Thank you to my beta reader and editor, GlassThreads!

Grey

I never liked the rain before. Distantly, I remembered dreading getting rained on and drenched as I rushed along the back alley streets of my home, hoping alongside Nico that I could make it to the orphanage before it was too late.

On more than one occasion, my former friend and I failed to beat the stormfront. Nearly every time, Nico wound up with a cold that would keep him down for an entire week.

“Come on, Grey,” Nico’s voice said as I gave him my rain jacket one day. “You’ll get sick if you do that! How many times do I have to tell you? Just keep the godforsaken jacket!”

Lightning crashed overhead, and thunder rolled.

“My body’s a lot stronger than yours, Nico,” phantom-Grey replied. Wilbeck’s orphanage couldn’t afford many clothes, and the rainjacket was the only one we had to spare. “I won’t get sick from this. Now shut up and get home already!”

The rain fell around me in heavy splashes as it soaked through my uniform, ghosts of my past running and darting through the alleyway. Grey’s smile, Nico’s mischievous grin.

I ignored them, even as the cool brush of the downfall cascaded down my back and along my neck. My hair clung to my head in wheat-blonde clumps as I stared impassively at the building not far beyond.

“King Grey, sir,” a hesitant voice said from behind me. One of the members of the Ki Enforcement Team who were ready to act under my orders. “If you’re soaked by the rain, then…”

I turned imperceptibly, observing the woman who had spoken with dull eyes. She swallowed, her tactical dark vest and helmet providing protection from the elements. She quickly averted her brown eyes from mine.

I returned to my observation. Behind me, a team of seven men and women–all expertly trained in ki combat and the extermination of ki artists–waited on standby. They only needed the word.

My hand rested leisurely on the pommel of my sword, the grip made of studded leather that wouldn’t fail me even when wet.

A blade was useless if it could not be held, if it could not be directed to tear through flesh. There was no purpose to unwieldy steel.

Lightning flashed, and I caught sight of a hooded figure as they raced toward a two-story building across from the alley where I was currently stationed. They shuffled uncertainly, trying to see through the rain as they swiveled all around, their gloved hands fidgeting with the lock.

They didn’t see us. The illuminating flash of lightning had already passed, and now there was only thunder.

The man rushed into the building, before slamming the door shut behind him. Several seconds passed.

“Target Zeta has entered the premises,” a sharp, militaristic voice said over the earbud in my ear. “All targets are within bounds. Permission to proceed?”

My hand clenched around the pommel of my sword as I glanced back at my team. All seven were ready and waiting to do what needed to be done. They would act as the tools they were.

I turned back to the building, raising a hand to my ear to enable communication. “Permission granted.”

I waved my hand in a series of simple gestures, signing to the team behind me. Not waiting to see if they heard, I called a bare sliver of energy from my ki center, allowing it to flow along the pathways of my meridians.

I darted forward, the rain slick on my skin as I utilized a wind-style ki art that was designed to muffle the steps and eliminate all sound. Even as my boots splashed through the water as I approached the building, no sound rippled over the cascading downpour.

I reached the edge of the doorway in no time. I crouched low, my hand on the handle of my sword. I observed the many windows analytically as I waited by the entrance, giving my men a few seconds to reach their targets.

A heartbeat later, the seven in my squad fell in around me, blending in with their dark tactical gear as they hugged the cover of the wall. Most of the windows were boarded up, but a few allowed the barest sliver of light out.

There were two other teams that worked to surround the structure entirely. The south entrance and the uppermost fire escapes were all watched by long-distance snipers.

Our targets would have no way to escape.

“On zero,” I said into the earbud. My heartbeat was slow and even in my chest. I raised my hand, holding out three fingers.

“Three,” I whispered over the microphone in my ear and the elites nearby.

I slowly drew my sword, the sound silent as a mother’s breath. My blade was black as pitch, the carbon steel ki alloy explicitly designed not to reflect light. Most wouldn’t even see it coming before it was far too late.

I lowered one finger, the elites around me tensing and preparing their weapons.

“Two,” I continued, my intent calm and steady.

I readied my meager ki pool, recalling the layout of the room and what the plan was. Three rooms to target, one central meeting area where all six prime targets would be located. That was where we would strike first–hard and fast.

“One,” I said, noting a member of the squad preparing a flashbang in their hands as they stood near the window.

I took a single breath. No lightning came to mark the moment.

