C8 CHAPTER8

Devon remained silent, merely observing as two of Alexander's guards approached Hector, reaching out to seize his shoulder. Despite the first guard's strenuous efforts to drag Hector toward him, he failed. Hector stood unyielding, as if his feet were planted firmly in the earth.

Hector turned to Devon. "Master, what should I do?" he inquired.

"Blast them!" Devon ordered, not a moment's hesitation in his voice.

Hector's eyes flared red as he abruptly raised his hand. His arms trembled with intensity, unleashing a force that sent the guards hurtling backward. One might have expected him to stop there, but he didn't. Transforming into a shadow, he yanked the guards from the ground, suspended them midair, and then hurled them through the window, out of the house.

Alexander's eyes bulged in disbelief at the spectacle before him. Overcome with anger and humiliation, he couldn't fathom that Devon had defied him.

"Devon!" he bellowed. "You must have a death wish! How dare you defy me?"

"Alexander, calm yourself," Devon responded coolly, taking a step back. "You seem to think I wouldn't dare to oppose you, confident that I'd simply cower in submission if you attacked." He was well aware of the strict prohibition against private combat among princes, a rule their father had established, cherishing them as his sole heirs.

Previously, Devon would have avoided confrontation, but now, with Hector at his disposal—a man who evidently relished a good fight—he felt a new sense of empowerment.

"What are you implying?" Alexander demanded, his brow furrowed in bewilderment. "Are you saying you wouldn't grovel at my feet if I struck you? Are you insinuating a threat?"

"Consider this: you were lured here by magic, and it stands to reason that our Royal Father and Elder Brother could sense it too. Should they find me prostrate on the floor, questions would surely arise, wouldn't you agree?" Devon posed the question with a hint of challenge.

At a loss for words, Alexander stormed out of the room, his face flushed with a mix of rage and mortification. The recent encounter with his brother had left him reeling. Far from being at a loss for words, Devon had stood his ground with unflinching resolve, leaving Alexander with the unnerving suspicion that magic had played a hand in his brother's newfound audacity.

Alexander resolved not to let Devon trouble him. While in Devon's room, he had been sorely tempted to confront him, but he was well aware that such an altercation would displease their father. Despite his disdain for Devon, he was still his brother.

Therefore, Alexander was determined not to fall out of favor with their father over someone as inconsequential to him as Devon, who might as well have been a piece of garbage.

Meanwhile, Devon remained in his room, taken aback by his own boldness in facing off against his brother. He glanced at Hector, who stood to his right, panting from exertion.

"Your strength is remarkable, Hector. Those guards you dispatched were no easy foes. How did you manage it?" Devon inquired.

"I am endowed with considerable strength, Master," Hector responded, his head bowed in a gesture of modesty.

"Ah, I see," Devon mused, a spark of an idea forming. "You saw how furious Olivia was when she stormed out. Could you possibly help me get away from her?" he asked, a surge of hopefulness in his voice at the prospect of dodging the marriage to Olivia that loomed over him.

Hector remained silent for a moment before replying, "Master, I must be honest with you; this is a sensitive matter, and the likelihood of success is quite slim," he admitted to Devon.

"So, you're saying there's no way you can assist me? Can't you just figure out a way to liberate me from her clutches once and for all?" Devon pressed, his brow furrowed in frustration.

"Master, it's no simple task. Princess Olivia is of noble lineage, and persuading her to abandon you is a challenge that would test even Hercules. Moreover, she's likely intent on killing you now," Hector explained.

"But aren't you the Zombie King? You're of noble lineage too, and with your immense strength, why can't you defeat Olivia?" Devon asked, his voice tinged with sadness.

Hector lifted his gaze to meet Devon's. "I, the Zombie King?" he queried.

"Is there... is there a problem?" Devon stammered, more puzzled than ever.

"Master, we've had a grave misunderstanding. I am not the Zombie King; I regret any confusion. My name is Hector, and I am merely an ordinary zombie," Hector clarified.

Devon blinked repeatedly, trying to process the revelation. Part of him wanted to lash out at Hector for giving him false hope, but he refrained, moved by the genuine expression of innocence on Hector's face.

"Damn it! The name Hector means 'zombie king,' and when you said that was your name, I just jumped to the conclusion that you were the Zombie King, especially since you're actually a zombie," Devon exclaimed.

"Master, I am deeply sorry for the confusion. If you wish, I can change my name right away!" Hector offered earnestly, still bowing low before Devon.

Devon remained silent for a long moment. "No, there's no need for that, alright? I should've verified your identity instead of making assumptions," he replied, then took a seat on the bed, feeling the weight of his troubles bearing down on him.

First, there was his father, who despised him and doted on Olivia, complicating Devon's desire to distance himself from her. And to make matters worse, that very same Olivia was out for his blood.

What in the world was he going to do now?