Fangless: The Alpha's Vampire Mate-Chapter 306: Through the Demon’s Eyes

Florian had no recollection of how he had escaped the royal palace—or even the northern tower. But now, he had to be the one to return unnoticed.

If anyone spotted him sneaking back in from outside, it would only add to the list of his so-called crimes, further branding him a danger. And that was the last thing he could afford—not when he was trying to prove otherwise.

As Florian leaped from wall to wall, roof to roof, a conversation drifted into his ears. He froze, crouching low, straining to catch every word.

"His Majesty hasn’t said anything about them, but I’m sure they’re here to intimidate us," one knight muttered. He was seated on the small steps outside the back entrance, his voice low but edged with tension.

A second knight, standing nearby, responded, "His Majesty has enough to deal with. He didn’t even notice Lady Maris was gone, or that Princess Lisbeth had vanished. If the princess hadn’t survived, if Lady Maris hadn’t returned... I can’t imagine what His Majesty would have done."

"He must have been worried sick. But what choice does he have? The Vampire Hunter is causing too much trouble. He’s the king—people expect him to catch this culprit and keep them safe. Of course, he’s been busy."

A third knight spoke, his voice hushed but weighted with concern. "And now the emperor is here. You don’t think... he’ll try to force unification? Threaten the king with the imperial army?"

"It wouldn’t surprise me. The imperial army is a nightmare."

"I heard they brought witches and wizards too."

"Maybe. But there’s no solid proof. His Majesty doesn’t want to spread unnecessary panic."

"He’s right. If we start arresting imperial knights or suspected witches without evidence, and they turn out to be ordinary people, it’ll only make things worse."

"Everyone’s on edge. I just hope this ends soon."

"If the imperial army disappeared, half of this kingdom’s burdens would be gone."

"And so would the king’s."

Florian’s breath hitched. His grip tightened against the tiles beneath him. It seemed he had just found his solution.

***

"Arrghhhh!!"

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"Over here—quick!"

"Call for backup! Where is everyone? Evacuate the citizens!"

Chaos erupted inside the inn as imperial knights scrambled into action. Though bravery was a requirement for their rank, not all of them felt any duty toward the people of Eira.

Most knights stood their ground against Florian, blades drawn and faces tense. A handful took charge of shielding the witches and wizards. But only three knights actually moved to escort civilians to safety—while the rest remained indifferent.

"Get back here! What do you think you’re doing?" one of the knights at the forefront barked at his retreating comrades. "You don’t serve these people!"

One of the knights herding frightened vampires toward the exit snapped back, "Are you insane? We can’t let innocent vampires become casualties!"

This was no time for arguments and certainly not the time to debate who deserved to live. Yet they did so anyway because they were confident. The imperial knights—elite among elites—stood unwavering, confident in their strength. Fear had no place among them. They would not lose.

Florian was outnumbered. His lean frame was a stark contrast to the burly knights surrounding him, their sheer size alone making him seem frail.

With a sharp command, the knights charged.

The front line raised their swords, each blade coated in a shimmering vampiric aura, forming an impenetrable wall to keep Florian from reaching their offensive ranks. Behind them, the attackers lifted their hands, gathering energy as their own auras crackled to life, swirling in vibrant hues before launching forward.

All of it—every concentrated strike—rushed toward Florian.

He barely moved. His sunken eyes remained hollow, his arms limp at his sides. Then, black smoke curled from beneath his feet, rising like ink seeping into water. No, not from the ground—from him. Tendrils of darkness slithered from his skin, spilling from his neck, his fingertips.

The knights’ attacks reached him.

And then—nothing.

The black smoke swallowed the vibrant aura, swatting it aside like nothing more than a cluster of buzzing mosquitoes.

"Tastes awful," Ol’gaz muttered through Florian’s mouth. The power the smoke devoured held no trace of fear—his most coveted feast.

"Shut up," Florian hissed under his breath, lifting his hands.

In any other situation, the knights might have laughed at the sight—his thin arms raised like brittle branches trying to strike down a beast. But they had seen the destruction he had wrought. And none of them were laughing now.

With a single sweeping motion, Florian sent half the knights hurtling through the air, crashing through the walls of the inn’s third floor. The structure groaned before the roof gave way, collapsing in a thunderous crash. The remaining knights scattered, desperately evading the falling debris.

What had been a battle confined within the inn was now an open war in the streets. Civilians screamed, fleeing in terror as dust and rubble rained down. Those in nearby buildings rushed outside, knowing no walls could keep them safe from the chaos.

The knights struggled to rise, wiping blood from their faces. Though battered and bruised, their enhanced bodies had spared them from fatal wounds. Most injuries were minor—but Florian wasn’t finished yet.

"Do you think this will change anything?" Ol’gaz hissed. He didn’t want Florian to kill the witches and wizards—not yet. Fear had to simmer, to stew a little longer before it became truly delectable. "You’re wasting your time!"

"Shut up! I know you’re always lying!" Florian growled, his fingers curling into a fist. He didn’t want to hear another word, didn’t want Ol’gaz twisting his thoughts.

Instead, he turned his fury on the imperial knights and the witches and wizards they protected. "You don’t belong here! You’re trespassing!" he shouted at the Asvadur’s vampires.

The knights closed ranks, forming a protective barrier around the magic wielders. Their previous formation was abandoned—no more defensive and offensive lines. Now, they gathered their strength as one, their auras merging in defiance of the lone figure before them.

Now, it was painfully obvious who among them were the magic wielders. Fear betrayed them. Unlike the knights, who stood firm despite their injuries, the witches and wizards trembled. Their skill in blending among warriors crumbled in the face of imminent danger.

One knight, blood trickling from a wound on his forehead, gritted his teeth. "Who the hell are you?" he spat. He hated to admit it, but this boy—this thing—was not just some nobody. He was something else. Something dangerous.

Florian hesitated. Should he tell them he was the king’s nephew? That would tie him to the throne, but would it also suggest he was acting on the king’s orders? Or should he reveal that he was a vessel for the demon? That would make the civilians see him as a beast, a monster unworthy of mercy.

Before he could decide, a witch hiding behind the knights spoke first.

"He’s the demon, Ol’gaz."