I Died and Became a Noble's Heir

Chapter 297: [Relasing Control]

But groups made bigger targets. Drew more desperate assaults from those who had nothing left to lose.

A cluster of six mercenaries held formation, backs together, weapons out, defending their position against waves of attackers. They dropped three. Five. Eight. Ten. Their coordination was impressive, their skill undeniable.

Then someone grabbed a fallen torch from the dome’s edge where braziers had been placed for light. Hurled it into their midst.

Fire caught on blood-soaked clothing. Spreading faster than they could react. The formation broke as men dropped weapons to beat at flames, and that moment of distraction was all it took.

The group fell one by one, their coordination meaningless once the formation shattered.

Seven thousand became six thousand.

Marcus stirred slightly, some animal instinct pushing through the fugue that had claimed his mind. His legs shifted. His hands twitched.

One of his guards noticed immediately. ”He’s moving. The boss said to take a leg if he tries to run.”

Another guard drew his knife, approaching Marcus with a crude smirk.

Marcus’s eyes focused just enough to see the blade. To understand what was about to happen.

”No,” he croaked, the first word he’d spoken since his mind broke. ”Please, I won’t...”

The knife came down. Found the gap behind his knee where armor didn’t quite cover. Sawed through tendons and muscles with precision.

Marcus’s scream tore through the dome, he agonized as he continued to cut his leg off. He was in absolute agony.

Then it stopped. Choked off as his mind retreated again, hiding from pain too intense to process. His body went limp, unconscious or catatonic, impossible to tell which.

”There,” the guard wiped his blade on Marcus’s expensive cloak. ”He’s not running anywhere now.”

The other guards nodded approval. Their prize was secure. Nothing else mattered.

Six thousand became five thousand.

The pace was slowing now. Survivors had learned caution.

They circled each other like predators, looking for openings, waiting for mistakes.

But waiting meant someone else found an opening first. Passivity was just a slower death.

Five thousand became four thousand.

Three thousand.

Two thousand.

The dome’s floor was more corpse than ice now. Blood everywhere. Bodies stacked where they’d fallen, creating obstacles that had to be navigated.

The survivors moved through the carnage like ghosts, faces splattered with gore, eyes hollow from what they’d done to stay alive.

The final stretch was the worst. When numbers dwindled enough that every survivor could see exactly how many remained, they knew salvation was around the corner.

Two hundred more had to die.

Then one hundred.

Then fifty.

The desperation reached new heights. Men who’d conserved strength through the earlier chaos spent everything now, throwing themselves into fights with reckless abandonment because being in the final thousand was all that mattered.

One thousand fifty.

One thousand twenty.

One thousand ten.

Each death was visceral. Every survivor knew they’d secured their spot by ending someone else’s chance.

One thousand five.

One thousand two.

One thousand one.

The final mercenary fell to his knees, weapon dropping from nerveless fingers.

He’d fought so hard. Survived so long. Come so close, just to lose at the last second.

He died with his eyes open, staring at nothing, his last thought probably wondering why he’d fought so hard just to fail at the end.

One thousand.

Silence fell across the dome like a blanket smothering flame.

One thousand mercenaries remained standing. Most couldn’t believe it. They stared at each other, at the corpses surrounding them, at their own blood-covered hands, their minds were still processing what they’d done.

Some collapsed from exhaustion.

Others vomited, finally succumbing to their stomachs that had been churning for the past hour.

A few laughed, high-pitched and broken, the sound of sanity fraying at the edges.

The entity surveyed them all with Jack’s golden eyes.

Found them acceptable for the purpose they’d serve.

[Master, the culling is complete. Shall I...]

”Prepare for memory transfer,” the entity interrupted, voice pitched low enough that the nearby survivors couldn’t hear. ”The boy will need to believe this was his doing.”

[Understood. Preparing memory integration sequence. Master, do you plan to tell him the truth eventually?]

”He’s not strong enough yet to know.”

[But Master, he will eventually discover...]

”Silence.” The word carried weight that it made reality shiver. ”He will be strong enough. After all, he sacrificed everything for me before.”

[I do not understand, Master. What did he sacrifice? When did...]

”You don’t need to understand. Just ensure he remembers this as his own doing. Nothing more. Nothing less. Make the memories vivid. Make them feel real. Let him believe every decision and consequence was his choice.”

[The false memories will integrate seamlessly. He will experience no discontinuity. From his perspective, he orchestrated everything from the moment Pho triggered the initial killings.]

”Good.” The entity’s voice carried satisfaction. ”And the skill upgrade?”

[Demonic Mastery is now permanent. He will retain full benefits without the self-destruction. He’ll assume it was a natural evolution of his abilities.]

”Perfect.” A pause. ”One more thing. When he wakes, ensure he feels... satisfied. That his family is protected. That he did what was necessary.”

[Emotional shaping included in memory integration. He will wake believing he made the hard choice and stands by it.]

The entity’s smile widened. ”Then it’s time. Release control. Begin the transfer.”

[Acknowledged. Releasing control in three... two... one...]

Jack’s consciousness snapped back into his body like a rubber band pulled too far and released.

The transition was seamless.

He remembered it all. The fury when he’d watched Pho act independently.

The cold calculation as he’d offered the mercenaries their false hope.

The satisfaction watching them tear each other apart. The precision of his orders. The weight of his decisions.

All of it felt like his. Because the system made it his.

Jack stood perfectly still for a moment, golden eyes surveying the carnage with an expression that mixed satisfaction and grim determination.

’They threatened my family,’ he thought, the conviction burning through him with absolute certainty. ’They struck Seraphina. They took Annabelle hostage. This is what happens when you make that mistake.’

No horror at the bloodbath surrounding him. Just cold satisfaction that justice had been served in the only language these men understood.

He turned to address the demons and Emberion.

”Your assistance is no longer needed. Return to your domains.”

Pho’s blank white eyes met Jack’s golden ones for a long moment. Then the Deathfrost Demon inclined his head and turned toward the portal that materialized at Jack’s unspoken command.

Fluffy whined slightly as S gestured for her to go. The three-headed hellhound loped toward the portal, her heads turning back once to observe Jack before she disappeared into the swirling energy.

Emberion rose from his position behind Jack, magma dripping from his scales in steady streams that hissed against the ice.

The Emperor-class dragon moved toward the larger portal that opened for his massive frame, but paused at the threshold.

The dome began to dissipate.

The ice walls that had concealed everything started losing cohesion. Becoming translucent. Fading from solid to a ghostly outline.

Morning sun that should have risen hours ago finally illuminating the battlefield.

His molten amber eyes met Jack’s golden ones. No words passed between them. Just mutual understanding.

Before stepping through, Emberion stared up into the sky as part of the dome vanished.