*****

Ten minutes earlier.

A symphony of harrowing screams echoed in the night. The manor knights' bloodied figures trembled in fear under their sturdy metal armors. Despite wearing a few enchanted pieces granting them strength beyond their tier, only fear glowed in their despair-filled eyes.

All because of a single man.

Even if they initially outnumbered him twenty to one and were close to or at the peak of the first tier, if they followed a rigorous training regime to hone their skills, they were butchered like lambs by the hooded individual.

Seventeen stiff corpses covered the ground's stone slabs, painting them red as the pungent smell of blood filled the air. From the initial twenty, only three were left after five short minutes. Soon, the number would drop to zero. They knew it.

"We can't stop him, run, run for your life," yelled one of the knights, terror gripping his heart in an icy embrace. He gazed at their overbearing opponent with trembling eyes. Then, he turned his heels and scrambled away as fast as he could.

"Idiot. Don't!"

Unfortunately, the warning came too late.

Like a living shadow out for blood, Gaston caught up with the coward in a flash. His blue eyes glinted with malevolent excitement as he stabbed the escapee's neck, a demonic grin stretching under his hood.

With a swift movement, he retrieved his stick, revealing a smooth hole gushing with glistening, warm blood.

The wind howled in the next moment as his figure blurred. As agile as a panther, he dodged the two last survivors' desperate simultaneous attacks, intending to sever his head off and pierce his heart at the same time.

With seamless grace, he tensed his right arm and propelled it forward. The stick reached a horrific speed, closing in on his next victim with a merciless allure.

BANG

The forceful blow connected with the knight's metal armor, bending its steel plates as if its material was mere plastic instead of powerful enchanted metal. Tearing and crumbling noises echoed in the courtyard for a moment before more terrifying ones replaced them... The man's thoracic cage shattered amidst a soul-chilling cry as his body flew backwards under the impact.

A second later, the knight collided with the ground heavily, shattering the slabs. But his momentum didn't break yet. He continued to slide powerlessly across the courtyard until colliding with the manor's wall.

A chaotic scene of destruction ensued as gravel flew in every direction, loudly shattering windows and wooden furniture in a cacophony.

"Don't feel too happy, bastard. You will soon follow us to the afterlife." The last knight declared, his brave voice contrasting with his slumped shoulders and dull eyes. He had given up. He knew resistance was futile. Yet, part of him hoped for Sir Max to avenge his death.

Gaston removed his hood in response, revealing his black ponytail flowing in the night's wind. His blue eyes locked with the knight's, his blood-curdling signature smile plaster on his face.

"I like smart people, you know. You are one of them, right?" He asked, his innocent tone contrasting with the devastation he caused.

The knight hesitated, wondering why such a question when he was at death's door. Yet, he still answered. "Y-Yes, I am."

"Tell me where in the manor my weapon is. Then, help me with a task, and I'll let you keep your head," Gaston said, his smile broadening as his eyes glinted under the pale moon.

Upon hearing the madman's words, the knight felt a mixture of contrasting emotions clutch his heart. Joy, hope but also resolve and defiance as he gazed at his dead comrades. How would he look at himself in a glass if he helped the murderer after this carnage?

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He clenched his fists, and his jaws muscles bulged in determination, ready to refuse.

However, the flames of his defiance wavered the next instant as images of his loving wife and child waiting for his return flashed in his mind. His face contorted into a painful grimace as doubts assaulted his heart... until he made a choice. He was reluctant, yet he couldn't leave his family to fend for themselves alone.

"I-I-It's in your father's room. As for your request... I'll carry it."

He lowered his head in shame. No matter the reason, he had betrayed his lord at the worst possible moment, forsaking his duty as a knight. But wasn't it his duty as a man to keep his wife safe, too? Somehow, he found comfort in this idea, vowing never to let his family suffer in the future.

"Leave," Gaston said, waving his hand dismissively before turning to the manor. As a master deceiver, he had already predicted the discussion's outcome. His choice of the knight had been anything but random. No. It was all a part of his plan.

