MLHRGD 108

#108. A Dangerous Invitation (4)

At that moment, the prey he had been waiting for finally came, answering his invitation.

“Oh, my brother has arrived.”

Gregory stretched his neck toward the window and laughed quietly.
The same Dmitri, who had just been cutting down monsters on the battlefield, was now walking toward the castle where they were.

Of course, this was all Gregory’s doing.

He had deliberately left clues and opened a path, ensuring only Dmitri would come here.

As planned, Dmitri came alone. No bothersome escorts followed, no delays, no wandering. He found his way perfectly.

“Let’s spend this final time together, just the two of us, brother.”

Seeing Dmitri approach, Gregory grinned and moved quickly.

Boom!

Leaping from the very top of the castle, he landed at the entrance with a heavy thud. He straightened himself.

“Dmitri Volkov!”

At the booming voice, Dmitri turned his head toward the sound.

The thick mist parted slowly, and from it emerged a monster shaped like a man.

Its body was covered in hideous scars and dark skin.
No eyebrows, only heavy brow ridges, eyes stained red and blue underneath, a flattened nose.
Between its broken, gapped teeth, a long purple tongue flickered.

It was such a revolting monster that one would frown instinctively.

But as it came closer, there was something strangely familiar about it.

Dmitri frowned. How could a monster’s face feel familiar?
Every monster he had ever met had died under his blade.

And yet—

He realized only when the monster shouted.

“My brother!”

With arms wide open as if wanting to embrace him, it rushed toward Dmitri.

Seeing it up close, Dmitri finally recognized who this monster was.

“…Gregory?”

“Yes. It’s me.”

“You… how?!”

Dmitri could not hide his shock.

Gregory, long declared dead, was alive. Though hideous, he spoke, he moved—he lived.

“……!”

Gregory’s twisted lips trembled before Dmitri’s astonished gaze.

He wanted to smile brightly, but his broken body didn’t obey. Instead, his stiff muscles only formed a crooked grin.

“I’ve come back from hell to take back what’s mine.”

“What’s yours?”

“Yes, mine! My land, my wealth, everything you have, brother! All of it should have been mine!”

As Gregory’s greedy eyes gleamed, Dmitri’s mind swirled with tangled thoughts.

Then a suspicion flashed.

“Don’t tell me—it was you who controlled the monsters and started this war?”

Gregory burst into laughter.

“Not so stupid after all, brother.”

“You…!”

So many had died in this war.

Countless civilians killed or wounded, families torn apart, homes lost.

And his own soldiers—brothers-in-arms who had fought and bled beside him—more than half were gone.

Rage blazed in Dmitri’s eyes. He could not hold back—he swung his sword.

Clang!

But his strike was blocked midway.

From Gregory’s fingertips grew long, hard claws, like blades, stopping the sword cold.

That alone was shocking—Dmitri had even infused his mana, yet his strike was stopped by claws.

Clang! Boom!

He thought the claws would break if he pushed harder with mana and strength. But instead, they forced his sword back.

Grinding his teeth, Dmitri pulled his blade back slightly, then slashed again.

Slash! Crash! Bang!

Dmitri’s sword and Gregory’s claws clashed again and again. Sparks flew, and the air itself trembled.

But the more they fought, the more Dmitri realized—this shouldn’t be possible.

Gregory had never been close to his skill. Since childhood, their abilities had been as far apart as sky and earth.

As an adult, Dmitri had lived on battlefields. Gregory couldn’t even spar with him.

But now—

“Ugh!”

With every clash, Dmitri was pushed back.

His eyes shook with disbelief and confusion.

Gregory grinned.

Whooosh—!

The fierce northern winds blew hard, as if cheering on their duel.

But as the fight dragged on, Dmitri was forced backward, step by step.

Until suddenly—he was at the cliff behind the castle.

Clatter!

A small stone knocked loose under his heel and fell into the abyss below.

Glancing back, Dmitri saw the sheer drop yawning wide.

…He was standing at the very edge. One misstep, and he would fall straight down.

Gregory looked at him with a crooked smile.

“Oh my, oh my. Just one more step and you’ll be off to the afterlife.”

“……”

Dmitri knew exactly where he stood.

