Absolute Cheater

Catherine smiled, a dazzling expression that seemed to illuminate the dimly lit hall. Her beauty was utterly captivating, leaving many of the younger nobles staring at her with wide eyes and slackened jaws. Whispers rippled through the crowd, admiration and awe evident in their voices.

Amid the sea of stunned faces, one pair of eyes burned with something far more intense. The Crown Prince of the Blood Jewel Kingdom, a tall and commanding figure with striking features and an air of entitlement, fixated on Catherine. His ruby-red eyes blazed with determination as he watched her descend the stairs with effortless grace.

"She is perfection incarnate," he murmured to himself, his voice low but resolute. His hand clenched around the ornate goblet he held, the crimson liquid within rippling with his subtle show of strength.

"She will be mine," he declared under his breath, his tone filled with unwavering confidence. "Such a woman can only belong to me—the next king of the Blood Jewel Kingdom."

Unaware of the prince's silent vow, Catherine continued her descent, her smile unwavering, her gaze sharp and composed. While others fawned over her beauty, she paid no heed to the stares or whispers. Years of noble upbringing had taught her to maintain her poise, even as the weight of countless eyes bore down on her.

But in the back of her mind, she could feel the predatory gaze of the Crown Prince. It wasn't the first time she had drawn such attention, nor would it be the last. Yet something about the intensity of his stare sent a faint chill down her spine—a silent warning she chose to ignore for now.

The night was hers, and no one—not even the Crown Prince—could overshadow her moment.

Catherine reached the stage, her father helping her climb the last few steps. The moment she stood tall, a soft but commanding voice echoed across the hall. "Now, I am going to leave this stage to the star of the night," he said, climbing down and stepping aside to let her take the spotlight.

The crowd fell silent for a moment, then erupted into applause, their eyes never leaving her as she smiled gracefully, taking in the admiration.

"Thank you all for coming to my coming-of-age celebration!" Catherine said with a confident, yet warm voice, and the room filled with cheers and claps in response.

"We've created a grand feast tonight, let's enjoy it!" she added, raising her goblet, prompting another round of cheers from the crowd.

As Catherine turned to make her way through the nobles, her path was blocked by a figure. It was the Crown Prince, his eyes glinting with determination. "Ms. Bloodcrown, I have a question," he said, stepping forward.

"Of course," Catherine replied with a polite yet intrigued smile, her posture poised as always.

"Are you engaged?" the Crown Prince asked bluntly, his voice steady but filled with an unmistakable intensity.

Catherine's expression faltered for a moment, a flicker of surprise crossing her face before she regained her composure. The question, while bold, was not unexpected. She knew the Crown Prince's reputation and his apparent interest in her.

"No, I am not," Catherine replied smoothly, though the crowd's whispers grew louder at her words. "And I do not intend to be, at least not for many centuries to come."

The Crown Prince, however, was undeterred. His confidence only seemed to grow. "Are you sure? You can change your mind. If you accept, I'll offer you the honor of being my first wife. After all, who could resist such an offer?" He spoke with such conviction that it was clear he expected her to accept.

Catherine raised an eyebrow, her smile remaining composed but tinged with a subtle challenge. "Your offer is noted, but it means little to me," she replied, her voice calm and firm. "I will choose my own path, not one dictated by anyone else."

The Crown Prince's smile faltered for a moment, but he quickly recovered. It was clear that Catherine would not be easily swayed, and he would need to find another way to earn her favor. Still, the seeds of a rivalry were planted that night, one that would grow as the years passed.

"You do know I am the Crown Prince, the next King to be," he said, his tone laced with arrogance.

"And you will be honored by being seated as the First Queen among my many queens," he added confidently, blocking her path once again as Catherine tried to step away.

Catherine stopped in her tracks, her ruby eyes narrowing as she turned to face him fully. "Never," she said coldly, her voice sharp as ice.

