Grig's PoV:
I don't understand…
I planted my arms on the ground, forcing my broken body up. The lower part of my head burned like hellfire.
"Kuek.."
That bastard Rick... he broke my jaw. I could feel every crack with each movement, pain dripping down my nerves.
Those bastards… they tricked me. And now that I've been found, they're trying to save their own skins by abandoning me.
I turned my head toward them. Drane and Rack. Their faces told me everything. Rack was pale as a corpse, terror written all over him. Drane though… hah, that bastard still wore his blank, neutral mask. Always so calm. Always so collected.
I smirked, even as blood pooled in my mouth. Not for long. None of them will be calm for long.
I'll tell the commander everything. Every filthy plan they whispered behind his back, every scheme they thought would save them. And when I'm done, I'll watch them suffer beside me. I'll drag them down into the mud where I already stand.
But first… my eyes slid toward the human. The one who gave me this chance. This idiot. Instead of demanding my head, he chose to duel. To play fair. For revenge. Heh. Fool. I'll return the favor by smashing that pretty face of his until it looks like mine.
Kikkik…
The human rose slowly, carefully, like every movement cost him something. He held his partner in his arms, carrying her to the corner.
One of the guards rushed up with a potion, but he refused it, shaking his head. Instead, he brought his hand to his mouth and mimed drinking something, then turned toward the girl.
And then… then he smiled. Small. Warm. She smiled back, like the whole damn world had narrowed to just the two of them. Their eyes spoke in silence, words I couldn't hear but I could feel the softness of it, the intimacy.
She closed her eyes as he leaned in.
Their lips touched.
Her sword slipped from her hands as she wrapped her arms around him, clinging like a child unwilling to let go of a toy.
He lowered her gently, like she was some relic. He even set her sword beside her, forehead pressed to hers, whispering secrets only she would hear. And she nodded, even with her mind tangled up by my Mindcanvas skill.
The human lifted his heavy, blunt sword, walking toward me.
He stepped onto the dueling ground and just stood there, staring at me with a look I couldn't read.
"Hah. What is that? Scared?" I snapped, but he never flinched. He kept looking at me, then turned his head toward Commander Quinn as if I wasn't even in the room.
"Hey, how can I break what's already broken," he asked, pointing a finger at me, annoyance plain in his voice.
Commander Quinn answered in the same clipped tone, "Haa? What makes you think I will give the potion to the traitor?"
"His face?"
Commander Quinn scoffed, "Not reason enough!"
What..? How is he talking back to Commander Quinn like that? And why is she answering him like they're peers? Some felt wrong. It felt like they knew each other for a long time.
This man was more than he seemed. Something about him set my teeth on edge.
"At least give him that tooth back. It's hard fighting him when I am up against that face."
Did he just insult me? I bristled, jaw aching, but Commander Quinn just clicked her tongue.
"tsk. Hey, traitor, your opponent wants you to use the artifact. Do you comply?"
My mind stalled for a breath. What? Then a grin spread across my face, pulling at my split lip.
"Sure," I said.
"Not a single ounce of chivalry. Tsk" Commander Quinn cursed under her breath and turned to Commander Tugnier.
He nodded once, like the whole farce bored him and he already knew how it would end. He looked like a man waiting for a theater curtain to rise.
Quinn threw the artifact at me. It hit my palm and everything changed. Pain loosened its grip. The wounds sealed up. The prickling irritation under my skin faded. Clarity poured back into my head.
I hadn't used much of my mana earlier against the human girl. Now I had all of it for this one. Plenty to beat the life out of him.
Once I did, I would walk over to Commander Tugnier and ask for pardon. He never broke his promises. If I wanted to beg for my life and a clean record, he would grant it.
I could not ask for the throne or a higher rank. Anyone could challenge for those in the end-of-month rituals and I would be knocked down in a heartbeat. But I could bargain for time, more days here before SBV's ride. That was worth something. That was survival.
My smirk widened as a dark thought crawled up my spine. Drane and Rack. I imagined dragging them into the light, naming their names, and watching them flail while I stood back. I would enjoy their suffering from the sidelines.
I let my purple aura surge, wrapping around me like fire. My sword drank it in until the blade pulsed with light, my muscles loosening as the energy sank into them. Tension bled away. My strength rose. My stats were higher than ever.
He had novice aura, same as me. But I had the artifact. And, most of all, I had Mind Canivas. The longer this dragged on, the easier it would be to win. Just like with that girl. Foolish human. He had dug his own grave.
Commander Quinn raised her hand, then cut it down through the air.
"Begin!"
