Lord Aidan Payne’s celebratory speech was winding down to an end. From the tall rooftops overlooking Town Square, Dean heard all of it, as his voice amplified, reaching every nook the city had, following a chain of speakers so those who couldn’t cram their way to the stage could still hear. Even those in their homes right now could probably hear Aidan’s speech.
“… For you, the great city of Ryuso, and all of Dormoor, I humbly accept your patriotism, and I am honored to carry on our great nation into an even newer era. Years ago, before I arrived, you were of several different clans, fighting in a civil war that went on for centuries. No longer are you all under nine different minds, fighting amongst each other for foolish leaders.
“We are a meritocracy! Your leader is the strongest warrior in the world! But not only is your leader the strongest fighter in Dormoor and the world, but he is also one of the strongest minds in existence. Even now, we are breaking barriers no humans have ever reached, and we are so close to bringing this world into a new age. The Dormoorian age!
“And we are of the strongest units of warriors on Valoria! Soon, my glorious nation, we will merge our power into one force. And that force will conquer the world! Soon, within your lifetime, I will deliver the world to your feet. So I need you all to swear to me, your fealty, your loyalty, and most of all, your strength!”
The cheers popped the loudest after that last statement. Dean held to the ledge, looking over with disgust under his mask.
Dean summarized the speech in three words. Prideful, boastful, and arrogant. The Dormoor lord claimed Dormoor would soon be Valoria’s strongest nation. Then, he had the audacity to say that every kingdom in the next thirty years would fall under Dormoor’s black flag. A bold claim for anybody to make, especially a measly country lord reaching the middle of his life and the end of his prime.
Despite Dean’s annoyance with the speech, he would be lying if he said that Dormoor didn’t hold at least a candle to everybody else’s flame. The city before him was already as grand as Novacia. The city was nearly pitch black, however. Shadows swallowed every corner the city had as the lights shined upon dark shirts. Festive colors hanging off the buildings didn’t fool anyone but their people. All this country was, was darkness incarnate. And it made Dean sick.
He found it insulting to base a nation’s color on plain black, which wasn’t even technically a color.
Vason hopped down to Dean’s rooftop first, landing quietly. Or was it Meek? Whoever it was, he almost startled Dean with his silver-white mask. In the briefing, they had complained about the mask being uncomfortable to wear, but Dean barely remembered he had one on in the first place, not seeing their fuss.
The other hopped down after. Of course, the two of them would break post first, meeting up with each other before joining Dean. The speech was only now ending.
“Did you have eyes on the target?” Dean asked.
One stepped up first. Vason and Meek were around the same height, while Meek had an extra inch of hair reaching halfway down his neck; Dean couldn’t tell the two of them apart in this darkness. “Our target is nearing the carriage. Everything should be ready to go.”
“Not yet,” Dean said, noting the voice to be Vason.
“What do you mean?” Meek said. “We should be clear to go home.”
Dean looked to the stage, scanning. There he saw the Aidan, still at the forefront. Cyril was behind him to the left of the statue of Aidan. The man in the white mask was on the statue itself, legs wrapped around the neck. “Our orders are to signal if the three of them separate. We need to confirm they’re all together.”
They had a red flare and a blue-tinted flare. Red was for if they were together, blue was for if at least one of them separated. If they all managed to separate from each other, they would fire both.
“Why?” Vason asked. He had a whiny inflection that Dean could easily recognize from him. “We got what we came here for, didn’t we?”
“We succeeded on our mission,” Dean sighed. “But that doesn’t mean everyone on our team did.”
“What do you mean?” Vason asked. “Who isn’t done yet?”
“Mason,” Dean said. “He’s out there, waiting for our signal.”
Vason and Meek nodded, looking out to the stage. The three of them were still together, with Aidan bowing before his country, signaling the end of the event. Dean studied a lot of political practices, primarily controlling populations. The easiest method that every king or leader used was utilizing the pride in which their countrymen had in their country. Some—like Aidan—used that talking point to an extreme. It was effective, to say the least, but plenty dangerous. The more pride a leader instilled into his country, the more prone to crashing they were under its own arrogance.
It’s what was happening in Midhelm and what would happen in Dormoor eventually. Midhelm was a crisis waiting patiently, waiting for the slightest slip. When that day came, Dean wanted to be there to save it.
“So,” Meek said. “What’s Mason doing anyway?”
“Isn’t it obvious?” Dean asked. He looked through the crowd, confirming the three again. It was about time to shoot off the flair. “He’s planning on killing Lord Aidan.”
