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CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

T he palace dungeons stretched beneath Onn Kkulma like ancient veins carved from living rock, reinforced with steel that had witnessed centuries of suffering.

Torchlight flickered against damp stone walls, casting dancing shadows that writhed with malevolent life.

The air hung thick with the scent of old blood and despair, a stench that clung to everything and whispered of horrors these chambers had absorbed.

Akoro descended the narrow stairs with controlled purpose, each footfall echoing against stone that had once imprisoned the Omegas his family had enslaved.

The irony burned through him—bringing Otenyo to the same cells where innocent women had suffered while his ancestors grew fat on stolen power.

But unlike those long-dead victims, the treacherous soge would receive exactly the justice he deserved.

The dungeon air pressed against his skin like a living thing, heavy with the accumulated anguish of generations.

These stones had absorbed screams, tears, the desperate pleas of women torn from their families and forced into servitude.

Every breath he took in this accursed place reminded him of the legacy he’d spent years trying to purge from his bloodline.

Iron hinges shrieked as he pushed open the heavy door to the interrogation chamber.

Otenyo sat chained to a stone wall, his scarred face bearing fresh bruises from Nrommo’s enthusiastic questioning.

But his dark eyes held no remorse, no fear—only the cold satisfaction of a man convinced his cause was righteous.

“King Sy,” Otenyo said, his voice steady despite the blood trickling from his split lip. “Come to finish what your battle chief started?”

Akoro closed the door behind him with deliberate care, the sound reverberating through the chamber like a death knell. He’d dismissed the guards for this conversation—what needed to be said between them required no witnesses.

“You attempted regicide,” Akoro said, settling into the chair that faced the chained soge.

His Alpha dominance filled the space between them, controlled but unmistakable.

“You put innocent lives at risk. You betrayed your oath of loyalty.” He leaned forward slightly.

“I want to understand why before I execute you.”

Otenyo’s laugh held no humor, only bitter resignation tinged with righteous fury. “Betrayed? That’s rich, coming from the oath-breaker himself.”

Akoro’s eyes narrowed. “Explain.”

“The blood contract,” Otenyo snarled, straining against his chains.

“The sacred agreement you made when you dissolved the dynasties and forced us from Onn Kkulma. I am descended from the Vos line. You swore on your family’s blood that no more wild magic would attack the region.

That our exile was the price of permanent safety. ”

Understanding crystallized with uncomfortable clarity. “The contract promised protection in exchange for your acceptance of Sy rule,” Akoro said evenly. “You gave up dynastic claims to the capital. I promised wild magic would never threaten populated areas again.”

“And yet it did!” Otenyo’s roar echoed off stone walls, his fury finally unleashed. “Months ago, nnin-eellithi tore through our city! Killed dozens of our people! Destroyed buildings that had stood for centuries! The very catastrophe you swore would never happen!”

The memory of that day struck Akoro—the screams echoing through Onn Kkulma’s streets, the acrid scent of burning stone, the desperate scramble to contain magical forces that should never have breached their defenses.

Naya’s escape had torn a hole in reality itself, drawing wild magic directly into the heart of his kingdom.

“That attack was unprecedented—” Akoro began.

“An Omega drew wild magic into our city!” Otenyo cut him off, spittle flying from his lips. “The very thing the contract was meant to prevent! Every person who died in that attack, every family destroyed—their blood is on your hands because you failed to capture the responsible party!”

Akoro’s jaw tightened imperceptibly. From Otenyo’s perspective, the magical breach would seem like a failure of royal protection—a king who’d allowed the very forces he’d sworn to contain.

“The threat has been stopped,” Akoro said.

“Stopped?” Otenyo strained against his bonds. “Where is she? Where is the Omega who murdered our children? Still running free while their families grieve!”

The accusation hung in the fetid air. Akoro could see the calculation in Otenyo’s eyes—a man who’d spent months building resentment, convinced his king had failed in the most fundamental duty of protection.

“And then,” Otenyo continued, his voice cracking with grief-born fury, “instead of hunting down the killer, instead of serving the families who lost everything, you disappeared! Vanished into the wasteland chasing foreign schemes while we buried our dead!”

The words cut deeper because they held an uncomfortable truth.

Akoro had indeed left immediately after Naya’s escape, pursuing her across dangerous terrain while his people dealt with the aftermath of magical devastation.

“I brought the Omega out for all to see, I allowed the people to decide her fate. I?—”

“My nephew was eight years old,” Otenyo’s voice broke, and Akoro’s excuses seemed to die on his tongue. “Playing in the market when the sky caught fire. He died believing his king would keep him safe, and you weren’t even here to mourn him!”

The image of small bodies pulled from the wreckage sent familiar guilt through Akoro’s chest. He remembered the memorial services, the faces of grieving families who’d looked to their king for answers he couldn’t provide.

“The responsibilities facing this region required—” Akoro said.

“Required what? More foreign entanglements? More distant schemes?” Otenyo’s eyes blazed with righteous fury. “Months, and what justice have you provided? What service beyond pursuing your own interests?”

