Kingdom Bloodline

Chapter 208 The Black Prophet Beyond
The prison cell at the city gate immediately fell silent.

Cohen stared wide-eyed at the resolute prince.

Miranda, however, stared quietly at Raphael's right hand, her expression indifferent.

“What?” Wyman frowned. “This… Your Highness, you mean…”

Rolf, standing behind him, grabbed the attendant's shoulder and shook his head at him.

Thales and Raphael's eyes met in the air, one resolute and the other calm and undisturbed.

Five seconds later, Raphael took a deep breath, his eyes sharpening.

He noticed that Thales had just moved to the corner of the cell without him noticing.

He had it all planned out.

This distance is too far; even if I wanted to suddenly knock him unconscious...

Raphael glanced at Wyatt and Rolf beside him and sighed softly.

"Forgive my bluntness, Your Highness," the young man from the secret service said calmly, "but we are in a dangerous situation now. If we want to talk about drinking and having a heart-to-heart talk, we should wait until we are out of danger."

The lights in the cell flickered slightly.

Thales smiled.

"Afterwards?" The prince gently drew his dagger and said slowly, "After escaping danger, I won't have the chance to know the truth anymore."

"If I don't ask, are you planning to never tell me?"

According to that damned and ridiculous secret society's habit, now is the only time they can be asked to speak, Thales thought silently.

The atmosphere in the room was somewhat heavy and tense.

Raphael frowned slightly: "Prince Thales, you are known throughout the stars for your maturity beyond your years, but your behavior right now is very childish..."

Thales remained indifferent, and as he looked at Raphael's calm expression, he let out a soft chuckle.

"childish?"

“I still remember the letter from Count Gilbert Cassel.”

Upon hearing his father's name, Wyman's expression shifted slightly.

“He told me that the Black Prophet had agreed to his request, and that the Secret Society would handle the matter of the Blood Mage,” Thales said, giving a cold snort, “so I don’t need to worry.”

Cohen glanced at Raphael, who remained silent, and couldn't help but want to speak, but Miranda held his hand down.

Thales sighed.

“Look, if I wholeheartedly believed you were my saviors, entrusted everything to the Secret Society, obediently followed you, and carefree allowed myself to be manipulated,” Thales’s gaze began to turn cold: “that’s what’s called naivety.”

Raphael squinted, lowered his head slightly, and remained silent for a long while.

I understand how you feel.

“But now is not the time, Your Highness,” Raphael looked up, glanced around, and then said quietly, “Your request will also concern the safety of everyone in this room.”

Cohen frowned slightly, but Miranda spoke first.

“No,” the female swordswoman from the Aarond family looked at her former lover and said calmly, “we were in it too, and I also want to know the truth.”

Not only that.

I want to know more about you, Raphael.

The young man from the secret department was slightly taken aback.

Raphael looked back at her calmly, his eyes filled with complex emotions.

“Raphael,” Cohen sighed, “maybe you should be more honest—like last night, if you were willing to explain to us, maybe…”

The guard glanced at the dimly lit cell, sighed, and slowly shook his head.

Thales stood in the corner, nodding slightly. "Believe me, to make a long story short—there's no better time than now."

A sudden surge of irritation welled up in Raphael's heart.

“Are you all crazy? We have to get out of here as soon as possible,” Raphael frowned, glancing around at the people around him, his speech quickening. “They work in shifts every three hours, patrolling every half hour…”

Wyman was startled and quickly pressed himself against the doorway, listening to the sounds outside.

However, Miranda shook her head, interrupting Raphael.

“Anyway, we’re going to break out by surprise—it’s only a matter of time before we run into the enemy,” the girl from the Aarond family said coldly, staring at Raphael. “Instead of meeting them on the way, we should ambush the patrols or shifts here first, and then break out in one fell swoop.”

Raphael's expression grew increasingly grim.

“But since you’ve put it that way, why don’t you hurry up and explain the whole story within half an hour?” The second prince shook his head and said.

"And we don't need to keep dragging this on."

Raphael stared blankly at Thales.

The young man from the secret department took a deep breath.

“Chaman Lumba,” he turned around, his expression serious, his words rapid, “Do you know what will happen to you if you fall back into his hands? Do you know what will happen to the Star Kingdom because of this…”

"Of course!"

Thales raised his head defiantly, looking directly into his red eyes: "And I also know who 'helped' me and that's why I ended up in his hands!"

Raphael was slightly taken aback, while Cohen and Miranda exchanged a glance with different expressions.

