"You know something? I ought to commend you. You’ve made my task exceedingly simple. Pilfering the mayor’s treasury was the optimum move to lead me to you. Imagine inquiring about a hybrid in a backwater town like Orstone. In truth, it would be trivial, for your kind is conspicuously distinct. But a thief nestled within a guild that has endured for over three decades would have necessitated a lengthy investigation. But thanks to your reckless wager, you inadvertently revealed your identity as a shadow seeker. A mere query to the appropriate individual was all that was required. And pressuring those you care for can yield miraculous results. No honor among thieves, young one," the assassin hissed, a sinister grin splitting his face. He stood a few paces from Irene, her shock from the preceding debauchery still palpable in the oppressive silence, a stark contrast to the tempest brewing within him.
Irene recoiled, stumbling backward towards the door of the house until she collided with a fallen log. She braced her fall with her hands, but a sharp pain lanced through her left palm. A shard of broken glass, a remnant of the shattered window above, had pierced her flesh. Crimson droplets seeped onto the cold, hard ground, a stark contrast to the horror unfolding before her. She was paralyzed by fear, a captive to the nightmare that had descended upon her. The shattered window was a grim testament to the intruder's method of entry. She knew, with a chilling certainty, that whatever fate awaited her would be gruesome. A man capable of such ruthless slaughter, who traversed the macabre tableau of dismembered bodies with such callous indifference, was no ordinary mortal. Hope, a fragile ember, flickered and died within her.
The assassin, a macabre specter, loomed over his fallen prey. A cruel smirk played on his lips as he savored her terror. Suddenly, a pair of weathered boots, launched with deadly precision, shattered the tranquility of the room through another window, completely shattering it. The projectile, imbued with raw force in the form of a dropkick, struck the assassin's face, sending him reeling backward towards the hall but he maintained his balance. The figure, cloaked in shadow, who burst through the shattered window, a tempest of motion and menace, calmly stood up.
Jaxith, a harbinger of retribution, stood between Irene and the assailant, his presence a stark contrast to the chaos that had unfolded.
"Damn it, I'm late. At least she’s still alive," Jaxith muttered, his gaze fixed on the assassin. "His sword and leather coat are pristine. He didn’t inflict these maimings. No mere mortal could perpetrate such a gruesome act, at least not directly," he thought, his eyes narrowing. The carnage that unfolded before him was a testament to a brutality beyond human comprehension.
The assassin, his mouth marred by blood from Jaxith’s assault, wiped the crimson smear from his lips. “Who the f*ck are you? And what are you doing here?” he demanded, his voice laced with venom.
Irene, her spirit ignited by desperation, seized the opportunity. She scrambled to her feet, her heart pounding in her chest. Though she harbored mistrust for the enigmatic figure who had just burst into her life and who had been following her in the market, his timely intervention had given her the courage to flee. She quickly stood up and dashed towards the door behind her and opened it, hoping he could buy her precious moments to escape the clutches of the monstrous assassin.
"Hey!" Jaxith shouted, his voice sharp and urgent, but Irene didn't look back. He quickly turned to face the assassin, his expression a mask of cold determination.
"I don’t exactly know your link to this girl, as I’ve ensured that everyone she knows is now a corpse. But it matters little. First, I'll stop her escape, then you will share the thieves' same fate," the assassin hissed, his voice dripping with malice. He produced a hand-sized, obsidian gem and pointed it towards the broken window beside him, its surface pulsing with dark energy.
"Calo!" he commanded, his voice calm and authoritative. The gem erupted in a sinister glow, casting an ominous shadow over the room.
Jaxith, his eyes widening in shock, calmly took a step backward. The carnage within the house was a testament to a brutality beyond human comprehension, but enchanting dark magic lyrics while holding this gem, this—this was something else entirely, something he didn't even expect when he decided to come here. The assassin was a Scarlet Summoner!
Without a moment's hesitation, Jaxith dashed from the house, the black gem's malevolent energy already conjuring a monstrous creature outside of the house. A colossal, red coloured hound, twice the size of a normal canine, materialized, its completely red eyes glowing with demonic intent. The beast, a creature of darkness and rage, lunged towards Irene, its target clear.
The moment Jaxith witnessed the assassin's incantation, he knew his course of action. As the demonic hound emerged and began to accelerate, and before it gained a fast momentum, Jaxith charged the creature aggressively, his shoulder colliding with it's massive frame. His extraordinary physique, honed through rigorous training, allowed him to collide with the beast, staggering it with the force of his impact.
With a swift motion, Jaxith drew his sword from his back, parrying the demonic hound's vicious claws. The beast, momentarily stunned by the impact, now launched a frenzied assault by his claws. Jaxith, however, remained composed, deflecting the creature's blows with precise strikes. He knew that engaging in close-quarters combat with such an agile demon without a plan would be a fatal mistake. Instead, he maintained a tactical distance by pushing the hound back with his sword, anticipating the hound's next move to know the pattern of the moves and ending its life.
