Seren Valinea walked forward with unshakable resolve. Her steps were heavy but deliberate, and as she blocked the path of the carriages, silence fell upon the square. The armored soldiers at her side closed in around the central vehicle without needing a command.
Her eyes were cloudy, yet unwavering. Her chest rose proudly, her voice rang clear and sharp:
"Alvaren Deyros! Step out!"
The door of the grand carriage at the center creaked open slowly. A gray-haired, well-dressed man stepped out—aged, confident, and smiling. Every gaze locked onto him.
"Ah... Seren Valinea," he said with a mocking tone. "I was beginning to wonder when you'd finally come to visit."
Seren's voice echoed once more, shaking the square:
"Corruption. Attempted marriage to children. Tax evasion. Conspiracy with assassins. Slavery… and countless other crimes I'd rather not name. You are under arrest."
Alvaren chuckled. "Really? All that from a piece of parchment? What else do you have?"
Seren stepped closer. Her voice no longer threatened—it ruled:
"A letter has already reached my brother Arthur's kingdom. His army is on the way. You either come willingly… or we drag you. You don't get a choice."
The smirk on Alvaren's face faltered. He reached into his satchel, pulled out a bronze horn, and blew with all his might.
In an instant, the silence shattered.
From rooftops, alleys, and passing carts, cloaked assassins erupted in every direction.
As Alvaren slammed his carriage door shut, he shouted one final command:
"Kill them all! Leave no witnesses!"
Seren's eyes glazed for a heartbeat—then snapped back. She turned to the white-helmeted general and shouted:
"DEFENSE RING! Triple spear-wall formation, now!"
The soldiers moved with trained precision. The front line knelt, grounding their shields into the cobblestones. The second line leveled their spears forward.
As the battle erupted, Nujah frantically rummaged through his pack for anything useful. Suddenly, a hand gripped his arm.
Erian appeared from seemingly nowhere, holding a small bow and a few arrows.
"Here, big bro—take this. It's not much, but it's something."
Nujah looked up, startled.
"You… Who are you? Where did you come from?"
"Not now," Erian said quickly. "I came through the back passage. No one saw me. I'll explain later."
Nujah narrowed his eyes.
"You—Never mind. This isn't the time. Get downstairs. Hide. Don't let anyone see you."
"Got it."
Erian vanished as swiftly as he'd arrived. Nujah gripped the bow tighter, steadied his breathing, and turned back toward the chaos—focused and ready.
The third line of soldiers fell back slightly to form an archer support line. Before the first wave of enemies could crash into the formation, the wall was complete.
Three assassins collided with the shield line. Spears shot through the gaps between the shields, piercing their chests clean through.
More attackers tried to leap over the wall, but the soldiers raised their spears upward—catching their bodies in midair.
Those attempting to flank the formation from the sides were cut off by a second group of spearmen, who attacked from behind in a crossfire.
Nujah lit makeshift fuses on glass bottles from his pack—Molotovs. He hurled them toward enemy choke points.
The bottles exploded on impact. Flames roared down three separate streets, trapping assassins in blazing narrow corridors.
Choked by the smoke, enemies began to lose sight of one another. In the confusion, some stabbed their own allies.
Three assassins managed to break through the shield wall. One was dropped instantly by a soldier in the rear line. Another was split apart by the general's blade.
The last one charged at Seren. She threw her short dagger mid-stride—it struck the attacker's throat with deadly precision.
On the left flank, a breach began to form. Seren sprinted to the opening, bracing a soldier's shield with her own hands while he thrust his spear forward.
Many assassins tried to escape the flames by regrouping behind the stone path, but reinforcements arrived from the rear and trapped them in a closing arc.
One slipped through a narrow opening at the back—but a young soldier was waiting. He dropped to one knee and drove his spear upward. The assassin crashed lifeless to the ground.
From the mist, a final figure crept close to Seren. Just as the blade rose for a killing strike, the general dove in front of her, taking the dagger to his back. With a cry, he swung his spear and cut the attacker down.
At last, the street fell silent.
Only the crackle of flames could be heard. The bodies were still warm.
The battle was over. But Alvaren had escaped.
Seren stood gripping the bloodied haft of her spear, eyes fixed on the distance.
"I told you… they wouldn't get through."
--
The enemy commander, wounded and grimacing, yanked the arrow from his shoulder and hastily wrapped the wound. Blood soaked through the cloth, but his voice rang out with force:
> "Fall back! Everyone, fall back!"
The enemy lines broke in panic. For a heartbeat, the street fell silent.
Nujah hurried down the steps, scanning the chaos around him.
> "Erian! Where are you?!"
A whisper rose from the bushes. Erian peeked his head out, pale and panting.