Akoro studied the chained soge, recognizing the dangerous truth beneath his accusations. From the outside, his recent actions would appear exactly as Otenyo described—a king who’d abandoned his duties to pursue personal desires while his people suffered the consequences.

“So you decided to kill me,” Akoro said quietly.

“I decided to remove a king who’d forgotten his agreement.” Otenyo’s voice held grim satisfaction. “Someone had to answer for the broken promises. Someone had to pay for abandoning the innocent while chasing foreign corruption.”

“And the woman riding with me?” Akoro’s voice dropped to something more dangerous. “Your crossbow bolt could have killed her just as easily.”

Confusion flickered across Otenyo’s features. “Some camp follower? I don’t care about?—”

“Princess Naya of the Lox Empire,” Akoro interrupted, his Alpha dominance sharpening.

“The woman who risked her life to stop the nnin-eellithi storm that would have destroyed this entire region. That is the justice and service the people got! Freedom from nnin-eellithi . The Solution found now in our lifetime. She did that!”

Otenyo’s face twisted with revulsion. “A foreign manipulator poisoning your judgment! How fitting that the oath-breaker surrounds himself with outsiders while his own people suffer!”

The casual dismissal of Naya’s life, the willingness to murder an innocent to satisfy wounded pride, ignited something cold and lethal in Akoro’s chest. Whatever legitimate grievances Otenyo might have had, his readiness to kill bystanders revealed the corruption beneath his righteous anger.

“The execution would have been just—my removal of another foreign influence corrupting our rightful king!” Otenyo snarled.

“Every outsider who captures your attention is an insult to the ssukkǔrian blood spilled for your failures, and I will hunt every one of them down until we are back where we’re supposed to be! ”

The blade dug in, carving Otenyo’s throat from ear to ear.

The soge’s eyes widened in shock, then sputtered, clawing at his neck.

Akoro watched him dim as life fled his body like water from a broken vessel.

The attempt on his king’s life was already a crime that warranted death, but his threat toward Naya solidified it.

He cleaned his blade with methodical care before sheathing it. The killing brought small satisfaction that this Alpha was finally dead. Some betrayals couldn’t be forgiven, some threats couldn’t be tolerated.

But as he turned to leave the chamber, Otenyo’s accusations echoed through his mind with devastating persistence. The blood contract. The abandoned duties. The families who’d grieved while their king pursued distant goals, even if those goals resulted in their ultimate safety.

The walk back through the palace corridors felt like emerging from a nightmare, but the familiar opulence brought no peace.

Servants moved through the hallways with efficient purpose, their faces bright with contentment.

Guards nodded respectfully as he passed, their loyalty evident in every gesture.

Yet the uncomfortable truth remained. He had prioritized his own desires over his people’s immediate needs.

Not through malice, but through the same fundamental assumption that had corrupted his ancestors—the belief that his goals justified any cost to others.

But then he came back and spent those weeks with Naya in his bedroom, trying to force her to give her heart.

He’d even lied to his people—said she was a ssukkǔrian Omega, so he could give them an answer while protecting her.

This was the clearest example of what Naya had said about him.

Taking everything he’d done with her out of the picture, he’d failed his people.

The families who’d lost loved ones in that magical attack, children scarred by burning stone—they’d trusted him to honor his promises, and he’d gambled with sacred vows because his purposes seemed more important than their security.

Standing in corridors built through generations of Sy dominance, Akoro found himself confronting an uncomfortable parallel.

His family had ruled through absolute control, believing they alone knew what was best for the region.

They’d made unilateral decisions, pursued their own interests while convincing themselves they served a greater good, hidden crucial information behind palace walls.

And he’d done the same. Different methods, identical assumptions.

Even now, the woman that had saved them all remained secret.

His subjects lived in ignorance of the woman whose sacrifice had protected them, the Omega integration that was transforming their region, the partnership that had accomplished more than conquest ever could.

They didn’t know all of the history. The real truths behind the Sy Dynasty.

The realization struck him with painful clarity.

True leadership might not be about the ability to command and control at all.

Maybe it came from something his ancestors had never understood—the courage to trust others with truth, to share power rather than hoard it, to build partnerships instead of demanding submission.

His people deserved honesty about the choices that had shaped their kingdom. They deserved to know about the woman whose sacrifice had saved them, about the king who was finally learning the difference between conquest and service.

The decision crystallized as he reached his chamber doors. Tomorrow, he would call for a public assembly. Not to issue royal proclamations, but to confess his failures and trust his people with truth.

A heaviness weighted down his heart. If they rejected him for it, if they demanded a ruler who was more honest, then perhaps it was time for someone else to wear the crown.

For the first time in his life, Akoro was ready to choose service over conquest, her happiness over his survival, their welfare over his crown.

The decision should have terrified him. Instead, as he watched the sun set over his kingdom, he felt only the dark satisfaction of a man finally ready to burn down the lies, corruption, and deceit that their history was built on for the woman who owned his soul.