My Family in the Novel?

Chapter 273: Holy war 11

Duke Frederick Tellus, renowned as the grand duke of the empire and the emperor's trusted right hand, carried a plethora of titles and accolades. He was not only known as the Sword of the Empire and the Giver of Justice but also held the esteemed nickname of Guardian—a moniker deeply ingrained within the Tellus family legacy.

The Tellus name bore more weight than mere titles; it symbolized a lineage dedicated to safeguarding the realm. Throughout generations, the Tellus family had cultivated a reputation for producing exceptional military and defensive personnel, their ancestral home serving as a breeding ground for knights and warriors who pledged their loyalty to the empire.

As the patriarch and head of the Tellus household, Duke Frederick shouldered the weight of this legacy—a duty that transcended mere honor and grace. It was a burden he bore with pride, knowing that the safety and security of the empire rested, in part, upon his family's shoulders.

Yet, despite his esteemed position and the weight of his responsibilities, Duke Frederick now lay broken and twisted, his once formidable form reduced to a mere plaything for the demons that ravaged the battlefield. With each crunch of bone and sinew, his legacy crumbled, overshadowed by the merciless onslaught of darkness that threatened to engulf the empire.

The duke grappled with the disorienting chaos unfolding around him, struggling to make sense of the nightmare that had engulfed him. Wasn't everything supposed to proceed according to plan? Wasn't his son, the hero, meant to be the savior of the world? How had everything spiraled so out of control?

"Are you awake now, duke?" The gigantic demon that had torn off his arm chuckled darkly, amusement dancing in its sinister gaze. "I must say, your limbs are quite robust for someone of such a slight build. How did you manage that, duke? Your bones are as dense and unyielding as solid metal. It's almost hard to believe you were once human. Hahaha..."

The duke remained silent, ignoring the demon's taunts as he scanned his surroundings, searching desperately for any sign of his daughter, Aria.

"If you're worried about your daughter, don't be," the demon interjected, its voice dripping with malice. "Trust me, she's in a safer place than you. Kekeke..."

A small sigh of relief escaped the duke's lips, his tension momentarily easing at the assurance of Aria's safety. However, his respite was short-lived as his gaze returned to the looming demon before him. It was clear that the creature had no intention of killing him—at least not yet. The duke could only hope that this temporary reprieve would provide him with an opportunity to devise a plan and, perhaps, turn the tide of the unfolding catastrophe.

The duke's stomach churned at the demon's vile words, his heart heavy with guilt and anguish. How could he ever forget the agonized screams of his men, the betrayal etched upon their faces as they fell to the merciless onslaught of the demons? The memory haunted him like a specter, a constant reminder of the choices he had been forced to make in the face of unspeakable horror.

"So, how do you feel, duke, choosing your own daughter over your men?" The demon's voice dripped with sadistic glee, relishing in the duke's torment. "Kekekeke... Do you remember the looks of betrayal they had, their bloody, gut-wrenching screams as I tore them apart? And even the curses they hurled at you and your daughter... If their souls were to descend into hell right now, they would surely become vengeful demons, haunting you back here in the mortal world. Kekekeke..."

The duke's fists clenched in impotent rage, his jaw set in a grim line as he struggled to contain the flood of emotions threatening to overwhelm him. He had made the agonizing choice to prioritize his daughter's safety over the lives of his men—a decision that weighed heavily upon his soul. The thought of their tortured spirits seeking revenge upon him filled him with a cold dread, a gnawing fear that consumed him from within.

The duke's voice trembled with a mixture of confusion and resignation as he addressed the demon before him. "Why am I still alive?" he questioned, his gaze unwavering despite the overwhelming despair that threatened to consume him.

Though he already harbored a grim understanding of his precarious situation, the duke couldn't help but wonder why he had been spared. In a world ravaged by chaos and destruction, where survival was measured in fleeting moments and desperate acts of defiance, his continued existence seemed both illogical and inconsequential.

As he pondered the possible reasons behind his unexpected reprieve, the duke couldn't shake the feeling of abandonment that gnawed at his soul. In the wake of his defeat, he knew that the empire would have already taken measures to fortify its central capital, sealing themselves off from the encroaching threat of the demons. Any hope of using him as leverage to negotiate with the empire was futile; they would abandon him without a second thought, sacrificing him to ensure their own survival.