“Zero.”

All the lights in the building went out at once as my team cut the power. I imagined what little light our targets had now suddenly became an abyss of uncertainty and fear.

The soldier behind me stood sharply, pulling the pin out of the flashbang, before hurling it through the window. Glass shattered as the little cylinder tapped against the ground, and for an instant I could hear the panicked shouts of the men inside.

I closed my eyes and funneled ki to my ears. The flashbang exploded in a burst of light and ringing sound.

I stood in one swift movement, rearing back a foot before kicking in the door. I had to press harder than was normal due to my pathetic reserves, but all the same, the lock shattered.

I burst into the meeting room, instantly taking in the layout. It was exactly as we’d planned. A simple hardwood floor and no other rooms, meaning there was nowhere to run to. Only a single, vast chamber.

Three of our targets were rolling on the ground, screaming, moaning, or otherwise insensate from the flashbang grenade. One–Target Gamma–seemed to have struck his head as he went down.

But three were unsurprisingly active, already scrambling to take control of the situation. My focus zeroed in on one man in particular–Target Zeta, an older man named Holden Drutha. He was already drawing a blade at his side as his wrinkled face contorted in confusion and surprise.

I rushed him, driving my sword forward in a simple stab that would tear out his ki center. Holden managed to twist out of the way, his slightly-drawn blade turning mine aside. Instead of running him through, my weapon carved a thin line of red across his chest.

Surprising reflexes for an old veteran. I exhaled sharply through my nose, pivoting and changing my simple stab into a fire-style cut that sought to disable his hand.

Holden barely parried it, but he was able to reorient himself before my blade pierced his chest. In a shower of sparks, the aged commander backpedaled, breathing heavily with eyes blown wide as they took in my appearance.

“King Grey, what the hell? What are you doing–”

Silenced gunshots echoed behind me as members of my team finished off the downed targets. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed as Gamma and Epsilon attempted to flee toward one of the side windows. The scent of gunpowder mixed with the ozone of rain.

“Ensure the Trayden ambassador doesn’t escape,” I said evenly, my focus on the war veteran across from me. “She is necessary. Do not end her yet.”

Holden’s eyes darkened with rage as he saw my team behind me perform their duty. He rushed me with a snarl, more ki in his steps than I’d ever experienced in mine. “Do you have any idea what you have done?!” he demanded, swinging his blade furiously.

I ducked his attack, then pivoted to the side to avoid a slash that carved a deep cut into the floorboards. My ki center pulsed as I swung my blade across the back of Holden’s knee.

Holden howled in pain as the ki protecting him dented, but it didn’t break. I angled my blade to the side as the councilman cut toward my throat, allowing the blades to skate by each other in a shower of sparks. Any lesser swordsman would have been slain in the first few exchanges with Holden.

This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

But I was no normal swordsman. I utilized a wind-style movement art to flow away from the old commander’s heavy strikes, the sound of his heavy breathing echoing in my ears. His hair was mussed as he tried to fight for his life.

Another silenced shot rang out.

Epsilon is done, then, I thought, kicking the back of Holden’s knee with an unempowered strike as he stepped forward. This wasn’t enough to break his ki barrier yet, either, but I succeeded in my objective.

Holden’s balance slipped as he tried to plant his foot. Where he would normally have been able to easily readjust, a combination of age and my earlier blow made him stumble.

His eyes darkened as they met my own, both of us knowing this was a fatal mistake. His earth style of bladework was extremely versatile and had an absurdly strong defense, but the moment you shattered it?

I brought my blade down hard on the back of Holden’s knee, and this time, his ki barrier shattered. I leisurely avoided a haphazard last swing from the old man, retaliating with a snap of my blade toward his knuckles.

He dropped his sword with a grunt, but that quickly turned into a howl of pain as I slashed the edge of my blade across the back of his unprotected knee. Blood sprayed across the eerily silent meeting room as his tendon was severed.

Holden seethed as he tried to reach out toward his blade. I sighed, then picked it up, inspecting the crest emblazoned on the hilt.

That of the Council of Etharia.

“You’re a monster!” Holden raged. I looked down, surprised to see tears in the old commander’s eyes. Tears of sadness and despair. “Do you have any idea what you’ve done? You’ve ruined us all!”

