Prince Rales was riding hard, his horse thundering toward the kingdom's border as he desperately tried to reach his father. The chill of the forest wind whipped across his face until a sharp whistle sliced through the air.
Thud.
An arrow pierced straight into his horse's chest.
The beast collapsed mid-stride, throwing Rales violently onto the forest floor. Dust rose, leaves scattered, and for a heartbeat everything went still.
Rales, dazed but uninjured, forced himself up. His mind, ever rational, immediately began piecing the situation together angle of the shot, hidden positions, exit routes, distances. He scanned the treeline.
Then, a laugh echoed.
A laugh he knew far too well.
"Foolish brother…" a voice slithered from between the trees. "You can't even protect yourself when Morix isn't around."
Prince Damion stepped into view, wearing a twisted smirk.
Prince Rales didn't scream when he hit the ground he didn't even gasp.
He simply observed.
The angle of his fall.
The blood splatter of the horse.
The position of the arrow that killed it.
The scent of the forest pine, moss, steel… and Damion.
Then the laugh came.
That awful, familiar laugh.
"Foolish brother… can't even stand without your knight holding your hand."
Prince Damion stepped out, smug and cruel.
Rales didn't reply.
He was already calculating.
Wind direction: north.
Visibility: low.
Ground condition: damp, slippery.
Enemy count: eleven, possibly more hiding.
Outcome: death… unless I change the rules.
"I truly wonder what spell you've cast over Father to make him think a weakling like you is more suited for the throne than me."
Rales steadied his breath. "What are you plotting now, Damion? This isn't the time for your little games."
"Games?" Damion barked a laugh. "Everything I do, you dismiss as childish games. But not today. Morix isn't here to save you like he always does. Tell me how can someone who constantly needs saving possibly rule an empire?"
"Rule?" Rales scoffed softly. "An empire doesn't run on brute strength. It runs on wisdom. On decisions that protect the people. And who says I'm alone? I take no shame in having a friend who stands with me when it matters most. Someone dear to me."
Damion's smile twisted.
"Dear? Friend? That same friend won't be able to see your final moments. And once you're dead, I'll ensure he is blamed for your murder. The kingdom will hunt him while I take the throne."
As Damion rambled, Rales quietly moved his fingers, weaving a mana string behind his back. With precision, he hurled it at Damion's feet and yanked hard.
Damion crashed to the ground with a grunt.
Damion froze.
He hadn't sensed it.
No one ever senses Rales when he chooses to disappear.
"Brother," Rales whispered softly, "you still don't understand… brains win wars. Not tantrums."
Damion lunged at him.
Rales didn't run.
He waited.
Waited for the exact moment Damion's foot hit the mossy patch he had weakened earlier.
Damion's leg sank into the soft mud trapping him for one precious second.
Rales used that second to sprint away, vanishing between the trees.
By the time Damion freed himself, Rales was gone.
Rales bolted immediately, darting between trees. His steps were light, movements calculated. He slid behind thick roots, used reflections on dew-wet leaves to track positions, and disturbed birds intentionally to mislead Damion's men. Every escape line he took was deliberate the cunning of a mind far sharper than Damion ever acknowledged.
But Damion's frustration boiled over.
"I'm DONE playing!" he roared.
Dark glyphs flickered around him. The air thickened mana swirling violently.
He was casting a forbidden, area-wide destruction spell.
One that would kill Rales.
His own troops.
Everything in range.
Damion's voice rose in a manic chant.
Prince Damion's forbidden spell reached its final chant.
Mana twisted violently around him like a tornado ready to consume everything within miles.
The ground cracked.
Trees bent.
Animals fled.
Prince Rales, hiding behind a fallen log, felt the air vibrate.
If that spell lands… I die.
His own soldiers die.
Everyone dies.
Damion raised his hand
"Ω—"
And then…
The forest went silent.
Not quiet.
Silent.
Like the world itself had stopped breathing.
Damion frowned.
Rales felt his heart drop.
Because that kind of silence could only mean one thing.
Something beyond monsters had entered the forest.
A single object suddenly whistled through the air
SSSSHHHT!
A spear slammed into the ground right beside Damion's foot
So close it shaved a single strand of hair from his ankle.
The earth shook.
The spell shattered.
And Damion who had slaughtered battalions and burned villages
flinched.
His pupils shrank.
Slowly… painfully…
He turned his head.
There, standing between the shattered trees, was a man.
A man radiating such overwhelming presence that the temperature around him dropped.
His cape fluttered even though there was no wind.
His steps were soundless.
His glare calm yet ancient felt like a predator who had finally found prey worth killing.
His name was whispered in every war camp.
In every battlefield.
In every monster's dying breath.
General Morix of Valarion.
The Bloodless Butcher.
The Dragon of the Eastern Front.
The War God in Human Flesh.
Damion's lips trembled.
"Y-you…"
Morix didn't look at him.
Not even for a moment.
He walked past Damion like he wasn't worth noticing
his eyes locked only on Rales.
"Are you injured, sire?"
His voice was deep, formal, and steady.
"I extend my sincerest apologies for my delayed arrival."
Even the forest seemed to bow to the tone.
Rales exhaled in relief.
"On time, as always… my friend."
Only then did Morix turn his head.
Just slightly.
Just enough for Damion to feel it.
When Morix's eyes met his
Damion's entire body locked.
It wasn't killing intent.
It was something worse.
Indifference.
As if Damion's life weighed less than dust.
Morix took one step forward.
Just one.
But the ground beneath Damion cracked like thin ice.
Morix didn't raise his voice.
Didn't draw his weapon.
He simply said,
"You dare raise your hand against the heir?
You dare endanger the empire's future?"
Each word carried the weight of executed war criminals.
Damion stumbled backward.
His breath hitched.
His mana scattered in panic.
Morix summoned his sword.
The Dragon of Calamity's Fang materialized in his hand
a blade so heavy the air itself bent around it.
The forest darkened.
Damion dropped to his knees without realizing it.
Morix lifted the blade
And every soldier hiding around the forest felt their bones freeze.
Some fainted.
Some vomited.
Some prayed to gods who never answered.
Because standing before them was not a man.
He was a disaster with a heartbeat.
He was inevitable death shaped into a warrior.
And everyone knew not even god could save damion now
Morix raised the blade for execution
"Morix, stop."
Rales' voice cut through the tension.
Morix froze immediately.
"Leave him," Rales said. "I'll decide his fate… later."
Morix lowered the greatsword without question and turned back to Rales.
He lifted him effortlessly and placed him onto his own horse.
"Father is waiting," Rales whispered.
Morix nodded and mounted behind him. With a powerful kick, the horse charged toward the castle.
Damion, still shaking, sank to the ground.
The forest darkened.
A cloaked figure stood behind him silent, ominous.
"So," the figure's voice murmured coldly,
"You failed… again."