The sun was fully up now, but it provided no warmth. Eon walked down the grand staircase of the mansion, his legs feeling like lead. He had left Elora sleeping in his room; she had seen enough horror for one lifetime. Every step he took made his broken ribs grind against each other. He had to bite his tongue to keep from groaning.
As he reached the front entrance, he saw them. Elsa, Hans, Liam, and Verra were standing by the large open doors. Their faces were pale, their eyes fixed on the horizon where a massive cloud of dust was fast approaching.
Behind them stood the few elves who could still stand. Only six of them. Most were bandaged, leaning on broomsticks or iron bars because they didn't have real weapons. Against what was coming, they looked like children playing at war.
"Master Eon," Hans whispered, his voice trembling. "They are here."
Eon stepped out onto the porch. He looked at the vast front yard of the Edger estate. Usually, it was a peaceful place of green grass and statues. Now, it was about to become a graveyard.
The sound of hooves became a roar. Then, like a wave of steel, the Denares soldiers flooded into the yard.
It was a terrifying sight. First came the scouts, then the main force. It wasn't just a squad; it was an army. Eon counted roughly a thousand men. They swarmed the area, surrounding the mansion in a giant semi-circle.
Among them were about a hundred elite knights. Their armor was polished black steel, and they rode horses that looked like they were bred for nothing but killing. Behind the knights stood a group of mages in blue robes. They weren't the White Mages from the night before, but there were nearly fifty of them. Even weak magic, when multiplied by fifty, could turn the mansion into a pile of ash in seconds.
Eon felt his stomach drop. He had known Valen was coming, but he hadn't expected this fast and this many. He might be full of mana, but standing in front of a thousand blades, he seemd like a fly trying to threaten a blue whale.
The soldiers were a mess, though. As they pulled their horses to a halt, many of them tumbled out of their saddles. The long, high-speed ride had taken its toll. Men were retching in the grass, their faces green from the alcohol and the motion. Many were covered in dust and vomit. But as they saw Eon and the elves, they drew their swords. The sheer number of blades being pulled from sheaths created a sound like a thousand angry snakes.
Captain Valen dismounted. He didn't fall. He stepped off his horse with a heavy thud, his eyes locked onto Eon. He looked like a demon. His hair was wild, his cloak was torn, and his face was red with a mix of exhaustion and pure, unadulterated rage.
He walked forward, his boots crunching loudly on the gravel path. He stopped ten feet away from Eon. The air around him felt hot with anger.
"So," Valen rasped, his voice sounding like it had been dragged through gravel. "What now, Elf?"
Eon stood his ground, though his heart was hammering against his broken ribs. "Captain Valen. You've returned, I see. And with a... very large group of friends this time."
Valen's eyes twitched. "Don't play with me! You filthy elf! Lord Darius's Life Light went out yesterday. Gone. Darkness. And Lord Alaric's light is flickering like a candle in a storm."
He took another step forward, his hand gripping the hilt of his sword so hard the leather groaned. "Now tell me why it happened? I want the truth. Now. Do you tell it to me yourself, or do we start cutting these rats behind you until you find your tongue?"
Eon tilted his head, feigning a look of deep confusion. "Darius is... dead? What are you talking about, Captain? They left days ago. Didn't you personally check it? They said they had urgent business in the capital. We haven't seen them since."
"LIAR!" Valen screamed.
The shout was so loud that the elves behind Eon flinched. Elsa and Verra instantly reached for the daggers hidden at their waists. Their bodies coiled, ready to die to protect Eon.
"I know about the Shadow Mages!" Valen continued, his voice shaking with fury. "I know they took our four white mages! They came here, didn't they? You did something! You trapped them, didn't you?"
"Captain, please calm down," Eon said, his voice steady despite the sweat trickling down his back. "We were attacked last night. Yes. Masked men came. They killed my people. Destroyed mansions and properties. We are the victims here, just like your Lords might be if they ran into those same mercenary bandits on the road."
Valen didn't listen. The rage inside him was too big. He didn't see a victim; he saw a convenient target for his failure. If he killed the Elf, maybe the Royal family would be less angry about the Lords.
Without warning, Valen blurred forward.
