The Grand Duke's Son Is A Heretic-Chapter 202

After Kael dismantled the last of the fighters, silence returned like a heavy blanket.

He stood still, panting lightly, eyes scanning the mess of groaning bodies and broken furniture around him.Most of the tables had been flipped and broken while chairs had been reduced to dust.

What pained him the most was the disarrayed pieces of meat lying around which would be wasted along with the rums.

As he looked around, his brow furrowed."Wait… where's that bastard?"

He spun around, searching for the scar-faced man, but there was no sign of him in the crowd.

His eyes rotated to and fro, searching for the one who started it.

"HEY! Where the hell did he go?!" Kael barked.

The bystanders flinched. One timid waitress, trembling and gripping the edge of her apron, finally stepped forward.

"H-He ran away... when you were beating them…" she stammered, pointing toward the back exit.

Kael's face fell into a deadpan expression, lips twitching in irritation.

"Tch... So much for guts. Guess not everyone here grew an extra pair of balls like I thought."

He sighed deeply, brushing blood off his knuckles. Then his gaze shifted back to the waitress, calm but intense.

"Do you want payment for the damage?" he asked flatly.

The waitress, startled, nodded quickly—then hesitated and shook her head.

"Of course not…"

Kael gave a short chuckle. He stepped in closer. The woman stiffened as he leaned near, expecting something sleazy. Her heart raced—she'd dealt with worse—but what he said next caught her off guard.

"I think the men might be carrying something valuable. Coins, jewels. Take everything. It's yours."

Her eyes widened, stunned.

"W-What?"

She blinked in disbelief as she looked around. Thirty bodies littered the floor. If each had even one silver coin, it'd more than cover the damage. A few of them were well-known mercs—some could be carrying five or more

gold. Of course, some might be broke. But overall… it was a small treasure trove.

Usually, in these kinds of fights, the victor looted the fallen. The innkeeper or owner asked for damages separately, but if the victor was too strong, most didn't dare say a word.

Before she could say anything else, Kael turned and walked over to Lyria, who was still snoring, drooling slightly on the table.

With one arm, he scooped her up and slung her over his shoulder like a bag of grain.

"I'm tired," he said plainly. "I'm going to sleep."

He paused at the bottom of the stairs and glanced back, his eyes narrowing, his aura turning cold and murderous. The entire inn seemed to drop a few degrees.

"If anyone dares to disturb my sleep tonight…"

He let the sentence hang, but the sheer bloody killing intent that followed was louder than any word.People backed up. One man fainted just from the pressure.

Kael didn't wait for a response. He walked upstairs, footsteps heavy but calm, as if nothing had happened.

Behind him, no one moved. No one spoke. The waitress swallowed hard and looked at the bodies again, her hands already twitching at the thought of loot.

Silence and fear ruled the room now.

Except for the sound of Kael's footsteps climbing the stairs, all other noises cease to exist for a moment.

The atmosphere was drowned in silence and it lingered until Kael's presence finally disappeared letting everyone breathe out of relief.

....

As the last echoes of the shattered brawl faded and Kael disappeared upstairs with Lyria slung over his shoulder, two figures huddled in the dim corner of the inn. Their eyes stayed locked on the aftermath, ignoring the gasps and whispers from the other patrons.

One of them, a lean man with twitchy eyes and nervous fingers, pulled out a folded poster. The flickering lantern light revealed a detailed sketch of a young noble with pale skin and greyish hair. At the bottom, in bold red ink, the bounty glared like a beacon, 50,000 gold coins.

"Hey," the nervous man whispered, tapping his companion's arm. "Don't you think that guy upstairs looked…a lot like this?"

His friend, bulkier, with a scar under his left eye and an easy smirk, took the poster and studied it briefly before scoffing.

"Hah. The hair's off—black instead of grey. But the face… yeah, close enough. Pale skin, those eyes. That aura. He fits."

The twitchy one fidgeted. "But did you see what he did down there? Thirty men down like nothing. He's dangerous. This might turn into a full-blown disaster."

"Oh stop being a scaredy cat," the scarred man snorted. "We're not heroes or warriors—we're survivors. Opportunists. This is how we make our way."

He jabbed a finger at the bounty. "Just look at this. Fifty thousand gold coins! Even if the reward gets split ten ways, we'd still walk away with fifty thousand. That's enough to buy this entire damned town."

The nervous one paled. "Fifty thousand... just for turning in one guy?" He whistled low. "Even ten percent of that... gods... we wouldn't need to lift a finger for years."

"Exactly." The scarred man grinned. "Why take risks for copper when gold's walking around in broad daylight?"

He leaned closer and dropped his voice. "If you're too afraid to move directly, let's use a little strategy. That bastard who ran away during the fight—what was his name? Bon..No,Bob?"

"Yeah. Bob."

"Perfect. He's probably seething with humiliation. Let's feed his fire. Tell him we've got a grudge too. Push him to hire strong mercenaries to take this guy down."

The nervous one hesitated. "So… let Bob throw the first punch and we sit back to see what happens?"

"Exactly," the scarred man said, eyes gleaming. "Let Bon measure Kael's strength for us. If he succeeds, we collect our share. If he fails… we learn what not to do."

He clapped his companion on the back. "Just survive and profit, brother. That's the rule."

And with that, they slipped quietly out of the inn, like hyenas sniffing at the edge of a lion's den.