(Narrator)
One assassin swallowed his fear; whether it was pride or something else remained unclear. Nevertheless, he rushed without thought, without calculation. No magic. No sneaky, underhanded attack. Nothing assassin-like. Just the desperate thrashing of an animal backed into a corner. An animal fighting for survival, trying to escape the butcher.
Dagger raised high, he ran forward, swinging downward without any aim, just mere prayers.
Sora didn't move, not consciously; his body reacted on its own, a reflex rather than a thought through counter, he didn't understand it, but before he could react to his very own body, he instinctively caught the assailant's wrist overhead, quickly masking his shock with a smug face.
But in the back of his mind, he thought, What the hell, I can do that?!
Sora wrapped his fingers tightly around the assassin's wrist, caging the animal. The animal that responded with a gasp.
The assassin fought against his grip. Useless, thrashing around, swinging his legs. In the eyes of everyone surrounding, this was like a child caught up in the hands of a dragon. The animal, uselessly flailing in the hands of the butcher who was moments away from swinging down his cleaver.
Sora tilted his head to the side and let out a short ghost of a chuckle dripping with smugness. Then he snidely remarked,
"Weapons? Come on now, I'm unarmed, that's not fair."
Then he twisted—a sharp, horrifingly fluid twist. This was no longer Sora Knight of the royal house. This was Sora Knight, the Herald of Fate, the lone knight who would cut down fate itself even as it stood by his side. The first Servant of Fate.
The blade hit the floor with a resounding clatter that echoed within the room. The assassin yelled out through the white scarf that was wrapped tightly around his mouth and nose, and his other two companions tried to force themselves into the very door, stumbling to somehow phase through it and escape the devil that they had locked themselves in the room with.
Then Sora widened his smirk. He was always arrogant, but now... now he can back it up. And that felt great beyond great, it made him ecstatic beyond ecstatic.
Fate. Power. Servant. So much power. So much arcane. I can feel it, Fate, I can feel it better than ever before!
The surrounding arcane energy was free, wild, and ready to be used. But now... now it danced around him, it was almost as if it wanted to be used only by him. Sora, no longer the average knight with arrogance beyond him, but now the man loved by arcane energy itself.
The assassin stumbled back, gripping his wrist with his other hand and shouting curses.
In response, Sora lifted both his fists, bouncing lightly on his heels.
"Did you really think I'd forgive you so easily? Come on, humor me."
He paused, letting the air carry his words. Prideful, yes, but carried with the kind of calm that should never come out of someone like him.
This was a game to him; he wanted to test his new powers, and he found his test subjects quite amusing.
He let the moment of silence linger momentarily, letting the fear he was confident they felt rise even more, letting his mother and Sister watch in shock, who are you, Sora? They thought in unison.
Then he stopped bouncing, his fists remained lifted, and his mismatched eyes were no longer dim; if anything, they were brighter than ever before. For he was no longer Sora Knight. But if anything, he was more Sora than Sora ever was.
He was... renewed. Fixed. Better. And finally, he said,
"Let's throw hands."
And for the first time, the three trained killers were no longer predators. They were the prey.
The room went quiet, maids weren't whimpering any longer, Katarina was calm, letting the tears dry against her face as she watched in awe of her brother. Nemi did the same for her son. Ariana watched with the kind of gaze that spoke thousands of words but none at all. It was clear to her that the boy in front of her wasn't the pathetic boy she had engaged.
But what wasn't clear to her was... why? Why was she happy with the new him? Even if it was random, even if it came out of nowhere. She liked the new him.
But it wasn't random. He was chosen by Fate itself.
The same assassin rushed back in, and the animal writhed without use in the butcher's hand.
Sora didn't give him a chance to land any attack; instead, he drove his fist faster than the room could track, so powerfully into the animal's gut that the animal blasted air out of his very lungs, folding forward like a sack of grain.
Nope, not so easy.
Sora didn't let him fall, no, no. He grabbed the animal by the collar, and with his renewed strength, he lifted him up and leaned closer, whispering into his ear.
"You're weak."
This was the man Pierro could call his son, the man you could now believe was the son of the great Vangardia's shield.
Then effortlessly, he tossed the man aside, crashing into the side of his wardrobe so hard it cracked the wood before he dropped face flat, unconscious beside Ariana, who clenched her jaw as she studied the collapsed body, unsure whether he was still alive. But then he inhaled.
Alive.
The other two fumbled with the door, fighting against each other, their breath hitched. One of them—the first assassin who tried to kill him—turned slowly to a wolfish smile.
"Don't stop on my account," Sora said, hands in his pockets.
"P—please, I'm begging you, we're sorry!" The men pleaded, the animals begged with their butcher.
Sora crouched down in front of them and simply sniggered.
"Okay."
Then he stood back up and turned away from them. He let them go. After all, one assassin was enough for answers.
They managed to unlock the door and sprinted together without thought, only to find themselves surrounded; every knight in the Capital now stood, armed right outside the palace entrance, with Iliam at the center of them all. There was no use. It's over.
Sora De Astra Knight, the first Servant of Fate, rolled his shoulders and exhaled.
The children couldn't escape the dragon, the animals didn't survive the butcher, and the assassins couldn't defeat the devil.