I Returned To Kill Monsters, And Created The Worst One

Chapter 9 — Five Seconds

Elara Veyne

“Making you an offer that will probably keep you from dying.”

For a few seconds, the only response was silence.

The prince remained seated near the window, the black mask turned toward me. I was still wearing the veil from the service uniform, covering the lower half of my face, and I had the impression that his eyes lingered a little longer than they should have on the small strip of skin that remained visible.

Then he simply turned his face away.

“Open the door.”

I waited for something more than that.

It didn’t come.

“I don’t think Your Highness understood.”

“I understood perfectly.” His voice became firmer. It definitely did not sound like the voice of a man the servants described as practically dead. “Open the door, stop this nonsense, and leave before I call the guards.”

Then he looked back toward the window.

That definitely started to irritate me.

I had crossed the continent, worked in secret for a year, entered that palace in search of an opportunity, deceived two guards, and had just locked myself inside the room of the most protected man in Azhareth.

And he was dismissing me without even properly looking at me.

I took a deep breath, completely losing my patience.

“You’re quite rude for a prince.”

The mask slowly turned back toward me.

“What did you say?”

“Especially one who’s on the verge of death.”

This time, I got his attention. He actually looked at me.

“You have impressive courage for someone locked in a room with me.”

“Considering your current condition, I thought my chances were reasonable.”

Perhaps it wasn’t my most diplomatic answer.

But politeness clearly hadn’t been working with him before.

The prince rested one hand on the arm of the chair.

“Five seconds. Then I call the guards.”

“I’m going to need more than that.”

“Four.”

Damn it...

This was going to be harder than I thought. I knew words and explanations didn’t work with this kind of person. I would have to use a more... visual approach.

And I would have to be quick, or all my years of preparation would go down the drain.

I looked around and walked toward the table where I had left the tray.

“I heard dozens of doctors, priests, and healers have already tried to treat you.”

“Three.”

“And I heard they all failed.”

“Two.”

How irritating!

I picked up the small knife beside the cutlery.

The prince moved immediately.

“Don’t do anything stupid.”

“This isn’t for you.”

I ran the blade along the side of my own palm.

That should do.

The pain came quickly, followed by blood.

Prince Kian went still.

“What is wrong with you?”

I ignored him, put the knife back down, and raised my free hand.

My mana responded.

White-gold light appeared between my fingers and spread over the cut. The skin began closing before his eyes, first narrowing the opening, then erasing it completely until no scar remained.

The prince didn’t count the final second.

I had finally managed it.

His eyes remained fixed on my hand.

Then I felt the familiar warmth beneath my nose. When it came to using my blessing directly like that, the price was always higher.

He tilted his head slightly, as though trying to see better beneath the veil.

“You’re... bleeding?”

I slipped my fingers beneath the fabric.

When I pulled them away, they were red.

A small stain was beginning to appear on the pale veil.

“Looks like it...”

“What was that? What kind of healing was that?”

“The kind that might be useful to someone everyone considers incurable.”

He continued watching me.

Even after seeing all of that, his arrogance didn’t disappear, but now at least there was something new there.

Interest...

Maybe even doubt.

“Show me your hand.”

I walked over until I stood in front of him and held out my palm.

No mark.

He looked at it and then back at my eyes.

“Who are you?”

“Someone who brought a proposal.”

“That isn’t what I asked.”

“I didn’t come here to make introductions...”

His hand slowly tightened around the arm of the chair.

It was beginning to become clear why the servants avoided talking to the prince.

He was a bottomless pit of pure arrogance.

I moved a little closer.

“I can’t promise I can cure you without knowing what’s wrong.”

I heard a mocking laugh echo from beneath the iron mask.

“People who studied medicine and healing for decades couldn’t figure it out.”

“I imagine they reminded you of that often.”

“Are you comparing yourself to them?”

“No... I’m just stating the obvious. They failed.”

I stopped very close, directly in front of him.

Up close, I could see even more clearly how thin he was. The clothes hid his body, but they couldn’t completely disguise the frailty of his shoulders.

I raised my hand toward the mask.

