Maxi had never seen her father look so flustered. He flinched and backed away from whatever it was that he glimpsed in Riftan’s eyes. His face flushed as though humiliated.
“Enough with the self-righteous act! This is hardly scandalous,” he snarled. “As her father, I was merely correcting her vile manners. It is a parent’s duty to discipline their children.”
“Discipline?” Riftan cocked his head as though unable to comprehend the duke’s words. “You call this…discipline?”
His voice was uncannily low and flat. When his gaze returned to her, Maxi shrank into herself and clutched at herdress until her knuckles turned white. His eyes swept over her disheveled hair, bruised face, and her back full of twisted lacerations like swollen worms. Maxi had never felt so pitiful in her life. She squeezed her eyes shut, unable to meet his gaze.
“There is a hierarch waiting downstairs,” she heard her father say tersely. “She won’t have a scratch on her once she is treated with divine magic! Such efforts are required for instilling obedience in daughters.”
The duke haughtily raised his pointed chin as if displeased by the fact that he had been made to justify himself. “Now it is your turn to explain yourself. How in God’s name did you get in here? Did I not tell you to go back? I am sure you are well aware that infiltrating a lord’s castle is a crime…. Are you prepared to face the consequences?”
Riftan merely stared at the duke in silence. Unsettled by Riftan’s calm gaze, the duke nervously clicked his tongue and flicked his wrist.
“First, I want you out of here. We will continue this conversation in the drawing room,” he said arrogantly. “I pray for your sake that you have a proper excuse.”
There was a long silence. “I see,” Riftan finally said.
He stood like a statue, his face as inexpressive as plaster. Then, he slowly turned and walked toward the door.
Maxi watched his retreating back in disbelief. A numb coldness settled over her, as though all her blood had been drained away. The shock prevented her from calling out to him. Her mouth dumbly flapped open and closed when Riftan stopped just before the door.
He grabbed a chair by the entrance and walked back to Maxi and the duke. His face was so placid that neither ofthem understood what was happening until he raised the chair by its leg.
The wooden chair came crashing down upon the duke’s bony figure. Maxi’s eyes widened. Everything seemed to move in slow motion. The chair splintered, sending chunks of wood flying in every direction. The duke sailed through the air like a rag doll before crashing onto the floor. A bizarre scream filled with pain and outrage burst out of his throat.
“Y-You scum…! Y-You dare…!”
Trembling violently, the duke raised his torso and stared up at Riftan in utter disbelief. His white hair, which was always meticulously swept back with not a single hair out of place, was now a disheveled mess. Blood dripped from his mouth as he gaped with shock. His contorted face was more hideous than the devil as he shook a finger at Riftan.
“Y-You dare? You dare to strike me?!” The duke’s shrieks grated like a screeching iron gate. He shakily got to his feet and bellowed, “Guards! Guards! Take this—Ugh!”
Riftan strode over and kicked the duke square in the stomach. The duke collapsed back onto the floor, his face turning blue as he choked on the blood and vomit that gushed out of his mouth.
Maxi watched in stunned silence. It was unimaginable that the tyrant who had dominated her entire life could be so weak and helpless.
Riftan lifted the writhing duke by the neck and slammed him against the wall with a sickening thud. The impact made the old man’s body flail like a broken doll.
Crushing the duke’s head against the wall, Riftan muttered darkly, “Why are you causing such a scene? Surely you could have a hierarch heal you as well, no?”
“Uhhhh…”
The duke thrashed his long legs, whimpering as he frantically tried to free himself. His bloodied face was stricken with shock and fear; he had clearly never suffered such pain in his life. He clawed in vain at Riftan’s armored forearm.
Riftan did not budge. Gazing at the duke as though he were nothing but a squirming insect, Riftan raised his fist.
At that moment, someone burst into the room.
“Commander!”
Elliot and Ursuline, both dressed in black robes, rushed to Riftan’s side. When they tried to pull him away, Riftan’s previously emotionless face contorted viciously.
“Get your hands off me!” he roared.
“Think, Commander! Even you won’t be pardoned—”
Riftan shoved the knights away without much effort. He then hoisted the crawling duke back up and swung his fist. The blow crushed the duke’s jaw like brittle clay, and his eyes rolled back into his head. Riftan raised his fist once more, not caring that the duke’s head now slumped back.
Elliot flung himself at Riftan and barely managed to stop him from landing another blow.