The Crown Prince's expression faltered for the first time. Her rejection, so blunt and unyielding, sent a ripple of shock through the room. But his shock quickly gave way to anger, his face darkening. Suddenly, he grabbed her wrist with a force that made the crowd gasp.

"Be humbled, wench," he spat, his voice venomous as his grip tightened.

Catherine's face remained calm, though her eyes burned with a fiery intensity. She didn't flinch or cower under his touch, which only enraged him further.

The Crown Prince was a man who had been raised with a diamond spoon in his mouth. Whatever he wanted, he got. Wealth, power, and reverence had been handed to him on a silver platter. His immense talent and unmatched strength ensured that no one dared defy him. Yet here was Catherine Bloodcrown, standing unmoved by his position or threats, and it was something he could not comprehend.

The hall fell silent, the tension thick as everyone watched the scene unfold. The other nobles whispered amongst themselves, but no one dared to intervene.

"You overstep your boundaries, Your Highness," Catherine said icily, her voice low but cutting through the silence like a blade. She didn't try to wrest her wrist free but instead stood tall, exuding a regal authority that rivaled his.

"Release her, now," came a commanding voice from the crowd. It was Alaric Bloodcrown, her father, stepping forward with a deadly calm. His eyes, crimson and fierce, locked onto the Crown Prince. "I would advise you not to disrespect my daughter—or my family."

The Crown Prince hesitated, his pride warring with his sense of self-preservation. Reluctantly, he released Catherine's wrist, his anger simmering just beneath the surface. His crimson eyes blazed with indignation as he turned his ire toward Alaric Bloodcrown.

"Who do you think you are to speak to me like that?" the Crown Prince demanded, pointing an accusatory finger at the High Duke. His voice carried the weight of his ego, but the room's atmosphere shifted as everyone present exchanged uneasy glances.

The tension was palpable. It wasn't entirely the Crown Prince's fault—after a hundred thousand years of unchallenged rule, the Blood Jewel Kingdom's monarchy had grown complacent and arrogant. The current generation of rulers had forgotten the true power of the noble clans, particularly the Bloodcrown family. This ignorance had been passed down to the Crown Prince, whose bloated ego now matched that of his father, the king.

Alaric didn't respond immediately, his expression calm but unreadable. He turned to one of his attendants, who stepped forward wordlessly and presented a sheathed blade. With a deliberate and practiced motion, Alaric unsheathed it, the crimson steel glinting menacingly in the dim light of the ballroom.

The room fell into silence as Alaric stepped forward, his towering presence casting a shadow over the Crown Prince. Without a word, Alaric thrust the blade into the marble floor, the impact resounding like a judge's gavel.

"This blade is a reminder of your position," Alaric said evenly, his tone devoid of emotion yet carrying an undeniable authority. "You are not above the laws of our world, nor the respect owed to its pillars of power."

The Crown Prince stiffened, his pride refusing to let him back down completely. But even he could not deny the unspoken warning in Alaric's words.

"Take this insolence back to the king," Alaric continued, his voice rising slightly. "Perhaps he will remember what the Bloodcrown family represents."

The crowd collectively gasped as the Bloodcrown knight stepped forward, retrieving the crimson blade from the floor with a solemn bow. His every movement radiated purpose, his gaze unwavering as he turned toward the Crown Prince.

The hall seemed to hold its breath, knowing the significance of this act. The returning of the blade was not a mere gesture of submission or reconciliation. It was the Bloodcrown family's way of declaring their intent: they no longer recognized the current king's authority. By returning the ceremonial weapon, they had symbolically relinquished their role as High Dukes—a station granted by the royal family—and signaled their intent to challenge the monarchy for the throne itself.

The room buzzed with suppressed whispers, the implications of this declaration reverberating through the assembly. It was a direct challenge to the Crown Prince, the king, and the entire royal lineage.

The Crown Prince, realizing the gravity of what had just occurred, paled. His earlier arrogance now seemed foolish in the face of such a bold and deliberate act of defiance. "You dare...?" he began, his voice trembling with fury and disbelief.