Transmigrated as the Villainess Princess - Chapter 40

Chapter 40: The Mate Bond (8)

“Assassins,” the queen whispered, her voice laced with both sorrow and fury. “They infiltrated the palace grounds. The king is inside, leading the effort to contain them.”

Before anyone could react, Duchess Mors shrieked in panic. “Richard!”

Her son had fallen to his knees, his body trembling as fresh blood trickled from the corner of his mouth.

“Why is there more blood?” she cried, rushing to his side.

Richard’s breathing was ragged, but his gaze burned with determination. “Where… is the princess?” he managed to utter, his voice hoarse but resolute.

Before anyone could respond, the king’s thunderous voice echoed from within the palace walls. “Protect the princess!”

“Princess!”

The single word electrified Richard. Despite his weakened state, he pushed himself to his feet, the pain in his chest forgotten.

His instincts drove him forward, his body moving faster than anyone could react.

“Richard!” the duchess screamed, reaching out to stop him, but the duke held her back.

“Let him go,” Duke Mors said, his voice heavy with unspoken grief.

“No! He’s my son!” she cried, struggling against her husband’s grip.

“He will survive,” the duke said, though his tightly shut eyes betrayed his inner torment. “He must.”

Richard sprinted into the palace, his heart pounding not from fear, but from an unshakable need to find her.

The echoes of battle and the distant cries of the wounded filled the halls, but his focus remained unyielding. He would protect her, no matter the cost.

And as the shadows of the palace grew darker, Richard’s determination burned brighter than ever.

As Richard entered the palace, chaos, and carnage filled his vision. The grand hall, once a symbol of opulence and power, had become a battlefield.

The metallic scent of blood mingled with the acrid stench of burning fabric and debris, creating a suffocating atmosphere.

At the center of the room, a wormhole pulsed violently, its edges shimmering with an eerie, otherworldly light.

It crackled with energy, distorting the air around it like a living, breathing entity.

Richard’s breath caught in his throat when his gaze landed on the princess. Ahcehera stood at the forefront of the carnage, her left hand drenched in blood.

Her face was pale but resolute, her eyes burning with a mixture of fury and defiance. With every ounce of her strength, she forced the remaining assassins into the wormhole.

Her fingers moved in intricate patterns, weaving magic that pulsed through the air like a tangible force.

Around her, the hall was littered with bodies, guards and assassins alike. The crimson stains on the marble floor were a stark reminder of the battle’s toll.

Not far from her, the king was locked in combat with a formidable opponent.

Their clash reverberated through the hall, each strike a testament to the king’s unwavering strength and determination to protect his kingdom.

But then, it happened.

As the last assassin was swallowed by the wormhole’s swirling vortex, a gleaming chain shot out from its depths.

It coiled like a serpent, its links glowing with an ominous, unnatural energy.

Before anyone could react, the chain wrapped itself around Ahcehera’s waist, pulling her toward the wormhole with relentless force.

“Ahcehera!” Richard shouted, his voice raw with panic.

She struggled against the chain, her magic flaring as she tried to break free. But her strength was waning, the blood loss and exhaustion taking their toll.

Time seemed to slow as Richard watched her being dragged closer to the wormhole.

His heart thundered in his chest, and an overwhelming surge of adrenaline coursed through his veins.

Without a second thought, he moved.

Richard’s legs propelled him forward with a speed he didn’t know he possessed. He pushed past debris and bodies, his sole focus on the princess.

His mind screamed at him to stop, this was suicide, but his heart drowned out every rational thought.

As Ahcehera was pulled toward the wormhole’s edge, Richard leaped. His outstretched hand grabbed hold of hers just as the vortex began to engulf her.

The world around them blurred, the hall vanishing as the wormhole claimed them both.

And in that fleeting moment before the unknown consumed them, Richard tightened his grip on her hand, his voice steady despite the chaos.

“I’m not letting go.”

The wormhole roared, and then there was silence.

–

When Ahcehera’s eyes fluttered open, the first thing she saw was Richard lying unconscious beside her. His face was serene, yet his pale complexion told her he was far from unscathed.

The sound of rushing water reached her ears, and she shifted her gaze to see a glimmering river winding through the dense foliage of a rainforest.

Towering trees formed a green canopy above, sunlight piercing through in scattered beams that danced across the forest floor.

A lush rainforest? How is this possible? She sat up, her body aching from exhaustion.

This environment was a stark contrast to the meticulously controlled settings of the Interstellar community.

Her gaze returned to Richard, questions flooding her mind.

How did he know I was in danger?

As her thoughts lingered, fragments of the battle earlier flashed through her memory.

She recalled the moment her body unleashed an unexpected surge of magic, a force so raw and powerful it had overwhelmed the assassins.

But it wasn’t just magic, it was something more, something foreign.

She closed her eyes, trying to feel it again, and there it was an echo of energy that thrummed within her veins.

It wasn’t hers, it carried his distinct aura, a vibrant hue of deep purple that resonated with his presence.

Her brows furrowed in confusion.

It was never mentioned in the novel that the villainess could use magic.

My mother’s lineage holds no such power. So how did I wield it?

The realization dawned on her slowly, chilling and thrilling all at once.

Without legal marriage or consummation, can the bond truly let us use each other’s talents?

Her mind raced as she recalled another memory, a moment she had dismissed at the time but now carried profound weight.

The night Richard saved her from the Zerg siege, his voice echoed in her thoughts, calm yet commanding. “Let me borrow your strength, princess.”