In the Nest of the Fallen Serpent - Chapter 35
Chapter 35
“Please, spare me! I beg you, please!”
“Over there!”
There was no time to think. As if driven by instinct, Hilde ran towards the desperate, urgent cries. She didn’t even hear Greta calling after her. Her only thought was to help whoever was in danger. Breathless from running, she rounded the corner of a shadowed building.
“Save me, sa… save… Aaaaagh!”
An earsplitting scream ripped through the air, and Hilde stopped dead in her tracks.
‘…!’
Her pink eyes widened in shock. An unreal scene unfolded before her. A servant knelt on the ground, clutching his arm and wailing. His arm, stained crimson, resembled a bloody pillar—his hand was gone. A black boot nudged the severed hand, which lay discarded on the dirt.
“Did you not foresee this when you smuggled goods out of the castle?” the Grand Duke asked dryly, his expression utterly impassive. If not for the sword in his hand, if not for the blood still dripping from its tip, if not for the servant choking back desperate breaths, one might have believed he was calmly admiring the scenery.
“You have two hands that sinned.” He intended to sever the remaining hand. The servant’s desperate pleas for mercy drained the color from Hilde’s face. But the Duke didn’t flinch. His hand, gripping the sword, lifted slightly.
“No, stop…!” Hilde’s soft, thin voice rang out.
In that instant, Benedict froze. He turned towards the sound and narrowed his eyes at his running slave. Displeasure, or perhaps anger. Neither boded well. But the sword, which would have cleaved through the servant’s remaining wrist, dropped without drawing more blood. Instead, his cold gaze fell upon the slave who had dared interrupt his judgment.
Hilde scrambled to her knees and grasped the severed hand. Its rapidly cooling stillness sent a chill through her, but she suppressed it.
“Ah, ugh…”
The servant’s face, contorted in pain, was etched with terror. Hilde’s eyes darted back and forth.
How… how could he…
She couldn’t bear to watch someone suffer. To helplessly witness someone dying from their injuries was unbearable. The pitiful image of her younger sister, slowly dying without any treatment, flooded her mind.
“No, you can’t die. Please don’t die…” Hilde forgot she was in the presence of the Duke. She forgot that her actions defied his will. She even forgot the crowd gathering around them, and the crucial fact that she needed to conceal her divine power.
…I can do it, I can do it.
Hilde carefully placed the hand against the servant’s arm. Golden divine power emanated from her fingertips. After a moment, the light faded, and the servant stared at his wrist in disbelief. His severed hand was reattached, as if it had never been cut.
“Ha… ha…” Hilde gasped, lightheaded from the exertion of her power. Murmurs rippled through the onlookers. The servants couldn’t hide their shock and astonishment. They had just witnessed the power wielded by the woman their master had brought as a slave.
“Oh my…” Greta, who had hurried after Hilde, breathed a sigh of awe.
Just as everyone marveled at the divine power they had witnessed— Shhk. A chilling sound sliced through the air. Most of them hadn’t even fully processed what they had just seen. All they saw was—
“Aagh! Aaaaagh!”—the servant screaming as he registered his two severed wrists. Blood sprayed as he thrashed. His agonizing screams echoed.
The Duke slowly turned, his merciless golden eyes sweeping over them. The greatsword in his hand was now stained crimson. An icy chill crept up from everyone’s toes, reaching their heads. A terrifying silence descended. The servants, crushed by his oppressive presence, lowered their heads, unable to meet his gaze.