My eyes roamed over what was left of the room. While I’d engaged with Holden–who was undoubtedly the greatest threat–the rest of the black ops team had quickly and effectively dealt with the rest of the targets at this meeting.

Two Etharian councilmembers–members I knew well from our constant meetings–stared up with empty eyes at the ceiling, gunshot wounds in their chest. Beside them, two of the last remaining ambassadors from Trayden bore matching gunshots as their life’s blood drained into the floorboards.

The seven that had joined me stood silently at the edges of the room, one last target left alive. Target Gamma.

“Millions will die, boy! You horrid fool!” Holden yelled, lunging for me in a last-ditch effort. I simply edged to the side, allowing his momentum to carry his jaw into my outstretched knee.

The veteran commander’s teeth smashed together as he collapsed to the side, groaning as he wept. “You don’t know,” he seethed. “You don’t know what this will do. We were trying to achieve peace! Peace! That’s why we met with the Traydens!”

I left the man on the ground, strolling toward the last target left alive. The Trayden woman stared up at me in a daze, clearly still rattled by the flashbang and the flurry of events around her. I looked into her eyes as I clenched my hands around Holden’s council sword.

“I know why you were here,” I said to Holden, my voice devoid of inflection. “To broker peace between Etharia and Trayden with the last of their ambassadors. You wanted to try and ensure war would not erupt between our nations; to make sure all our allies and enemies would not leap into another regional catastrophe.”

I could feel Holden’s horrified eyes on my back as I inspected the silver metal of his blade. It was the same sheen of metal that had torn Cecilia from this world. The same color Lady Vera had drilled me with over and over again, all in her ambitions to steal the Legacy.

I didn’t know if my former mentor had truly ordered the murder of Headmaster Wilbeck. I didn’t know if she’d taken everything from me I had ever loved.

Lady Vera had been too weak to survive her punishments, and I still did not have my answers. I still had not made things right. I had not avenged Wilbeck.

But there was one way I could.

Holden began to rage and scream as I hefted his blade, leveraging it over the final Trayden ambassador’s sternum. She seemed to finally realize something was off, finally coming back to her senses as a trickle of blood streamed down her blouse.

I rammed the blade through. It parted skin, muscle, and bone with ease as it erupted out the other side. I watched the light vanish from her eyes, her only expression a mute ‘o’ as she bled out onto the floor.

I found no satisfaction there.

I turned around, leaving the blade inside the corpse as it slumped weakly to the floor. I strolled back over to Commander Holden, one of the very few men who was old enough to have been through war and see its horrors and intricacies.

And right now, that aged veteran–who had served on the Council of Etharia for thirty years–was weeping quiet tears as he stared up at me.

“Holden Drutha, war hero and arbiter of justice for Etharia, tried to make peace with our enemies,” I said in an empty drawl. “In one last act of hope, he tried to meet with the remaining ambassadors for Trayden to negotiate peace terms. He hoped to avoid the upcoming war.”

My eyes flicked to the elites behind me, all silent. “But the Etharians were betrayed. Holden Drutha was led into a trap, he and his fellow councilors slaughtered to a man. But before he fell, Drutha managed to pierce his blade through one of the treacherous Traydens.”

My men hefted the corpses of the deceased Trayden ambassadors, but they left the one I had impaled with Holden’s distinct sword. They streamed past me as I stared down at the broken man at my feet.

Holden laughed without humor as his wrinkled face was stained wet with both tears and blood. “All my life, I’ve fought for this country, only for a dictator to drive us to destruction. A warmonger to become everything I’d feared.” He stared up at me. “Who knew that one broken boy could topple kingdoms?”

I tilted my head as I leveraged my sword. “Justice will be done, Holden,” I said with iron. “Know that, wherever the wind takes your soul, all crimes will be answered soon.”

I swiped the edge of my sword across his throat.

—

The Council of Etharia was in an uproar. Men and women shouted at each other, fighting to be heard in the chaos. The emergency meeting had been called at the news received barely an hour ago.

The charred bodies of the beloved Holden Drutha, alongside two other councilors, had been found in the wreckage of a burned building. The smoke had barely cleared when the shocking news reverberated throughout the country, and the public was demanding a response. They demanded retribution.

Because another body was present: that of a Trayden ambassador, barely slain by Holden before his death.