“What?” Vason asked critically. “That’s insane! What if he fails? What if he gets caught?”
“Trust in him,” Dean said. “Like he trusts in us.”
The two agents beside Dean nodded. They lined up together, watching over the ledge to view the stage.
As they did their final scan of the stage—
“Wait,” Dean said, bringing out a pair of binoculars from his side. He honed in on the stage. Cyril and Aidan conversed off to the side behind the statue, but the figure with the white mask vanished. “Kiba is gone. I’m going to signal the flair.”
They nodded to him while Dean reached for his flair.
As he reached for the flair, a gasp came from his left, Vason’s gasp. He squeaked with fear. Dean turned to him to see a hand on his shoulder. Vason’s body glowed a solid white as the agent reached to his waist, unsheathing his sword to spin and swing back, aiming for the neck of the masked man grabbing him.
The sword almost reached his neck before his body vanished into thin air, blade disappearing with him.
“Whoa!” Kiba said. How did he traverse from the stage to the rooftops in mere seconds? “That was close! You three must be good!”
Dean and Meek jumped back, getting away from Kiba.
Instinctively, following through with the mission, Dean shot out the blue flair.
“Blue is such a wonderful color,” Kiba said. He held a globe compass, a complex device used to view coordinates while traversing. A large iron club held a globe with a string containing it tight to two teeth like hooks, pink mist misting off the map’s skin, indicating it’s Soulsmithed. Kiba looked to Dean. “Blue like your eyes. Tell me, what did that flair signal? That you are in distress?”
“Where is Vason!” Meek demanded.
“Vason?” Kiba grabbed the chin of his mask with his free hand. “You must not be a smart one, huh, giving away names so easily. Well then, if you wish to find out, I can always bring you to him.”
“Bastard!” Meek grunted, drawing his sword to charge Kiba. He dashed forward with all his might, swinging for Kiba’s stomach, but like how his arms suggested, he wore chains underneath his vest. “Bring him back!”
Meek continued to swing, but Kiba seemed to move unnaturally, dodging a sword similar to how his father did fighting in Gold form. Only, Kiba didn’t riposte, not even using the iron of his globe compass to block.
Dean couldn’t stand idly by, so he drew his sword, joining the conflict. His attacks were clumsy, especially in unison with Meek. Whoever this Kiba guy was, he was far more skilled than he put off. Dean had never seen someone without a sword in their hand dodge two blades at once like it was nothing.
“This is exciting!” Kiba said, almost too optimistically. He fought two agents with swords, and none of them could land a scratch past the chain of his armor. Dean and Meek charged from opposite angles, Dean swinging and Meek thrusting. Kiba juked left, sliding through the attack just before he was hit.
Meek and Dean were about to collide with each other, with no way to stop their charging feet. Dean cursed, twisting his blade to the blunt end before shoving his sword away from his ally. Meek, however, couldn’t pull such a maneuver, as his sword continued to glide straight for Dean’s head—
“Not so fast!” Kiba brought the inch-thick iron bar of his globe-compass and blocked the strike perfectly. “I can’t have you two killing each other! That’s just wasteful!”
Dean and Meek pulled back. Who was this monster? Why did he save Dean’s life?
“What are you doing?” Dean asked.
“Me?” Kiba pointed to himself. He laughed. “I’m playing with my food, of course!”
Dean grunted.
“Bring him back!” Meek demanded.
“No,” Kiba said flatly. He had spoken with some juvenile tone up until that point. He seemed utterly insane.
“Is he alive?” Dean asked. “Where you brought him, is it teleportation of some sort?”
Kiba nodded. “Of some sort, indeed. Now, I can’t be bothered much longer. I’m about to miss the fight!”
“The fight?” Dean asked. Does he know about Mason’s plans? That must mean Aidan does as well…
This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.
Kiba nodded. “So, time to expedite this little ordeal, alright?”
Dean lunged forward, swinging and slashing. Even Mason couldn’t dodge this well. What gives? He seems to have an answer for every single one of my moves…
Meek took over for Dean, letting him get a quick breath. He managed to slice at one of Kiba’s wrists, but against the chain, such attacks didn’t do well. If they were going to pierce his armor, they would need a firm thrust—something almost impossible to do with Dean’s blades curving at the tops.
Kiba started to swat his hand toward the agent, reaching to teleport him similarly to how he did Vason. It seemed that in order to teleport somebody, he had to first grab them. Meek dodged, ramping up for a swift lunge with his sword, aiming for Kiba’s head.
