"What happened was… the tal attack worked, but… didn't work at the sa ti," Ashok answered to the Duke's desperate question.
The Duke's patience shattered like glass. "Please! Just Stop talking in riddles." he pleaded, his voice breaking.
The Duke's voice trembled with desperation, he no longer cared about his pride. His normally unwavering deanor had cracked, the once-mighty figure of authority now reduced to a man on the edge, his resolve crumbling as he sought the truth about his daughter.
The Head Butler and Cassius, standing as silent witnesses to the exchange, felt a wave of unease wash over them. Their bodies trembled, though they tried to hide it.
To them, the Duke had always been a pillar—unshakable, stoic even in the face of his wife's death.
But now, hearing the Duke say "Please," his voice breaking with such vulnerability, the world around them seed to tilt. The man who had once commanded respect with a single glance, the one who had weathered storms without flinching, was now pleading for answers.
The loss of his beloved wife had nearly shattered the Duke. The pain of that void, the weight of her absence, had been almost unbearable.
It was a grief so deep, it could have consud him entirely—dragged him into the darkness where even the greatest of n falter. But sohow, he had carried on all because of his daughter.
Though his heart cried silently each day, the ache of his wife's loss never truly left him. Each day felt colder without her, the walls of his ho echoing with the emptiness she had left behind. But through it all, he had never allowed himself to break.
He had refused to yield to the crushing weight of sorrow. For the sake of his daughter. He poured every ounce of himself into raising her, determined to be the father she deserved.
But now, standing at the precipice of losing her, he found himself in a place he had never imagined: helpless. His daughter, the one he had fought so hard for, was in a state where even survival seed uncertain, where hope had beco a fragile thing.
The Duke, the pillar of strength, the man who had never asked for anything from anyone, now found himself broken. For the first ti in his life, he requested—no, begged—for sothing.
"The witch used the ntal attack and she was successful, your daughter... she even died for once but not completely.
There was a barrier—sothing that shielded her from fully passing. The witch, unaware of this barrier, still carried out the task she ca for." Said Ashok.
The Duke's world seed to tilt, his daughter's death, even if only temporary, was the unimaginable horror he had feared.
The Duke, though visibly shaken by the revelation of his daughter's brief death, quickly regained his composure because all hope was not completely lost.
"What was the 'Barrier' and what did the witch do?" he asked.
"Do you know how a ntal attack works or how can a ntal attack lead to death?" asked Ashok. The question hung in the air, heavy and foreboding.
The Head Butler was the one to reply "A ntal Attack harms the mind. Depending on the degree of the attack, it first harms the consciousness.
Typically, this results in short-term paralysis, illusions, or the feeling of an extre headache—sotis all at once. The victim might experience dizziness, confusion, or a sense of disorientation.
But... if the attacker possesses a mind much stronger than the one being attacked, the attack transcends the limits of the consciousness. It reaches the subconsciousness—the deepest part of the mind. And when the subconscious is hard, the result is... death."
"A bookish explanation but it's fine." Said Ashok with a sigh and continued "The main point is still not there, How does damage to the sub-consciousness result in death?".
The Duke, still reeling from the implications of the conversation, watched the exchange intently.
"It..." The Head Butler began, his voice hesitant, but then he faltered, pausing mid-sentence.
The truth was, the answer Ashok sought wasn't sothing that could be explained easily—it wasn't sothing he himself fully understood. The theory surrounding the effects of subconscious damage was still being researched, unverified, and largely speculative.
"It what?" Ashok demanded, "Why pause midway? Go on, complete your words."
The Head Butler hesitated; his lips pressed together as if he was reluctant to speak. His eyes darted briefly to the Duke, whose desperate gaze seed to pierce through him, urging him to continue.
With a slow breath, he finally opened his mouth-
"It said that the harm to the subconscious sohow reaches the soul which leads to death. However, there is no definite proof to confirm it. The tower is still researching this phenonon, and it can very well be wrong." said the Head Butler with an uncertain voice.
"There is no need for proof," Ashok said, his tone firm as he turned his gaze back to the Duke. "Because that is exactly what happened with your daughter. The witch's attack was far too strong for her to handle, and the damage to her consciousness made its way into the subconscious. But it never hard her soul—because a barrier was placed there."
"Who placed that barrier?" the Duke asked. He had to know who had helped his daughter, who had protected her when he had been unable to.
The Head Butler and Cassius also seed to hold their breath to listen to the response.
"I did it," Ashok said, breaking the silence with a casual shrug.
"…"
"…"
"…"
The Duke, the Head Butler, and Cassius blankly looked at Ashok. Ashok could practically hear the unspoken question echoing in their minds: Are you serious right now?
Ashok, clearly amused by their reactions, let out a chuckle. "I was just jesting." Before anyone could comnt, he asked "What was your wife's supernatural power, Duke?"
The three of them went wide-eyed shock clear on their faces.
With all the events unfolding in such rapid succession, the room had nearly forgotten the one person in the entire mansion who possessed barrier-type powers.
The Duchess. The Duke's late wife. The Great Witch of Protection.
The Duke, still grappling with the weight of Ashok's words, shook his head in disbelief. "It can't be,"
"Though it sounds unbelievable, it was your wife who protected her daughter—even after her death," said Ashok calmly.
The Head Butler's confusion was evident, his brow furrowed as he processed the information. He thought Ashok was tricking them. "How is that possible? A Soul Trait is normally used upon oneself.
Even if it could, How can a supernatural power remain active even after the death of its owner? It is not a spell... It shouldn't be possible."
"It is well known that Soul Traits grow over ti, and the Duke's wife was a Great Witch who lived through more nights than you, old man, could ever imagine. Her mastery over her power... is sothing beyond your comprehension.
And do you think she placed the barrier in a single day?" Ashok asked, his tone a mix of challenge and condescension.
The Duke's voice, low and almost a whisper, "What... has my wife truly done?"
"In truth, unlike you, your wife was quite smart. From the very day your daughter was born, she knew that sooner or later the witches would co after her." Said Ashok.
The Duke didn't take offense when Ashok pointed out that his wife was smarter than he was. He asked, "Why wait for a child to be born? Why did the witches not co during our marriage?"
"What, would they co to throw flowers and celebrate with you? The reason is obvious, Duke. You are worthless in their eyes.
Even if they killed you, what would happen? Soone else would take your place. The witches have no reason to waste their ti on you. In fact, they fear their own rank more than anything.
Your wife, on the other hand, was ranked third after the Witch Queen. That was more than enough to make sure no one would dare ss with her without a good reason. She was powerful enough that the witches would think twice before taking any action against her.
Your daughter, Duke, was a different story. She was the risk, the one worth the witches taking action for. " said Ashok.
The Duke remained silent, he knew the truth of what Ashok had said. During the early years of his marriage, he had been focused on expanding his power and influence, carefully navigating the web of political connections.
If he had died back then, the Imperial Family would have swiftly moved in, taking control of his alliances, replacing him with soone else, and maintaining their grip on the region.
But now, things were different, his position was no longer fragile to be shaken by the words of the Imperial Family like before.
"Your wife has been placing a barrier around your daughter from the ti she was born. And she did it over years, every single day without anyone knowing." Said Ashok, his words hit the Duke like an arrow.
Tears welled in the Duke's eyes, as he heard that. They were a silent acknowledgnt of his own failure—the helplessness that had gnawed at him for so long.
Despite being alive, despite holding the title, the power, and the strength to protect his family, he had been unable to safeguard his daughter when it mattered most.
His mind was flooded with the image of his wife, long gone, her spirit still so fiercely dedicated to their daughter. Even after death, she had never stopped protecting her.
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