Ikaris wanted Renn alive.
Talon wasted no time. In a single motion, his hand darted into his pocket and flung a small knife. The blade whistled through the air and struck Sara squarely in the side of her neck.
Her feet froze in place. Eyes wide with disbelief, she reached up with trembling fingers and touched the wound. Her palm came away red.
It had to be a trick of the mind. No one could be that fast, that precise. But as her vision darkened and black spots consumed the edges of her sight, she collapsed, unconscious before she hit the ground.
Talon hadn't meant to kill her. The blade was coated in a potent sedative, strong enough to knock out an elephant. And now the prideful voice of the Red Hand was silenced. One threat down. The rest… would follow.
Strangely, the members of the Red Hand didn't react with outrage or alarm. Instead, Vasha let out a slow, amused chuckle.
"Great shot, honey. I was honestly getting tired of her."
But Riven, the hulking mountain of a man, trembled, not with fear, but with barely contained fury. "I don't like her either… but if I disobey Ikaris, he'll kill me."
With a grunt, he launched a massive punch toward Talon. But Talon, unshaken, leapt up and landed lightly on the man's moving fist. Using the momentum, he sprinted up Riven's arm as if it were a bridge. In one explosive movement, he launched himself off the shoulder, spinning mid-air before his foot connected with Riven's jaw in a bone-cracking kick.
Riven's head snapped to the side, but he didn't budge. The beast of a man stood unfazed.
Talon, now back on his shoulder, barely had time to register the sharp prick in his neck. Confused, he reached for it, only to realize his arm wouldn't move. Panic surged through him. His hand was numb. And not only his hand. He couldn't feel his entire arm.
He turned in time to see Kestrel, his raven-feather cloak drifting like smoke, stepping forward. Talon's blood chilled. That hit… so fast, so silent. It was him. A needle, so thin it was practically invisible, had temporarily paralyzed him.
Before Talon could retreat, Riven swung his arm, and like a ragdoll, Talon was flung off. But he landed on his feet, light as a cat. He had underestimated them. These weren't only brutes.
He tried again. Another poisoned dagger flew from his sleeve, aimed directly at Riven's chest.
But it never reached him.
A silver glint flicked through the air, another needle, and the blade clattered harmlessly to the ground. Talon looked up in disbelief. Kestrel hadn't even raised both hands. He flicked his right finger once more.
Talon's second arm went numb.
Panic turned to dread.
He dropped to his knees. Both arms dead weight at his sides. An assassin with no weapons, no movement, no options. He stared at the ground, the realization of failure folding around him like a burial shroud soaked in shame. He had failed Kirith. He had failed his kingdom.
He had failed.
"Don't kill him," Vasha's voice rang out, casual yet commanding. She turned to Kestrel, who held another needle ready. "You're not going to follow Sara's orders now, are you, boy?"
Kestrel hesitated. Slowly, he lowered his hand and tucked the needle back into his coat.
Vasha smiled. "There we go. With Sara out, her orders are worthless. But Ikaris's? Those we follow. We take the boy."
Kestrel nodded and moved toward Renn, who was frozen in place, paralyzed by fear and confusion.
A thud echoed. Everyone turned.
Nick stood firm, unnoticed until now. His voice, quiet but hard, cut through the moment.
"What do you think you're doing?"
He stepped in front of Renn, arms outstretched protectively. "You're not taking him unless you go through me."
There was no fear in his voice, only conviction. His brow furrowed, his eyes burned with rage. A month ago, he would've laughed at the idea. But now, everything had changed. In weeks, he'd changed more than he had in his entire life.
The Red Hand was caught off guard. They hadn't expected this kind of fire from someone they had nearly forgotten, someone who had always been overshadowed.
And he stood there with no weapons. Only bare fists and a will to protect.
Kestrel stepped forward, twin needles glinting in each hand.
Nick didn't flinch. He surged forward.
With a uppercut, he knocked the first needle from Kestrel's grip. A quick left-hook knocked the other from his second hand. As it fell, Nick snatched it mid-air and drove it into Kestrel's neck without hesitation.
