The shopping district had stopped being a shopping district some time ago. What remained was a smear of collapsed stalls, scattered goods, and craters punched into the cobblestone by impacts too fast to see coming.
Cold steel met the silver and a sword and a short spear clangered against each other in the violent clashes. The echoes of their violent clashes spread across the empty, ruined street, noone unfortunate enough to be present to hear them.
Swish!
The sound of cutting wind whistled past Corvin's ear, alerting him to the incoming attack. The strike was too slow and he easily dodged by shifting to side. The sharp movement sent a jolt through his right arm, and the sting of the still fresh cut on his forearm washed over him like a tide.
The sword descended down at swift speed, the blade cutting through the air where Corvin had been standing just a moment ago. The curved sword was his own, but the one currently wielding it wasn't him. Oswald had somehow managed to trick him and steal his sword from his grasp, and not long after, the sword had already tasted his own blood.
Corvin's grip on the short spear—his current weapon lended to him by Cathal— tightened as he saw his own reflection on the bloodstained, polished surface of cold steel. A hand followed the blade, holding onto the handle, and in the next second, the figure of Oswald appeared out of the darkness, lunging at corvin.
Not panicking, Corvin stepped back once again and then lashed out at Oswald with his silver short spear. His opponent tried to block, but corvin maneuvered through it and a landed a deep cut along the side of Oswald's abdomen.
By then, Cathal, who had been incapacitated before dashed from the side used this opening and landed a heavy kick on Oswald, sending him crashing through a small stone building.
No one dared to follow up and attack Oswald within the small, broken building, knowing it might be used as a trap. Instead, they took this time to catch a breath. Cathal picked up his silver spear that was laying a few metres away. Corvin meanwhile kept a close eye at Oswald who was currently trying to slowly get up.
It had been more than an hour since the battle with Oswald had started, and both of them were dead tired.
Their opponent however, didn't seem to be for some strange reason. Not only that, but Oswald somehow seemed to have gotten even more skilled and devious in his tricks somewhere around the 30 minutes mark. Corvin did not know how that was possible but it was their reality.
There was still one upside though. because Oswald seemed to be getting more and more high on whatever he had been drunk on. He missed more often, as if his mind was not all their, or as if his senses had been dulled. His attacks were often slower and weaker, as if he had forgotten to imbue them with essence. Oswald looked more mangled and haggard than what he had looked during the entire first portion of their clashes.
After a second, Corvin looked up at the starry sky. Was it just him, or was the sky slowly being devoured by clouds?
Damn it, how long is it going to take?!
It had also been an hour since he had asked what Eldrin wanted to do with Oswald, and the royal family had still been silent. He did not understand why King Eldrin seemed to be hesitating this long given how simple the decision was.
To him, even the mythical heroes of history would deserve to die if they had done something just as vile. And so, Scums like Oswald deserved to die even more, no matter what good deeds he had done in the past.
Just as he was inwardly cursing the royal family, a distant voice suddenly echoed within his mind.
[There are new important developments with the Fallen Demon's case.]
By now, the tone of voice was even more strained and hurried then before.
>[What is it now?]
The voice lingered for a second, as if afraid of what he would say next. Finally, it spoke;
[The Demon has changed its course from the original path. Although this means you guys have more buffer time, there's a problem...]
>[Is it something with what's in the path?]
[Yes... Sir Cathal's house is directly in collision course with the new path.]
The words landed like thunder, causing Corvin's eyes suddenly widened. He cursed inwardly.
>[How long till it reaches the house?]
[20 minutes.]
Fuck...
It would take either Cathal or him atleast 20 or so minutes to reach where the Fallen Demon was currently, even at their highest speed.
Ahead, Oswald finally stood up straight from within the rubble, debris and dust falling off his clothes. The blade in his hand shined with an ominous silver gleem of a nearby house lamp.
And we still need to deal with this bastard!
Right as he was having that thought, another detailed passed by his mind.
>[Wait, did you tell Cathal of this?!]
[Yes...?]
>[You damned idiot!]
He hurriedly turned to Cathal and his heart shuddered at what he saw.
Cathal was currently gazing east, a dazed expression on his face.
suddenly having a dark premonition, he pointed his spear at the still recovering figure of Oswald and turned towards Cathal, hissing through gritted teeth, "Hey, Look at me, Cathal, look at me! Don't you dare do something stupid!"
Cathal turned to him slowly with a lost expression, his lips trembling.
"B-but Meredith..."
"We will deal with this bastard together, and then we will go to save your wife together as well. Come on, listen to me damn it, we dont know how the Crown will react if we kill a prince of the Royal bloodline. You can very well be punished with immediate death in an instant by it!"
Oswald had already began to move by then, taking a stance. Cathal's grip on his long spear tightened as he listened to Corvin's word. Eventually, he looked back at him, a sad smile appearing on his face.
"Ah, But you are forgetting... only one of us is needed to save them..."
