The front line slowly collapsed as the men bled, trying to push back the invading hordes. Howls of anguish drowned the clash of steel and fangs while life slowly slipped away from the unfortunate souls trapped within this nightmare.
Richard stood unyielding, ready to face the approaching waves of death, huddled among his comrades like a raft bravely facing the tides. He felt out of place within this painting of blood and gore. He should have been safe in the rear doing what he knew best, but Maria's absence left a void nobody could fill. Still, he had to try. He had no qualms about bleeding if it could slightly alleviate her guilt. Amidst this struggle of life and death, Richard reminisced of his yesteryears.
His father was the Southern Duke, famed for his unrivalled martial prowess, yet Richard inherited none of it. He was hopeless with the sword or the bow; whichever weapon he tried felt foreign in his hands. However, it didn't mean he didn't put in the effort. While distant relatives did think less of him for his lack of talent, Richard thought otherwise. If the family truly needed someone to succeed the Duke in his martial ways, then his sister was more than able and willing.
Whenever she held a weapon, she resembled a blazing flame radiating incandescent light. Richard did not intend to overshadow her glory; he never felt inferior. He also had something he was gifted in, even if it was slightly frowned upon considering his pedigree. He had a knack for learning.
Despite being a warrior to the core, the Duke was still of high nobility and possessed an extensive library. Richard avidly read through every book, absorbing knowledge at an insane pace. At the age of eight, no books remained unread within their estate. The Duke was proud of his son, for this was something he was unable to do. He bragged about him every chance he could get.
Rumours of his talent soon made their way into the upper echelons of the Kingdom, even catching the ears of the Prime Minister. The man was highly talented himself, being the most trusted individual by Her Majesty, the Queen, but that left him with too many matters to attend to personally. He needed someone to share his burdens. Richard seemed like a godsend; training a successor could alleviate his woes.
While the Prime Minister still had reservations over entrusting sensitive matters of state to someone so young, he would test Richard thoroughly before using him. He offered the lad a position as Royal Librarian, which Richard accepted with open arms. Boredom had taken hold of him ever since the last words written upon the pages found in his father’s library entered his mind; even with his father’s fortune and influence, the quality and quantity of books found in the Central Library was unequalled.
Less than two years after his appointment, Richard's name spread throughout the palace as a gifted individual, yet the military circles still ridiculed him as incompetent. It seemed that his reputation would follow him all his life despite whatever achievement he might reap. While he didn’t care about his own reputation, the fact that his existence would blemish his family’s prestige left a sour taste in his mouth.
As he sought ways to remedy this situation, buried within mountains of dusty tomes deep in the Royal Library, he finally found something other than knowledge that could light up his life. A young lady slightly older than him, standing in a pale blue dress that accentuated her cuteness with her silver hair fastened into a ponytail, took his breath away. Every mention of books, to which he had consecrated most of his short life, faded from his mind, replaced by the imprint of her dazzling smile. He knew from this moment forth to which he should dedicate his life.
He was no fool; her features were striking. He knew which house she belonged to. Although his father was a Duke revered in the Kingdom, his status still fell short of this beauty, but he would persevere. However, he knew that, above prestige and pedigree, what mattered most was her feelings in the matter. What would be the point of gaining her father's acceptance if she didn't wish for it?
So, he redoubled his studies while also making time for her. Unsurprisingly, the young lady was quite fond of his direct and sincere approach to getting to know her instead of using his family to prop himself up like all her other suitors had done before. Years passed, and they grew closer.
He feared that the rumours of his incompetence in the martial way would somehow repulse her since she was gifted in the way of the spear. So, he redoubled his efforts in his training for minimal gain. It would be a lie to say he wasn't frustrated, but what would self-pity achieve? Instead of wallowing in despair, his time would be better served thinking of counter-measures. That was when he finally came to a realization.
Why bother with something he has no talent for? Could his pitiful martial prowess even be of use to her? He had so much more to offer in other areas while his time on this plane was limited. He would much rather spend his time with her, deepening their relationship, than alone in a training hall on some futile endeavours.
Would giving up make him any less of a man? Of course not. Would she think less of him if he did not follow her path? Once again, no. Would the light of a candle ever reach the blazing sun? Therefore, he chose another path. If he couldn't stand shoulder-to-shoulder with her on the battlefield, he would ensure she could always return unharmed.
This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.
That is when he chose to immerse himself in the healing arts. Fortunately, his bloodline seemed to be related to such studies. While on his quest within the depths of the Royal Library, where books forgotten by the flow of history awaited their eventual decay to the sands of time, Richard stumbled upon an old but magnificent tome.
Gold and silver lined its hardcover, while a majestic red bird was depicted upon its surface. As Richard blew away years of accumulated dust, the vermilion bird seemed to come alive, as flame danced upon its feathers, and a mighty cry resonated within his mind. Richard was sure the bird was the one his family's legend spoke of.
The book was written in an archaic dialect barely used in recent days. Fortunately, Richard was proficient in it since most books in the library's depths were written in some variation. As he thought, the story inked on its pages predated the Kingdom's founding. It was the travel diary of his family's progenitor while he was journeying as one of the founding monarch's retinue.
