Chapter 64: The Final Exchange

Queen Divine… the individual who has ruled this kingdom for decades. Hardly anything is known about her. She's never made a public showing, not even once. Her identity, past, appearance… even the queen's voice is a mystery. Rumors spread, but nothing is established about her.

And perhaps most importantly, nobody knows how she rose to such fearsome power.

"Her body radiated a dazzling blend of white and gold, starkly contrasting the dreary, grey curtain between us. After slowing herself to a halt, she stood completely still… the silhouette of her glimmering figure loomed over the entire room, and it felt like we had just been graced by the company of an all-powerful being. As if she allowed us to soak in every bit of her mystifying existence, she didn't say a word… or even lift a finger, nor did the rest of the room. Her presence was so grandly imposing that I didn't even notice the outlines of two other people walking up behind her, bringing a large object in the shape of a throne…"

Crow lifts his left hand, fearful for what hearing this may do to him if they’re listening, "I've heard enough. I have no interest in hearing words about Her Majesty nor what occurred after that moment."

Although this sector is a ways away from Saneth, there's no telling how far the queen's ears can hear… or how close they may actually be. If anything, while Armaros's words impose a significant danger, he only referred to her seemingly overwhelming presence. I haven't learned anything about the queen that the general public doesn't already know. At the end of the day, if they're listening, that's what will allow them to turn a blind eye to his answer… and keep me out of danger.

However, I'm not among the general public. While many would fall victim to wanting to learn more about the queen, an additional detail Armaros included caught my attention. His final sentence refers to the two people who brought the throne to the queen... and those two are not mere soldiers or respected subordinates who were assigned a given task.

They are most likely… the hands of the queen.

The hands of the queen are just as mysterious as the queen herself; however, unlike the queen, the public is entirely ignorant of their existence. In fact, even most of the military doesn't have the faintest idea of who and what they are. Only the highest-ranking officials know about their existence, and even then, the hands only take direct orders from the queen.

Thanks to the combined efforts of the founders, the intel we've gathered on this subject is invaluable. If word ever got out that we knew the things we did about this... about them, all five of us would be executed on the spot, and a mass rewash of the public would be enacted and enforced to preserve peace and order.

But we've covered our tracks, and nobody has been compromised, at least not yet. So, suppose they're listening in on this conversation. In that case, they should only see me as just another average citizen. Based on my reply, they wouldn't infer that I found Armaros's final comment interesting. They would probably write me off as thinking nothing of it, especially after only mentioning Her Majesty in my response.

Which is precisely what I want.

Nonetheless, I'm still tip-toeing along a fine line right now. And so is Armaros. He's been trained and molded into the perfect assassin, so once I awoke that part of his conscience by mentioning his code name, his memories must have returned to him. Or maybe... they were never fully forgotten.

Either way, his intensive training probably included some kind of program to prepare for situations like this, where he may be caught for information. I bet his mind has been conditioned to be as formidable as possible, perhaps even impenetrable from the outside. No lousy pill or injection would ever affect him permanently, only temporarily, and not to a severe extent.

My guess? While some of his memories before the trials appear to have returned… their return likely would've occurred naturally. I only sped up the process. Which means that as time goes on, he'll probably recover more and more memories from his past.

As for my question, he gave me a good enough answer. He was brought before the queen and her hands in a courtroom, so she probably passed judgment on his fate. Considering his crime… most rulers wouldn't have batted an eye as they called for his head. But Divine is a ruthless tyrant. Her choices and actions aren't for the greater good or to benefit the people. At that moment, the queen most likely wasn't even thinking about his crime… she only saw his callous, limitless potential.

So… if she could make him forget his life as an assassin and forge him into becoming one of her most elite soldiers, our kingdom's struggling military would have significantly been aided.

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

Furious inside, Crow can hardly maintain his current relaxed expression.

That's why he's here. That's why he's still alive. If he happens to die, so be it. Nothing would change from how things are now, meaning there's no consequence to him being here. If he happens to live, the queen will be licking her lips at the satisfactory end product of her gamble… considerably profiting as she obtains and controls one of the most revered men in the world.

