The Lycan King and his Dark Temptation novel Chapter 233

SIGRID

I emerged from beneath her feet, from the last remnants of the enchanted forest—Electra’s powerful illusion. She controlled everything in this terrain.

I grabbed her hair from behind, exposing her neck. She crouched, trying to rise and strike back.

The storms were gathering again, but my merciless hand drove straight to her throat, slicing from left to right. Deep and fatal.

Blood splattered onto the fake body lying in front of Petra—the one I had created midair, using the hem of my dress as a decoy puppet.

At the same time, taking advantage of the mist that had blinded them all, I hid beneath the bewitched ground, near the mannequin that mimicked my form—lying in wait, like a predator stalking its prey.

She swallowed the illusion completely. Most of them did.

I had to admit, this spell of Electra’s was truly twisted and brilliantly deceptive. I turned her body over—she was on her knees, trembling.

I wanted to see her eyes. Now, she was truly panicked. Now, she felt real terror sinking into her soul.

Her bloodied hands clutched her throat. A green glow of magic flickered—she was trying to heal herself.

"I'm sorry, dear Petra, but this time, there won't be a rematch," I told her with mockery, letting all my resentment spill out.

These wretched bitches, playing with the lives of innocents like it was a game—every damn time.

I drove both daggers down, crossing them violently. Fire infused the blades, turning them white-hot.

With one clean stroke, I severed her head.

It rolled aside, her expression still frozen in shock, unable to comprehend that she had lost—that I had actually dared to kill her in front of everyone.

I kicked her lifeless body aside, then grabbed her severed head by the hair and walked toward the end of the "battlefield."

She was there—watching me with pure, seething hatred. Good. I hated her too.

More than she could ever imagine. Before I left, I had to kill this woman.

Even if it changed history—I didn’t care. The murmurs around me didn’t stop.

Many had been gravely wounded in these matches—but none had been killed.

The glass dome had now fully descended.

"Thank you for inviting me to the competition, Miss Silver. Very entertaining and exciting," I said with biting irony, standing before her and throwing Petra’s head at her feet—barely restraining my thirst for blood.

"It didn’t seem dangerous at all for you, Miss De la Croix. I suppose I can no longer call you an inexperienced young woman," she replied, frowning.

Her mask of indifference was cracking.

The divide between the Silver and De la Croix factions was becoming more obvious. The witches were splitting into two opposing sides.

She had orchestrated Electra’s death through Petra. This "game" of a battle had always been kill or be killed.

"Nonsense. Just a stroke of luck. She was hard to surpass," I replied with fake nonchalance.

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