Read Novel Full Chapter 692: you
Chapter 692: you
"How dare you?!"
Several voices rang out at once as a group of men in black burst out from the shadows.
Despite their restrained presence, each one radiated the unmistakable intensity of a Rank 2 creature.
These were the shadow guards of the royal family.
The sudden appearance of the men in black sent another ripple of tension through the hall.
Everyone knew who they were.
The Shadow Guards.
According to rumours, they were children taken young and trained in isolation, raised without a family name, without affection, without identity beyond service.
Their bodies were tempered through brutal methods, their emotions were carved away and their loyalty was shaped into something absolute.
They were not naturally strong.
Their strength came from forbidden methods that forcibly boosted their power at the cost of their lifespan.
The kingdom called it a noble sacrifice.
The Shadow Guards called it their purpose.
Every royal member received a number of them of varying strength based on status.
The King held the strongest group.
The Great Princess held a unit second only to his.
The Crown Prince had a single squad.
The various princes held smaller numbers depending on rank and favor.
Even the Seventh and Ninth Princes had their personal guards hidden in the shadows.
Tonight, all of them seemed to respond at once to Michael’s words.
The dozen men in black stood between him and the platform in a protective, predatory formation.
Their hands rested lightly on their weapons.
Their aura flared just enough to show intent.
Arianne’s face went pale.
Seria’s legs trembled.
Dozens of nobles looked away, afraid to meet anyone’s gaze.
Michael’s eyes swept over the Shadow Guards.
The nearest guard stepped forward, voice cold.
"You dare insult the royal bloodline in the presence of Their Highnesses. Stand down and await judgment."
Michael’s brows lowered a fraction.
A hall full of nobles and princes staring at him like he was an animal.
A prince demanding the name of a father he never knew.
He had really reached the limit of what he could tolerate from this place.
Princess Priscilla raised her hand slowly.
"Enough," she said.
The shadows froze.
The Great Princess did not raise her voice, but her authority pressed over the hall like a steady tide.
She turned her gaze toward Michael.
"Sir Mic," she said, "I asked you to wait."
Her eyes flicked to the Shadow Guards, then back to him.
"You will not be harmed tonight."
Michael held her gaze for a few seconds before speaking.
"I appreciate your concern, Your Highness," he said, voice calm and steady. "But honestly, there is no one here who could hurt me."
The hall froze again.
Not a breath moved.
This time, even the Second Prince’s expression shifted.
His usually gentle gaze cooled.
Inside he began to feel cold toward Michael at the sheer audacity of those words spoken in front of nearly the entire royal bloodline.
A few nobles nearly choked.
Some stared in horror.
Others in disbelief.
Arrogant.
Too arrogant.
Unrealistically arrogant.
Even if it were true, one did not say such things in the royal palace.
And beneath it all, a quieter thought echoed through the hall.
He even said it after the Great Princess personally intervened.
Did he not consider her face at all.
The Shadow Guards heard the words as well.
Rage flickered across several of their gazes.
Their masks hid their expressions, but their killing intent rose like a blade being unsheathed.
One guard shifted his leg forward.
Another tightened his grip on his weapon.
A third lowered his center of gravity.
All of them moved at once.
Or rather, they tried to.
None of them managed to take even a single step.
A suffocating pressure pressed down on their limbs.
Their muscles locked.
Their feet refused to lift from the floor.
It was as if invisible chains bound them in place.
A few nobles gasped.
Most did not even understand what had happened.
But the princes did.
The Second Prince’s eyes widened a fraction.
The Seventh and Ninth Princes lost their earlier amusement.
The Tenth Prince’s pupils tightened like a beast scenting danger.
And Michael simply looked at the frozen Shadow Guards with a mild expression, as if wondering why they had even tried.
Of course, Michael was the reason the Shadow Guards could not take a step.
While he had spent the last months searching for the perfect law to cultivate, he had not neglected the rest of his growth.
He had trained his magic.
Studied spells.
Practiced forms.
Improved his knowledge.
And, most importantly, he had harvested skills from his undead whenever something caught his interest.
One of those skills came from Lucky.
Lucky’s thin but undeniable dragon bloodline carried a primal instinctive skill, a form of intimidation that dragons used against lesser creatures.
Michael had copied it.
