Supreme BeastTamer: I Can Copy and Upgrade Skills 10x!

A heavy silence fell over the chamber. The faint sound of water dripping from the king's wet skin was the only thing breaking the tension. King Aldric slowly sat up, his muscles tensed as he processed the knight's words.

"Dripping… with blood?" His voice was dangerously quiet.

"Y-Yes, Your Majesty," the knight confirmed, his face pale. "It was left at the castle gates, wrapped in black cloth. The guards dared not open it without your command."

The king stood from the water, droplets cascading down his broad frame as a nearby attendant quickly rushed to drape a silk robe over his shoulders. He tied it loosely and stepped forward, his mind filled with several thoughts.

What could it be? King Aldric knew that this was no mere message—it was a statement. Leaving a bloodied package could only mean one thing: someone was declaring war on him.

Aldric frowned as he considered which of his enemies could have sent such a package. He had only a handful of true adversaries, but none immediately came to mind.

"Bring it to me," he commanded in a sharp tone.

The knights hesitated for a brief moment before two of them turned and hurried to retrieve the package. Within minutes, a large wooden box was carried into the chamber, its bottom already staining the floor with dark red streaks. The stench of iron filled the air, making some of the weaker attendants shift uncomfortably.

The king stepped closer, his eyes locked onto the ominous package. He reached out, gripping the lid, and with a swift motion, flung it open.

Inside was a severed head.

The moment the gruesome sight was revealed, gasps echoed around the chamber. Some attendants turned away, while others stifled cries of shock.

Time seemed to pause.

The king's arms shook, his pupils trembling as his gaze fixated on the lifeless figure inside the box.

It was Prince Ainsworth. His son.

Those dead eyes stared back at him.

"No!!!!" King Aldric's whisper traveled across the chamber as his fists clenched, his nails digging into his skin.

The knights and attendants present dared not move, their heads bowed in fear of the king's reaction. Most of them subtly distanced themselves, while some attempted to slip out of the room to escape the suffocating pressure pouring from Aldric.

Under such an aura, they found it hard to breathe.

"Who." King Aldric's voice was hoarse, almost guttural. "Who did this?"

The knight who had delivered the news hesitated, his throat bobbing as he swallowed his fear. "T-There was a note, Your Majesty."

Aldric didn't speak—he only extended his hand, demanding the evidence. The knight rushed to present the blood-stained parchment, his hands shaking as he held it out. The king snatched it and unfolded it with an almost unnatural calm.

Then he began to read.

"Your Majesty..."

Some minutes later, King Aldric crushed the letter into a ball, his eyes bloodshot.

"So they finally did it," he growled, rising to his feet. The anger and sadness faded from his face, his lips curling into a sharp, humorless smile.

"Ainsworth was a fool..." His eyes glowed as a crushing aura poured from his entire being, slamming into the others. The attendants, mostly maids, collapsed, while the knights struggled to stay on their feet.

"But he was my fool," King Aldric said, walking toward the door. "Nox Cromwell... your loved ones will be the ones to pay for your sin." Explore stories on My Virtual Library Empire

"Someone send a word to Adrian." Aldric eyes flashed. "He must know about this."

---

The Chai Villa was one of the grandest estates in the noble district. Massive white marble pillars held up a luxurious mansion, its golden-trimmed balconies overlooking an enormous courtyard filled with exotic flowers and fountains. Everything about it screamed power and wealth—just like the family that lived inside.

Inside the lavish dining hall, a blue-haired man, Charles Xavier Chai, sat at the head of an extravagant table. A glass of deep red wine rested in his hand, swirling slowly as he watched the golden chandelier lights reflect off its surface.

Seated beside him was a beautiful woman with light green hair. She was Lady Beatrice Chai, the king's sister and his wife. Beatrice radiated elegance; her gown was silk and unwrinkled.

Everything was peaceful. The soft clinking of silverware, the gentle flickering of candlelight, the quiet whispers of servants attending their duties.

Then—

BANG!

The double doors slammed open, making the chandelier above sway slightly. A breathless steward stood at the entrance, his face pale, his hands shaking.

Charles's gaze slowly lifted from his wine, and he said in a sharp tone, "You better have a reason for this."

The steward gulped, his legs trembling. "M-Master… it's about Young Master Brandon."

The room seemed to grow colder. Beatrice's hand, which had been gracefully holding her fork, suddenly froze midair. Charles, however, remained still, his piercing blue eyes narrowing slightly.

"Go on." His voice was dangerously calm.

The steward hesitated, but under the intense stare of his two masters, he had no choice but to speak.

"Y-Young Master Brandon… he's dead."

The words sounded like a thunderclap, and several shocked gasps were heard from the servants at the side.

"What did you say?" Beatrice's eyes widened in disbelief as she jumped to her feet. Her grip on her fork tightened, the silver bending slightly under the pressure. "Repeat what you just said... this must be a joke."

Charles also narrowed his eyes. "Are you sure of this?"

The steward, though terrified, continued, "The academy sent word. H-He was k-killed by a student named Nox Cromwell, the grandson of the Mad Dog."

Beatrice suddenly shot to her feet. "No. No, that's impossible!" Her voice wavered, panic setting in. "Brandon was strong! How could some student—?"

She snatched the parchment from the steward's hands and read through it frantically, her breath growing uneven.

Her son.

Her only child.

Gone.

Her hands shook so violently that the letter slipped from her fingers and fluttered to the ground.

Meanwhile, Charles picked up the letter and read it with a cold, calculating stare. His expression remained unreadable, but the way his fingers gripped the parchment tightly enough to crumple it spoke volumes.

Brandon… his son.

The future of the Chai family.

Dead.

A long silence stretched through the hall. The servants held their breath, sensing the shift in the air.

Then, Charles calmly placed the letter back on the table. He took another sip of wine, but this time, it did nothing to quench the growing rage bubbling beneath the surface.

Beatrice's breathing was ragged. "Charles… we can't let this go."

Charles smirked, but there was no humor in it. Only cold, seething anger. "Of course we won't let it go," he said in a dark tone. "Even if I have to spend the last of my wealth, I'll make sure I hunt him down and kill everyone that has any relation to him!"

---

As the Royal family and the Chai household prepared to attack the Cromwells, a lone cloaked figure stood atop a towering building, overlooking the entire capital and the lands beyond its walls.

The figure's cloak, emblazoned with the number II, billowed in the wind as he gazed upon the city. In his hand, he held a magical signal orb.

"It's time," the second-in-command of the Order of the Flaming Rose murmured, slowly raising the orb toward the sky.

***

This Bonus Chapter was sponsored by Kyle_Hilbert. Thank you for the castle!