Jaxith raised his nearly completely shining black sword, its inky surface marked with a small golden sigil near the hilt. He assumed a combat stance, his body tense, his mind focused and waiting patiently for the demonic hound to attack. The demonic hound, its maw agape, its eyes burning with primal rage, regarded Jaxith with murderous intent. Its sole purpose was to thwart Irene's escape, a task that Jaxith was determined to prevent.
The demonic hound lunged, its jaws snapping at Jaxith. With a swift roll, Jaxith evaded the attack, positioning himself for a decisive strike. As the beast turned its head, exposing its vulnerable neck, Jaxith seized the opportunity. With a fluid motion, he swung his sword, severing the creature's head in a single, clean cut. The beast’s lifeless body collapsed to the ground, its blood staining the earth. To Jaxith, who silently stood up, such a kill was a testament to skill and precision, especially when this is not the first time killing a demon.
The assassin stood in silence, his mind reeling. He had never witnessed such a display of skill and power. The way Jaxith wielded his long, obsidian blade was both graceful and deadly. And by mere look, the weapon, though single-edged, possessed a weight and length that defied expectation. The swiftness and precision of the killing stroke, the raw strength to repel the demonic hound and tripping it by that amazing charge- it was all utterly astonishing. The assassin realized, in that moment, that Jaxith was a force to be reckoned with, a formidable opponent who combined physical prowess, strategic acumen, and deadly skill.
Jaxith, his sword still dripping with blood, turned his gaze to the assassin while pointing his sword towards him. However, he knew that confronting the scarlet summoner would cost him time he doesn't have much of now. Irene's scent faded with each passing moment, and he feared losing her forever. With a grim determination, he sheathed his sword and turned, but he knew how to get the assassin later.
As the sun dipped below the horizon, the assassin watched Jaxith disappear into the twilight, following the fading scent of Irene. The girl, seizing the opportunity, had vanished, her life spared for the moment. The assassin, a creature of patience and cunning, made a calculated decision. Engaging Jaxith in combat would be a perilous gamble, one that could jeopardize his ultimate goal. Instead, he chose to let Irene escape, knowing that he could easily track her down once she was alone and vulnerable, unlike Jaxith (he doesn't know that Jaxith is relying on her scent so he thinks that Jaxith has lost her, that's why he decided to leave her for now). However, her apparent lack of Jaxith's recognition posed a new challenge, complicating his plans, simply, why would someone that she even doesn't know come to her rescue?
The assassin mused, "This man must be a government agent or something similar. Why else would he risk his life to save her, only to have her flee from him in fear? They can't be knowing each other, at least she doesn't know him, or else she would have stayed with him. Now that he’s gone, I can focus on capturing her without interference." Little did he know, Jaxith, with his keen senses, was still tracking Irene by her demonic scent, his presence concealed by the fading light.
The assassin re-entered the house, his attention drawn to the spot where Irene had fallen. Kneeling, he examined the shards of glass, one of which still bore traces of her blood. With a deliberate motion, he extracted a single droplet and transferred it to the black gem, which absorbed the crimson liquid with an eerie glow.
"Now I simply wait for the storm to pass. You are trapped, little one, though not yet caged. It's time to inform my employer of this development," the assassin murmured. He activated the gem, summoning a crow. "Apocodicopios!" he commanded, the creature taking flight. A brief headache pulsed through his temple as the spell took effect.
Within the opulent confines of the royal palace of Vidin in Arlyn city, King Walt, flanked by his loyal knight, Adam, presided over a solemn gathering. Seated at the head of the grand table, he regarded the two figures before him.
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"Your Highness, I apologize for my tardiness," the younger of the two began, his voice respectful. "As soon as I learned of Your Highness's urgent summons, I immediately returned from Legnica. And by the way, Princess Leonora extends her greetings and promises a swift return."
"Your apology is accepted, Noah," King Walt replied calmly. "As a minister's assistant, your duties are undoubtedly demanding."
The older man, the minister himself, chuckled. "Noah is quite talented, Your Highness. Despite his youth, he possesses a keen political mind. I believe he will be a worthy successor for me."
"I agree, Morgan," King Walt replied, a knowing smile playing on his lips. "Two years ago, I expressed my faith in your judgment. If you believe Noah is capable of succeeding you, then I trust your discernment."
Turning his attention to Noah, the king inquired, "How fares Princess Leonora? It has been two years since her journey to Legnica. Do you believe she is making significant progress?"
