Chapter 117: Breaking Bonds for Her

Jax had completely lost it.

His hand was wrapped around the postman’s throat like a vice, squeezing harder with each passing second. The poor guy’s eyes were rolling back, white foam bubbling from the corners of his mouth.

He was dying. Right here. Right now.

"Where is she? WHERE THE FUCK IS SHE?!"

Astrid, somehow still functioning while everyone else stood frozen, lunged forward and grabbed Jax’s wrist. She tried to pry his fingers loose.

Jax’s head snapped toward her, his eyes wild, possessed.

"Get the fuck away from me, bitch!" His voice came out as a snarl, his real personality kicking in without any filter. "Get the hell out of here before I choke you to death next!"

Astrid stumbled back, her hand falling away. She’d seen angry men before. Violent men. Dangerous men.

This was different.

’He’s... he’s completely gone. Like something else is controlling him.’

She gulped hard, the threat very real in his eyes.

That’s when the postman suddenly gasped, air flooding back into his lungs. His mind cleared just enough to realize he needed to give an answer. Any answer. Anything to make this demon let him go.

"M-Mister!" The words came out raspy, desperate. "I swear on my wife and children, I don’t know where the person you mentioned is! I’m just a delivery man!"

He coughed, his throat burning. "We get letters from below. From the postal hub. We don’t know names, don’t read contents. Just... just the sender’s address and who to deliver to. That’s ALL I know! I’m innocent here, sir! Please!"

Jax’s grip loosened. Slightly.

But the rage didn’t fade.

Instead, he grabbed the man’s collar with one hand and lifted him off the ground like he weighed nothing. Like a fucking selfie stick.

"Tell me who sent that letter," Jax demanded, bringing the man’s terrified face close to his. "NOW."

"I-It should be written on the outside!" The postman’s voice cracked with terror. "The envelope! The sender’s address is always on the envelope!"

Jax’s hand opened.

The postman slammed into the ground with a painful thud.

Then Jax turned toward Seris, who was still kneeling there, tears streaming down her face, clutching the letter like it was the last piece of her father she’d ever hold.

His eyes weren’t looking at her face. Weren’t seeing her grief.

He closed the distance in two steps and ripped the letter from her hands.

"Hey—!" Seris started, but the protest died in her throat.

Jax’s eyes scanned the envelope first. The sender’s address was printed in neat script:

Royal Court of Veldora, Central District, Advisor’s Office.

Then he read the letter itself, his eyes moving faster and faster as the words registered.

Princess Seris,

I am Peric, your royal court advisor. I write to you now because everything has gone wrong. Everything.

Veldora is burning.

The kingdom that stood for three centuries, that weathered wars and famines and plagues, has fallen in less than a week to these... invaders.

Your father, King Theron, died in battle. He fought bravely, Princess. He led from the front like the warrior-king he was. But they cut him down like he was nothing. Like all his strength and experience meant nothing against whatever dark power they wielded.

But that wasn’t the worst of it.

They didn’t stop with his death. They wanted to break us completely.

They took Queen Adelina. They locked her in an iron cage, barely big enough for her to stand, and paraded her through the burning streets of our capital. For hours, Princess. Hours. While our people watched, helpless, as these monsters displayed her like a trophy.

They laughed. They mocked her. They threw things.

Then they threw her into the same Jails where we kept murderers, rapists, and traitors. The lowest cells. The ones where we sent people to be forgotten.

And that’s exactly what’s happened. They’ve forgotten her. Left her to rot in her own castle’s prison while they feast in her halls and sleep in her bed.

I’m sorry this message reaches you so late. We were all taken captive after the battle. They only released those of us who bowed to them, who swore to help with their "grand plans." Those who refused... I don’t know what happened to them. I can guess.

Princess Seris, we need your help. You’re the only one who can save us now. I know the academy has treaties, rules about interfering in wars. But you must make them understand.

These invaders aren’t stopping with Veldora. They’re planning to conquer every kingdom on this continent. The academy will be next, eventually. They’ve said as much. They want to reshape the entire world according to their gods’ vision.

We have nothing left but hope in you.

- Court Advisor Peric

Jax crumpled the letter in his fist.

"Lend me a carriage," he said to Seris, his voice low and controlled. "And a driver who can take me to Veldora. Now."

Seris just stared at him, unable to form words.

Jax didn’t wait for an answer.

He turned and started walking, his steps quick and purposeful, heading toward the academy gates.

The others watched his back, saw the resolve in every movement, the world-ending rage barely contained beneath his skin.

Tick. Tick. Tick.

An hour passed.

Jax emerged from the academy grounds, his face set in stone. His personal driver was waiting by a carriage, looking nervous.

"Professor," the driver said quickly. "I did as you asked. Found Princess Seris, got the location for departure. Everything’s arranged."

"She prepared Everything?" Jax asked, already moving toward the carriage door.

"Yes, sir. Should be ready at the departure point."

"Then hurry the fuck up. I don’t have time."

Jax climbed into the carriage and collapsed onto the seat. His mind was a storm of thoughts, all circling back to one image: Adelina, alone in a cell, forgotten, abandoned.

’Hold on. Just hold on a little longer. I’m coming.’

What he’d had to do to get here... that had been its own battle.

The fight with Lysandra had been legendary. A screaming match that echoed through the entire administrative building. He’d asked for leave, explained he needed to save a queen, that lives were at stake (he didn’t cared for them just things to bring up for support).

She’d refused. Some bullshit about "classes can’t be interrupted" and "academy protocol."

So he’d given her both barrels.

Every curse word he knew. Every insult his genius mind could construct. A verbal assault so vicious, so creative, so utterly devastating that she’d probably hear his voice in her nightmares for the rest of her life.

’Hope you enjoy those words ringing in your ears every time you’re reborn, you bureaucratic cunt.’

Instead of leave, he’d gotten a termination letter. Rusticated. Exiled. Banned from academy grounds effective immediately.

And he’d smiled when she’d handed him the paper.

Because that termination letter? That was his ticket out. His permission to leave.

Sometimes losing was winning.