Kiba swatted Meek’s sword away with the iron of his compass, stunning Meek. Holding the handle of his device, he rewound before swinging heavily with his globe compass, landing a crushing blow to Meek’s face. His mask shattered as he fell to the ground, unconscious.
“NO!” Dean bellowed out.
“Home run!” Kiba chirped. He looked to Dean before lowering down to grab Meek by his chest, turning him into solid light before teleporting him only the Gem God knows where. “Now then. They are going to want company now. You know that, right?”
Dean grunted, holding his sword in his hand. Vason and Meek, gone to this crazed man before him. He wanted nothing more than to gut him, right here, right now. But… Quin started popping up into his mind.
He charged, aiming straight for Kiba’s chest. The masked man opened up, standing in a stance Dean’s never seen before like he was about to catch Dean in a hug. Dean shifted to the right before they could collide, jumping over the gap between rooftops to land on another. He ran for his life, retreating.
I’m not going to die on you, Quin, Dean thought, sheathing his sword back before jumping across another rooftop. As he neared closer to Town Square, the roofs were getting shorter and shorter. He had to find Mason before he engaged with Aidan. Dean wouldn’t lose another agent today.
***
Mason took a heavy breath. Everything counted on this. If he failed here, his friends and fellow agents might fail to get out in time. Despite his reservations about taking such a task, Symond entrusted him with this role. And it had to be accomplished.
He made sure his mask was tight around his face and secured it so it wouldn’t fall off. After he was sure it was safe, he took yet another breath. Mason was always a warrior but never an assassin.
Why wouldn’t you let me tell them, Mason thought. If I fail here, that will only put your entire team at great risk! It will be more than me who will die here if I screw this up.
Mason rested his back on an alleyway, a block down from the stage, on a closed-off street so Aidan could “safely” return to his palace. The bastard preached to his people but would never walk among them—the coward.
He could hear the footsteps now—a group of them. If he could guess, maybe five people were in Aidan’s party? With the sight of the blue flair, Mason understood that one of the three was off of Aidan. He only hoped it was Cyril who separated, for he didn’t want to deal with the magic—assuming the dark mage could perform it. Mason could take anybody under an A-grade in fighting in seconds. But Aidan was trained by the Great King himself. Mason wouldn’t underestimate him, not when so much was on the line.
As the group passed, he confirmed Aidan to be among the group. Three men in black and silver armor followed him, called Dormurai, a similar unit to the Colorswords. They had silver on their joints, with shoulders and knee pads with three overlapping scale-like flaps. But Mason set his eyes on Cyril, his mage. Unlucky. If he could perform magic like Delta, he would prove more of a hassle than Aidan theoretically should.
Mason exhaled, pulling Melody slowly and quietly out of her home. He aimed her at Cyril, planting his feet before charging. If he could kill him first, he might stand a better chance against the others.
Cyril didn’t even react until Mason was already steps behind him. Mason lunged his sword forward, aiming for his heart from behind—
A Dormurai pushed Cyril out of the way, accepting the blow on his behalf. Melody pierced through the guard’s heart, dousing Melody with his blood. Mason pulled her out of the body, continuing as all had turned to him.
The two Dormurai approached him first, pulling out their swords. They clashed, but they hadn’t seen Melody in action, and unfortunately for them, that cost them their lives. Melody twisted and altered their sight, their field of depth and vision, paving the way for Mason to shove her into the first man’s chest. To his left, the final Dormurai pulled out a pistol, firing a shot. His eyes went wide as his shot was far off above Mason’s head. Melody saved his life once again.
Mason pulled, swinging to slash the throat, killing him slowly as he fell to the ground gasping for his fleeting life.
Now Cyril and Aidan remained. Mason lifted Melody, ready to engage.
Cyril grimaced, while Aidan looked more displeased about the fact that his men were killed so easily.
“I’ll deal with this,” Cyril said, pulling out his wand.
Aidan swatted at Cyril’s chest, pulling him back behind himself. He looked at Mason’s blade, pointing at Aidan rather than Cyril. “No, he’s after me. Tell me, assassin, this isn’t the ideal time to try and kill me. So, are you also after Vessel as well?”
Mason frowned but said nothing.
Was there somebody else involved? No, that’s unimportant now. Concentrate!
“No matter, your eyes told me everything I need to know. A trick I learned from my old master. Cyril, you aren’t needed here. Lock down the city, don’t let my future. You have my permission to kill anyone who gets in your way.”
“Yes, my lord,” Cyril said, turning around and running off.
I can’t let him do that! The others! While Aidan had his sword still in his sheath, Mason charged to chase after Cyril, but Aidan grunted, drawing his sword and swinging. Their swords clashed, and Mason felt a strength he had only felt when he sparred Symond. Could his body pack that same amount of force?