What the Shadow Guards felt was not killing intent.
It was not mana pressure.
It was a command buried deep inside their survival instincts.
Do not move.
A command their bodies obeyed before their minds could resist.
Even Princess Priscilla’s eyes sharpened slightly.
The royal hall remained frozen, every noble trapped between fear and disbelief.
The princes were no different.
The Ninth Prince, who had been the loudest only moments ago, now looked as if his throat had turned dry.
The Seventh Prince’s amusement disappeared completely.
The Tenth Prince’s beast-like pupils narrowed to thin slits, all carelessness gone.
And the Second Prince stared at Michael in quiet shock.
Michael stood there casually, almost bored, while a dozen Grand Stage Shadow Guards were reduced to motionless statues.
Only Princess Priscilla kept her composure, although even she now watched Michael with a new, calculating light.
Michael turned again and began walking toward the doors.
The Shadow Guards remained frozen behind him.
Everyone else stared, too shocked to breathe, when the Great Princess’s voice echoed once more.
"Sir Mic."
Her tone was composed but sharper than before.
"I can understand your frustration, but it is not untrue that you insulted the royal family tonight. It was unprovoked."
The hall stirred.
A few nobles nodded slightly.
Others wondered if she was simply trying to save face for her nephews.
Michael paused.
He did not keep walking.
Instead, he turned fully toward her, no longer hiding the cold edge in his eyes.
"Unprovoked?" he asked quietly.
Princess Priscilla met his gaze without flinching.
"Yes. You spoke too sharply. Even if you felt wronged, your words were—"
"Does that mean you agree with everything he said?"
He did not wait for her to finish.
He did not bother saying "the Tenth Prince."
He simply raised his hand and pointed at the man in question.
At the prince who started the insult.
At the beast-eyed royal who had prodded him first.
At the man who believed Michael’s worth could be measured by the father he never knew.
"Do you agree with everything he said?" Michael asked. His voice was calm, clear and mercilessly direct.
The hall trembled.
Nobles inhaled sharply.
Several nearly fainted.
The Tenth Prince’s expression darkened, something feral flashing in his gaze.
Even the Second Prince frowned.
Princess Priscilla did not answer right away.
She looked once toward the Tenth Prince, then back to Michael.
"No," she said at last. "I do not agree with everything he said. His words could have been chosen better."
The Tenth Prince’s jaw tightened.
Several nobles lowered their heads, afraid to be caught watching him.
The coldness in Michael’s eyes faded slightly.
He released a quiet breath and gave a small shake of his head.
That answer told him enough.
The princess did not share the Tenth Prince’s view, but she also did not see this matter the same way Michael did.
To her, it was a problem of etiquette, of how things should be said in public.
To him, it was far more than that.
He did not blame her.
Background shaped people.
She had been born at the peak of the kingdom, raised above the clouds of ordinary life.
Even if she was better than most, even if she saw further than her nephews, she still stood on a different ground than the people below.
One could not expect someone raised at the top to think the same way as those raised at the bottom.
Michael did not consider himself a saint.
He had made judgments of his own in the past.
He had looked down on people at times.
He had drawn lines in his mind more than once.
But deep inside, he still saw himself as a basic human above anything else.
Maybe that was why this bothered him more than it should have.
Or maybe it was because the one insulted was not him.
It was Uga.
A boy who had stood before him with nothing but raw strength and honest will.
Michael’s gaze softened slightly from her earlier answer.
But he was done with this hall.
He turned back toward the doors and began walking again.
"Sir Mic."
Princess Priscilla’s voice sounded once more.
This time, a faint frown shaped her tone.
"Do you intend to walk out on me?"
Michael stopped, but he did not fully turn.
"No," he said quietly. "I just do not feel great right now."
And he continued walking.
The Second Prince’s brows creased further.
The Seventh Prince’s lips curved in cold amusement.
The Tenth Prince’s eyes glowed with molten anger.
And the Ninth Prince’s face twisted in disbelief.
Princess Priscilla moved.
One moment she stood on the platform.
The next, she appeared beside Michael in a smooth blur of motion.
A few nobles gasped softly.
She reached toward him, perhaps to stop him.
But she did not touch him.
Because at that moment, mid-air, her hand was already being caught by an unfamiliar figure.