Rise of The Abandoned Husband

I had no time to react as Ms. Hayward's hand clamped onto my forehead. Her palm burned against my skin like a white-hot brand. I tried to pull away, but her grip was like iron.

"What the—"

A blinding flash of purple light erupted from her hand, and pain shot through my skull. I staggered backward when she finally released me, my vision swimming with spots of light.

"There," she said, satisfaction lacing her voice. "Now you're properly marked."

I pressed my fingers to my forehead, feeling nothing but a lingering warmth. "What did you do to me?"

Ms. Hayward smiled, the expression never reaching her cold eyes. "Insurance, Mr. Knight. A tracking mark that will allow me to find you anywhere within the academy grounds—or beyond them, should you somehow manage to escape."

My blood ran cold. "Remove it. Now."

She laughed, the sound like breaking glass. "Or what? You'll challenge me to combat? Please." She waved her hand dismissively. "You're barely holding yourself together after that little encounter with the gate. Against me, a Peak Form Military Marquis? You wouldn't last ten seconds."

I gritted my teeth, knowing she was right. In my current state, I couldn't match her power. But that didn't mean I would submit quietly.

"You could have killed me just now," I said, straightening my posture despite the pain radiating through my body. "Why didn't you?"

"Death would be too merciful," she replied, circling me slowly. "Besides, I'm curious to see how far you'll go for that girl. It's... fascinating, watching someone throw their life away for a lost cause."

My hands curled into fists. "Isabelle isn't a lost cause."

"Isn't she?" Ms. Hayward stopped directly in front of me, her eyes boring into mine. "You have no idea what's happening to her right now, do you? No concept of the suffering she's enduring while you fumble around in the dark."

Something in her tone made my heart skip a beat. "What have you done to her?"

"Me? Nothing personally." She tilted her head, studying my reaction. "But the extraction process isn't gentle, Liam. Blood like hers doesn't give up its secrets easily."

I lunged forward without thinking, my fist aimed at her face. She caught it effortlessly, twisting my arm until I dropped to one knee.

"Predictable," she sighed, applying just enough pressure to make me wince. "Your weakness is so obvious. All I have to do is mention her name, and you lose all reason."

"If you've hurt her—"

"You'll what?" She released my arm and stepped back. "You're nothing, Liam Knight. A speck of dust pretending to be a mountain. The sooner you accept that, the less painful your remaining time will be."

I stood slowly, my mind racing. I needed to control my emotions, to think clearly. Reacting with blind rage would only play into her hands.

"You're afraid," I said quietly.

Her eyebrows raised slightly. "Excuse me?"

"You're afraid of what I might become. Why else would you need to mark me? To track me? If I'm nothing, as you claim, why bother with such precautions?"

For a moment, something flickered across her face—not fear, but perhaps uncertainty.

"Your arrogance is amusing," she recovered quickly. "The mark isn't because I fear you. It's because disposing of your body will be easier if I know exactly where to find it when the time comes."

I managed a smile, sensing I'd struck a nerve. "Then why not kill me now? Why wait?"

"Political complications, as I mentioned earlier." She straightened her robes. "Rest assured, once those are resolved, your fate is sealed."

I decided to push further. "And what about Broderick? Is he afraid of me too?"

Her eyes narrowed. "Broderick serves me. His actions reflect my will."

"Is that why he backed away from me earlier? Because you ordered him to?"

I saw her jaw tighten—a small victory. She didn't know about the Divine Dragon mark and Broderick's instinctive reaction to it.

"Broderick's decisions are tactical," she said carefully. "He's saving you for a special occasion."

"Which is?"

"Tomorrow morning," she replied, her smile returning. "The Aegis Academy will be granting a rare honor to select students—the opportunity to witness a blood inheritance ritual."

My stomach dropped. "Blood inheritance?"

"Indeed. Broderick will be sent to a mystic realm to undergo a transformation. The ritual requires... specific ingredients." Her eyes gleamed with malice. "Special blood, with unique properties."

Isabelle's blood. It had to be.

I kept my face neutral, not wanting to give her the satisfaction of seeing my horror. "And you're telling me this because?"

"Consider it a courtesy. A glimpse of the grand design you're powerless to stop." She turned as if to leave, then paused. "Oh, and Mr. Knight? Don't bother trying to remove the mark. Only I can dispel it, and attempts to interfere with it will cause you... considerable discomfort."

As if to demonstrate, she made a subtle gesture with her fingers.

Searing pain exploded in my forehead, driving me to my knees. It felt like someone was driving a white-hot poker through my skull. Just as quickly, the pain vanished.

"A small sample," she said, looking down at me. "Sleep well, Mr. Knight. Tomorrow promises to be educational."

She walked away, her purple robes blending into the shadows of the courtyard.

