Chapter 11
Guinevere's eyes widened in disbelief. John's jaw tightened, his gaze burning with a fierce, unrecognizable intensity.
Around them, the battlefield was pure chaos. Soldiers fell one after another. Screams and clashing steel filled the air like a storm that refused to end. Guinevere's arms ached from constant fighting, her legs trembling. Sweat and blood streaked across her face.
Guinevere (thinking): How much longer… how much longer can this go on?
Desperation gnawed at her.
She ducked under a swinging blade, barely avoiding death. Another soldier lunged. She parried, but her strength was fading fast. Every movement felt heavier than the last, as if the world itself was dragging her down.
Then she saw him.
John stood amidst the chaos—untouched.
His calm presence cut through the madness like a blade of ice. His eyes suddenly flared into a deep, burning red, and his sword shimmered with an otherworldly light.
Guinevere froze.
Guinevere: Don't tell me… is he a Chosen Angel? No… impossible… or has he unlocked his full potential?
Before she could process it, John moved.
The soldiers rushed him—then vanished in an instant.
Armor shattered. Limbs scattered. One precise strike after another tore through the battlefield with terrifying efficiency. Dust and debris exploded into the air with every motion. Screams of panic replaced battle cries.
"Enough."
John's voice rang out—low, controlled, absolute.
It echoed across the battlefield like rolling thunder.
The Prince charged, sword raised high.
John met him with calm, almost lazy grace—but the impact of their clash sent shockwaves through the ground. Sparks erupted. Steel screamed. The earth trembled beneath them.
"You… you think you can stop me?" the Prince spat, struggling to regain footing.
John's eyes narrowed.
"I don't think," he said coldly. "I know."
With a single fluid motion, he struck.
The Prince was hurled backward into a wall, armor dented, body collapsing. He didn't rise.
Guinevere's breath caught.
Guinevere: This… isn't the John I knew. Who is he really?
John's aura flared brighter. Heat rippled through the air, warping the space around him. Every movement radiated power—controlled, overwhelming, inhuman.
Guinevere stood frozen, exhausted, trembling… yet unable to look away.
Guinevere: Who… who is he really?
The Prince, bloodied and broken, forced himself to move.
Prince (roaring): "You dare… HOW DARE YOU!!"
John turned slightly, raising his sword—ready to end it.
Then—
A horse thundered across the battlefield.
"John… STOP!" Marco shouted, voice grim.
John paused.
His gaze shifted toward Marco—sharp, calculating, as if questioning why he had interfered.
Marco was drenched in blood.
In his hand, he held the severed head of the King of Draventhia.
The Prince froze.
His pupils dilated.
A broken scream tore from his throat.
Prince: "DADDY!!"
---
Flashback – The Night Before
Inside the war tent, the air had been tense.
Marco: "Draventhia will attack tomorrow. Full force—about three hundred men."
Guinevere leaned back, smirking.
Guinevere: "Three hundred? Doesn't matter. I say we make them regret showing up."
Marco allowed a faint, teasing smile.
Marco: "Bold… but numbers still matter. Their king probably won't come—old and cautious. But the Prince? Young. Reckless. He'll be the real threat."
The Princess gave a calm nod.
Princess: "Marco, you handle the king. Avoid unnecessary casualties. Guinevere, you'll take command once the battle begins."
Guinevere cracked her knuckles.
Guinevere: "Commanding is boring. I'd rather fight."
Princess: "Do you need backup?"
Guinevere smirked.
Guinevere: "Do we even have anyone who can keep up with me?"
Princess: "John."
Guinevere blinked.
Guinevere: "John? Hah… interesting."
Princess: "He has potential. Let's see if he's ready."
---
Present
The flashback shattered.
The Prince screamed, voice breaking with rage and grief.
Prince: "No… no, it can't be!!"
His breathing turned ragged. His thoughts twisted into fury.
Prince (thinking): It's all her fault… everything… She destroyed it… she destroyed everything I had… I'll make her pay.
His bloodshot eyes snapped toward the unconscious Princess lying near the battlefield edge.
His hand trembled.
Prince: "She… deserves to die!"
John moved instantly.
A blur of motion—he surged toward him.
"STOP!" John's voice roared across the field.
The Prince smirked wildly and shifted at the last moment. John's strike missed by inches.
In one brutal motion, the Prince kicked.
The Princess's body was sent sliding off the cliff.
She fell into the raging river below.
Water exploded on impact.
Silence followed for a fraction of a second.
Then—
John jumped.
Without hesitation.
Time slowed.
Wind screamed.
Dust and light blurred into chaos.
John and the Princess fell together through the sky.
The battlefield below went silent.
Soldiers stared in shock.
Marco's expression hardened.
Guinevere's breath stopped.
Then her eyes flared crimson.
Guinevere: "What the hell… I will kill that Prince!"
She charged.
Steel clashed violently as she met him head-on. Every strike was precise, ruthless, fueled by fury. Sparks flew. The Prince staggered under her assault, barely defending himself.
"This ends now!" she hissed. "Your blood… is mine!"
Her blade rose for the finishing strike—
"STOP, GUINEVERE!"
Marco's voice cut through the battlefield.
"The Princess comes first!"
Guinevere froze, teeth clenched, shaking with rage.
After a tense pause, she lowered her blade slightly.
Then she turned sharply.
Guinevere: "Fine. We find them—now."
Marco gritted his teeth.
Marco: "Right… let's move."
...CHAPTER 11ENDS...