BAM!
A heavy, gauntleted fist slammed into Eon's stomach.
Eon hadn't been able to use his Matter Manipulation to defend himself. The blow landed with full force on his already broken ribs. Eon gasped, a spray of blood flying from his mouth as he was lifted off his feet and slammed back onto the porch.
"EON!" Elsa screamed. She pulled her blade, her eyes glowing with a murderous blue light. Verra was right beside her, her face a mask of cold hatred.
"STOP!" Eon wheezed, raising a shaking hand. He struggled to his knees, coughing up more blood. "Elsa... Verra... stay back. That's an order."
He knew that if they attacked, the thousand soldiers behind Valen would turn the estate into a slaughterhouse within minutes. He couldn't let them die.
Valen stood over him, his face twisted. He reached down and grabbed Eon by the hair, forcing him to look up. "Where are they, Elf? If I don't see a living Lord in the next minute, I will start by cutting off your ears and then I'll move to the girls."
"Wait!"
Before he could hit Eon again, a new voice rang out from the mansion doors.
Valen turned, his eyes wide. Elora had come out. She looked pale and disheveled, her eyes red from crying. She saw Eon on the ground, bleeding, and the thousand soldiers filling her the yard.
"Valen! Stop this!" she ordered loudly.
Valen's anger skyrocketed. "Lady Elora? You! Are you with these filthy elves? Where is your brother? Where is Lord Darius?"
He let go of Eon's hair and marched toward her. His mind was so warped by panic that he looked like he was going to grab the Lady of the house Marquess by the throat. "Tell me the truth, girl! Before I lose my patience!"
He reached out his hand to seize her arm, his shadow looming over her. Elora shrank back, terrified.
But he never touched her.
A figure stepped out from the shadows of the hallway, moving between Elora and Valen.
It was Alaric Denares.
He looked different. His eyes were somewhat sunken, and his skin was pale, a side effect of the the mental strain past these days. He was dressed in a simple tunic, his hair unkempt. He didn't have a sword. He didn't have any armor on.
But the moment he stepped into the light, the world seemed to stop valen.
Valen froze. His hand, which had been inches from Elora, stayed suspended in mid-air. The rage that had been radiating from him like a furnace suddenly vanished, replaced by an ice-cold shock.
The thousand soldiers in the yard went silent. The retching stopped. The murmuring stopped. The sound of metal clashing ceased.
Alaric didn't say a word. He didn't shout. He didn't even look angry. He simply stood there, his gaze fixed on Valen. It was a look of cold, aristocratic disapproval, the look of a master watching a dog misbehave.
Valen's knees hit the gravel.
"My... My Lord," Valen whispered, his voice trembling.
Behind him, the sound of a thousand men moving at once filled the air. It was a wave of movement. The knights dismounted. The mages lowered their wands. The infantry dropped to their knees.
A thousand heads bowed down toward the porch. The silence was absolute. Not a single man dared to breathe loudly.
Alaric's presence alone had done what Eon's words and the elves' blades could never do. He was a Denares. To these men, he was a god. Even if he looked tired, even if he was unarmed, his authority was absolute.
Eon watched from the ground, wiping blood from his chin. He saw the way Valen was shaking, the man's forehead pressed against the dirt in shame.
The crisis had been averted, not by magic or logic, but by the weight of a name. But Eon knew the truth. Alaric was his puppet. And as the silent Lord stood there, looming over the army, Eon realized he now had a thousand more swords under his secret control.
The sun shone down on the bowed heads of the Diablo Unit. The situation had calmed, but for Eon, the real work was just beginning. He looked at Alaric's back and then at the kneeling Valen.
The game had just gotten much, much bigger.
Author note: Want to know how Alaric agreed to come with Elora for Eon's rescue? Then, you just have to read the next chapter.
🚀 20-Chapter Head-Start on the public release! https://www.patreon.com/posts/instant-access-144074236?utm_medium=clipboard_copy&utm_source=copyLink&utm_campaign=postshare_creator&utm_content=join_link
🎨 Access to Exclusive Character Art, lore, and much more.
Discord Link: [https://discord.gg/2D7YUsma5s]