Depraved Noble: Forced To Live The Debaucherous Life Of An Evil Noble!-Chapter 113: How Are You Alive?!

Rodrick's eyes widened in terror, his breath coming in shallow, ragged gasps as he stared at the severed head in his hands.

Those glowing eyes, that faint, taunting smile—it was too much.

So, with a scream that tore from his chest, he hurled the head with all his strength, sending it flying across the room.

Thud!~

The head struck the wall with a dull thud, bounced once, then rolled across the floor, leaving a faint smear of blood in its wake and finally came to a stop near the desk, and to Rodrick's horror, it spoke again.

"Ow, that hurts!" Cassius's voice said, laced with mock indignation as the head tilted slightly, its gaze locking onto Rodrick once more. "How could you throw me like that, Father? That's no way to treat your own son." The head rolled a little further, settling upright, its smile widening as it stared at him, unblinking.

Rodrick stumbled back, his boots slipping in the blood-soaked rug as his hands trembling uncontrollably, while Wayne let out a strangled whimper, his knees buckling once again as he sank to the floor, his pale face a mask of pure, unadulterated fear.

"How...How can you speak?!" Rodrick shouted, his voice cracking with panic as he pointed a shaking finger at the head. "How are you alive?! I slashed you—I cut you up! I took your head off with my own hands!"

"...This is impossible—impossible!"

And in response the head chuckled a low, rolling sound that sent chills racing down their spines.

"Oh, I'm very much alive, Father." Cassius said, his tone dripping with joy as he watched Rodrick squirm around in horror. "Like you told me over and over again I'm a demon, a spawned devil straight from the pit. So, did you really think a little thing like cutting off my head would kill me?"

"...That's not how it works with my kind."

His eyes glinted, the mischief in them sharpening as he continued.

"And honestly, I should thank you. You've done me a favor. By killing me—well, 'killing' me—you've fulfilled the sacred vow you've made with Julie. My head's been served to you, just as it needed to be and the Sacred Guard is free now, their curse lifted."

"...So from here on out, you've got nothing to do with them and just like I said, I've kept my promise and saved them all."

Rodrick's breath stopped, his mind reeling as the implications sank in. "You...You planned this?" He rasped, his voice barely above a whisper, his face twisting with fright and horror. "You let me do this...To save them?"

Cassius's head grinned, a wide, toothy smile that looked almost cheerful despite the gore. "Of course I did, as I told you I keep my promises—unlike some people." He said simply. "But, you know, I don't really like being on the floor for too long...It's a bit dirty down here, and I'm not one for wallowing in filth."

Before Rodrick could process his words, a faint rustling sound drew their attention.

And to his utter horror, Cassius's headless body—the mangled, blood-soaked heap that had collapsed in a pool of crimson—twitched.

Then, slowly, impossibly, it began to move.

Rodrick let out a guttural yell, staggering back as the corpse pushed itself upright, its arms flexing as if waking from a nap. Wayne's also backed away, a muffled scream escaping his mouth as the body rose to its feet, its chest a ruin of slashed flesh and exposed bone, yet somehow animated, alive.

The headless figure then took a slow, deliberate step forward, its movements jerky but purposeful, blood dripping from its wounds with every motion and walked towards its own head.

It then finally stopped beside Cassius's head, and then bent down, its hands reaching out with an eerie precision as it's fingers closed around the severed head. It then lifted it gently, almost reverently, as if it were a lost hat rather than a decapitated skull and placed his head on top of his neck where it belonged.

Cassius's voice hummed faintly as head was fitted back on top. "Much better." He said casually, even as the grotesque reunion unfolded and the body pressed the head firmly against its neck, aligning it with the jagged stump where it had been severed.

Blood oozed from the seam, but the head stayed in place, held tight by the body's grip. Cassius then rotated his neck or what was left of them—testing the fit, then nodded slightly.

"That'll do for now." He said, his voice clear and whole once more, as if the butchery had never happened. "Not perfect, but I can fix it up later."

Rodrick's hands clawed at the floor, his breath coming in short, panicked bursts as he stared up at the figure—whole again, or close enough, standing tall despite the gaping wounds and the blood still trickling down his chest.

"You...You're not human." He stammered, his voice shaking with a terror so deep it threatened to swallow him whole. "You can't be you're a monster—a devil!"