"Indeed, Your Highness," Noah replied, his tone respectful. "I spent two months by her side, and I can attest to her newfound confidence. She has also made significant strides in her understanding of her holy bound spirit, which was, after all, the primary purpose of her journey."
Minister Morgan, a sense of pride evident in his voice, added, "She is a kind and noble soul, much like her late majesty. I am confident that she will become a great queen. Moreover, she is the first royal in all of Plistura to possess one of the three divine holy bound spirits gifted by the divine gods themselves, not even a normal bound spirit, a testament to her extraordinary destiny."
"That is precisely her dilemma, Morgan," King Walt mused, his brow furrowed. "Despite possessing such immense power, she doubts her own abilities. Even though the Holy Dragons are the ones who choose their spiritual knights before birth, she fears letting her people down. I hope that her journey has instilled in her the confidence she needs.”
Noah assured the king, “Your Highness, the path of a female Holy Spiritual Knight is fraught with challenges. However, Princess Leonora is thriving. Her fear is a catalyst for growth, driving her to become stronger and more capable. She aspires to be worthy of the Storm Dragon holy spiritual knight legacy. I assure you, Your Highness, you will witness a remarkable transformation in your daughter, the great Princess Leonora.”
“I simply wish the best for my only daughter,” King Walt admitted, his tone tinged with paternal concern. “Of course, I didn’t summon you from Legnica merely to inquire about Leonora. Such trivial matters could have been conveyed through a message."
Noah, ever the humble servant, replied, “Your Highness, it is my duty to serve. Your command is my obligation, even if it was your wish.” Minister Morgan watched Noah with a sense of pride. Four years ago, he had recognized the extraordinary potential in this young mage. Despite his youth and being just 24 years old at that time, the minister insisted that he becomes his assistant and advisor. Noah had proven himself to be a wise and capable advisor. Sending him to accompany Princess Leonora was not only a task but an opportunity for the young man to learn from the future queen and, in turn, prepare himself for a greater role. By her side, just as he had been by King Walt’s, Noah would guide and support her, ensuring a seamless transition to the throne.
“Thank you, Noah,” King Walt began, his voice grave. “What I am about to share with you is a closely guarded secret, known only to me, my loyal knight, Adam, and now you. Adam, as you know, is my personal guard, one of the most skilled spiritual knights in all of Vidin. His loyalty is unquestionable.”
Minister Morgan nodded, his expression solemn. “Of course, Your Highness. Adam has served the royal family for nearly a decade, protecting both Your Highness and the Princess. His loyalty and exceptional abilities are well-known throughout Vidin.”
“As Minister Morgan has rightly observed,” Noah began, his voice filled with admiration, “Captain Adam, though relatively young, has earned a formidable reputation. To be elevated from a mere soldier to the King’s personal guard and captain of the royal guard within a single year is a testament to his exceptional abilities. Beyond his formidable strength and powerful bound spirit, he possesses a keen intellect, a quality that sets him apart from other warriors, as I always say, a smart warrior is better than a strong one, the captain here got both of the qualities.”
Adam, his posture regal and his demeanor composed, responded, “I am honored to receive such praise from esteemed individuals such as yourselves, Minister Morgan and Mr. Noah. My duty is to serve His Highness and protect our kingdom. It is a privilege, not a burden.” His words were spoken with sincerity, his voice steady and confident. As he spoke, he maintained a respectful posture, his right hand over his heart and his left hand resting on the hilt of his sheathed sword. His appearance, with his flowing brown hair, piercing blue eyes, and flawless complexion, perfectly complemented his position as the guardian of the royal family.
“Now, let us turn to the matter at hand,” King Walt began, his tone grave. “Three days ago, I received an urgent message by a messenger that came by the teleporting circle from Zathar, the Grand Priest of Reldret’s Holy Church. The contents of this message were so unexpected that they left me quite perplexed.”
Minister Morgan, his brow furrowed, inquired, “What could the Grand Priest of Reldret possibly want from Your Highness? Has something befallen King Norman?”
“No, King Norman is alive,” King Walt clarified. “The message did not concern him. Rather, it was a prophetic vision, a revelation from the Prophet’s Scepter.”
A moment of silence followed, the weight of the prophecy heavy in the air. “The royal bloodline of Reldret is destined to change,” King Walt continued, his voice solemn. “The long reign of the Blackstone dynasty is coming to an end. While King Norman and his ancestors have been noble ’and just rulers, chosen by the Scepter itself, this new change is perplexing. We must trust the wisdom of the Scepter, even as we grapple with the implications of this shift.”
“This is a most unexpected revelation, Your Highness,” Minister Morgan exclaimed. “I had never considered such a possibility. Why have you been chosen, of all people, to receive this prophecy? Have the other kings been informed as well?”
King Walt shook his head. “No, I am the sole recipient of this knowledge. The individual at the heart of this prophecy resides here, in Vidin.”
