Rise of the Lustful Evil Monarch (Re)-Chapter 483: The Eagle Tower

Third Person’s POV

There, blood stained the land, blades clashed without end, and survival depended purely on strength, and that chaotic battlefield was the place where she truly belonged.

As Lady Raven was a true battle junkie at her core.

She thrived in the heat of combat, the rush of danger, and the raw, primal test of power, while she despised political schemes, backroom conspiracies, and the kind of venomous intrigue that festered within institutions like the Sanctum, royal courts, and noble houses.

And there was a single reason behind all this, and it was that hypocrites disgusted her.

She would rather settle matters with steel and lightning than waste time entangled in endless webs of manipulation and deceit.

At that moment, Lord Garuman’s calm, ancient voice echoed once more across the ruined square.

"Deacons... escort your young friend to the Eagle Tower."

His tone was measured, neither harsh nor sympathetic, and simply final.

Heavy footsteps immediately followed his command as six deacons, clad in dark robes, advanced in a disciplined formation and surrounded Ethan from all sides.

Their presence was not overtly threatening, yet their combined aura pressed down like an invisible cage.

The crowd instinctively parted and created a clear path as people stepped back, some with pity, some with disdain, and others with barely concealed satisfaction.

Sensing the inevitability of the situation, Ethan turned slightly toward Virelle, Lucy, and Velcy.

He raised his hand in a subtle gesture and silently told them to step away.

His expression was composed, but his eyes held a flicker of reassurance.

The three girls hesitated at this as their hands clenched and worry lingered on their faces, yet they were no longer naive.

They had just witnessed world-shaking power and life-and-death peril, far beyond their control, and they understood that clinging to Ethan now would only make things worse for him.

With visible reluctance, they slowly stepped back, though their eyes never left him.

Compared to moments earlier, they were calmer as Lady Raven’s intervention and Lord Garuman’s ruling had already shifted the situation from certain death to uncertain confinement.

It was a narrow, fragile reprieve, but it was a reprieve nonetheless.

Ethan did not resist, and not a single word escaped his lips, and not a single movement betrayed defiance.

He simply walked alongside the black-robed deacons as they surrounded him like silent sentinels, their auras heavy and disciplined.

The crowd watched him depart in silence that was soon broken by the hushed whispers and uneven breaths.

Their gazes held a variety of emotions like pity, disdain, and even secret satisfaction, yet among them all, one person stood apart.

It was the Dark Prince Dazon, the one who was supposed to be betrothed to Virelle, who remained eerily still.

His expression was unreadable and as smooth and placid as a frozen lake, even as his lackeys celebrated Ethan’s imprisonment.

Deep within his eyes was a faint, almost imperceptible, sinister glint that flickered like a blade catching light as to him, Ethan was already a dead man.

His emotions towards him were not pity or disdain; it was merely a sense of cold calculation.

Ethan was soon escorted out of the shattered ruins of the castle.

The air outside still smelled of ash, burnt wood, and lingering traces of chaotic mana with scorched trees standing like skeletal remains along their path, their blackened branches clawing toward the sky.

Just as they crossed the devastated outer grounds, the deacons moved in perfect unison.

Crimson, luminous ropes burst forth from their palms like living serpents of light and shot toward Ethan.

Before he could react, they coiled around his wrists and bound him tightly.

In that instant, Ethan felt a strange, oppressive force seep through his body, and he felt his entire network of black mana veins fall silent.

His dark mana became completely unresponsive, as though it was being submerged beneath an impenetrable seal.

Even more shocking was the icy mana stored deep within his body.

And even though it did not flow through his dark mana veins, it was still frozen into dormancy and refused to stir, no matter how much he focused.

Sensing this feeling of being paralysed, a brief flicker of surprise crossed his mind, but his expression remained calm.

The deacons flew into the air and dragged him along effortlessly as if he were nothing more than an object tied to their will.

And even though he was being brought away like this, he felt no pain and no physical discomfort but only an overwhelming sense of awkwardness, like a leashed beast being led away by its handlers.

Still, Ethan did not struggle, and soon, they passed over the charred forest and approached the towering mountain range that encircled the lush realm of the Abyssal Sanctum like a volcanic crown.

As they drew closer, a massive peak came into his view.

It was shaped unmistakably like a colossal eagle with its wings outstretched and its beak opened in a silent, eternal screech.

Seeing it, he instantly deduced it to be the Eagle Tower. 𝗳𝚛𝗲𝕖𝕨𝕖𝗯𝚗𝚘𝕧𝕖𝗹.𝗰𝗼𝕞

Without a word, the deacons flew straight toward the gaping beak-shaped entrance and unceremoniously tossed Ethan inside.

The moment he crossed the threshold, a shimmering oval barrier of pale blue light sprang up behind him and sealed the entrance completely.

At the same time, the luminous ropes binding him loosened and dissolved into motes of red light before vanishing.

Instantly, Ethan landed lightly on his feet and was still as composed as ever.

He turned around just in time to see the black-robed deacons already retreating into the sky, their figures growing smaller and smaller until they disappeared over the horizon.

They had not spoken anything, and not a single one of them spared him another glance.

Meanwhile, in the highest tower of the Abyssal Sanctum...

A small figure sat perched on a wide stone windowsill, her tiny white legs swinging back and forth playfully.

She wore a cute crimson frock that fluttered gently in the breeze, making her look like nothing more than a cheerful ten or eleven year old girl.