A Ghost's Wish [MxM]

64. A Ghost's Wish [End]

When Oliver and his group entered the throne room, the aristocrats screamed and shuffled away in fear. The shattering of wine glasses stopped the musicians and drew Piers' attention toward the door.

Piers glared coldly and sat back on his throne, crossing his leg. "What gives you the right to intrude?"

Oliver shook his head. "I am in no mood for games and wordplay, Piers. You know why I'm here." Oliver answered, his voice heavy-laden with emotion.

Yonsu was the villain behind the screen for two lifetimes, but Oliver's enemy had always been Piers.

Because of Piers, he suffered.

He felt the sharp pains of countless knives.

He went to war.

He lost his family.

He watched his friends die.

He burned his soldiers.

He gave up his chance for love.

He was humiliated and branded as Ghost.

He was tortured and broken.

He died.

Oliver's only crimes were his bloodline and naive affection for an insane king.

How dare he?

Piers didn't see the maelstrom of emotions building in Oliver. Instead, he waived his hand with disdain. "Enough of this nonsense. Guards!"

A group of royal guards came trickling in, but they did not have the same glimmer as Tomin. They were also facing some hardships serving under Piers.

"Arrest the intruders," Piers demanded.

The guards were a little wary and looked toward Oliver for guidance.

Piers stood from his throne with an enraged look. "Don't look at them! I am your King! Arrest. Them."

"You have asked you men to arrest representatives of the Realms," Gallio said with a laugh. "They have every right to hesitate, you dumb shit."

"You have no right to be here," Piers seethed.

Oliver slowly walked down the center of the throne room. The violet in his eyes had darkened amidst his rage and was nearly black. The thud of his heavy steps made everyone's hearts stutter. A trail of muddy footprints followed behind him, staining the white tiled floor.

"Believe me, Piers. I have no desire to be in this place ever again. I would rather see it in ruins." Oliver said without fluctuation. He stopped halfway and inhaled sharply. "I can still smell the stench of blood and bones of those who have died for that accursed crown. I often wonder if the battlefield has seen less blood than this room."

"Stay back," Piers ordered, but his voice had weakened. His eyes darted toward Tomin.

Tomin drew his sword and stormed toward Oliver. However, Oliver's eyes showed nothing but indifference. However, Tomin's stumbled when Oliver's stony expression broke into an eerie grin.

"Killing you once was never enough," Oliver chuckled. With a step, he met with Tomin.

The room was startled by a flash of white, but it lasted for just a moment. Tomin tettered on his feet for a moment, his mouth open in shock as if he choked on a scream. His knees buckled and fell to his side; however, his head toppled off in another direction, rolling to the feet of several aristocrats.

The aristocrats shrieked, trying to escape from the dead body and Oliver; however, they faltered as they approached the doors guarded by Oliver's entourage.