CHAPTER FORTY: OF HOSTAGE CHAOS, UNSEEN TACTICS, AND THE MOMENT THE COURT STRUCK
Third Person POV
It was supposed to be the third day of the Arcanum Festival. But Supreme Allievo Academy had never looked more like a battlefield.
Tattered banners flapped like wounded flags across broken booths. The festival schedule had long crumbled into rumors and rumors into panic. Noise echoed off the stone archways of Solencia Courtyard—students shouting, staff pacing, guards frozen in confusion.
The President was still suspended.
The council was fractured.
And now?
A knife was pressed to Riyee Del Rio's throat.
"Everyone stay where you are!" a man bellowed, eyes wild. "I said bring me the President or this girl dies!"
The crowd rippled in horror.
"Oh my god—is that Rielle?"
"What's happening? Who is that man?"
"He's not a student. Look at his badge—it's fake!"
"Security, do something!"
But none of the guards moved.
Because they couldn't.
The man had one arm locked around Riyee's chest, the other hand gripping the blade so close to her skin that one wrong move would paint the marble red.
Jodie tried to rush forward, but Xylia held her back.
"Jodie—no!" she hissed, voice shaking. "He's serious! He'll hurt her!"
"We can't just watch!" Jodie screamed. "She's our friend—let me go!"
Errol had gone pale, arms locked tight around Mico, who was dialing every admin contact he had.
"They're not answering. Why aren't they answering?!"
"He said he wants Khaizer." Xylia muttered. "He's looking for the President."
"He's suspended!" Errol said. "He's not even supposed to be here!"
But he was.
Across the crowd, through the sea of students and frozen guards—Khaizer Dylan stood in silence.
His fists clenched. Eyes burning. But not moving. Because one twitch, one step forward—and the blade would go deeper.
And Riyee?
She hadn't flinched once. But the tremble in her fingers had started.
Her body was locked still, her breath thin, her jaw tight.
She told herself it didn't hurt.
Told herself she was fine.
Told herself she wasn't afraid.
But the lie cracked a little every second the blade stayed against her skin.
"Bring him out!" the man snapped again. "I want him to see what happens when you humiliate people like me! This school thinks it can use us—pretend we matter—then toss us out? You think I'd stay quiet?!"
Students screamed as the man jerked Riyee tighter. Her shoes scraped against the tiles. Still, she didn't cry out.
"No one moves, or she dies!" he snarled.
The guards didn't move. Neither did KD.
But elsewhere—on the second floor of Sovereign Suites—a soft buzz lit a black encrypted device.
It vibrated once.
Twice.
A red alert blinked into the dark screen:
LEVEL SIX THREAT DETECTED.
PRINCESS ARIELLE RYLANCE DEL RIO — HOSTAGE.
AUTHORIZATION: ARDENT COURT INTERVENTION.
Xythe Nathaniel Alcantara was already watching.
He stood by his window—expression unreadable, body still, like a predator waiting for permission to strike.
His gaze didn't flicker. Not once.
He had already calculated ten outcomes.
Eight resulted in blood.
Only one ensured she walked away clean.
He was never letting it go to eight.
And the moment the alert hit—
He moved.
Inside a secure channel buried deep in the Celestine communication grid, the Ardent Court lit up.
Keryn: "Confirmed. Target locked. Outside interference. Festival perimeter compromised."
Tofer: "Visual confirmed. Knife on the neck. Hostage class: royal priority."
Saichel: "Don't even breathe yet. Wait for Xythe's signal."
Seb: "Security's frozen. No backup from SAA. KD is there—frozen."
Thres: "You think he'll move?"
Keryn: "He won't. Not fast enough."
Lyle: "Then we strike."
Xythe: "...Wait for my mark."
He didn't need a crown.
He didn't need applause.
He needed her safe.
The crowd below didn't see Xythe until he was already walking through them.
No words.
No warnings.
Just silence.
And the storm that followed him.
"Stay back!" the hostage-taker shouted. "One step closer and—"
"You'll do exactly what?" Xythe asked, calm.
The man's grip tightened. "Don't test me—"
"You've already failed."
The knife trembled.
"I swear, I'll kill her—"
Xythe tilted his head slightly. Then he smiled.
Cold. Predatory.
And in that second, a sharp sound cracked the air.
PFFT.
A shot.
Silent. Precise.
The man jerked—shoulders spasming, grip faltering.
Riyee stumbled back—
And into Xythe's arms.
He caught her effortlessly, one hand steadying her waist, the other guiding her behind him.
His voice was low, only for her:
"You don't think I'd let you be hurt like that Ari, do you?"
Her breath caught. His scent. His calm. His presence.
Of course it was him.
Of course he came.
But the man wasn't done.
Staggering, rage twisting his face, he lunged forward again—blade raised, screaming.
Another shot.
PFFT.
The man dropped—face-first, unconscious, twitching.
Gasps broke from the crowd.
"That's a gun!"
"He has a gun! He shot him!"
"Where did that even come from—"
"Isn't he from Celestine?"
"That's a prince—"
Xythe exhaled lightly, straightening as the guards surged forward—too late. He raised the sleek, black weapon casually.
"Tranquilizer." he said. "Relax."
Still gripping Riyee's wrist, he turned. The courtyard split again to make way.
But as he passed KD—frozen, expression storming—Xythe paused.
He didn't sneer. Didn't mock. Just looked him in the eye.
And said—
"I told you. Protect her. If not... we will."
Then he walked away. Riyee beside him.
The Ardent Court—watching from afar—went silent.
Until Lyle's voice came through the comms, soft and cold:
"That was a warning. Let the school watch. Let them all remember. No one touches the Princess."
And in Xythe's head—just one thought remained:
You never deserved her crown.
But you'll earn her war.
If you survive it.
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