“Yes, I may die, and I may be stigmatized and tortured before I die,” the second prince said calmly, “but at least I choose to die knowing the truth, rather than losing my life in confusion under a knife handed to me from behind.”

Raphael clenched his fist slightly.

"Does it matter? Even in this situation, surrounded by powerful enemies," the clerk from the secret service exhaled heavily, his emotions somewhat unstable, "are you still wasting time on such trivial details?"

“Yes, this is very important,” Thales said, his eyes narrowing. “And I’m sure it’s by no means a ‘trivial detail’.”

If Miko is Rumba's collaborator...

"I don't know if my current predicament is also part of your plan."

"I don't even know if following you now will lead me into another trap."

Thales looked at the several faces with different expressions and nodded solemnly and seriously.

“A female friend of mine warned me when dealing with a family dispute to be wary of so-called ‘allies’ who might stab you in the back.” Recalling the past, Thales sighed, feeling a dull ache in a certain part of his neck.

“And one of my royal friends has personally demonstrated this,” Thales said, not at all surprised to see the little rascal flinch slightly, “that ignoring those seemingly insignificant yet crucial details can lead to your unjust death.”

The cell fell silent for a moment.

Raphael looked at him quietly, and after a few seconds, he sighed deeply: "You have quite a few friends."

“Ah, I have a wealth of experience,” Thales said with deep emotion, reflecting on his journey. “I have learned a great deal from each and every one of them.”

The cell fell silent again.

Raphael stared intently into Thales' eyes, his gaze lingering, his brow furrowing.

Finally, as if he had made up his mind, he slowly nodded.

Thales breathed a sigh of relief.

But Raphael's next words made him frown.

“However, this is classified information of the Secret Service, and even if you are a prince, a future king,” Raphael said softly, glancing around at the people around him, “I cannot disclose it to you—or to anyone else.”

Cohen's expression changed, while Miranda sighed.

Thales frowned: "You..."

“So, regarding the relationship between Miko and Rumba,” Raphael spoke again, a half-smile playing on his lips, “I suggest you ask him—it just so happens that I also have some questions to ask him.”

Everyone present was slightly stunned.

"Him?" Thales looked suspicious. "Who are you asking about?"

Only Miranda turned pale, as if she had remembered something.

“Oh,” Raphael glanced around at the people around him, a mysterious expression on his face, “of course it’s that sir.”

He slowly opened his mouth and uttered a name:
Lord Morat Hansen.

The scene fell silent for a second.

A second later, the crowd, having understood the name and realized what was happening, suddenly changed color.

Thales's breath hitched slightly, Cohen's expression froze on his face, Wyman nudged Rolf with a bad look, and even the little rascal covered his mouth.

A few seconds later.

"The Black Prophet?"

Thales steadied his breathing and asked疑惑地问道：“But he wasn’t…”

"No way," Cohen's expression changed drastically as he realized what was happening. He gripped his sword and looked around. "He's right here, in Dragon City?"

Raphael gave a slight twitch at the corner of his mouth, his expression subtle.

Yes, he is here.

Everyone frowned.

“But he was there too,” the young man from the secret service said casually.
"The Black Prophet is everywhere."

After speaking, Raphael ignored the bewildered crowd.

He took a deep breath.

Raphael extended his right hand, palm up, revealing his fair wrist.

His left hand went over his right arm and gripped the sleeve that had just been split in two.

Raphael frowned slightly.

He looked up and gave Miranda a deep look among the crowd.

He seemed somewhat hesitant.

Miranda looked back at him quietly, her eyes first filled with sorrow, then turning into determination.

She nodded slightly to Raphael.

Cohen, who was very familiar with the two, sensed the unusual atmosphere and was slightly taken aback.

Raphael sighed and decisively pulled the sleeve on his right arm back.

He exposed his forearm.

But the moment Raphael pulled up his sleeve, everyone froze.

Raphael's hands were perfect, so white and clean—almost unlike the hands of a swordsman.

But beneath his wrist was something out of place and exceptionally ugly.

It ruins the overall visual appeal.

Below Raphael's right wrist, there was a horrifying, bright red wound with the skin turned outwards—it looked like a burn or scald.

The wound was enormous, winding downwards from the wrist and almost filling half of Raphael's forearm. Even more bizarrely, the wound seemed remarkably regular, like a meaningful pattern.

Miranda closed her eyes tightly and turned her head away, as if she couldn't bear to look anymore.

