The Lycan King and his Dark Temptation novel Chapter 283

NARRATOR

Beyond iron bars, powerful magic, seals, and chains—far past the Isle of the Selenias and the dark mist, beyond the storm clouds and spectral screams—an entire civilization had survived. One that was believed to be extinct.

Baltazar, the Regent of the Realm, was deep in a meeting with his advisors when the grand doors of the hall burst open, and one of the guards stumbled in, his face pale with panic.

"I hope what you have to say is a matter of life and death," he said coldly, his sharp brown eyes locking onto the trembling man.

"Y-Your Lordship… we’ve received all kinds of reports from the kingdom’s borders," the man stammered. "T-The…"

"Speak, damn it!"

"The boundary mist is receding!" the guard blurted out in one breath, sweat dripping down his face.

Baltazar immediately grasped the gravity of the situation.

He bolted from his chair, storming onto the balcony and shoving the heavy doors open.

His wise eyes scanned the sky—the thick, dark clouds that barely allowed any light to filter through were shifting rapidly in one direction.

The winds howled furiously, and in the distance, thunder cracked, mingled with voices and whispers carried by the storm.

He remembered the dream he had just nights ago, the one where the King had spoken to him. Baltazar had thought it was just his imagination—he had never seen the King before.

For millennia, they had always known they had a King. They themselves had chosen him, the one who kept them safe from danger, from supernatural monsters.

Those horrible, unnatural, undesirable beings that had no place in the society they had built over thousands of years, finally flourishing as a powerful kingdom.

A kingdom born from a secluded elemental village deep in the mountains.

"General!" he called out, storming back into the hall.

His red robe, embroidered with golden sigils, gleamed against the perpetual darkness that ruled these hidden lands.

"Prepare the army! We are in a state of maximum alert! Protect the civilians, notify all the duchies and their soldiers—every corner of the realm must be informed!" He began issuing orders left and right.

After all, this was his duty—to carry out the will of the King, their highest deity.

"Sir, may I ask… what exactly is happening?" the General questioned.

"The Elemental Realm is about to go to war. His Majesty is preparing to cross the barrier," Baltazar said with absolute conviction, now certain that his dream had been real.

A wave of realization swept through the room. The fear of the unknown thickened the air.

Far above them, amidst the vortex of raging, dark currents that nearly blocked out the sun and moon, a silhouette took form in the swirling shadows.

Golden eyes opened slowly, their fury as alive as it had been millennia ago.

He had survived. Of course, he had.

The hatred in his heart was too great—no Goddess would dictate his fate.

He would become his own god. His golden pupils constricted, momentarily confused.

There was something else in his mind, a name repeating in an endless loop.

He couldn’t quite remember.

Sigrid. What did the word Sigrid mean to him?

Among the restless spirits of the undead—creatures who knew no fear of death and were nearly trembling with excitement for this bloody battle—massive Alpha wolves prowled, towering lycans in their beast forms.

At the very front, an enormous and imposing man stood atop the highest hill, surveying his army.

His fiery red hair was tied in a thick braid, his black and gold armor gleaming in the dim light, his face marked with intricate red battle sigils, distinct to lycans.

"SOLDIERS OF MY REALM!"

Suddenly, a commanding voice rang through the hearts of thousands of supernatural beings.

A heavy silence fell.

Aldric Thorne had proven over the years that he was a leader worth following and obeying.

"TODAY, WE FIGHT FOR OUR SURVIVAL. NOT AGAINST AN ENEMY WE MUST DEFEAT, BUT AGAINST ONE WE MUST CONVINCE!"

No one fully understood what the King meant, and Aldric had no intention of explaining.

There were only two paths here: either Sigrid worked a miracle, or they all died together.

"SO GUARD YOUR LIVES AND PROTECT THIS BORDER, BECAUSE BEHIND IT, ONLY OUR LOVED ONES REMAIN! THERE ARE NO OPTIONS—ONLY VICTORY!"

"VICTORY! VICTORY! VICTORY!" they roared in response, their battle cries shaking the land for miles.

Then suddenly, in the midst of their fervor, in the fire of the courage their leader had ignited, a monstrous, guttural sound rumbled through the air—so deep, so furious, that the earth trembled, and the trees shuddered.

Flocks of birds fled in terror, animals scattered, sensing the malevolence saturating the air.