Most of it was tales of the First Queen's valour, battling giant monstrosities, fighting against ignoble demons, or other such epic adventures. In those days, monsters and demons roamed the land as its overlords while humans were barely worth considering. If not for this incredible forefather, the human race may have become extinct by now.
One of those adventures brought the group to a massive mountain belt that his ancestor depicted as the Edge of the World. The mountains' peaks towered so high above them that they blotted out the sun for miles around. The First Queen, undeterred by this seemingly impossible challenge, sought to witness what lay on the other side of this natural barrier, and so the group braved the wrath of nature itself to fulfill her desires.
As his ancestors scaled the most perilous of mountains, they chanced upon a majestic bird perched upon one of the highest peaks. Even from a distance, the avian beast was massive. Iridescent feathers covered its body while sharp claws dug into the rock it rested on. The avian beast bravely faced the deadly winds blowing on top of the white wasteland, covering the peaks with an eerie stillness.
His ancestor remembered the First Queen's expression on that fateful day when they saw this wondrous beast for the first time. It still gave him chills even as he was writing this book. On her order, the group advanced toward that beast’s perch, braving the cold and merciless winds, but as they trekked closer to it, less and less snow could be found on the ground. The relentless cold that had assaulted them for days finally gave way to a blazing heat.
The bird regarded them with an indifferent gaze as if looking at ants while its plumage fluttered, bursting like flames in the wind. His ancestor was in awe of the beast's grand and majestic appearance, yet the First Queen had only one thought: to slay the beast and acquire its strength.
Under the Queen's leadership, the party battled the beast for days. Even with their leader's strength and tenacity, which had felled countless beasts before it, the Vermilion Bird stood its ground fiercely. It could have ignored them and left using its magnificent wings, yet it chose to fight. The bird was strong and proud; his ancestor speculated that the bird simply could not stomach such insignificant beings treading on its territory.
The Queen fought like a fierce deity while his ancestor could only barely support her. With each swipe of her blade, deep wounds marred the beast's flesh, leaking the most precious of liquids. Yet, once its blood came into contact with the air, it burst into flames, pouring its heat into its surroundings. Once the blaze died out, no wounds could be seen, as if the beast wasn't injured to begin with.
So started a war of attrition, pitting the peak of humanity against an immortal bird. The battle raged for days until the bird’s blood finally ran dry. As one of the few who survived the battle, his ancestor was gifted the bird's flesh. This was their bloodline's origin; the Vermilion Bird representing destruction and rebirth.
Richard mulled over this story for a long time until he finally came to a conclusion. Now, he knew why his family's bloodline seemed so different from his own. While his sister had inherited the more destructive flames of the bird, he, on the other hand, inherited rebirth. This information brought a smile to his face. He now had a concrete goal to strive toward. He could finally stand as her equal without shame.
An unexpected swipe grazed the side of his chest; claws ripped his feeble armour apart while digging into his flesh. Blood flowed from the wound before bursting into flames that healed the injury at an incredible pace, not unlike the majestic Vermilion Bird. The pain seared his mind awake from his memories. It seemed that at the edge of death, Richard had seen his life flashed before his eyes.
All around him, more and more lives were lost to the unending tides. Only a few remained as solitary islands amidst this ocean of death, yet none resigned themselves to their demise. Even if unsightly, they would struggle until they breathed their last in hopes of grasping a single chance at life. Richard would never give up, for he had a reason to live.
He burst forth like a man possessed, swinging his sword in desperation at his incoming foes. His sharp sword slid along the beast's hide, rendering their flesh while their claws and fang dug into his own. Flames burst forth again, healing the wounds while searing its assailant. This was the fighting style he had devised to stand at her side. The one only he was capable of: the inheritor of the Flames of Rebirth.
While the flames may have made him immortal, they were not infinite. Soon, his blood would run out, and he would die, but he would do his duty until the end. He would not cower; he would not flee; he would make her proud. Even if his death would sadden her, he knew she was strong enough to move on. She would find someone else to love and have a family with after he passed.
That thought, however, brought only rage to his heart. She was his, now and forever. He couldn't afford to let himself die, only for another man to take his place. He would fight until the bitter end and survive. Flames clad his body while their intense heat kept the beasts at bay. Even as his bones and muscles tore under the strain, Richard wouldn't stop swinging his sword, only for the faint hope of seeing her smile again.
Even as he was unable to breathe and his consciousness slowly left him, he still stood unyielding before the hordes. A gigantic beast stood in his way, towering over him. Even with hazy vision and unsteady feet, Richard stood tall before it, hindering its path. The beast swung its massive paw, aiming for his head. Richard willed himself to dodge, but his battered body was incapable of following through. He watched the deadly paw that would reap his life inch closer with every moment, incapable of offering any resistance. This was it. His life would come to an end.
Before despair could overwhelm him, a searing flame burst in front of him, its iridescent light turning everything in its path into cinders. Through his hazy sight, he could only make out the outline of the being that stood before him, but he would not mistake this warmth for anything else. It seemed his sister had finally returned.
Relief washed over him, and his remaining strength was finally gone. Claire had just enough time to catch him before his body hit the ground. Despite the numbness that permeated his flesh, he still felt her hot tears on his cheek. The last thing he remembered was a pillar of light towering over the forest before he finally lost consciousness.