I Died and Became a Chapter 281: A Tale

Chapter 281: A Tale

He looked different than the last ti Joseph had seen him. Harder. Leaner.

The kind of difference that ca from months of single-minded focus on a goal that consud everything else.

His eyes tracked Annabelle’s entrance with the focus of a predator identifying prey.

"Cousin," Marcus said, his voice carrying satisfaction that bordered on gloating. "I see you’ve successfully completed your assignnt."

"As promised," Joseph replied, stepping aside so Marcus could get a better view of Annabelle.

Annabelle, for her part, studied Marcus with the sa focus she applied to everything. Her eyes tracked across his face, his posture, his hands. Cataloging details for the inevitable sketch she’d produce later.

"Lady Annabelle Kaiser," Marcus said, moving around the table with grace. "What an unexpected pleasure to have you visit our humble camp."

"It’s not that humble," Annabelle replied cheerfully, apparently missing or ignoring the threat in Marcus’s tone. "The organization is quite impressive. Joseph said you run a tight operation, and I can see he wasn’t exaggerating."

Marcus blinked, clearly not expecting that response. "You’re... not concerned about your situation?"

"Why would I be?" Annabelle tilted her head, genuine confusion in her expression. "Joseph brought

here to see the camp. I assu we’ll be heading back to the estate before dinner. Octavia doesn’t like it when we’re late for als."

The tent fell silent. Joseph shifted uncomfortably, unable to et Marcus’s gaze.

The guards by the entrance exchanged glances that suggested they were reconsidering their career choices.

Marcus’s expression shifted through several emotions, confusion, disbelief, settling on amusent.

"I see," he said slowly. "And it hasn’t occurred to you that perhaps Joseph’s intentions weren’t entirely... social?"

"Oh, I’m sure they weren’t," Annabelle agreed, pulling out her ever-present sketchbook from the bag at her side. "He’s been courting

for weeks. Very properly, I should add. The flowers were lovely. But I suspect he also wanted to show off his cousin’s military operation, which is honestly quite fascinating from an organizational standpoint."

She flipped open the sketchbook, her fingers already moving across the page with the practiced ease of soone who’d been drawing since childhood.

Marcus watched her sketch for a mont, his expression unreadable. Then he looked at Joseph with sothing approaching disbelief.

"This is your prize?" Marcus asked quietly. "The leverage you promised ?"

"She’s the Kaiser’s youngest daughter," Joseph replied defensively. "You said you wanted soone from the family. Soone they’d negotiate for."

"I wanted soone who understood they’d been taken hostage," Marcus snapped. "Not soone who thinks this is a fucking field trip!"

Annabelle looked up from her sketching, her expression brightening. "Oh, is this a hostage situation? That makes much more sense now. I was wondering why Joseph seed so nervous on the ride over."

The casual way she said it, as if discussing weather or lunch plans, made Marcus’s eye twitch.

"You’re not concerned," he said flatly.

"Not particularly," Annabelle replied, returning to her sketch. "Though I suppose I should be, given the circumstances. But honestly, the whole thing seems rather pointless."

"Pointless." Marcus’s voice dropped to sothing dangerous. "I have fifteen thousand rcenaries preparing to assault your ho, and you think taking you hostage is pointless?"

"Well, yes." Annabelle continued sketching, her hand moving across the page with confident strokes. "Because you’ve fundantally misunderstood who you’re threatening."

She looked up then, eting Marcus’s gaze with eyes that carried none of the fear or concern he’d expected. Just calm certainty that made sothing in his chest tighten.

"My brother," Annabelle said, her voice sounded a little harder, like she was talking down to a servant.

"Woke from a coma less than 2 months ago. Within one month, he’d killed a Disaster-class dragon with dual affinity. Alone. While recovering from injuries that should have kept him bedridden for months."

Marcus’s expression shifted slightly. "I’ve heard the stories. Exaggerations, most likely."

"He solos dungeons that require full parties," Annabelle continued, ignoring the interruption. "He’s started destroying established markets with his products because he wants to help his people rather than maximize profit. Every guild in the capital is scrambling to understand how one person can produce that volu and quality."

She flipped a page in her sketchbook, revealing another drawing. This one showed a figure wreathed in lightning, standing over fallen enemies.

"But here’s what you really need to understand," Annabelle said, her tone becoming more serious. "If you threaten his family or his people, he will kill you. All of you. Not because he’s cruel or because he enjoys violence, but because protecting what’s his is as natural to him as breathing."

Marcus leaned against the table, his arms crossed. "Bold words for soone in your position."

"They’re not bold," Annabelle corrected. "They’re accurate. My brother is a Chosen One. He wields lightning with divine authority. Do you know what Chosen Ones are worth in military terms?"

"Enlighten ," Marcus said dryly.

"One hundred thousand soldiers," Annabelle replied. "That’s the tactical assessnt. One properly trained Chosen One equals one hundred thousand conventional troops. And my brother can channel divine power through his body, which ans he’s already operating beyond what most Chosen Ones achieve in their entire lives."

She returned to her sketch, adding details with precise strokes.

"So your fifteen thousand rcenaries?" Annabelle’s voice carried certainty that transcended re faith. "They’re not enough. Not even close. You’ve picked the wrong family to ss with, Marcus Thorne."

The tent had gone completely silent. Even the sounds from outside seed muted, as if the camp itself was holding its breath.

Annabelle turned her sketchbook around, displaying the page she’d been working on.

The drawing was vivid, almost photographic in its detail.

It showed Marcus and his rcenaries, dozens of them, scattered across a battlefield. Lightning arced between their bodies, frozen mid-strike.

And standing at the image’s center was Jack Kaiser, one hand extended, electricity crackling from his fingers.

The expressions on the drawn rcenaries’ faces captured the mont between realization and death.

Terror mixed with understanding that they’d made a fatal miscalculation.

"My advice to you would be to charge now and hope you can best my family before my father or little brother return."

Annabelle continued to smile through her lecture to the fool Marcus.

"Not only is my brother strong, but you must have forgotten how strong father is. Did you know, that when he wields his sword he’s as strong as Chiron Stormblood."

"WHAT!!!" A rcenary shouted as he stood up. "What non sense, if he was that strong everyone would know about it!"

"You would be wrong. My father doesn’t wield his power lightly because the destruction he causes would be catastrophic. Did you know after Jack fell into a coma, my father went dungeon diving."

...

She paused for a mont before continuing.

"He returned with enough at to feed the town of Sorne for a year. He was angry at himself for holding back."

"This is what’s going to happen," Annabelle said, her voice carrying the absolute conviction of soone who’d seen the future and was simply reporting facts. "Maybe not exactly like this. The details might vary. But the outco will be the sa."

She t Marcus’s gaze with eyes that held no uncertainty.

"If Father doesn’t kill you," Annabelle said, her voice quiet but carrying weight that filled the entire tent, "my brother will surely kill you."