He didn’t know what power Gregory had gained, but—

…he had lost.

Utterly defeated, his very life hung by a thread.

If Gregory struck again, even if he blocked, the force would drive him over the cliff.

“Why not beg me for your life? We are brothers, after all.”

“Bullshit.”

Dmitri cut him off immediately.

Gregory’s eyes narrowed.

Even at this brink of death, his arrogant brother mocked him. Infuriating!

‘Even dying, he won’t bow to me!’

Gregory’s broken body creaked as he stepped closer.

Dmitri, back straight, did not avert his eyes from his brother’s grotesque face.

That natural arrogance, that commanding aura—Gregory had envied it his whole life, but never matched it.

Even cornered, Dmitri still felt above him.

Grinding his few remaining teeth, Gregory raised his claws.

“Fine then. Keep your pride. I’ll take everything else.”

Stab!

His claw pierced Dmitri’s chest.

“Khak!”

Blood burst with his cough. Agony surged from his chest.

His legs lost strength and staggered.

And then—

“…!”

His body toppled backward. No one pulled him forward again.

Whoooosh—!

Dmitri fell down the sheer cliff.

Gregory peered into the misty abyss and burst into loud laughter.

“Wahahaha—!”

His crazed laughter echoed and returned to him.

After listening for a while, still grinning, he muttered,

“Farewell, brother.”

But no answer came back. Only the cutting wind slashed his face.

“Why did you kill him?”

It was Raissa’s voice, suddenly behind him.

“I needed his corpse.”

She frowned. Gregory’s strike had pierced Dmitri’s heart—he was surely dead. And if by some miracle he had survived, the fall would have shattered his body to pieces.

His death was fine. But no intact body remained, and that ruined her plans.

“With the body, I could have used the relic to revive him.”

A resurrected Dmitri Volkov would obey her commands absolutely. Then taking the Volkov lands would have been easy. Gregory knew this.

And yet—

“There was no reason to keep him alive.”

Gregory shrugged, his face chillingly cold.

‘So he did it on purpose.’

If only bones remained, resurrection was possible. But with nothing left, it was impossible.

Raissa’s eyes narrowed.

She wanted to lash out, but held it in.

Pressing her furrowed brow, she muttered,

“Without a body, I’ll have to use another method.”

“Why not just march down now? Take the city with the monster army.”

“Full war is a last resort. I want the city whole, not ruined.”

Gregory scowled at her reasoning.

“If buildings break, rebuild them. If people die, bring in more. Why fuss?”

He licked his lips with his monstrous hunger, consumed only by destruction.

Raissa looked at him coldly.

‘If we go to full war, we’ll face not only the north but the entire empire. We’re not ready for that.’

Calm where Gregory was reckless, she said,

“We must approach Pavel Volkov instead.”

Gregory chuckled.

“Approach? How? If his uncle who tried to kill him, or you who tried to drive out his wife, showed up—he’d just clap us in chains.”

Raissa replied coolly,

“Then we won’t show our true selves.”

“What? Then how—?”

“Simple. That’s what magic is for.”

She held the relic and chanted a spell.

Fwoosh—!

Black light burst from the orb, engulfing Gregory.

“What is this?!”

His startled voice rang out. He swung his arms, and the black light faded.

In place of the monstrous figure stood a man who looked alive.

Black hair, red eyes, but otherwise an ordinary face.

Raissa spoke.

“From now on, you are Chernomor Volkov.”

“What?”

“You’ll be a hidden branch of the Volkov family, long secluded. That is your new identity.”

Gregory—now Chernomor—frowned deeply.

As he grumbled, the relic flared again, covering Raissa in black light.

When it cleared, she too had changed.

“Oh… so that’s how it works.”

Chernomor muttered, staring at the beautiful woman before him.

“My appearance changed like this too?”

He brushed his lips with his fingers—his teeth were now whole and even, not broken.

Satisfied, he asked,

“So, what should I call you now?”

The reply came instantly.

“Naina.”

Raissa—now Naina—swept her long black hair over her shoulder, her once deathly pale face glowing with life.

But there was one peculiar thing.

“You—you copied that woman, didn’t you?”

Her delicate features resembled Alexandra Volkov.