A sense of doubt welled up in Thales' heart, while the little rascal behind him curiously poked out half his face.

"This, this is..." Cohen involuntarily reached out and grabbed Raphael's hand. He stared in shock at the incredibly ugly scar on Raphael's hand and exclaimed:

"It's a brand!"

The guard looked up abruptly, his face filled with disbelief.

“Wait, this brand in this location, and this deep,” Cohen’s mouth dropped open, his expression horrified, his voice trembling slightly, “I’ve seen it before in the Western Wilderness, on the hands of the prisoners in those bone dungeons…”

"This is one of the most severe disciplinary punishments..."

Upon hearing this, Thales' heart stirred.

Lafayette sighed and pulled away from Cohen: "That's not the point, I need to make contact now..."

But Cohen didn't listen to him. The guard gritted his teeth, grabbed Raphael's other arm, and pulled his sleeve up.

Everyone was stunned once again.

On Raphael's left arm, there was a horrific brand almost identical to the one on his right arm, lying abruptly below his wrist.

The wounds were so deep and greasy that they almost covered the blood vessels.

Rolf felt a jolt in his heart and unconsciously reached out to touch his throat beneath the mask.

That level of injury...

“Your hand, no, no…” Cohen looked at the horrific brand on his friend’s wrist, shaking his head in disbelief, and said in a trembling voice, “Who did this? Who did this?”

Raphael closed his eyes, exhaled deeply through his nose, and frowned slightly.

As if remembered something.

Thales looked up and saw Miranda's pale face and trembling lips.

The female swordswoman pursed her lips tightly, her eyes glazed over as she stared at the horrific wounds on Raphael's hands, her body trembling slightly.

"They...they actually crippled your hand?" Cohen looked at his friend, his eyes filled with shock and anger. He murmured, his face pale.
"You crippled a swordsman's hands?"

Raphael suddenly opened his eyes and flung Cohen away.

"enough!"

Raphael pulled up the sleeve of his left arm, his expression unusually changed, and he angrily rebuked Cohen: "That doesn't matter—I'm fully healed!"

Thales sighed softly to himself: he knew what it was.

That was a unique form of punishment.

He once peeked out from under the window of the fraternity's main building and witnessed the execution of the henchmen—a debt collector who was arrogant and overconfident because he had some power.

The branding iron used to leave this mark is a special type of branding iron. Beyond the branding surface, a thin, raised edge is cast—resembling a stamp, but countless times sharper and more razor-sharp than a stamp's raised edge. When the red-hot iron is pressed into the wrist, it doesn't just leave a burn; the special, protruding, sharp edge burns through the skin and flesh, cutting directly into deep tissues and blood vessels, completely destroying the muscles and tendons that control the fingers.

After execution, the victim's muscles, blood vessels, and even nerves and tendons will suffer irreversible and permanent damage.

These hands were thus ruined, and they would tremble uncontrollably even in daily life.

Thales still remembers the poor fellow who was tortured. He could no longer even lift a bowl and sat on the street every day in a daze, fighting with stray dogs for food with his mouth, waiting for the charity of kind people.

A month later, he collapsed and died on the dark street.

Thales looked up at Raphael with a mixture of surprise and pity.

This guy, did he also suffer that kind of torture?
his hand……

Raphael looked displeased. He gripped his right forearm, staring intently at the ugly brand, his arm trembling slightly as if trying to see a flower bloom on it.

But Thales had a sudden thought.

wrong.

That's a permanent disability, how could it possibly be cured?

Furthermore, if he were subjected to this punishment, he wouldn't even be able to lift a utensil, but Raphael just...

His thoughts were interrupted by Cohen.

"Miranda, you know, don't you?"

Thales turned his head and saw Cohen, who was trying his best to suppress his emotions, pressing Miranda's shoulders and urgently asking questions.

Wyatt, in a panic, grabbed the guard's other arm and tried to pull him back.

"That level of injury...it's simply impossible to heal completely—you realized that when you fought last night!" The guard stared at the silent Miranda, somewhat losing his composure, and roared, "You knew what was going on from the very beginning!"

"Miranda, tell me, Raphael's hands are... who did this?!"

"Secret Code? Or that damned Black Prophet?"

But Miss Arendt simply closed her eyes, her expression sorrowful, shook her head without speaking, and looked pained.

She was completely devoid of the aloof and sharp demeanor of the female swordsman she had previously displayed.