> "I'm here, brother!"
Nujah rushed to him, urgency tightening every word.
> "Where's Lyra?!"
Erian, out of breath, replied quickly:
> "She tried to run away.. but they caught her. She's locked in her room!"
Nujah dropped his head for a moment, fists clenched.
> "Alright. Stay here. Don't move. Don't let anyone see you."
He sprinted back across the street toward Seren Valinea.
The moment she saw him approaching, Seren lit up—not like a commander greeting a soldier, but like a girl seeing someone she deeply cared about safe and alive. Her face brightened in full, heartfelt relief. She laughed softly and waved at him, smiling wide."
> "There you are! Come—come! You did amazing!"
The general beside her gave a firm nod.
> "We would've lost too many without you. The Prince wasn't wrong about you."
Still panting from his run, Nujah gasped:
> "They've got her... locked inside our house. We need to move. Now."
Seren's expression shifted, her joy folding into focus. Before she could speak, the general leaned close and spoke in a level, grim tone:
> "That commotion was loud. They've likely heard it already. Princess, we'll go ahead with sixty men. The rest stay with you. Four soldiers will escort the child to safety—Nujah, you're with us."
Seren hesitated for a single second—then nodded once, sharp and sure.
The general turned and bellowed the order:
> "Units A and T, on me! Target: Vantess Estate! The rest, defend the Princess!"
Nujah stepped forward.
> "The tunnel's still there. I used to sneak out through it."
The squad moved swiftly, weaving through scorched alleys and toppled carts, until they reached the rear of the estate. Smoke still clung to the buildings around them. Nujah ran ahead, placing his hands on a section of the stone wall. A hidden mechanism clicked, and a block shifted back.
> "Here."
The general motioned. Two soldiers moved ahead, blades drawn. They slipped into the narrow tunnel; the rest followed in silence.
It was dark, damp. The air was heavy and stale. Every bootstep echoed like thunder. Nujah whispered:
> "Second block on the right. Behind it—stairs, leading up."
One by one, they climbed. The house above was quiet, but something was moving inside.
Nujah crept forward. From down the hall came footsteps. A guard.
He ducked into a cabinet. The general raised two fingers—signal.
A soldier loosed an arrow without a sound.
The guard collapsed instantly.
They reached Lyra's door. Still locked. A voice came from behind the wood, soft and afraid:
> "Brother...?"
Nujah leaned in.
> "Lyra! It's me. Open the door!"
The general turned without hesitation.
> "Break it."
Two swift blows.
The door burst inward. There, on her knees, was Lyra—eyes wide with tears, frozen in fear. Nujah rushed in and swept her into his arms.
> "I'm here. I came for you."
Without turning, the general spoke:
> "We're moving. Quiet and fast."
From the far wing, more guards suddenly burst in. A short, brutal clash erupted. One soldier fell wounded—but the group pushed back into the tunnel and escaped.
Outside, the dawn had broken. The skies above Calvenhold glowed with streaks of orange and gold.
And in the distance, horns began to blow.
Arthur's army was coming.
Seren Valinea saw them from afar. She stopped—eyes wide, breath held.
Then slowly, beautifully, she smiled.
---
As Seren approached the house where Lyra was held, one of the soldiers ahead suddenly screamed and fell. His foot had slipped—he had fallen into the hidden tunnel where Zirelda had been waiting.
Zirelda leapt from the darkness like a shadow. She swiftly wounded the fallen soldier and, in just a few deadly steps, brought down the next two with single, precise strikes. There was no mask on her face—only death itself.
With short sword in hand, she charged toward Seren Valinea, her gaze locked—and assassins moved in around her like wolves in the fog. Seren was frozen. She couldn't scream, couldn't run. The blade was just moments from piercing her chest.
And then—
"I won't let it happen again!" Nujah's voice tore through the silence as he charged with all his strength. He rammed into Zirelda from behind, knocking her to the side. With one quick move, he kicked her sword away and pinned her down with all his might, trying to stop her from moving.
At that moment, the General and his forces arrived, having cleared the surrounding ambushers. He quickly pulled Seren away and shoved her behind the A Division shield wall.
But then—Cassar appeared behind Nujah and drove his spear deep into his back.
"The price of betrayal... is death," he said coldly.
Nujah collapsed to his knees, searching for Seren with dimming eyes. Blood spilled from his lips; his breath turned shallow.
The General roared:
"A Group! Protect the Prince and the children! The rest—WITH ME! Kill these bastards!"
The soldiers erupted into a furious charge. Cassar ruthlessly cut down three men to clear the path for Zirelda. She lunged forward for one final strike at Seren.
But the Shieldbearers surrounded her, shouting:
"Three... Two... One!"
