Lord of Caldera - Chapter 342

Chapter 342: Chapter 342 Surprised That I’m Not Feeling Ill?
On the day of the ceremony, both sides faced each other with their armies in formation. The atmosphere was tense as Sylas and the three lords came face-to-face.

“Thank you sincerely for accepting our terms. Your Excellency’s mercy will forever be remembered in southern history.”

“Spare me the sweet talk about mercy and history. Just prepare for the ceremony,” Sylas retorted.

The lords flushed red with humiliation at his mocking tone, but they held their tongues. They were the ones surrendering, and Sylas was the victor.

“To avoid any mishaps, we brought our own wine for the ritual. I trust you have no objections?”

“Why would I?” Sylas replied indifferently.

“Then let us each take a goblet and add our blood,” one of the lords said.

Sylas filled an unusually large goblet with wine and handed it to the lords. Taking his own goblet, he pricked his fingertip, letting drops of his blood drip into the wine. The lords followed suit, adding their blood to their respective goblets.

Now!

As it came Zamed’s turn, he pretended to cut his wrist while discreetly pressing a hidden mechanism on his bracelet. A few drops of a crimson liquid, indistinguishable from blood, dripped into the wine. It was the deadly poison, a substance so potent that even elixirs couldn’t counteract it.

The goblets were exchanged, Sylas taking the one mixed with the lords’ blood, and the lords receiving the one with Sylas’s blood.

“By drinking each other’s blood today, we engrave this oath into our very lifeblood,” Gerdt proclaimed ceremoniously. “Those who break this oath will bear the mark of a coward in their blood and flesh, a stain that will follow them even in death.”

Sylas’s nobles shifted uncomfortably at the veiled threat, but Sylas simply smirked. To him, it was little more than a desperate plea not to break the oath.

“Raise your goblets!”

The three lords raised their goblets, drinking the wine mixed with Sylas’s blood. At the same time, Sylas drained his goblet containing the lords’ blood.

As Sylas’s throat moved while swallowing, the three lords silently rejoiced.

It’s done! He drank it!

He’s finished now!

Shh, get ready to escape!

Having successfully poisoned Sylas, all that remained was to escape before he realized what had happened and retaliated. The lords began to subtly retreat, awaiting the signs of the poison taking effect. However, even after a full minute had passed, Sylas appeared completely fine.

“This wine is far too fine for a mere ritual. It feels like a waste to drink it all at once,” Sylas remarked, swirling the remaining wine in his goblet.

“…?”

The three lords exchanged confused glances. Why wasn’t he showing any signs of poisoning?

Sylas burst into laughter at their bewilderment. “What’s wrong? Surprised that I’m not feeling ill?”

“…!”

“You pathetic fools. Is poisoning really the best plan you could come up with? I was expecting something a little more creative.”

“W-we don’t understand what you mean, Your Excellency! Poison? How could we possibly poison you? Wasn’t the wine prepared by your side?” Zamed stammered, stepping in to cover for the stunned Gerdt and the other lord.

Sylas’s smile turned icy as he held out his goblet, still containing some of the wine. “If you’re so confident, why don’t you come and drink this yourself? There’s plenty left since I only had one sip.”

“…!”

Zamed’s face turned ghostly pale at the suggestion.

“Drink that?”

If it had been one of the other two lords, they might have hesitated, wondering if the cup was truly poisoned. But Zamed was the one who had added the poison himself. Having seen the deadly drops mix into the wine with his own eyes, he wasn’t foolish enough to drink it.

Trying to maintain his composure, Zamed stammered an excuse.

“Your Excellency, this is a sacred ceremony. Re-exchanging the goblets would be a desecration of the ritual—”

“Shut up and drink it. Does this look like a suggestion to you?” Sylas snapped.

“…”

Zamed’s feeble excuse crumbled under Sylas’s command. As Zamed hesitated, retreating a step, Sylas smirked.

“Where do you think you’re going? Surely, you don’t believe you can simply walk away from me unscathed?”

At those words, the faces of Gerdt and Zeldir paled. It hit them then—escape would only be possible after the poison took effect. Turning their backs on a lively and alert Dragon Slayer was tantamount to suicide.

“P-please calm down, Your Excellency,” Zamed pleaded.

“This is your last warning. Come here and drink it yourself,” Sylas said firmly.

“This is an outrage! Your Excellency, you are acting beyond—”

“Isaac. Toby,” Sylas interrupted, turning to his retainers.

“Yes, my lord.”

“Bring him here and force him to drink it.”

“Understood!”

The two men stepped forward decisively, striding toward Zamed. The knights of the alliance flinched and stepped back, unwilling to confront them.

Zamed, panicking, screamed at his men.

“What are you doing? Stop them! I said stop them!”

“…Why aren’t you going yourself?” one knight muttered.

“What?” Zamed froze.

“If you’re truly innocent, wouldn’t it be easy to prove by drinking it yourself?”

Even knights who weren’t Zamed’s personal retainers were now casting suspicious glances his way. His own men exchanged uneasy looks, their trust wavering. Zamed’s behavior was undeniably suspicious. While he stammered, Isaac and Toby seized him.

“Come on, you rat.”

“Let go! I am a lord of high standing—”

“A lord who tried poisoning someone has no standing left,” Toby retorted.

The two dragged Zamed to Sylas, taking the goblet from him. Zamed thrashed violently but was powerless to resist. His mouth was pried open, and a few drops of the poisoned wine were forced down his throat.

“Cough! Gah! Ack!”

At first, nothing happened. But after several seconds, blood began to pour from Zamed’s eyes, ears, nose, and mouth. Writhing in agony, he clawed at his own body before collapsing and dying.

Everyone stood in stunned silence, staring at Zamed’s lifeless corpse. To think he had actually attempted to use the ritual as a cover for poisoning.

“Gerdt. Zeldir,” Sylas called, his voice cold.

“…”

“There’s still a little left. Come forward and drink it.”

The two lords trembled with terror. Gerdt stumbled backward and fell to the ground, while Zeldir collapsed to his knees, bowing his head.

“P-please, Your Excellency, show mercy! It was all that vile man’s doing—”

“Enough. Just tell me what poison it was,” Sylas demanded.

“D-Dragon Fear,” Zeldir admitted, his voice trembling.

“What? That infamous poison said to be incurable, even by elixirs!?”

The nobles of the alliance erupted in outrage.