A plan that was seamlessly falling into place, like a puzzle's pieces.

Still harboring his appalling smile, he entered the manor. Memories of a life he had discarded years ago resurfaced, helping him navigate the corridors to his father's room. Little did he know that by sending the guard flying and destroying a portion of the wall, he almost killed his target.

*******

Five minutes later...

Lucius reached the manor's hall, where Alina, Eleanor and Sir Max awaited his arrival with worried frowns.

Lucius handed the crying boy to his mother. Then, he looked at Sir Max, his solemn voice filling the place as he gave his orders.

"Take a carriage and travel to Sombraville without delay. Once there, use the Gate to travel to the capital and wait for me in my manor!"

He threw a heavy pouch filled with gold and silver coins at his wife before turning his back on them.

"What about you?" Eleanor asked, tears welling in her eyes and lips twitching. She dreaded to hear the answer but had to ask nonetheless.

"I'll end this nightmare of ours. Don't worry, I'll catch up with you later," Lucius answered, his eyes burning with determination. He had made the wrong decision, leading to years of anxiety and this catastrophe. Not anymore! Today, he would end his son's madness once and for all.

"NO! Save my big brother first!" Julius screamed, struggling in Alina's embrace to confront the man. They couldn't be separated before he helped his brother awaken. He wouldn't accept it.

Perplexed by the outburst, Aline frowned at her son. When did that brother of his return, and why was he so sad about his imaginary friend? Despite her confusion, She tried to calm and console him with soothing words but failed.

Sadly, time waited for no one.

"Leave, Max. Protect them at the cost of your life!" Lucius ordered, ignoring the boy. His solitary back moved to the throne hall, carrying an invisible burden pressing on his shoulders like a mountain.

Sir Max lingered for a moment. Worry danced in his eyes before he grabbed Julius and carried him under his armpit. He then gestured at the two women to follow him.

"Be safe, my lord. I won't disappoint you," he muttered, determined to carry his mission quickly before returning to support his lord.

******

Meanwhile, Lucius sat on his throne in the great hall, his eyes closed. Memories of his firstborn son's childhood filled his mind. His smile, joys, and pains swirled in a whirlwind of fatherly love and regret.

With a grimace, he shattered everything. Then, a fire burned in his heart, incinerating any trace of affection for Gaston once and for all.

Three minutes later, his treacherous son entered the hall, carrying a Guandao. Its curved blade, mounted on a sturdy metallic shaft, glinted death. Meanwhile, golden patterns masterfully engraved along its frame shone elegance, creating a beautiful yet deadly contrast.

"Father, I'm glad to see you after sixteen years," Gaston said, clenching his fists around his new weapon. However, his signature smile was gone. Instead, his face contorted into a horrifying grimace befitting a demon more than a man.

"Don't call me father. You are no son of mine, monster," Lucius answered, his eyes narrowed into slits and his face as cold as frost. 'The fight is going to be much harder. How did he find it?' He thought in trepidation, memories of the smiling boy resurfacing.

It was a tier-two weapon he had offered him for his tenth birthday. With potent physical enchantments, it was, and still is, a fighter's perfect tool.

"Humph. Give me Alina and her son, and I'll leave the manor," Gaston snorted, unwilling to waste time blabbering. He would be blind if he missed Lucius' hostility. Thus, he imposed his condition, leaving a way out for his father like he had done for him in the past.

Well, that was what he tried to convey. However, his true motive was different. Despite his confidence in winning, he preferred to avoid paying a dire price to achieve it.

With a glare, Lucius rose from his seat, his noble bearings commanding attention. He had already made his choice.

"I won't negotiate with you! Tonight, one of us won't exit this manor alive," he declared, his convictions painted on his face.

"Then, I'll bury your stiff corpse myself, old fool!" Gaston said, retrieving something from his coat that caused Lucius' eyes to enlarge and his pupils to tremble.