Before corvin could curse or just say anything in general, Oswald exploded forward in a hurricane of steel and motion. Their conversation was suddenly cut short as they were once again forced into a confrontation with Oswald.
It had not even been a few seconds before the voice in his head spoke once again.
[Sir, there is a message from sir Cathal...]
Don't you say it!
[He asks for you to take care of his family if something really happens to him.]
He hated it. He hated every second of carrying that promise.
Why did such great and valiant people have to die for the sins of someone so vile?!
Why?!
Their clash this time was swift. During it, Corvin did not stop Cathal from doing what he wanted to do. He didn't because he would've hated himself if he had been in Cathal's position, where the lives of people he loved was at stake.
And so, he could only steel his heart as Cathal's silver spear pierced through Oswald's heart.
He could only tense his muscles, preparing to sprint east as fast as he possibly could as the blood of the prince flower down the shaft of that spear and dripped down on the cobblestone road below them.
And in the end, he could only pick up his lost sword and run.
***
From high above, Casamir lay still.
The capital slept beneath a moonless sky, its walls and towers reduced to pale grey outlines against the dark countryside. Not a single light stirred in the lower districts.
On the far outskirts, a lone ember flickered — small and insignificant, a single spark against the vast sprawl of the kingdom, easily lost if one didn't already know where to look.
The sky above had not always looked like this. Just a few minutes ago, it had been empty and clear, scattered with countless stars. Now, thick clouds rolled across it, smothering what starlight remained.
Then suddenly, the world trembled. A resonant pulse spread through the fabric of reality, as if carrying the dreadful news of something terrible. This dreadful message couldn't be heard or seen, but it was felt through everyone's soul all the same.
In the next moment, as if responding to the news, the clouds above began to glow brilliantly, infused with a brassy sheen.
Twilight descended upon Casamir, its holy radiance spilling downward in cascading sheets, cutting through the darkness of night and the vast expanse of clouds, falling over the sleeping capital like the first light of a second, impossible dawn.
Then, the angle of the falling light changed, as if the hidden source of this brilliant and breathtaking light was moving its vast shape above the sea of clouds.
Or perhaps the brass light was instead the gaze of an ancient deity, who was currently moving its Scrutiny across the land of its creation.
Twilight left the capital of Casamir, moving across the silent plains and the flowing rivers. Wherever it passed, those asleep, however deep their slumber might have been, awoke cowered in cold sweat. It did not take more than a couple seconds before the twilight reached an expanse of plain, empty except for a tiny speck of golden radiance.
Twilight lingered for just a fraction of a second before moving once again before finally halting at a small city state where a terrible battle had just reached its conclusion.
The brassy twilight grew brighter.
In the next second, heaven spoke, its mystically terrifying yet majestic and dignified voice boomed over the world like thunder.
{ATTENTION, ALL CITIZENS OF CASAMIR...}
Anyone who had still been asleep woke up in that instance.
{ON ACCOUNTS OF THE MURDER OF PRINCE OSWALD... }
{I, THE HAND OF ORDER, IN THE NAME OF THE CROWN...}
{DECLARE ASCENDED CATHAL AS A TRAITOR OF CASAMIR!}
{UNTIL THE KING OF CASAMIR DELIVERS HIS JUDGEMENT, ASCENDED CATHAL SHALL BE CONFINED AND PROTECTED... AWAITING HIS PUNISHMENT...}
Within the land illuminated by the brilliant twilight, a lone warrior stood among the ruins of a devastated district. The warrior held a long silver spear in his hands, now stained with blood and supporting a mangled corpse upright.
The lips of the corpse were parted, a single word stuck on them. The name of his hateful brother.
Eventually, the corpse fell down, and the warrior looked up at the burning heavens that did not promise any salvation. In the next second, layers upon layers of transparent, glass-like walls materialised around him, making it impossible for him to move even in an inch.
Far from Twilight, inside a room of the Royal Palace located in the capital city, silence had fallen over everyone present.
Ashoka stood near the window, having risen from his seat. Beside him, Eldrin's small frame had gone rigid, both hands gripping the armrests of his chair hard enough that his knuckles had turned pale.
None of them spoke as the heavens finished their proclamation. The brassy light lingered a moment longer over the city before beginning its slow retreat back into the clouds.
Eldrin was the first to break the silence, before he pressed a fist against his mouth.
"Uncle..."
Ashoka didn't look at him. He kept his eyes fixed on the horizon, on the place where the golden light had settled and stayed, marking the small city where the battle had ended.
The second prince of Casamir had been slain.
Ascended Oswald had fallen to his devious plan.
Behind him, he heard the ascended let out a slow breath, relief, or perhaps exhaustion after bracing for worse news for the better part of an hour.
Eldrin was still staring out at the fading light with an unreadable expression.
Now, only Gaius remained between him and the end of the Nightmare.
Ashoka intended to make sure the prince wouldn't be alive for long either.
The end was nearing.