne, his eyes blank.

"General," Kael said, his voice echoing through the silent hall. "Send a formal peace treaty request to the Kingdom of Britannia. Propose a summit at the border. Tell them the King wishes to negotiate an end to the war."

The nobles in the court shifted uneasily, whispering among themselves. Even Garrick and the Pillar Knights exchanged confused glances. They had just conquered the Kingdom of Dawn. Why would Kael sue for peace now?

Kael leaned back on the throne, his silver-flecked eyes gleaming with cold, calculating ambition.