In the face of such cold indifference, the duke realized that he was nothing more than a forgotten relic of a bygone era, a relic that no longer held any value in a world consumed by fear and desperation. If his survival meant nothing to those he once served, then what purpose did he serve in this new, shattered reality?

The demon's casual response elicited a bitter laugh from the duke's lips, his amusement tinged with a bitter irony. "Hm~ you sure ask the most useless questions, duke... You're alive because it's fun, there's just nothing more to it," the demon remarked with a nonchalant shrug.

Despite the gravity of his situation, the duke couldn't help but find a twisted sense of humor in the demon's candid admission. What had he expected, after all? In the eyes of these creatures of darkness, there was no grand scheme or intricate plot—only the pursuit of amusement at the expense of others.

It was a sobering realization for the duke, a reminder of the true nature of his enemies. In the end, demons were whimsical and tyrannical beings, driven solely by their own desires and impulses. To them, the lives of mortals were little more than playthings, to be toyed with and discarded at their leisure.

As he contemplated his predicament, the duke couldn't help but wonder how long he had been unconscious. Judging by the continued chaos of the battlefield around him, it couldn't have been more than a few hours at most. Yet, in that short span of time, his world had been irrevocably shattered, his once-proud stature reduced to that of a mere pawn in a game of cosmic proportions.

A dry, humorless laugh escaped the duke's lips as he surveyed the devastation around him. To think that he, the revered Sword of the Empire, had been brought low in such a manner—it was a bitter irony that he could scarcely comprehend. But in the face of such overwhelming despair, all he could do was laugh at the absurdity of his plight, a bitter reminder of the fickle whims of fate.

"You shouldn't move too much, Duke. Although I did spare you from certain death, your injuries haven't healed yet," Kazal cautioned, his voice laced with a hint of malice.

"You talk like it would matter whether I'm dead or not," the duke retorted bitterly, his tone tinged with resignation.

"You're right, but if you die just now, then I will take your daughter for m—"

"What are you going to do to Lady Lilliana, hmm, Kazal?" Before Kazal could respond, another demon slid in, grabbing him by the throat with tentacles of hair that threatened to cut him off mid-sentence.

"Geez, I was only—"

"Only what?" The newcomer's voice was cold and authoritative, her grip unyielding as she held Kazal in place.

"Tsk, why are you here?" Kazal managed to choke out, his tone resentful.

"The lord has asked for the duke," the demonic lady replied tersely, her gaze unwavering.

"So that weird energy just now really was our lord, huh? What timing. Did you already inform the princess?" Kazal's tone was begrudging, but there was an underlying note of deference.

"Yes, since you already had your fun, I'll be taking him away, okay?" The newcomer's tone brooked no argument, her authority unquestionable.

"Sure, sure. And please, give my regards to the lord for me," Kazal replied, his voice tinged with bitterness as he begrudgingly released his grip on the duke.

"Hmm? Why don't you do it yourself?" Kazal's voice was laced with mockery as he glanced at the demonic lady behind him.

"Nah, I'll die the moment I go there. I heard the lord is sensitive when it comes to his woman," the newcomer replied, her tone casual despite the gravity of the situation.

"So you were aware of that fact and you still went and almost said what you did," Kazal remarked, his amusement evident in his tone.

"Well, I wanted to have some fun, kekeke," the newcomer chuckled, seemingly unfazed by the potential consequences of her actions.

"I don't know if eternal death is fun, though," Kazal retorted, a hint of caution in his voice.

"Kekeke, that's true. Anyway, take him," the gigantic demon interjected, using telekinesis to toss the duke into the newcomer's arms.

Confused by all the theatrics unfolding around him, the duke couldn't help but stifle a scream of pain as he felt the corruption from the demonic lady's hands seep into his wounds.

"Ah, I'm sorry about that, Duke. Please hold still, okay?" the demonic lady apologized, her tentacle-like hair mimicking a gesture of apology as she tended to his injuries.