I braced myself for him to close the gap in a single blur, the way his partner had... but he didn't. Instead, he circled me, step by slow step, eyes measuring, watching. Like a predator deciding where to sink its teeth. My instincts prickled. A warning. That hadn't happened even when his partner's sword was a breath from my throat.
No… I couldn't take him lightly.
"Mind Canivas," I whispered.
The bloodlust poured out, twisting, drilling into his muscles. I could feel it take hold. He should buckle, stumble, flinch.. anything. I wasn't taking chances. I channeled aura into my legs, launched forward, and in a blink I was at his throat. My blade cut the air.
"Is this what you call bloodlust?" he asked.
Steel clashed. His heavy sword stood firm between mine and his neck. His golden eyes glowed, his right radiating red aura, his left leaking black mana.
"Pathetic," he spat, as threads of crimson and black twined together, writhing.
Huah.?
My breath caught. No way. Mana and aura.. coexisting?
That was something only someone with the knowledge of a Sovereign could achieve. I staggered back, fear prickling down my arms. His aura was unmistakably novice, weaker than mine even. But his techniques... his refinement, was beyond anything a novice should touch.
"What…?" Commander Quinn's voice broke, eyes fixed on the mingling colors.
Even Commander Tugnier looked surprised. Him. Shocked. Could he even do such a thing?
The human stepped forward. One heavy step.
"With this amount of bloodlust, not even a foot soldier of the Demon King would fear you," he said, disappointment dripping from his eyes.
His voice dropped like a hammer. "Do you want to know what actual bloodlust looks like?"
"Hickk.."
My chest squeezed tight. My instincts screamed.
"No. Go away." My voice shook, trembling out of me.
But the air had already grown heavy, suffocating, pressing down on my bones.
"The one possessed by someone who once stood against millions of demons…" He stepped forward, and the air itself vibrated. Crimson and black, thick enough to choke on.
"The killing intent of a Warlord."
My knees buckled beneath me. And in the very next heartbeat, I was no longer standing on the dueling ground.
Everything around me brightened.
I looked around in a frenzy, my chest tight, my breaths coming too fast. The sky was open above me, the soil beneath my boots warm and real. A breeze swept past, chilling the sweat clinging to my back.
"Where am I?" I muttered, my eyes darting in every direction.
I stood on a.. cliff?
From below, roars echoed. Guttural and monstrous. I forced my legs forward, to the edge, and looked down.
Demons.
"Hukkk!"
My breath caught in my throat. Demons. Tens of thousands of them, a sea of bodies roaring and charging, their hateful eyes fixed upward, closing the distance to the cliff.
I spun, ready to run, but then banners snapped up in the wind. White cloth. A swan stitched across it. My stomach twisted. The banner of Sinclair Duchy. The very duchy the valley we lived in was in.
"Emergency!" A voice tore through the chaos. I turned and saw a soldier clad in Sinclair's white-swan armor sprinting to the camp.
"Our first line fell!" he shouted.
A general stepped out from a tent, his face sharp with command, his stride steady. He walked right past me... through me. Like I was nothing more than a ghost.
"We stick to the plan," he said, his eyes burning. "We wait for reinforcements. If we retreat, we hand them the advantage. This cliff is our stronghold."
"But sir!" the soldier stammered. "Our numbers... we have less than twenty percent of the demons pouring at us!"
The general swallowed hard, his throat dry, but his voice did not waver.
"We will die," the soldier whispered.
"I believe in the Duchess," the general replied, laying a firm hand on the man's shoulder before drawing his sword.
"Why am I here?" I thought, my mind spiraling. "What is happening to me?"
Then. Another cry, far behind. "The reinforcements are here!"
The general's head whipped around. "How many?"
"Just one!" the answer came, but the soldier's voice was drenched in relief.
"Just one?" the man beside the general said, disbelief etched across his face.
The general threw back his head and laughed. A laugh bold enough to silence the air.
"We are saved!" he declared.
"What?" I whispered, stunned.
Just then, another banner rose beside the white swan. Black cloth. A raven spread across it, its eyes gleaming crimson.
"The Warlord Rune Dreadfort has arrived!" a soldier roared.
Rune Dreadfort? The name clanged in my skull.
Through the morning haze, he appeared. A tall figure striding from the mist. A red, leathery cape trailing him, snapping with the wind. A raven perched on his left shoulder, its crimson eyes sharp, unyielding.
His golden eyes burned, heavy black bags etched beneath them, the weight of battles lived and survived. His black hair whipped with his slow, deliberate steps.
He passed me without a glance. The general of Sinclair saluted, but he didn't so much as slow. His gaze was fixed forward, on the endless tide of demons climbing for the cliff.
He exhaled once. Calm. Certain.
Black fire flared around his left hand, swallowing it whole.
He raised it.
"Void Embrace."