His hand shot up quickly, his fingers closing around my wrist before I could touch the metal.

His hand trembled, but even so, there was strength in it.

“Don’t you dare touch me.”

I looked at the gloved fingers around my wrist.

“If I wanted to assassinate you, locking the door with your guards outside would be a particularly bad strategy.”

“You entered my chambers without permission!”

“Technically, I came to bring your supper.”

“Is that supposed to reassure me?”

He didn’t let go.

For a moment, I noticed his eyes traveling over my face again, stopping at the veil as though it bothered him.

I sighed, already losing what little patience I had left with him.

“Take the mask off yourself,” I said. “Or keep hiding your illness from the person offering treatment. It’s a strange choice, but it’s yours.”

The prince remained still.

Then he finally released my wrist.

I took that as permission.

I continued.

I grasped the sides of the mask and removed it slowly.

The face beneath it was worse than an ordinary wound.

There were dark lesions along his jaw and cheek, inflamed areas, irregular scars, and marks that seemed to spread beneath the skin. Even so, it was still possible to see the strong features that had existed before the illness.

The prince remained rigid while I examined him.

He seemed to be waiting for some reaction.

Disgust, probably.

“I thought it would be worse.”

His eyes narrowed.

“What?”

“A woman in the hall said the flesh was falling off your face. The rumors lost quite a bit of accuracy.”

He seemed unsure whether to be offended or confused.

I slowly brought my fingers toward one of the lesions.

“I’m going to test something.”

“Wait—”

The blessing was already active.

The light passed from my fingers into his skin.

The prince held his breath.

The inflammation began to fade. The damaged skin slowly reorganized itself and, for a few seconds, everything happened exactly as I expected.

Then I saw the color.

Black.

Red.

Thin threads began emerging beneath his skin, dragged outward by my mana like smoke trapped inside flesh.

“That...”

I didn’t finish.

The threads touched my fingers.

An icy pain tore through my hand and traveled up my arm.

I stumbled backward, but my palm was still against Kian’s face.

This time, my nose began bleeding heavily.

The stain on the veil spread immediately.

“What is happening?”

The red-black threads began climbing along the tips of my fingers, exactly through the channels where my blessing flowed.

I stopped the healing.

The prince took a deep breath.

Then his eyes widened.

His hand shot up suddenly, forcefully, and pressed mine against his face.

“Continue.”

I tried to pull it away, but he was strong, even in that condition.

“No...”

“Your healing is working. Continue!”

His voice no longer held the same coldness.

There was... urgency.

“Continue. That’s an order!”

“I SAID NO!”

I almost shouted. For a moment, my mind went back to one of the Caldris laboratories, when they forced me to continue even when it hurt me.

“The pain... it stopped...”

He spoke, his tone a mixture of urgency and sadness.

That made me look at him.

He tightened his grip on my hand, almost desperate.

“No... don’t stop now.”

For a moment, I understood.

Maybe he had spent years without knowing what it was like to exist without pain.

And I had just given that back to a small part of his face.

Even so, the black threads were still clinging to my fingertips.

My body was clearly telling me something was wrong.

I pulled my hand back.

“If I continue without understanding what this is, there might be two people dying in here.”

I brought a hand to my head, trying to control the dizziness.

The prince looked at my fingers.

“What is that?”

I watched the dark residue slowly dissolve as my mana tried to expel it.

That did not behave like disease.

It wasn’t merely damaged flesh.

Something was interfering directly with the flow of his mana.

“It looks like poison.”

He became completely still.

“Poison?”

At that moment, a violent blow struck the door.

“Your Highness!”

I looked back in alarm.

Another blow made the wood tremble.

“Your Highness, answer us!”

When I looked back at the prince, he was still staring at me, the mask forgotten on the table and part of the area I had treated visibly different.

The guards struck the door again.

The lock groaned.

He looked at the door, then at me.

And there, for the first time, I saw more than arrogance or distrust.

I saw the shock of someone who had spent years believing there was no way out and had just discovered that perhaps he had been wrong.

Another blow nearly tore the lock free.

And this time, the prince did not seem remotely willing to let them take me away