Mated To The Cruel Prince novel Chapter 793

Chapter 793: Take Aldric Away

The clash between the Winter and Summer Faeries which turned into an all-out battle was now a chaotic mess, a whirlwind of magic and violence as Prince Aldric, eyes pitch-black with rage, dove into the midst of the attacking Faeries.

The air was thick with the sound of clashing weapons, panicked shouts, and the sickening thud of bodies hitting the ground.

Aldric was a dark force of nature, his fury unleashed upon those who dared to challenge him. He moved with a lethal grace, cutting down Faerie after Faerie, each swing of his weapon fueled by the seething rage inside him.

Chaos reigned in the arena.

"We have to stop the prince, call for backup! Call for backup!" The desperate cries of the guards echoed through the arena as they watched in horror.

Aldric was lost to the bloodlust, his every thought consumed by the need to destroy. They had dared to touch Islinda, the one person who mattered most to him, and now they would pay the ultimate price.

There was no forgiveness in his heart, no room for mercy. The bodies piled up around him, and it didn’t matter whether they attacked from behind or tried to outmaneuver him with clever tactics—none could land a blow that would stop him.

The few who managed to strike him found themselves on the receiving end of a far more brutal fate, their deaths agonizingly slow and filled with the prince’s wrath.

Aldric didn’t care about the injuries he sustained, the pain only fueling his rage. He took every blow, relished it even, as he tore through his enemies. The crazed look in his eyes was enough to send many fleeing in terror.

But Aldric was relentless. His shadows chased down those who tried to escape, picking them off one by one. He had started this fight, and he would be the one to end it.

The guards, realizing that a direct confrontation with Aldric was suicidal, began to regroup. They lifted specialized guns designed to incapacitate rather than kill. They couldn’t harm the prince—he was still royalty, after all—but they could knock him out, subdue him before he could do any more damage.

"Ready? Fire!" the head guard commanded. The projectiles flew toward Aldric, and while many were intercepted by his shadows, a few struck their target.

Aldric snarled in fury, his eyes burning with vengeance. He turned his attention away from the Faeries and focused on the guards, recognizing their plan and determined to stop them before they could succeed.

"Fire!" the head guard shouted again, urgency clear in his voice as Aldric closed in on them.

The Faeries hesitated, weighing their chances, but ultimately decided that it wasn’t worth the risk. They retreated, their faces twisted in anger and fear. They still had to treat the wounded — and bury their dead.

Two guards stepped forward and carefully lifted Aldric’s limp body. He was heavy, his muscles still tense from the battle, but they managed to hoist him up. They carried him out of the arena, his once terrifying presence now reduced to a slumbering form.

The arena was left in shambles, the aftermath of Aldric’s rampage evident in the scattered bodies and the blood that stained the ground.

The witches who had been working to contain the chaos were now focused on healing the injured and clearing away the debris. The barrier that had been partially lifted to allow the Faeries to escape was now fully restored, sealing off the arena once more. Just incase the retreating Faeries had other ideas.

As the guards carried Aldric away, the head guard gave one final order to his men: "Secure the perimeter. We need to make sure this doesn’t happen again."

But even as they followed his commands, there was an uneasy tension in the air. They had seen what Aldric was capable of and what he had done. The people would not let this go — even if they were the first people to start it. So they carried Aldric’s unconscious form out of the arena.

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