With each count, they stepped inward, tightening the space. At "One," came the final command:
"NOW!"
From every angle, spears pierced through the narrow gaps and into Zirelda. She let out a choking scream, dropped to her knees, and collapsed.
Cassar pushed forward, cutting down three more. As he stepped toward Zirelda—
The General stood in his path.
"You'll die by my hand, Cassar."
---
Cassar swung his spear from above—The General sidestepped just in time, dodging the deadly arc.
The General countered, slicing Cassar's arm with a short blade.
Cassar grunted but didn't slow; he slammed his shoulder into the General, sending both crashing into the stone.
Regaining balance, the General swept low with a strike, forcing Cassar to leap back.
Cassar tried to spin his spear—but the General kicked his knee, forcing him to stumble.
In one swift motion, the General slid inside Cassar's reach, slamming him to the ground.
And with one final thrust, the General drove his spear through Cassar's chest—deep, silent, and final.
---
The battlefield fell quiet. The General cast a brief look at Cassar's crumpled form, then turned toward Seren and Nujah.
Seren rushed to Nujah's side, her steps stumbling through the blood-slick stones. He lay twisted on the ground, his breathing shallow, chest rising in painful spasms. She fell to her knees, cradling his head in her lap. Her hands trembled as she brushed the blood from his face.
Seren (whispering, voice cracking):
"No… no, stay with me… I'm here. Don't close your eyes, please…"
Nujah coughed, a harsh, gurgling sound. Blood spilled from the corner of his mouth, dark and thick. He tried to speak—twice—but only managed a rasp.
Nujah (choking, faint smile):
"Your voice… still… the best sound… I know…"
His hand, shaky and cold, reached for her face, fingertips grazing her cheek as his eyes fluttered. She held it there, pressing his palm to her skin as tears rolled freely.
Nujah (forcing breath, low):
"Could've used… more time… with you…"
Seren (through tears):
"We had enough… because it was us."
He gave a weak chuckle that turned into a violent cough. Blood splattered his chin.
Then—his gaze sharpened for one last breath. A flicker of mischief, of defiance in his eyes. He gritted his teeth, forcing the last of his soul into a whisper:
Nujah (blood dripping from his lips):
"Those two maniacs… they're yours now, Princess.
I trust you."
And with that, his body slackened. The last breath left him.
Seren didn't scream. Didn't move. Just held him in her arms, her tears the only sound left in the burning silence. But deep in her heart, she carried that final promise—etched in blood, and love.
---
While all of this was happening, Alvaren staggered through the depths of the forest, wounded and desperate to evade Arthur's soldiers.
His leg was crippled, his breath ragged—but his rage burned hotter than his pain.
"That cursed woman… she took everything from me."
Each step was slow, blood dripping into the soil.
"I have to escape… Only my brother can help me now."
Up ahead, he spotted one of his own people—an old coachman beside a horse-drawn carriage.
Alvaren drew his blade, slashing the door apart, and shoved the man inside.
> "Drive! Now! Or I'll kill you where you sit!"
The terrified driver fumbled for the reins.
But then—a deep, mocking voice rolled from behind Alvaren.
> "We were supposed to share a drink later, Alvaren. Where are you off to?"
Alvaren froze. He turned.
Something glittered through the air—spinning, flashing.
It landed in the dirt at his feet: a coin bearing King Arthur's face.
The realization hit too late.
A dagger plunged into his good leg. He screamed as soldiers poured out from every shadow.
The carriage was surrounded. The forest swarmed with steel.
Alvaren was dragged to the ground, bound in chains.
And from the darkness, King Arthur himself strode forward—smiling.
> "I knew it. Like a rat, you'd crawl here the moment the coast was clear.
Did you really think, after touching my sister, you could simply run away?"
Arthur pressed his sword against Alvaren's throat.
Alvaren's pride broke; his words spilled in panic:
> "Master! My King! Brother! Please—don't do this!"
Arthur laughed, cold and cruel.
> "Don't worry. I won't be the one to judge you.
Your punishment belongs to my sister. If you plan to beg, beg her instead."
At that moment, a soldier rushed forward and whispered into Arthur's ear:
> "Majesty… The Queen is alive. Physically unharmed, but her spirit is shaken.
Our men are safe—only a few wounded. No dead."
Arthur gave a single nod.
> "Understood. Take him back to my kingdom. When the time comes, my sister will deliver the justice he deserves.
As for me—I'm going to her. Bring me my horse."
Another soldier saluted.
> "Yes, Majesty. Most of the realm is already under our control. The castle is secure. You may enter freely—they await you."
Arthur cast one final glance at the fallen Alvaren.
Victory shone in his eyes, sharp and absolute.
And on his lips lingered the cruelest smile of all.