Chapter 44: Clarisse’s Anger and Resentment

Chapter 44: Clarisse’s Anger and ResentmentInside the medical room, Adalen lay unconscious, his face pale and drenched in cold sweat. His brows were furrowed, as if he were trapped in a nightmare. Standing beside him were two people—a man and a woman. The man was short, with a slightly protruding belly, and dressed in a white robe. His hair had turned completely white, as if time itself had drained its color. He wore glasses, but his left eye—once brown—had turned gray, a sign of partial blindness. Across from him stood a strikingly beautiful woman. Tall and slender, she had a voluptuous figure, with a full chest and curvy hips. She wore a light blue dress that accentuated her calm, graceful, yet captivating aura. Her pink hair was styled in a braided crown that suited her appearance perfectly, and her golden-yellow eyes shone with an enchanting light. Despite being over forty, she looked no older than a woman in her twenties. This woman was Clarisse Everlain—Ragan’s third wife and the mother of Adalen and Seira. As she looked at her son’s pitiful state, a flicker of anger crossed her beautiful face. "Dalas, how is my son? Will he be alright?" she asked, turning to the short man. Dalas placed his hand on Adalen’s chest, then gave a small nod. "Don’t worry, Lady Clarisse. Prince Adalen is fine," Dalas replied calmly. "He just went into shock and lost consciousness. He should wake up in a few hours." "Good." Clarisse sighed with relief, but her anger remained, burning even hotter. She had never imagined something so terrible could befall her beloved son. What was supposed to be a festive, splendid occasion had turned into a nightmare. From the black dragon’s attack to her son’s suffering, both were the result of the Singularity of Chaos’s interference. The Singularity of Chaos... she muttered, clenching her hands into fists. She knew she was no match for a being as powerful as her father. Still, as the old saying went, "Never underestimate a mother’s love—it’s stronger than anything in this world." She couldn’t take revenge herself—but that didn’t mean no one else could. Her father, the Singularity of Light, was the only one who could stand against the Singularity of Chaos. Only a Singularity could confront another. And she was certain her father would help her avenge her son. Meanwhile, Dalas glanced at her grim expression and easily guessed what was on her mind. How naive, he whispered with a faint smile. He knew Clarisse was desperate to find a way to avenge her son—but to him, it was pointless, futile, and absurd. Before becoming the head of the palace medical team, Dalas had traveled the world and witnessed things most people couldn’t even imagine. And he had to admit—the Singularity of Chaos was a being beyond reason. He was powerful, clever, and terrifying. Dalas dared say this because he had witnessed firsthand how the man had killed a catastrophe-level dragon in the Duke of Valcrest’s territory. At the time, Dalas had been assigned by Ragan to aid the victims of the dragon’s brutal attack. Amid the despair, a black-cloaked figure appeared and dispatched the colossal beast with a single wave of his hand. It was the most unbelievable, senseless moment Dalas had ever witnessed—a monster capable of destroying half a continent, defeated with just a wave of the hand. Many would call him crazy if told the story, but it was the truth. When Dalas realized Clarisse was seeking a way to confront the Singularity of Chaos, he only smiled silently. He understood the hierarchy among the Singularities, and it was clear that the Singularity of Chaos was the strongest. "Very well, Lady Clarisse," Dalas said as he packed up his equipment. "I must attend to another patient." "Another patient?" Clarisse blinked in surprise. "Is there another injured prince?" "Yes," Dalas nodded. "Prince Aldric." Hearing this, Clarisse’s eyes widened in disbelief. "Aldric, you say?" ... Dalas entered the next room and saw two women standing beside Aldric’s bed—a young woman and a mature one. The mature woman was beautiful and graceful, her figure slightly short but well-proportioned, draped in a golden dress. Her blonde hair was styled in a perfect chignon, enhancing her mature and graceful appearance. In contrast, the young woman’s youthful face wore an indifferent, cynical expression that made onlookers feel subtly mocked. Her face was lovely, but her youth still kept her from fully blossoming. The two were Vanessa Malvain, Empress and Aldric’s mother, and Novaria Lorian, Aldric’s sister. "Dalas!" Vanessa breathed a sigh of relief upon seeing him, her anxiety easing. Dalas turned to the woman, offering a slight smile and a polite nod. "Good afternoon, Your Majesty," he greeted respectfully, cupping his hands. While his courtesy to Clarisse had been measured, with Vanessa it rose to the utmost formality. The distinction was clear—Vanessa was the Empress, while Clarisse held the status of a concubine. "Dalas, how is my son? Is he alright?" Vanessa asked, her voice heavy with worry. Despite being middle-aged, her exceptional beauty made her look nothing of the sort. Instead, she appeared more like a woman in her thirties—mature, yet still captivating. "Please wait a moment, Your Majesty. I will examine Prince Aldric’s condition more closely," Dalas replied. He approached Aldric’s bedside, took out his equipment, and began the examination. Vanessa and Novaria quickly stepped aside, giving him room to work. Five minutes passed. When he finished, Dalas packed up his tools and faced them. "Don’t worry, Your Majesty and Princess Novaria. Prince Aldric’s condition is stable for now. However, he needs plenty of rest—his backbone was fractured from the severe impact." Vanessa felt relief at the first part, but her face instantly drained of color upon hearing the rest. "What did you say? Aldric’s backbone is broken?" Her heart pounded in her chest. At first, she had hoped her son’s injuries weren’t too serious, but the reality was far worse than she had imagined. The battle for the throne had begun. If Aldric didn’t recover soon, it would spell disaster for both her and the Malvain family. After all, Aldric was their greatest hope in this fight. "Yes," Dalas replied. "But stay calm. I’ll prescribe a special medicine, and in two days, I guarantee he’ll recover." Despite her worry, Vanessa nodded reluctantly. "Alright. Thank you, Dalas." "You’re welcome, Your Majesty. I’ll take my leave now." After saying this, Dalas left the room, leaving Vanessa and Novaria alone. "Mother..." Novaria began, but Vanessa gently placed a hand on her shoulder to soothe her. "I know what you’re thinking. But don’t worry—your brother will be fine, just as Dalas said." Novaria swallowed her words and nodded sadly. "I’ll go first. Take good care of Aldric, okay?" "I will. Leave it to me," Novaria replied quietly. Vanessa turned to leave but stopped just a few steps outside the door. She glanced to the side, gave a slight smile, and asked, "Clarisse, do you need to speak with me?"