“And what can we do?” Councilman Stint bellowed, the thin man’s normal etiquette and well-dress entirely gone. He looked like he’d been ripped straight from his bed, and his eyes were bloodshot. “We need to avoid a war! Everything will be–”

“Avoid a war?!” another councilor bellowed, slamming their meaty fist into the table. “This is an act of war! We are already at war, you bumbling idiot! Can’t you see that your petty trade agreements with Trayden mean nothing now?!”

“You dare!” Stint bit back, looking about ready to throw himself across the table at the other man. “Don’t act like you haven’t wanted this for years, Galen. You and your industry would love a war. That’s why you’ve always been pushing for it without any sort of cause!”

I watched impassively from my seat at the table, my eyes cold as I watched councilor after councilor hurl insults and exude a fear I could almost smell.

There were two significant factions within the Etharian Council after the events of my kingship. Those who wanted war as retribution for the Traydens’ actions in the King’s Crown Tournament, and those who wanted to maintain minimal retaliation.

Before today, the latter had far outnumbered the former. At the head of the former faction had been Holden Drutha, who always cautioned of the horrors of battle. Of the lives that would be lost, and the devastation that would follow. After all, the world’s population was already abysmally small after the end of the Golden Age of Technology. Any war that erupted between Trayden and Etharia would inevitably draw in all the regional powers around the Mississippi, potentially creating a continent-wide conflict if we were not careful.

Marlorn stood nervously at my right side. He’d tried to manipulate me at first, but he was the first to recognize what I had truly become in the wake of my meeting with Vera. A blade. A weapon. A tool to be pointed at our enemies.

I could feel his uncertain glances at my back. His questioning stare.

I hadn’t told the old Councilman of my plan. He wouldn’t have approved of it: after all, he was one of Holden’s oldest friends, even if they disagreed.

But he was an intelligent weasel. He had his doubts.

Councilman Breeze said something I couldn’t quite make out, directing it toward Stint. Stint’s face became redder than a tomato, before he threw himself at the paunchy Breeze with a rabid yowl, clawing and punching.

That was all it took. I watched with a detached air as the highest powers in the land–the greatest nobles I had ever heard of and had revered as a child–devolved into squabbling children themselves. The most sacred council became little better than a barroom brawl as Marlorn called desperately for guards to separate the “good councilmen.”

I let it continue for a time, until enough blood splattered the table from thrown fists that I could see my own dull reflection in the crimson.

“Enough,” I said simply, my killing intent radiating outward. It washed over the air like a cloying force as it stole the breath from these councilor’s lungs. The fighting stopped immediately as everyone focused on me with wide, rabid eyes.

I tapped a finger against the table, inspecting the now deathly-silent room. Most flinched when they met my gaze. “These are the greatest men our country has to offer?” I asked the air, tilting my head. “At the death of a single man, you devolve into barbarism and bloodshed?”

I inspected each and every man as shame slowly overcame their features, men wiping blood away from their mouths as they adjusted their jackets and struggled to meet my eyes. My killing intent still hung in the air like intense summer heat, and I knew they had to work for each breath.

Normally, it was expressly forbidden to use killing intent within the confines of a Council meeting. But today was not a normal day.

“I told you once before,” I said, tapping another finger on the table. The sound of it echoed like a drum. “That Trayden needed to be punished. That we needed to take action for their wrongs.” I shifted in my seat, feeling it to be more like a throne with every passing second. “I was dismissed.”

A few councilors opened their mouths to rebut me, but I cut them off. “I understand why. They hadn’t taken anyone from you; not like they did me. None of you really understood what was at stake. What Trayden would do to us.”

I watched with measured attention as more and more of the councilors began to listen intently, their rage given a different focus. They’d unleashed their grief on their fellow nobles, but I reminded them of the true enemy. The one who had really stolen from us.

“But no longer can this council simply sit back and take every cut the Traydens give us,” I said, forcing my voice to have more passion. More energy. It was more difficult than any other part of this meeting. “They’ve crossed a line now. Taken someone from us that they should never have.”

A chorus of grunts and angry agreement churned throughout the Council chamber as my words caught fire. Like a spark tossed into gasoline, I saw that ember grow into a burning wildfire. These people had lost someone close to them. A friend. A grandfather. An uncle.

I once felt that fire, did I not? I wondered as men began to churn and shout. Shout for war. For blood. For vengeance. Where did it go?

I lounged back in my seat as I watched the Council finally come to a unanimous decision, their hearts ablaze.

It would be war, and I would lead them in the charge.