Cassius tilted his head—or rather, adjusted it slightly, as it wobbled a bit on its makeshift perch—and flashed a grin, his eyes glowing brighter than ever. "Took you long enough to figure that out." He said, his tone light, almost teasing.

"Oh, and by the way, Father." He suddenly said, his voice smooth and edged with a dark glee. "You really should've figured this out by now but any little fantasies you've been clinging to about killing me?...They're dust. Gone."

"...You've seen it with your own eyes, haven't you? I mean, come on—I let you slash me to ribbons, carve me up like a roast, take my head off, and here I am, chatting away like it's nothing..."

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"...That should be more then enough to make you understand that you can't kill me. It's not possible. Not with a sword, not with an army, not with anything you've got in that shriveled-up heart of yours."

Rodrick's hands trembled against the desk, his breath shallow and ragged. The truth of it—the sheer, undeniable reality clawed at his mind, leaving him dizzy with dread. Wayne, still crumpled on the floor, also let out a faint, broken sob, his eyes darting to Cassius as if hoping this was all some twisted dream they could wake from.

But Cassius proved that it wasn't a dream by taking a step closer, his eyes flaring brighter, his voice dropping into a low, deliberate cadence that seemed to sink into the very walls as he continued saying,

"And that means, from this moment on, there's nothing—absolutely nothing that can stop me. I'll move forward, take whatever I want, whenever I feel like it."

"...Your life? I could snuff it out with a flick of my wrist if I fancied it."

"...Your estate? It's mine to claim whenever I get bored."

"Your family—everything and everyone you love?"

Не paused, letting the words hang like a noose tightening around Rodrick's neck, his smile stretching into something cold and inevitable.

"...I'll just rip them apart, piece by piece, limb from bloody limb, and toss their corpses right at your feet if I wanted to. And I'll make sure you're looking when I do it, Father—right in your face, so you can't miss a single scream, a single drop of blood."

Rodrick's stomach churned, his vision swimming as the image took root—his estate in flames, his sons reduced to mangled heaps, his legacy shattered and thrown back at him like a cruel taunt.

The thought made his chest heave, a strangled sound escaping his throat as he stared at the monster he'd created, the devil he'd birthed from his own hatred.

He'd thought he'd won, thought he'd slain the beast, but instead, he'd unleashed something far worse a force that mocked his every effort, his every belief.

But then, as if a switch had flipped, Cassius's expression softened. The cruel edge faded, replaced by a gentle, almost wistful look that seemed jarringly out of place on his blood—drenched face.

He tilted his head, his tone shifting to something softer, almost kind.

"But don't worry too much, Father." He said, his voice carrying a strange warmth that made Rodrick's skin crawl even more. "I'm not going to kill you. Not now, not ever, probably. Even after all this time—after you've wanted me dead since the day I drew breath, after you tried to bury me in that crib and again tonight—I won't take your life."

"...See, unlike you, I've got a merciful streak. I can forgive your sins, let them slide off me like water off a blade. I'm not here to end you."

Rodrick's breath caught, his eyes narrowing as he searched Cassius's face for the trap, the lie.

"You...You won't?" He croaked, his voice rough and uncertain, barely audible over Wayne's quiet whimpers. "After everything...You're sparing me?"

Cassius chuckled, a low, rumbling sound that was almost fond, though it still carried that faint, unsettling edge.

"Sparing you, sure." He said, shrugging as if it were no big deal, his head wobbling slightly with the motion. "But don't get it twisted—I'm not letting you off the hook completely. I mean, come on, Father, you don't deserve that kind of grace after all you've pulled over the years."

"...No, I've got something else in mind—a punishment, let's say." He said as he envisioned his plans for the future.

"From now on, you'll stay the Patriarch of the Holyfield family, but you'll be a dummy, a figurehead, a puppet on a string. Because here's the thing: you're a rotten father—tried to kill your own newborn son, abandoned your knights, all that ugliness.

"...But as a Patriarch? I've got to hand it to you, you've been damn near brilliant. Kept this estate humming along, treated most of your people fairly, and built a prosperity that's the envy of half the continent. I admire that, honestly. You've got a knack for it."