But that's only under the impression that things will go according to her plan, which they haven't. The serum didn't work like it did with the others, so things actually backfired for the queen... and backfired greatly. They have undoubtedly been watching us… watching him… extremely carefully this entire time. So, if they’re watching, they must be quite thrown off at this unanticipated turn of events.

Which leads me to wonder… will they now step in? Therefore, interfering with their sacred trials to kill him? And what should I do? It makes me sick just looking at this bastard, but other things take priority over my personal distaste. After all, the enemy of my enemy is my friend, no?

They might not be able to kill… or even capture him again, so… how should I play this? I could gamble on his strength and align myself with him, immediately making us both enemies of the state. That would really tear everything wide open, but it's still far too early, and the consequences may be dire.

Separating myself from him is the best all-around option. However, I'd be giving up control over Armaros while letting the trial run its course with his memories now intact. The military may also get involved and start hunting him down; he may even die, but I would still relatively be in the clear.

Or… I could kill him here and now, but that'd be a potentially lost asset. If his memories return, he'll realize that he was mistaken earlier and most likely develop a similar perspective to my current one.

Meaning he would be on our side... my side. Although that within itself would be a problem.

Is he really a card I'm willing to add to my arsenal? That I'm willing to gamble with?

"Just one more question," says Crow, Scar unmoving and attentive.

"Would you like to die now? Or later?" asks Crow in a gruff tone.

The blood on his chest quietly drips onto the ground as Armaros remains silent.

"As I said, I still have a purpose," he responds as his scar starts glistening a vivid silver. A sudden burst of aura radiates from him, and Crow’s grip on the chains momentarily falters.

Armaros’s eyes develop an icy-silver look as he meets Crow’s gaze, "Which means I must live. Kathos…"

A broken mirror spawns underneath him, and he instantly drops inside, bringing the chains Crow has wrapped around his body with him.

Cursing under his breath as he’s thrown toward the mirror, Crow detaches the chains connected to his dagger handle and lets the chain line plunge inside the broken mirror.

With no iris or abilities keeping the chains strengthened anymore, Armaros can easily free himself from their bind. But he must be low on iris. And he's not the only one... neither of us is currently capable of fighting a battle as intense as before. This fight will be over quickly.

Gradually placing one foot in front of the other, Crow creeps up to the mirror and peers down. Beyond the jagged fractions of the mirror that are still intact… lies a dark abyss similar to that of the night sky.

As Crow feels himself slowly getting sucked in, he quickly shakes his head, trying to rattle himself out of this brief, bizarre trance. But when he reopened my eyes again, the mirror was gone.

Alarmed, Crow raises his daggers in defense, preparing for an ambush from any direction. As his eyes darted around, Crow channeled as much iris aura as possible into fortifying his body. A few moments later, Crow catches sight of the same mirror that had just vanished... a few feet above a tree branch, and Armaros drops out of it, freed from his shackles. He then mouths two words before vanishing again.

Knowing what's about to happen, Crow turns around as fast as possible, preparing to block and counter.

But it was a fake out; Armaros actually reappeared behind Crow after he turned around, completely faking him out as he lunged toward Crow, who frantically tried to react in the nick of time.

He was too late, though, and Armaros slashed at his neck with the glass dagger in his right hand, going for the kill. With his fight-or-flight instincts taking over, Crow quickly throws up his left fist and slams it into Armaros's hand just before his blade makes contact, sending the motion of his arm flying outward.

Armaros’s glass dagger is sharp to the touch, and Crow endures the sheer ferocity behind Armaros’s attack as the blade scrapes open his upper body. A wound from above his left peck across his shoulder is carved open, and Crow gnashes his teeth as he bears the sudden affliction of sharp pain. Delivering a shot back to Armaros’s midsection with the dagger in his right hand, Crow cuts open as much flesh as he can manage before losing what little strength he has left. Armaros grunts in anguish, regretting that he concentrated more iris into his attack than on protecting his body.

"Rift flow," he utters, disappearing once more.

Staggering as he attempts to stay standing, Crow glances at the blood, now painting his dark purple undershirt a bright crimson.

He's not coming back. That final exchange of blows was the last; we'd both be fools to continue fighting with how little iris we had left.

Crow sighs in relief through the pain.

The battle… is over.

Strangely enough, a smile escapes Crow’s lips.

I look forward to fighting you again, Armaros.

Because next time, I won't hold back.