Silence.
Kestrel stared at him, stunned, blood trickling from his neck. He reached up, pulled the needle out, and glared, more embarrassed than hurt.
Nick didn't move.
"Yesterday," Nick muttered, eyes locked to Kestrel's like a predator sizing up a ghost, "I still believed there had to be a line. A wall between right and wrong, life and death."
His fists trembled with fury barely caged inside human skin.
"But today?" His voice cracked. "Today I watched the people I love get ripped apart while I stood still. And I get it now."
He took a step forward, fists coiled like loaded guns.
"All it takes is watching your whole world bleed out in front of you. You don't have to be born a killer, the world makes one out of you, slow… or all at once."
His lips twisted into something between a snarl and a grin, wild and unhinged.
"So go ahead. Tear me apart. Leave nothing but blood and teeth on the dirt. Just make damn sure I don't get up. Because if I do… I'm not walking away."
Kestrel looked behind Nick, lost in thought. When he met his gaze, something inside him shifted.
He turned his back.
The others followed, retreating in silence.
Vasha paused. "I'm sorry on behalf of my group, kid. Sorry for breaking your spirit. But what just happened? That was Orin's doing. Stay far from him."
Nick's brief sense of victory shattered. Who was Orin? What had he done? But none of that mattered now. His only concern was Renn. He'd saved him, that was the mission, the only thing that mattered. Or at least, it was supposed to be.
He turned to Renn.
Or rather, he spun around. Renn wasn't there.
Nick dropped to his knees. Was it the exhaustion that kept him there, or was it the emptiness in front of him? That question twisted in his chest, but it was one he couldn't answer.
What happened? His mind screamed, louder than Elira's echoed cry ever could. He should have been the hero. Elira believed in him as much as he believed in her. How could he fail her again?
His head spun as the truth ripped through him, too distracted by the fight, too consumed by vengeance, he hadn't noticed the silence, hadn't realized Renn was gone until it was too late.
Who took him?
The truth hit him.
That's what Vasha meant. Deep down, even she must've known her warning was meaningless. It wouldnt stopped him. If anything, it will push him further.
Before any thought of revenge could even form, Nick collapsed to the dirt, his tears mingling with the blood-soaked earth. His breath came in ragged gasps, desperate for the comfort of something, anything, that could make the pain stop. But nothing would.
The weight of his failure would haunt him forever.
On the western edge of the kingdom, a figure stood, a force of nature that needed no name. The embodiment of destruction, had waged war against hundreds, thousands, all on his own.
Rudrek had ordered his soldiers to protect the north and south of the kingdom, leaving the east and west with Silas and Dante, and that was enough.
It hadn't taken long for Silas to carve through every soldier sent to the west. One by one, they had fallen, swallowed by the relentless storm he unleashed.
When Ikaris finally realized the futility of it, the attacks stopped. Silas stood alone, atop a battlefield soaked in the blood of countless lives. The earth beneath him was drenched in ten years' worth of death, a morbid garden nurtured by carnage.
Silas sat atop a crude throne of bodies, a seat formed by the stack of three men's corpses, casually waiting, his mind restless. He was bored.
He didn't care for the trivial battles anymore. He wanted more. A challenge. The end of it all. He expected nothing less than Ikaris himself, but deep down, he knew Ikaris was too calculating to make a move unless he was desperate. Silas wasn't stupid. He knew that.
As he thought he might sink into the silence of his solitude, a voice shattered the quiet.
"Long time no see."
The words echoed across the wasteland, cutting through the air. The voice was full of an eerie, excited tone.
A shiver crawled down Silas's spine, his heart skipping a beat. His eyes widened, his body instinctively tensing as he turned his head slowly.
There was only one person it could be. Only one.
And yet, he had to see it to believe it. He thought he'd erased this face from his memory, a face that had haunted him, mocked him, a face that had twisted his mind a year ago.
Rellen.