CHAPTER THREE — THE PURGE
The bells tolled.
Once.
Twice.
Thrice.
Each thunderous strike echoed across the capital like the heartbeat of a god awakening.
The Blood Moon Alarm.
Servants dropped trays and fled indoors. Market stalls were abandoned mid-sale. Children were ushered into cellars. Guards sprinted toward walls, armor clattering in frantic rhythm.
A crimson light washed over the capital, staining stone and sky like spilled wine. The moon above swelled unnaturally huge — a bleeding orb that seemed alive.
But inside the palace, something far more chilling than the Blood Moon stirred.
The king's fury.
Aldric Valtarus stood on the upper balcony overlooking the massive courtyard. Hundreds of royal guards, knights, elite veterans, and the palace vanguard gathered beneath him.
Alistair stood at his father's right side, his armor incomplete, hair still messy from sprinting across the palace.
Arcturus stood on the king's left.
His eyes glowed faintly under the crimson sky.
Shadows curled around the balcony rail.
Wind rolled away from him in slow, unnatural waves.
The army had never seen their Third Prince like this.
Some stared.
Some swallowed hard.
Some looked away.
Something in their blood warned them:
Do not look the beast directly in the eyes.
Aldric's voice boomed over the courtyard.
"VALTARUS WAS BUILT ON HONOR."
The troops straightened.
"IT WAS BUILT ON LOYALTY."
Fists tightened across the ranks.
"AND TONIGHT," Aldric roared, "THAT LOYALTY HAS BEEN SPIT UPON!"
A shiver ran down the crowd.
Some gasped.
Others murmured in confusion.
The king thrust a gauntleted finger toward the eastern district.
"The nobles of the Eastern Council conspired with the Church—AND FOREIGN POWERS—to murder my son!"
A roar of outrage exploded from the soldiers.
"TREACHERY!"
"COWARDS!"
"THE PRINCE? THEY TRIED TO KILL THE PRINCE?!"
Aldric let the fury burn.
"They would have thrown this kingdom into civil war… killed our bloodline… and opened our gates to INVASION."
He raised his hand.
"And so tonight—Valtarus purges its poison."
The courtyard erupted into a deafening cheer.
Aldric didn't wait for silence.
"Commander Bradwen! Captain Loras! Captain Sevin!"
Three seasoned commanders snapped to attention.
"Take your regiments," Aldric ordered, "and wipe out the traitor estates. Leave no conspirator alive. Spare only children and servants. Confiscate every coin, every blade, every scroll."
"Yes, Your Majesty!"
"Sire!"
"As you command!"
Aldric nodded—and his tone changed, darkening.
"The eastern nobles have been plotting for months. They have hoarded weapons, hired mercenaries, and fortified their homes. Expect resistance. Expect magic. Expect death."
Then the king turned his head slightly.
"Alistair."
The Crown Prince stepped forward.
"Yes, Father?"
"You and Rowan will mobilize the wall garrisons. The Blood Moon is rising. The beasts will swarm. You must hold the capital."
Alistair nodded tightly.
"I will."
Aldric grasped his shoulder.
"I trust you."
Then the king slowly turned… to Arcturus.
Every soldier held their breath.
Even the wind seemed to pause.
"Arcturus… my son."
Arcturus inclined his head.
"Father."
"You have already been wronged beyond measure tonight. I would not ask more of you."
Arcturus responded softly:
"You do not need to ask."
Aldric inhaled sharply.
Arcturus stepped forward, standing beside the balcony edge. His shadow stretched unnaturally long, spilling over the railing, sliding down the wall, and stretching across the courtyard like some sentient creature.
When he spoke, his voice resonated with something deeper than human tone.
"Give me a direction."
Silence.
Then Aldric lifted a hand and pointed.
"To the east."
Arcturus nodded once.
"Very well."
A ripple of energy rolled through the courtyard — not outward, but inward, sinking into every soldier's bones.
Some felt their knees weaken.
Others felt their hearts race.
Many felt the sudden urge to kneel.
Aldric straightened his back, standing taller.
"FOR VALTARUS!" he roared.
"FOR VALTARUS!" the army bellowed back.
Arcturus turned without another word.
And disappeared.
Not a teleport.
Not a spell.
Just… vanished.
The courtyard erupted in shouts of awe and fear.
And the purge began.
THE KING'S WRATH — LORN RENFORDLord Lorn Renford's estate was a castle hidden within the city: tall white walls, gilded windows, imported marble, a private battalion of mercenary soldiers armed with enchanted weapons.
He had always believed himself unstoppable.
He believed even more so after signing a secret pact with the Radiant Church.
Now he stood in his dining hall, finishing a glass of wine, confident the chaos outside would not reach him.
"My defenses are impenetrable," he muttered. "The king will not dare attack me during a—"
The front gate exploded.
Not opened.
Exploded.
Aldric Valtarus walked through the smoke, armor blazing with crimson flame.
"RENFORD!!"
Lorn Renford choked.
"No—NO—HE CAN'T—"
Royal guards poured in behind the king like a flood of steel.
Lorn screamed to his mercenaries.
"STOP HIM! KILL HIM! KILL HIM NOW!"
They obeyed.
Dozens charged.
Aldric didn't slow.
He raised his sword.
