I Died and Became a Noble's Heir

Chapter 483: Sunday Stroll

Pho’s clawed hands struck Granite Sovereign’s reforming body, each blow dealing forty-five percent true damage that bypassed the elemental’s stone defenses.

Black ice spread from every impact point, freezing granite from the inside out, creating structural weaknesses that the other creatures exploited.

The fight had become attrition warfare in its purest form.

Granite Sovereign dealt massive damage to enemies that regenerated faster than they could be permanently destroyed.

The blessed earth elemental is burning through power reserves at unsustainable rates to maintain the weapons and terrain manipulation necessary to keep fighting.

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The castle gates stood forty feet tall, carved from volcanic rock shaped by generations of Iron Soot Clan smiths.

It was striking to look at, like a beautiful object that people gawked at.

Intricate patterns covered the surface. Hammers striking anvils, flames consuming metal, the transformation of raw ore into finished weapons.

Each image was precise enough to show the obsessive craftsmanship.

Jack approached the gates with his party arrayed behind him in loose formation.

Brutus carried Rhys on his broad shoulders, the young tempest mage’s exhaustion evident in the way he gripped Tempest’s Edge with hands that trembled slightly.

Slyph hovered near Rhys’s head, her green aura dimmed to barely visible light.

Stormfang walked at Jack’s left flank, the blessed wyvern’s thirty-foot form moving with grace despite the confined space of the corridor.

The creature’s star-bright eyes, now burning red from the binding, tracked every shadow, every potential ambush point with the wariness of something that had been hunted before understanding what true danger felt like.

The Ice Drake flanked Jack’s right, its own thirty-foot body adjusted to fit the corridor’s dimensions as it walked with Stormfang.

Father Caelen walked in contemplative silence behind the drake and wyvern, his priestly robes somehow remaining immaculate despite the black sand they’d crossed to reach this point.

The man’s face showed no emotion or judgment about what was coming. He was observing, as if he were witnessing a natural disaster.

And at the rear, Loryn dragged Marcus Thorne by the slave collar.

The broken clan leader stumbled with each step, his skeletal frame barely maintaining balance without the leg he’d lost.

His sunken eyes tracked the castle gates with recognition.

This was exactly the kind of entrance his own clan would have built back in Elysium, given the chance.

Ultimately, it is meaningless against someone with overwhelming power. When someone had enough power to walk into someone’s front door like it was a Sunday afternoon stroll.

Twenty guards stood at attention before the gates, arranged in two rows of ten.

They were Iron Soot Clan demons.

Gray-skinned, heavily muscled, carrying weapons that showed the quality craftsmanship their clan was known for.

Swords with perfect balance, axes with edges that could split hairs with the smallest touch, and spears weighted precisely for throwing or for close combat.

But despite the quality of their equipment, despite their numbers and defensive position, every single guard’s hands trembled as Jack got closer.

The lead guard, slightly larger than the others, with darker gray skin, stepped forward as Jack came within thirty feet of the gates.

His voice carried forced confidence that couldn’t quite hide the fear underneath.

"Halt! This is Iron Soot Clan territory. State your business or..."

His words cut off mid-sentence as Jack’s golden eyes fixed on him.

The pressure was overwhelming.

Mana that had been compressed and controlled, suddenly released in a wave that made the air itself feel heavy.

The lead guard’s knees buckled. He tried to stay standing, muscles straining against pressure.

He maintained a resolute demeanor, despite the overwhelming apprehension he was experiencing.

Then he dropped to his knees, his body overriding conscious thought with a survival instinct that recognized when something vastly more powerful demanded submission.

The other nineteen guards followed within seconds.

One by one, they collapsed to kneeling positions, weapons clattering to the stone as hands that had gripped them lost the strength needed to hold them.

Some tried to resist, but their faces showed the internal struggle between pride and self-preservation.

The recognition that whatever stood before them was so far beyond their capacity to resist that fighting was suicide.

"Sometimes," Jack said, his tone cold despite the twenty demons kneeling before him in submission, "letting your mana flow outward shows lesser creatures that their best option is to submit rather than resist."

He glanced back at Rhys, who watched the display with wide eyes. "Pay attention. This is more effective than violence when dealing with those who understand power dynamics. Breaking their will costs nothing. Killing them means binding corpses instead of collecting tribute."

Rhys nodded slowly, processing the lesson even as exhaustion made coherent thought difficult.

Slyph’s green aura pulsed with what might have been concern at the casual way Jack discussed breaking wills versus collecting corpses.

Jack turned his attention back to the gates. "Open them."

The lead guard looked up, his dark gray face showing the conflict between his duty to his clan and his overwhelming instinct to obey.

"I... I can’t. The master commanded that..."

"I don’t care what your master commanded," Jack interrupted, his golden eyes gleaming with power that made the air around him shimmer slightly.

"You have two choices. Open the gates now, or watch while I melt them to slag and add twenty new corpses to my bound army."

The threat wasn’t delivered with anger or malice.

It was delivered with cold certainty, making it clear Jack would follow through without hesitation or regret.

The lead guard’s resistance crumbled. He gestured to two subordinates, his hand shaking so badly he nearly couldn’t complete the motion. "Open... open the gates."

The two demons scrambled to obey, their relief at being given an excuse to comply evident in their haste.

Mechanisms clicked and groaned as ancient counterweights shifted, and the massive volcanic rock gates began to swing inward.

Brutus stepped forward without being prompted, the Alpha minotaur’s eight-foot frame moving with casual strength as he gripped the edge of one gate and pulled.

The action wasn’t necessary; the mechanisms were doing the work, but it demonstrated power in a way that made the kneeling guards flinch.

The gate mechanism ground as he forced the gate open.

The gates opened fully, revealing the castle’s interior courtyard.

It was smaller than Jack expected. Two hundred feet across, with forge buildings lining three sides and the great hall dominating the center.

Smoke rose from chimneys despite the evacuation order, indicating they didn’t have time to stop the fires that had been left burning.

The scent of hot metal and coal filled the air, mixing with the sulfur that seemed to permeate everything in the castle.

In the courtyard’s center, additional guards were posted in a defensive formation, despite their evident apprehension.

Fifty of them, better armed than the gate wardens, their gray skin marked with scars that showed they had combat experience.

Jack walked through the gates without breaking stride, his boots making no sound on the stone despite the casual pace.

The crimson sight earrings pulsed at Jack’s ears, and his vision shifted.

The castle lit up with life signatures: three hundred souls within the structure, most of them gathered in the eastern wing, where the clan master had ordered an evacuation.

Workers, families, and non-combatants were trying to hide from what was coming.

And among them, two signatures burned brighter than the others.