Thales looked at the brand and a sudden realization dawned on him.

He seemed to know the answer.

The brand on Raphael's hand, amidst the greasy, bloody scar, faintly bore a distinctive pattern.

Those were marks left by a specially forged branding blade.

In order to identify the family coats and emblems of important noble families, Thales once painstakingly memorized the Star Kingdom seal book that Gilbert had given him—from the coats of arms to the patterns, to the emblems to the codes, and to the signature seals when writing to the king.

On the brand on Raphael's wrist was a rare engraved ancient script, quite different from modern alphabetic writing, so ancient that it was not even used on sealing wax seals for letters.

That's the letter 'A'.

It represents a noble surname with high prestige.

A noble family that has been passed down from the ancient imperial era to the present day.

An eagle soaring over the northern lands.

Thinking of this, Thales sighed softly.

"Cohen Karabyan, let her go!"

Raphael's voice came through, trembling.

They turned around and were surprised to see Raphael struggling against the wall, his exposed forearm trembling as if he were being tortured.

"We're still in jail!"

Raphael's face contorted, his voice terrifying, surprisingly rough: "Don't make things worse!"

Miranda opened her eyes abruptly upon hearing the sound.

Boom!
She slammed her elbow into Cohen's stomach.

Under the wide-eyed gazes of the others, Cohen took a step back with a bitter expression, while Miranda rushed to Raphael's side, looking bewildered.

"What happened?" Miranda asked, trembling, as she grabbed Raphael, who seemed unwell. "What's wrong?"

Thales squinted; he sensed something was wrong.

“That’s enough, that’s not the point,” Raphael said with a pained expression. “From now on, whatever you see, don’t be alarmed.”

Mutation regeneration.

The next moment, Raphael suddenly convulsed, and the greasy brand on his right forearm, as if it had a life of its own, suddenly arched upwards.

A dark, wavy line appeared along his forearm.

Then, the brand suddenly cracked open!

Yes, it cracked.

Moreover, it is regular, with jagged, serrated cracks appearing from that line!

"Tear... tear..." A rustling sound, like cloth being torn, came from behind.

Everyone except Raphael, who seemed to be enduring the pain, was dumbfounded.

What the hell is this?

If you had to describe it, it would be like a mouth lurking beneath the skin, a mouth without lips but only teeth, suddenly arching up from Raphael's arm, then opening its gaping maw full of sharp teeth and tearing the skin apart!

Thales felt a chill run down his spine.

The "mouth" covered by Raphael's skin opened halfway, revealing its contents.

It was endless darkness, like a black hole.

Nothing can be seen.

This sent a chill down Thales' spine.

The "mouth" seemed to be opening rather slowly, as the process slowed down.

"Quick, block the light," Raphael said, pressing almost his entire weight onto Miranda, his teeth clenched, his face contorted in pain.
"It doesn't like...light..."

Cohen, who had just gotten up from the ground, was startled. He quickly stood up and used his height to block a light that was never going out.

Finally, the terrifying "mouth" that had been parasitizing Raphael was fully unfurled in his hand.

Its jet-black "fangs" pointed outwards, trembling slightly.

It's as if it's breathing.

And right in the center of that "mouth" is still a bottomless black hole whose depths are impossible to discern.

Raphael let out a deep breath, his face covered in cold sweat, as if he had just been freed from torture.

“Okay, Mira…” he forced a smile, “It’s alright now.”

Miranda looked at Raphael with a pained expression, feeling both shocked and heartbroken.

Raphael...

What exactly did you go through...?

Cohen stared in shock, voicing the question on everyone's mind: "What...what the hell is this?"

Thales stared in astonishment at Raphael's forearm, his gaze fixed on the black hole that seemed to be breathing as it expanded and contracted, and then at the dark, sharp teeth clinging to Raphael's flesh. He felt a chill run down his spine.

Just then, a voice that Thales was extremely familiar with came from the eerie black hole, startling everyone.

It was a cold, hoarse, aged, and chilling male voice.

Upon hearing that voice, Thales was reminded of his past memories, and felt the hairs on his body stand on end.

In the silent cell, the voice of Morat Hansen, the Black Prophet and head of the Star Kingdom's secret service, echoed eerily from the darkness beyond Raphael's arm, carrying his distinctive and unsettling tone:
"Tsk tsk, the third through-the-loop communication in five hours... How much has that parasite eaten up this time?"

"An arm?"

Damn it, how did it get to so many words again?
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(End of this chapter)