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Deglon Blood (Vilmo's Wrath) Chapter 5

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Taking advantage of his fresh, youthful body's full vibrancy. Dumont does a good job of portraying a man in his twenties. He felt a strength he hadn't felt in years, like being born again. He lived his life as he believed he should have (as a king). He made sure to invite only the finest women to share his bed, ate only the most refined cuisine, and dressed in the most elegant clothing.

For the first time in his life, Dumont had the experience of his dreams. He had been convinced for months that his strength was unbounded. Aria worried when he would return to reality. One evening while she was eating, she smiled inquisitively at him.

"What's on your mind, Aria?"

"It's terrific to see you happy, Father, but...."

"But what? Are you not happy?" Dumont asks.

"It's not about me."

"Then what?"

"Another woman has come, claiming to carry the prince's child."

Shoveling a chicken leg into his mouth, Dumont smiles.

"Did you give her money?"

"I did."

"So, what's the problem?"

"No problem. Are you trying to have children?"

"Ah, I see. Don't worry. Even when the children are born, you will be my one and only. No need to be jealous." He gulps down the last of his wine and pushes his plate to the side.

"I'm not jealous, Father. I'm just not sure what your intentions are."

"It's not hard to figure out, Aria. This body won't last forever. The next body will be of my blood."

"You would do that to your child?"

Leaning back in his chair, his gaze fixed on her. For a split second, a grin forms on one corner of his lips before his features take on a stern scowl.

"What good is a child if they can't be of use to you." Dumont dismissively flails his hand and slams it down on the table. Aria jumps to her feet, startled. "I'm done looking at you for now. Please leave. I will call you for training in a few hours."

"You're 21-years-old today. How do you feel?" Dumont asks Aria during their training.

She grunts as she deflects Dumont's punch to the chest. His face hardens as he flings his sword, and he fixes his attention on her. A quivering echo reverberates around the room as cold steel slams on the concrete floor. She sighs and lowers her head. Before she has a chance to respond, her stooped posture clearly answers his question.

"Still no change, Father," her voice slightly quivering beneath her hushed tone.

Dumont approached her slowly, his enraged eyes flashing. He bends to meet her ear.

"You wouldn't lie to me, would you?"

Her chest constricts as his whisper reverberates throughout her body. She shook her head and tightened her shaking hands.

"How is it that your only gifts are the ones I gave to you? Maybe you're a dud. That may be the reason your parents didn't want you."

His growling gaze challenges her to reply as he backs up a few steps and analyzes her. Taking care not to display emotion, Aria keeps her eyes low.

"I..." With fear lodged in her throat, she speaks in a loud voice. She straightens her posture and exhales. "I'm sorry, Father."

"No! Never call me that again! Not until you've proven yourself worthy of being my daughter again. Prove to me; you are worth loving. Can you do that?"

Aria nods and walks away.

Dumont circles the men and women dangling from the dungeon ceiling by chains. Blood drips from open veins into buckets, weakening their bodies. Their ability has been sapped by the countless rubies embedded in the concrete walls, and their lips have been sewn shut.

"I've never had a torture chamber before. Do you like the beautiful stones I've added? I think they bring nice color." Sitting in a chair in front of the group, Dumont spoke after only watching them for a long moment. "Blood is such a powerful liquid. Fabulous with dinner. Oh, how I wish things could have been different." His thunderous chuckle vibrates the chains. "Nope. That's a lie. This is the perfect ending for you. But it doesn't have to end this way. All you have to do is say, yes. But no—you Szion are so damn proud."

Dumont rises and tangos around the room until his eyes set on the woman closest to him. Humming a happy tune, he dances toward her. His smile glistened in the dim moonlight that shined down from the high windows. Are you mildly charmed by me, or is it just me? I think there might be a little something between us," he laughs. With her cheeks between his fingers, he smirks and blows her a kiss. As forcefully as she could, she jerks away with a weak glare.

"Not to worry, my sweet. You three ladies, will live long enough to deliver my children. Your pain will soon end."

She flinched when Dumont places his hand on her stomach. The mere thought of his touch was sickening, especially after remembering the torcher she went through while he repeatedly forced himself on her to conceive a child he would eventually kill. Tears roll down her cheeks, and her head drops.

"As for you men, I am going to give you another chance. Make your Szion calls to Robbie for help. Bring him to me, and I will release you."

The sound of mumbles catches Dumont's ear. With a snap of his fingers, he untangles the man's lips.

"How do I know you will keep your word," the Szion asked.

A wide grin shows Dumont's white teeth.

"You don't. Make the call."