Reincarnated With the Seduction System

Chapter 135: Reinforcements

Baron Mortimer's eyes were wide and bloodshot, his chest heaving with frantic breaths as he watched the last of his elite commanders fall.

His gaze swept over the courtyard—once his impregnable fortress—now a bloodstained field littered with the bodies of his men.

His soldiers—the pride of his house—had been slaughtered with merciless precision.

"Why…?" he gasped, his voice hoarse, broken. "If you had someone as powerful as her… why didn't you just destroy my army from the start?! Why sneak around like a coward and cause chaos in my castle?"

He wanted answers. No, he needed answers. Because nothing made sense anymore.

If the woman now effortlessly holding him in place with just the weight of her aura—was on Adrian's side, then why had he gone through all this trouble?

Why infiltrate his stronghold when he could have wiped it out in a single move?

Adrian shook his head, a mocking smile playing on his lips. "Why, you ask? Why would I let my enemies die easily?"

His voice was soft, almost conversational, but it carried a cold edge that made Mortimer's blood freeze in his veins.

Inwardly, Adrian complained to himself, if he had known how powerful his aunt was, why would he have to do things he did, putting himself, Sophia and Eve at risk.

He would have just had Seraphina raze Mortimer forces into ground. But he would not tell him Mortimer the truth. Instead he would further infuriate him.

"You don't deserve a quick death, Baron. You deserve to watch everything you've built crumble before your eyes. To feel the despair of knowing you are powerless to stop it. Every scream of your dying men, every drop of blood shed here today, is a reminder of the consequences of targeting my family and making life miserable for Eve."

Mortimer's fists clenched so hard his knuckles turned white, his nails digging into his palms until blood dripped from his hands.

His body shook with a rage so intense it felt like his very bones would shatter under the pressure.

"Bastard!" he spat, his voice rising into a shrill scream. "You insolent, arrogant little brat! You think I'm just going to stand here and—!"

But his words were cut off as Seraphina's presence flared, crushing his defiance under an even greater pressure.

His knees buckled, his vision blurring from the force of it. And then she moved, stepping forward with a grace that belied the raw power emanating from her.

"Why…?" Mortimer choked out, struggling to find his voice under the suffocating weight of her aura.

"Why would someone like you… work for a mere child like him? I'll— I'll give you double what he's offering! No—triple! I'll even make you a Baroness! Just… just help me kill him! Kill this little brat!"

Seraphina's lips curled into a disdainful sneer as she looked down at Mortimer, her eyes glowing with icy contempt. "You think a blabbering old shit like you could offer me anything I want?"

She turned to Adrian, her expression softening instantly. With a smile that was both loving and possessive, she reached out and intertwined her fingers with his.

"Everything I need, my dear husband gives me," she murmured, her voice carrying a warmth that sent chills down Mortimer's spine.

"H-husband…?" Mortimer stammered, the word barely escaping his lips. He stumbled back, his mind reeling as if he'd been struck by a physical blow.

It didn't— It couldn't be true. But the way she stood beside Adrian, the tender affection in her gaze, the protective way she held his hand…

"No… No…!" Mortimer whispered, his voice a broken plea as he realized the horrifying truth. This woman—this monster—wasn't just an ally. She was Adrian's wife.

"I-I see…!" he cried out, his face twisting into a grotesque mask of despair and disbelief. "I'm… I'm dead, aren't I? I'm—"

The rest of his words died in his throat as a sudden commotion erupted behind him. The surviving remnants of his forces, who had been in the process of retreating or surrendering, scattered as a massive blast of energy tore through the courtyard, sending bodies flying in every direction.

Everhart soldiers, previously advancing with lethal precision, faltered and stumbled back, turning their gazes toward the source of the disturbance.

Three figures emerged from the swirling dust and debris, their forms outlined by the chaotic energies swirling around them.

The first was a hulking man draped in pitch-black armor, the metal plates glowing faintly with an ominous red light.

His eyes blazed with a feral intensity as he strode forward, each step resonating like the toll of a death knell.

The second figure was a lithe woman clad in flowing robes that shimmered with a kaleidoscope of colors.

Her presence warped the very air around her, a suffocating pressure radiating from her that made even the seasoned Everhart warriors flinch.

The third was a young man, his features sharp and unyielding, his aura crackling with raw power. He moved with the grace of a predator, his gaze fixed on Adrian with an intensity that promised violence.

Mortimer's heart pounded furiously as he turned to face the newcomers, a spark of hope igniting in his chest.

They were his trump cards—three of his strongest retainers, each one a force of nature in their own right, provided by Count Vortigern, after recent chaos in his castle.

The man in black armor—Sir Asmodeus, the Blood Knight—was a battle-hardened warrior who had once single-handedly held off an entire battalion.

The robed woman—Madam Isolde, the Enchantress—was a master of illusion and enchantment, capable of twisting reality to her will.

And the young man—Vincent, the Lightning Fist—was a prodigy, his fists imbued with the power of the storm itself.

"Sir Asmodeus… Madam Isolde… Vincent…!" Mortimer gasped, his voice trembling with a desperate hope as he gestured frantically at Adrian and Seraphina.

"Help me...Take me and run"

But the three figures didn't move to attack. Instead, they halted a few feet in front of Mortimer, their eyes shifting from Adrian to Seraphina, and then back to the carnage that surrounded them.

A heavy silence descended over the battlefield, broken only by the distant screams of the last remnants of Mortimer's forces being cut down by the Everhart soldiers.

The Blood Knight, Sir Asmodeus, glanced at Mortimer, a hint of disdain flickering in his gaze. "Baron… we came because Count Vortigern noticed movements from Count Blackthorn. We thought he had made his moves as his daughter had returned. But who would have thought..."