Chapter One: Blood in the Snow
Snow crackled beneath heavy boots. The forest was still, a little too still.
Godfrey's hand rested on his sword, his one good eye scanning the treeline. The merchant's cart creaked behind, wheels sinking into frost, piled high with silks, coins, and spice. Bait. He knew it now. All of this was bait.
"Malvolio," Godfrey said without turning, his voice gravel and smoke. "Take the boy hide with him. Don't come out until I call."
The nervous looking man bowed quickly, tugging the blank eyed youth -Auron - toward the cart. "Y-yes, sir."
Snowflakes drifted. Frost clung like silver chains to the branches. Godfrey exhaled, steam curling in the air. His chest was tight, not with fear but certainty.
They've come for me at last.
Shadows moved. twelve figures emerged from the trees, wrapped in white. people who appeared too mighty to be mere assassins. Their blades gleamed like shards of winter night. And behind them, a taller one, cloaked in deeper shade, his blade rippling like liquid shadow.
Godfrey's lips curled into something between a smile and a snarl. "So the heavens finally came for me."
The assassins did not answer. They fanned out in a half-circle, blades catching the light, each one a reflection of death. The sigil on their pauldrons a serpent devouring its tail glinted faintly..
Godfrey closed his eyes for a heartbeat. When they opened again, they were burning embers. He drew a breath that rattled his chest, and the veins in his neck flared black with energy. He had sworn never to use this power again. To burn one's own life essence was to cut years into moments, but he had no years left to give.
The first assassin broke formation, charging low and fast.
gofrey's gigantic greatsword flashed once.
The man didn't even scream his ribcage split open, steel biting through bone like parchment. Blood fanned across the snow, steaming in the cold.
The second came from behind, silent as breath. Godfrey spun, catching the faint crunch of frost underfoot his elbow cracked a jaw, and he pivoted with brutal precision, sword cleaving down from shoulder to spine. The man folded like a marionette with cut strings.
Two down.
The others moved in.
A dagger flew Godfrey twisted, feeling the blade whistle past his ear. He closed distance with the thrower in two strides, his gauntlet shattering the man's nose before his sword found his throat. The spray hit the air, ruby against white.
He didn't breathe between kills. He became breath pure movement.
Another assassin darted from the left, twin curved daggers flashing. Godfrey parried the first, turned the second aside with his sword, and stepped inside the man's guard.
His knee drove into the man's ribs a crack, a wheeze and his sword drove up beneath the sternum, tearing out through the back.
The corpse slid free as he kicked it aside.
Four.
Snow churned underfoot, stained scarlet.
They came as one now ,a coordinated strike, six blades slicing from six angles. Godfrey ducked under the first strike,
turned a second with the flat of his blade, kicked another attacker in the knee so hard bone splintered through flesh. A fourth swung high
Godfrey ducked and rolled, cutting through hamstring and spine in the same motion.
The fifth landed behind him.
Godfrey didn't turn.
He felt the breath of the swing, tilted his head, and drove his sword backward, straight through the man's stomach. The blade jutted out red from the other side. He twisted — felt the body convulse and pulled free.
"Six," he whispered through clenched teeth, breath fogging the air.
The remaining assassins hesitated.
They had expected a man.
They faced something else.
He stood in the moonlight, eyes burning like a beast forged of fury and grief, steam rising off blood-soaked armor. godfrey's great sword gleamed, crimson tracing its edge like runes of war.
The leader finally stepped forward he was taller, wrapped in white silk armor, twin sabers gleaming. His voice was hoarse but steady.
"You fall tonight, Godfrey Andler."
Godfrey didn't answer. He lifted his sword, blade steady despite the tremor in his arm. "tell king of hell that i sent you."
They collided.
The first exchange sent sparks flying steel against steel, ringing like church bells across the frozen trees.
The leader's movements were sharp, clean, honed from years of silent killing. But Godfrey's were primal.
Each strike was raw weight and wrath, every swing threatening to tear apart the very ground they stood on.
He feinted low the leader dodged Godfrey twisted mid-motion, the feint turning real, blade carving across armor. The leader grunted, blood splattering. He countered with both sabers, sparks flaring as their blades locked. For a heartbeat, their eyes met two wolves, one cornered, one desperate.
Then Godfrey broke the lock with a roar, driving a boot into the man's chest. He stumbled back
Godfrey didn't let him breathe. A brutal downswing shattered one saber; the next ripped through the man's shoulder, nearly cleaving him in two.
The leader dropped to his knees, breath ragged. "You… can't stop it… he already—"
The rest of his words drowned in blood as Godfrey's sank through his chest.
For a long moment, only the wind moved.
The remaining assassins tried to flee into the forest. Godfrey didn't let them.
"you can ask escape? who decided that" Godfrey said in a taunting manner,
then each swing of his sword was equivalent to flash of silver death. When it ended, there were twelve bodies in the snow and a man standing among them, covered in blood.
His chest heaved.
The rage finally died down, leaving behind the weight of what he'd done and what was coming.
Godfrey plantet his sword into the frozen earth, breath shuddering. The snow fell quietly again, covering the bodies one by one.
Godfrey staggered, chest heaving, blood dripping from wounds and mouth alike. The flames in his veins were dying, his body buckling.
He pressed a hand to his side and turned toward the cart. "malvolio… it's done. Bring the boy."
Footsteps crunched behind him.
Too late he realized.
Cold steel slid between his ribs, piercing deep. He coughed blood, eyes wide with fury and betrayal. malvolio's whisper was hot in his ear.
"Forgive me, sir. They promised me a new life. They promised me gold."
Godfrey's teeth bared, his laugh wet with blood. "You fool. You think men like them keep promises?"
With the last embers of rage, he twisted. His hand shot back, black essence flaring from his palm. It struck malvolio's chest. Bone shattered. Heart exploded. The traitor fell to the snow, his body twitching in silence.
Godfrey staggered forward, knees sinking into the red snow. His sword slipped from his fingers. His vision blurred.
"Auron...." His voice cracked. He wanted to say more, to pass on words he had carried his whole life. But breath failed him.
A scream tore through the silence.
"GRANDPA!"
The young boy burst from the cart, stumbling over snow and corpses, his small hands grabbing at Godfrey's shoulders. The old men turned his head, just enough to see the boy's tear-streaked face. He wanted to tell him to run. To live. To surpass.
But only blood came from his lips. His hand lifted weakly, brushing the boy's cheek once, before it fell.
Godfrey's last sight was not snow or blood, but the boy's eyes burning with grief and fury.
The forest grew silent once more.