Rodrick's jaw clenched, a flicker of pride warring with the growing dread in his chest as he tried to process Cassius's words. "What are you playing at?" He demanded, his voice trembling with a mix of fear and defiance. "You're...leaving me in charge? After all this?"

"Sort of." Cassius said with a lazy grin, brushing a smear of blood from his chest like it was a stray crumb. "I don't want the hassle, you see all that tedious nonsense like managing an estate, collecting taxes, kissing up to the king...That's your gig."

"You can keep the title, the desk, the headaches. I'll let you run the show, keep things ticking over...But me?"

His grin widened, a glint of something darker creeping into his eyes as he leaned in closer.

"I'm going to do whatever I damn well please, right here in your precious little kingdom. And I don't give a rat's ass how it tarnishes the Holyfield name—oh, I know how much that noble, principled legacy means to you. It's your pride, your whole world."

"...That's why it's going to be so sweet watching it unravel, thread by thread."

Rodrick's blood ran cold, his hands tightening on the desk as the full weight of Cassius's intent hit him.

The Holyfield name—his honor, his life's work, the one thing he'd clung to through every betrayal and loss was what he'd fought to preserve above all else.

To see it dragged through the muck by this devil, to watch it crumble under his son's reckless whims...It was a torment worse than any blade.

"Y-You can't do that." He rasped, his voice rising in a desperate plea. "The name it's all I have left! You wouldn't—"

"Oh, I would." Cassius cut in, his tone sharp and gleeful now, his eyes glinting with a wicked light. "And there's more. I was thinking about it, and something came to mind—something really special."

His smile twisted, morphing into something lewd and predatory, as if he'd just recalled a particularly delicious secret.

He licked his lips, a faint smear of blood staining his teeth as he leaned forward, his voice dropping into a sultry whisper.

"Your two wives—those lovely ladies who stepped in after Mother and your two daughters-in-law?...Word is, they're some of the most beautiful women on the continent. Real treasures, sought after by every noble, every prince, every drooling suitor from here to the eastern shores. All that nobility, elegance, grace—everyone wants a piece of them, don't they?"

Rodrick's stomach lurched, a sickening wave of dread washing over him as he caught the lascivious glint in Cassius's eye.

"What...What are you saying?"

He stammered, his voice shaking with rage and terror, his hands clenching into fists. Wayne also lifted his head, his tear-streaked face paling further as he sensed the dark turn in Cassius's words.

Cassius straightened up, his lewd smile stretching wider, his voice dripping with a twisted delight. "I'm saying, Father, that to punish you really punish you—I'm going to steal them. Right out from under your nose, right in front of your eyes."

"...I'll take your wives, your daughters-in-laws, and I'll devour them whole, completely—until there's nothing left of them but me in their minds."

"I'll twist them, break them, turn them into my own little dolls—pretty, obedient things that'll do anything I say, anything I want, whenever I snap my fingers."

"...And you'll watch it all happen, step by step, helpless as a baby and you won't be able to lift a finger to stop me—not a damn thing."

Rodrick's heart seized, his breath coming in short, panicked gasps as the full horror of Cassius's threat sank in.

"No—no, you can't!" He roared, lurching forward as if he could physically stop the words from taking root. "Not them—not my wives, my sons' wives! They're my family—you monster, you wouldn't dare touch them! I'll...I'll kill you first!"

Cassius laughed a sharp, barking sound that echoed through the study, cutting through Rodrick's outburst like a knife.

"Kill me?" He said, his tone mocking as he spread his arms wide, his mangled chest glistening with fresh blood. "We've been over that, Father...You can't...And I will. I'll take them, ruin them, make them mine, and you'll just have to sit there and watch."

"...Your precious women, your noble lineage—gone, turned into my playthings. That's your punishment so live with it."

Rodrick sank back, his legs giving out as he slumped against the desk, his hands trembling uncontrollably.

The women of his family—his wives with their gentle strength and quiet dignity; his daughters-in-laws, radiant and poised, the pride of his sons—stolen away, corrupted, twisted into something unrecognizable by this devil.

The thought clawed at his mind, tearing at his sanity as images flashed before him: their graceful figures kneeling at Cassius's feet, their eyes empty, their voices calling his name instead of their husbands.

The Holyfield name, once a beacon of honor, would be a laughingstock, a stain on every tongue, all because of the monster he'd created.