When he spoke, his voice cracked the stone.
"ROYAL FLAME—BURSTING NOVA!"
A wall of fire erupted from his blade, sweeping across the hall like a tidal wave.
Mercenaries ignited into screaming pyres.
Red-hot air melted chandeliers.
Paintings liquefied.
Renford stumbled backward, face pale.
"S-STAY BACK! I—WE—WE WERE ORDERED BY THE CHUR—"
Aldric appeared in front of him.
No fire.
No movement.
Just cold rage.
"You tried to murder my son."
Renford trembled.
"I—I didn't—I was told—He was CuRSED—We—We only wanted—"
Aldric's blade pierced his heart.
"That's enough."
Renford froze, mouth open in silent horror.
Aldric leaned close.
"Your last lie dies with you."
He twisted the blade.
Renford's scream was cut short.
Blood sizzled on the king's gauntlet as he pulled the sword free and turned to his men.
"Search everything," he ordered. "Every ledger. Every letter. Every servant. These rats were funded by someone bigger."
A knight saluted.
"Yes, Your Majesty!"
Aldric wiped his blade clean, fire reflecting in his eyes.
"No more shadows in my kingdom," he growled.
ARCTURUS — HUNTER OF TRAITORSArcturus didn't run through the eastern district.
He drifted.
Shadows carried him.
He appeared in noble estates like a phantom, leaving behind corpses without screams.
Lord Teren of House Vael tried begging with gold.
Arcturus slit his throat with a finger.
Lady Isen tried fleeing on horseback.
Arcturus stepped in front of her before she reached the gate.
She didn't even see him move.
Magus Haldrin tried casting a forbidden spell.
Arcturus crushed the spell circle between two fingers.
A whisper.
A thought.
A flicker of shadow.
And the mage's neck snapped.
In each estate, Arcturus left no mess.
No blood splatter.
No panic.
Just bodies lying as if they'd fallen asleep.
Some died with calm expressions.
Some with terror.
But all died silently.
And none saw him.
The Blood Moon made monsters scream.
But the purge made traitors disappear.
THE WALLS — ALISTAIR AND ROWANRot.
Stench.
Screams.
The eastern wall shook under the weight of monsters pouring from the Blood Moon's crimson fog. Wolf-beasts with bone protrusions. Six-legged ghouls. Winged horrors screeching like shredded metal.
Alistair stood atop the battlements, sword blazing bright blue.
"ARCHERS—LOOSE!"
A wave of arrows darkened the sky.
"TREBUCHETS—FIRE!"
Flaming stones pummeled the horde.
Rowan fought beside him, shield in one hand, spear in the other.
"REINFORCE THE GATE!" Rowan shouted. "WE CAN'T LET THE OGRES REACH IT!"
But one already had.
A massive ogre, three times the height of a man, barreled through the chaos, smashing soldiers aside like toys.
Rowan saw it seconds before its club descended.
He raised his shield—
CRACK!
The force threw him across the wall. His body slammed into stone. Blood gushed from his lips.
"ROWAN!!" Alistair shouted.
The ogre lumbered toward the fallen captain, snarling, its fist raised—
"DON'T YOU DARE—"
Alistair leaped, blade glowing with enough force to light the night.
"SEVERING—"
He swung.
"HORIZON!"
A flash of blue.
A shockwave.
The ogre split clean in two.
Soldiers cheered desperately.
"THE CROWN PRINCE!!"
"HE KILLED IT!!"
"WE CAN HOLD THE LINE—!"
Then everything shook.
Not from the wall.
Not from the beasts.
But from footsteps.
Massive footsteps.
A Titan-class monster emerged from the crimson fog like a nightmare made of bone and muscle. Its eyes burned with molten gold. Its steps crushed lesser monsters beneath its weight.
Soldiers froze.
Alistair whispered, "No… we can't… this is too much…"
Rowan struggled to rise, vision blurry.
Men prayed.
Men trembled.
Some dropped their weapons.
Then a voice echoed across the wall.
"Move."
Arcturus landed between soldiers, barely disturbing the air.
All eyes widened.
"P-Prince Arcturus—?!"
"Is he floating?!"
"Is that shadow—what is—"
Arcturus didn't answer.
The Titan roared, shaking the ramparts.
Arcturus raised a hand.
And caught the Titan's punch.
With one hand.
The impact cracked the ground beneath him and sent shockwaves ripping across the battlefield.
But Arcturus didn't budge.
He looked up at the towering monster.
"Kneel."
The Titan dropped.
Instantly.
Its legs buckled.
Its jaw split.
Bone cracked like eggshell.
Arcturus stepped atop its collapsing form and extended his hand.
Blood surged from the Titan's skull, swirling in the air like a rising storm.
"Suffer."
The blood condensed into a spear.
He threw it.
BOOM.
The Titan's head exploded.
Silence.
Then—
A thunderous cheer.
"THE DEMON PRINCE!!"
"THE PRINCE KILLED A TITAN!!"
"VALTARUS IS SAVED!!"
Alistair exhaled, chest heaving.
Rowan managed a shaky grin.
"You're unbelievable…" he coughed.
Arcturus didn't smile.
He stared out at the endless horde.
"This is only the beginning."
Because the Blood Moon had only just risen.
And the night was long.