I remained on my knees for several minutes, catching my breath and processing what I'd learned. Blood inheritance. A ritual. Isabelle's blood being used for some transformation.

The pieces were starting to fit together, but the complete picture remained elusive.

When I finally returned to my quarters, sleep eluded me. I paced the small room, my mind churning with possibilities and plans, none of them adequate to the challenge before me.

The mark on my forehead remained invisible to the eye, but I could feel it—a constant, subtle pressure, like an unwanted passenger in my mind. I tried various purification techniques, but just as Ms. Hayward had warned, each attempt sent waves of agony through my skull.

Dawn arrived without answers, and with it came a summons. All students were to gather in the central courtyard immediately.

As I joined the crowd of students filtering into the courtyard, I spotted the Man with the Mustache hovering nervously at the edge of the gathering. He caught my eye briefly before looking away, his usual bravado conspicuously absent.

Ms. Hayward stood on an elevated platform at the center of the courtyard, Broderick by her side in human form. His eyes found mine in the crowd, and his lips curled into a predatory smile.

"Students of the Aegis Academy," Ms. Hayward began, her voice carrying effortlessly across the gathering. "Today marks a momentous occasion. For the first time in a century, the academy will witness a blood inheritance ritual."

Murmurs rippled through the crowd.

"Broderick," she continued, gesturing to the creature beside her, "will enter the mystic realm to undergo a transformation that will elevate him to unprecedented power."

The students around me looked impressed, even awed. They had no idea what kind of monster they were applauding.

"This ritual is made possible through a generous contribution from an esteemed family," Ms. Hayward added, her eyes finding mine in the crowd. "Their sacrifice ensures the continued dominance of our academy in the martial world."

I clenched my fists, knowing exactly what "sacrifice" she was referring to.

"Before we proceed," she said, raising her hand for silence, "I thought it appropriate to acknowledge the source of today's blessing. Through the wonders of formation magic, I can show you a live projection of our benefactor."

A shimmering screen of light materialized above the platform. At first, it showed only static, like rippling water. Then, gradually, an image began to form.

My heart stopped.

There was Isabelle, strapped to a cold metal table. Her beautiful face was contorted in agony, her skin pale as death. Tubes ran from her arms, her neck, her legs—all drawing her precious blood into collection vessels. Her eyes were open but unfocused, glassy with pain.

A man in a white coat adjusted one of the tubes, and Isabelle's body convulsed, a silent scream forming on her lips.

Gasps rose from the crowd. Even those who didn't know who she was could see the cruelty of what was happening.

"This is Isabelle Ashworth," Ms. Hayward announced, her voice cutting through the murmurs. "Her unique bloodline contains properties essential for Broderick's transformation."

My vision narrowed to a tunnel, rage and despair threatening to consume me. This wasn't just a demonstration—it was a message meant specifically for me. A cruel reminder of my powerlessness.

"As you can see," Ms. Hayward continued, her eyes fixed on my face, drinking in my reaction, "the extraction process requires precision. Her blood must be harvested continuously over several days to accumulate the necessary quantity."

I took an involuntary step forward, my hand reaching for the sword at my hip.

"We're monitoring her vital signs carefully," she added, her voice dripping with false concern. "The goal is to keep her alive throughout the process, though I'm afraid comfort was never a consideration."

On the screen, Isabelle's body arched again as a technician increased the flow rate of one of the tubes. Her mouth opened in a silent scream.

Someone in the crowd whispered, "This is barbaric."

Ms. Hayward's head snapped toward the voice. "This is progress. This is power. And power requires sacrifice."

The projection flickered and then disappeared, leaving the courtyard in stunned silence.

"The ritual will commence at midnight," Ms. Hayward announced. "Select students will be permitted to observe. Dismissed."

As the crowd dispersed, I remained rooted to the spot, the image of Isabelle's suffering seared into my mind. Ms. Hayward approached me, satisfaction evident in her stride.

"Was the demonstration educational, Mr. Knight?" she asked softly.

My voice, when I found it, was barely recognizable. "I'll kill you for this."

"Bold words from a marked man," she replied, tapping her finger against her forehead—a mocking reminder of the brand she'd placed on mine. "Now you know exactly what's at stake. And exactly how helpless you are to prevent it."

I met her gaze unflinchingly. "When this is over, you'll beg for death."

She laughed, the sound like breaking ice. "You misunderstand, Liam. It's already over. You lost the moment you set foot in this academy."

She turned to leave but paused. "Oh, and in case you're harboring any foolish rescue fantasies—what you saw isn't even happening in this realm. She's beyond your reach, beyond your power, beyond your pitiful attempts at heroism."

With that, she walked away, leaving me standing alone in the emptying courtyard, the vision of Isabelle's agony playing on an endless loop in my mind.