“That is indeed perplexing, Your Highness,” Noah mused. “We have many noble families here in Vidin, but none possess the extraordinary power of the Blackstones. They were a dynasty of the finest divine casters, each capable of devastating power, their bloodline infused with the high elves. However, over time, their strength has waned due to interbreeding with humans. Given the current state of the royal families, I would have expected the next king to emerge from Yarnat, where the high elves retain their pure bloodlines and immense power. The Blackstones, despite their diminished power, still hold a significant influence. It’s difficult to imagine anyone else, especially a human, being chosen as the next ruler of Reldret, particularly when considering the Prophet’s subconscious and its preference for powerful bloodlines.”
King Walt nodded gravely. “The situation is far more complex than you imagine, Noah. Firstly, the chosen one is female. Secondly, she is a hybrid.”
“Another hybrid family of such power?” Minister Morgan mused, his voice filled with disbelief. “We have no such lineage within the kingdom of Vidin.”
King Walt revealed the truth, his voice grave. “A demon hybrid,” he said, his words hanging heavy in the air.
Noah, equally astonished as the minister, stammered, “Your Highness, a demon hybrid? That’s…unthinkable. A family with demon blood? That’s unheard of. We have no such lineage within the kingdom, or any kingdom for that matter.”
“Not a family, Noah,” King Walt clarified. “A single individual.”
“Your highness, a demon hybrid to have such a power is dangerous, really dangerous, for demon hybrids they are weak compared to elves, only one hybrid is capable of wielding such power and of course I don’t need to say who.”, Said minister Morgan in fear.
King Walt acknowledged the concern. “I understand your apprehension, Morgan. However, we must trust the wisdom of the Prophet’s choice.”
“It is the Scepter’s prerogative to choose the bearer of the strongest and purest bloodline, a subconscious,” Noah remarked, his tone filled with concern. “The fact that a demon hybrid has been selected raises serious concerns about her potential instability and the dangers she may pose.”
King Walt nodded solemnly. “I understand your apprehension, Noah. However, the Crimson Mother, has long since perished and she didn’t have any offspring in our realm. The gods have taken steps to prevent the proliferation of such beings. We must trust in their divine judgment, understood?”
“Understood, Your Highness,” both the minister and his assistant replied, their voices filled with respect.
“The girl in question resides in a rural village or town. She possesses striking features: piercing blue eyes and fiery red hair. I want you both to conduct your search discreetly. Even the general is unaware of this matter. It is imperative that the military remain uninvolved, and the public remains oblivious to this sensitive situation. We must maintain order and prevent unnecessary panic. Adam is currently utilizing his network to locate her, but I believe our combined efforts will yield quicker results. It’s important to remember that she poses no immediate threat. If she were truly dangerous, her existence would have been known, and she would have been neutralized by a powerful spiritual knight. Her continued existence suggests that she is not a danger to the realm, at least not yet.”
“I understand your perspective, Your Highness,” Minister Morgan replied, his tone respectful. “I shall dedicate my efforts to locating her as swiftly as possible.”
Noah echoed his sentiment, “Of course, Your Highness. I will discreetly investigate this matter.”
King Walt nodded, his expression composed. “Thank you for your cooperation. Adam, please escort Minister Morgan and his assistant to their carriage, it's getting late.”
“Yes, Your Highness,” Adam replied, before moving to the door and opening it. The minister and his assistant exited first, followed by Adam.
As they reached the carriage, Noah turned to Adam. “If you uncover any information that may lead us to the girl, please do not hesitate to contact me directly.”
“I will,” Adam replied, his voice steady. “Be safe.”
As the carriage pulled away, Adam turned and issued orders to the guards stationed at the palace gate. Then, he disappeared into the palace.
A somber silence fell within the carriage. “I have a bad feeling about this girl,” the minister murmured.
“I share your concern, Minister Morgan,” Noah replied, his voice filled with empathy. “However, we must trust in the judgment of the King and the Grand Priest. Perhaps this is merely a coincidence because of her being a demonic hybrid, a twist of fate. It’s possible that our fears are unfounded and we’re just exaggerating.”
“I pray you’re right, Noah,” the minister murmured. “But what if the Crimson Mother, before her demise, managed to give birth to an offspring without anyone knowing?”
“I highly doubt it, Minister Morgan,” Noah replied, his voice firm. “An entire generation of crimson demons existing undetected for millennia seems highly improbable, just one was enough to make the war harder thousand times for the divine gods against the demons. It’s far more likely that this is an isolated incident."
The minister nodded, his apprehension easing slightly. “Perhaps you’re right,” he conceded. “We may be overreacting due to the sheer novelty of the situation.” The carriage continued its journey through the silent evening.