Unholy Player-Chapter 192: Meeting with Kharom

"Lord Adyr."

As he neared the towering double doors of the grand dining hall, the two knights stationed at the entrance straightened and saluted with visible reverence.

He returned the gesture with a slight nod, his tone as detached as ever.

"Let me in."

Though it was evident that a significant meeting was taking place inside, the knights didn’t hesitate. They treated his words as an order and moved immediately, opening the heavy doors with smooth, unspoken obedience.

As the grand doors parted and the scene within came into view, a faint smile touched Adyr’s lips.

The dining hall was brightly lit, its wide interior pristine and stately. At the center stood a long, grand table heavy with untouched dishes and silverware. Seated at one end was Orven Draven, his posture stiff, his face drawn tight with tension. Beside him sat Vesha, equally composed yet visibly uneasy. Neither had touched the food before them.

At the opposite end of the table sat a single figure, eating voraciously. He tore through dish after dish without pause, while a stream of maids rushed to keep his plates full, barely able to keep up.

His appearance left no doubt. Pale, almost ghostly skin, eyes as black as pitch, and the dark, scaled patterns crawling up from his neck to the edges of his ears. Clearly an Umbraen—and not a common one.

Adyr’s guess had been correct. It was Kharom.

Apparently, while he continued his stroll through the market district, Kharom had left early and made this mansion his first stop. He wasn’t accompanied by any of his usual entourage—he was alone. But that wasn’t the only unusual detail.

Normally, when a foreigner—especially a practitioner considered an enemy—entered the Velari Kingdom, the first to greet them would be a kingdom practitioner: either Liora or the lowest-ranked Malrik. Yet, curiously, no one was hosting Kharom in the room besides Orven and Vesha.

There were two possible explanations. Either all the practitioners, including Rank 4 Liora Virell, were occupied with other matters and hadn’t noticed Kharom’s arrival, or they had deliberately ignored him because they did not see him as a direct threat.

Of course, Adyr considered a third possibility—that they were watching him secretly, without revealing themselves.

Though Adyr currently owned no personal property in the kingdom to truly call his own, the Draven Mansion was regarded as his temporary territory.

Out of respect for this, those practitioners had likely refrained from interfering with the guest in his domain, choosing instead to observe quietly and wait for Adyr’s return.

Adyr sensed no other presence around, but that was not unusual. Even Rank 3 practitioners like Mirela and Lucen, let alone Rank 4 Liora, could easily remain hidden if they wished to avoid detection.

With the sudden opening of the doors, the people inside were momentarily startled. But the moment Vesha and Orven saw who had entered, a visible wave of relief passed over them.

"Lord," they said in unison, rising to their feet.

Hosting someone like Kharom—a powerful practitioner exuding a suffocating darkness—had clearly worn them down. As mere mortals, they weren’t accustomed to entertaining practitioners to begin with. And this particular guest, with his identity and background, only amplified the pressure they had been under.

But now, with Adyr’s arrival, the balance shifted. The tension that had been slowly crushing them seemed to lift all at once.

"I wasn’t aware we were expecting company," Adyr said with a faint smile, walking in like the rightful master of the place.

"We weren’t informed either," Orven replied apologetically, then added with a formal nod, "This is Lord Kharom of the Umbraen Kingdom."

His tone was respectful, his posture appropriately deferential—but the unease and thinly veiled disdain in his voice were impossible to miss.

"Hello," Adyr said casually, barely acknowledging Kharom before walking over and taking a seat—without hesitation—on Orven’s chair.

Orven didn’t object. In fact, a quiet relief settled over his expression. Adyr’s gesture was more than dominance; it was the silent assumption of responsibility, relieving Orven of the burden of hosting.

Without delay, he signaled the maids to prepare a new setting for Adyr. Then he and Vesha quietly took their seats on either side of him.

Vesha, who had looked tense and unsettled moments earlier, finally seemed at ease. She reached for her fork and began eating from the plate she hadn’t touched since the meal began.

"Oh? And who might you be?"

Kharom didn’t bother to lift his head. He continued eating without pause, only glancing at the newcomer from the corner of his eye before returning to his plate. There wasn’t a trace of respect or interest in his tone.

Adyr didn’t seem the least bit bothered. He held his calm smile and answered in a composed tone.

"I’m Adyr. I’ve been living here for a while now."

That name made Kharom pause. This time, he raised his head and studied Adyr more carefully. One brow lifted in recognition.

"Adyr? So you’re the one my grandfather mentioned."

His pitch-black eyes scanned Adyr like they were dissecting every detail.

"My grandfather rarely talks about anyone below his rank. You must’ve done something to catch his attention. You know who he is, right? Dragon Rider Sevrak," he added, his voice laced with arrogance.

"I’m honored," Adyr replied with a chuckle, casually glancing over the dishes set before him. He picked up a fork and began eating without a rush, without tension.

Kharom narrowed his eyes. He had deliberately invoked his grandfather’s name to assert dominance, to make his presence heavier at the table. But the reaction he expected never came.

"You do know who he is, don’t you?" He asked, this time with a flicker of doubt. Either the man across from him was ignorant... or dangerously unfazed.

Adyr continued eating, calm and graceful, then replied between bites.

"Yeah, I’ve met him before. He’s the one who rides that giant black dragon, right?"

He said it without awe, without admiration—like it was just another passing fact.

It wasn’t just Kharom—everyone in the room, even the maids, seemed surprised by Adyr’s composure. After all, the man being referenced was practically a god in this region.

Only Vesha looked entirely at ease. In fact, a subtle, playful smile had formed on her lips.

Kharom, clearly unused to seeing anyone remain this calm after hearing his grandfather’s name, let a hint of irritation slip into his voice.

"I heard you’re quite young. Maybe your ignorance comes from that."

"Maybe," Adyr replied, the faintest hint of mockery in his tone.

He glanced sideways at Kharom, who was clearly unsure how to react to this kind of treatment. Adyr had to suppress the urge to laugh.

Kharom might have been nearing forty, but his demeanor didn’t reflect the maturity one might expect from someone his age, at least not by Earth’s standards. His personality revealed far more about his race and the way he’d been raised than his years.

He was a Rank 2 practitioner, undoubtedly talented and intelligent. But socially? He was underdeveloped. A secluded young master raised in privilege, fed with a silver spoon, and shielded in controlled environments. Most of his life had likely been spent honing talents or acquiring new ones under safe, supervised conditions. He might have reached his thirties, but the wisdom and insight expected from that age simply weren’t there.

By contrast, Adyr—seated calmly at the table—radiated a quiet, composed maturity. It was immediately clear who the truly grounded one was.

And Kharom felt it too. The loss of control in a situation he thought he would dominate was unfamiliar, and his poor social instincts were quickly turning him into a victim of his own unraveling composure.