Killed Me? Now I Have Your Power Chapter 411: Valentine
Previously on Killed Me? Now I Have Your Power...
Rea let out an irritated cough while a veil of pale dust billowed up, shrouding the entire terrain. In that instant, her vision was utterly obscured by dense clouds that blocked everything from view.
A mere heartbeat passed before the haze cleared, restoring her sight. Having been knocked to the ground by the fierce barrage of swords, Rea lifted her gaze skyward.
Her stare locked straight onto Kaden's crimson eyes, sparkling like stars, as he gazed down at her with a playful grin.
"My bad," Kaden remarked, extending his hand to her. "Did I maybe overdo it a bit?"
"You cheated." Rea snapped, her tone laced with annoyance.
"I did not." He countered firmly. "That was just sixty percent of my power back when I held the Master rank."
"It can't be." She argued, her words tinged with concealed doubt, as she finally grasped his offered hand.
Kaden hauled her to her feet, positioning her right in front of him.
Rea brushed off the dust clinging to her attire. The motion produced tinkling noises from the rings adorning her fingers.
Kaden fixed his gaze on those rings, remaining silent. Yet his lips quirked slightly.
"How are you so powerful?" Rea demanded, shooting him a sidelong glare.
"Oddly enough, folks keep asking me that." Kaden laughed lightly. "I simply trained hard, that's all."
"Should I go with the usual? As expected from the legendary Child of Blood, the one whose name carries myths from birth."
Kaden flinched a touch, embarrassment coloring his features. "Don't put it like that. It's embarrassing. Anyway, Rea, I'm not the Child of Blood anymore."
"Huh?" Rea blurted out, confusion evident.
"They call me the Lord of Blood these days. You're not supposed to use that title on me, though. And how did it happen? You'd love the story, Rea. It's all about how the Warborn seized control of Waverith, earning the Red Crown, while your kin claimed one of the Silver Crowns."
"Red Crown? Silver Crown?" Rea tilted her head in a curious, endearing manner. "What's with all these terms you're throwing around?"
"But first things first," he started, his smile widening as he drew his face nearer to Rea's, his aroma and heat overwhelming her senses, "you did lose, right?"
Rea let out a startled yelp and stumbled back two paces from the abrupt proximity. Her cheeks flushed a deep crimson, as though flooded with blood.
"I-I—!" She stammered.
Her eyes grew wide.
At once, she invoked her fear control to steady her rattled nerves, quieting her racing pulse.
'Damn it! I dropped my defenses, and this mess unfolded!' Rea berated herself inwardly, mortified by her weak reaction.
Composing herself in moments, she opened her mouth again, striving to conceal any outward signs.
"I lost!" She declared with excessive force. "I'll handle the cooking and set up the tent, just like we agreed."
Without pausing for a reply, she spun on her heel and bolted toward the mountains.
"Come on! We've wasted plenty of time as it is."
Kaden stood alone, watching the path she'd taken.
Gradually, a grin spread across his face.
"Did Rea actually blush?" He wondered aloud with a chuckle, his voice carrying a note of disbelief.
'Lady Rea truly did blush,' Reditha giggled. 'She looked absolutely adorable.'
'It's 'cause you're just too dashing, sweetie!'
Reditha rolled her eyes at Blanche. That bird acted like Kaden's ultimate fan.
If Rea had Einar, then Kaden had Blanche.
But Reditha remained unaware of the larger crowd out there who outdid Blanche in fervor.
And soon, another would join their ranks.
Kaden burst into laughter. "Blanche, take it away."
In silence, wings resembling a phoenix—crafted from blazing crimson-gold flames—unfurled from his back.
He beat them once, vanishing in a slender streak of fire that sliced through the sky with effortless menace.
As he caught up to Rea, he scooped her up smoothly into his arms and pressed onward.
Not a word passed between them.
Rea rested in his hold, her eyes so widened in shock that she couldn't manage a syllable.
From within her earring, Einar was utterly stunned. She'd never witnessed her lovely Rea behave like this. Moreover, this marked the first time she'd encountered a man of Kaden's caliber.
Yet at that very notion, an odd recollection surfaced in her mind. It was the image of a man she'd once spotted alongside the Disciple of Grief.
'...Dancer,' Einar recalled the name, her brow furrowing. 'Where the hell is that playboy hiding?'
...
At the same time, within the Empire of the Damned, an peculiar sight unfolded in the Empress's private quarters.
"Can't you give me some space for once?" Lydia grumbled irritably, eyeing the now-mature Valentine who clutched her robe with unyielding grip.
She resembled a poised young princess, boasting stunning crimson locks and eyes like profound shadowy abysses.
Valentine donned a tailored white robe embroidered with twisting red lotuses, staring back at her grandmother with bold defiance.
"Please, play with me, Grandma! Like you did yesterday! Pretty please! Pretty please!" She pleaded cheerfully, tugging at Lydia’s robe with her fidgety pulls, determined not to release it.
The Empress of the Damned felt utterly drained. She heaved a sigh, restraining the urge to hurl the girl against the wall.
Ever since Asael left, Valentine had latched onto her without mercy.
She constantly hounded her, begging for playtime. Initially, Lydia rejected every plea, sparing not even a glance for the granddaughter she'd never recognized.
Lydia had overlooked just how persistent a child could prove.
And Valentine exceeded that, spoiled rotten by Asael who denied her nothing. She couldn't handle rejection.
Thus, the little princess persisted relentlessly for days, months, even a full year, neither deterred nor defeated.
At last, Lydia gave in, bound by her Oath to Asael that prevented any harm to Valentine.
She entertained her granddaughter once. Lydia deemed it utterly tedious and irksome.
She vowed never to repeat it.
But soon after, she yielded again to Valentine's refined tactic of 'pester grandma till she caves.'
The second round remained highly aggravating. Even so, the respite from imperial duties proved welcome.
By the third, Lydia conceded with less resistance and noted that Valentine annoyed her a full four times less.
The fourth... the fifth... and so it went, with Lydia spending at least one session weekly with her granddaughter.
Complaints dwindled, and she began to relish those brief interludes. There were moments when she set aside all else to dwell on her granddaughter's infuriating antics.
Lydia even kept a private journal, jotting down each playtime the exact ways Valentine drove her mad.
Still, the Empress of the Damned couldn't indulge her every whim without limit.
With Asael absent, and Rose offering her daughter only scant notice—devoted instead to her cultivation and assigned duties—Valentine required true guidance.
Thus, Lydia regarded Valentine, parting her lips to scold her, but the words died as Valentine's dark eyes pierced into hers.
Suddenly, visions of Asael flooded her thoughts. Her resolve melted. Irritation brewed inside as she cursed silently before sighing.
"Thirty minutes." Lydia stated firmly, holding up three fingers. "No more than thirty, Val."
Valentine's face lit up. "YES!" She bounced around her like a hyperactive rabbit. "I pick the game this time, Grandma!"
"No. My choice. And that's final. Relax, it'll be your favorite one."
Her smile turned wicked. Valentine shivered.
"G-grandma?" She faltered, inching away gradually.
"We'll ramp up the challenge today," Lydia announced. "Not three, but five squirrels. You'll track them using every sense but sight."
Valentine crumpled to the floor.
"NO!"
Lydia advanced, extended her right arm, gripped the collar of Valentine’s robe firmly, and hauled her toward the training chamber.
Valentine's protests echoed nonstop until they reached the spot, whining about her loathing for this so-called 'game.'
All the while, Rose observed from a distance, gnawing her lower lip until the metallic tang of blood hit her tongue.
—End of Chapter 411—