Mason caught his brown eyes that stared viciously at him, deranged almost, as he felt him staring into his very soul.
“What’s wrong?” Aidan grunted, kicking, pushing Mason a couple of feet back. “Do you have allies waiting for you? They must have a lot of confidence in you, to send you after me alone. Well, if you want to get to them in time, you’ll have to go through me.”
This is bad, Mason thought. I should run; I have to get back to them.
“It seems you have a Soulsmithed sword of your own,” Aidan said. He lifted his hilt, turning to show Mason the Soulgem inside the top of his hilt. As the sword pointed to the sky, the pink light from the Soulgem started to steam as the lightning exploded around the blade, as a continuous, violent surge started coiling up and down the steel wildly. A calm blue shone on the dark, stone street. “It’ll be the first time I get to duel another with one of these blades. But unfortunately for you, it will be your last.”
Aidan whipped Melody down to the street, shedding the blood off of her. He won’t let me get away easily. So be it. He pointed Melody as they both started their approach.
Dean turned around, finding Kiba pursuing after him, running with abandon as he swung his arms, looking more like a child than a skilled fighter.
Lorgrad’s Fire! Dean cursed to himself, but he doubted the Warrior’s ability to climb out of his grave to help him now. He was running out of breath, tiring. The leaping across rooftops only made him feel worse, as drops continuously got bigger as the buildings got shorter.
He jumped across another of these gaps; only his right foot forgot to push off, giving a sluggish attempt to cross. His chest collided with the gutters of the next building, his knees taking a heavier beating as they swung into the brick wall. He fell, landing on a dumpster he wished was open. Instead, the rubber cover bounced him up and threw him into the wall opposite.
When he finally came to the ground, he could barely see. His vision blurred as light swirled from across the street in another ally. There was clashing, swords hitting swords. And a little pink in ahead.
“Ahh!” Kiba complained. Dean looked up, seeing Kiba hanging upside down by his legs on a metal bar of a hanging light above him. “They’ve already begun!”
“No!” Dean cried out. “Stop! Mason, stop!”
His voice was too weak, as he was regaining the air he had lost running. Now, Kiba was going to take him. He turned to his side, reaching for his sword—
“Listen, kid,” Kiba said. “If Aidan dies in this duel, I won’t have any reason to capture you anymore. So just enjoy the show, why don’t you? I know I am! Besides, your life depends on it. Put all of your money on your friend because I’m for sure putting all mine on Aidan.”
Dean swallowed, looking to the duel.
Rapid pulses of electricity formed from Aidan’s Soulsmithed sword, sometimes Mason’s sword caught the voltage. The pink mist of their Gems intertwined, joining together as if they hadn’t been from two different swords.
In the middle of the street lay three bodies, corpses likely killed by Mason to get to fight Aidan one-on-one. Blood soaked the road as a few cries came from the street.
Mason held his own, blocking well, while Aidan struggled. The mind-altering effect of Mason’s sword played heavily to his advantage. A blade that could electrocute anyone to death didn’t work if he couldn’t land a single strike. Mason blocked effortlessly as Aidan frustratingly swung, trying to overpower the Gold Officer.
Likely, Aidan thought he had an open target due to his perception being twisted and pulled by the reflection off of Mason’s blade. Despite that, however, Aidan did well to survive as long as he had, despite fighting close to blind. His body blocked for him when his eyes struggled.
But when Mason finally took the offensive, Aidan stood little chance. Mason struck fingers with a slash, leading to Aidan fumbling his sword to the ground. The bolts of electricity sputtered, despite having the bond gone.
Mason lifted his sword to thrust down, piercing Aidan through the right side of his chest. Aidan fell to his knees, and Mason took a breath against the brick wall behind him.
“You’re dead,” Mason said. Dean admired his poised demeanor, even in combat to the death. He achieved his critical blow, and all he had to do was finish him.
I can hear them, Dean thought. They were closer than he realized. No, Dean was crawling to them throughout the fight. He turned around, seeing Kiba still upside down with folded arms watching the end of Aidan and Mason’s duel.
“Your sword,” Aidan said. The deep and dark tone of his voice caught Dean off guard. Dean froze in fear, stunned as if the Grim Reaper stood before him. “It’s tricky. It plays with my eyes. What am I supposed to do? Close them? Fight blind? No, this sword is almost impossible to fight against…”
Mason breathed heavily. His mask had traces of blood from those he had killed before now. “Any last words you want me to remember you by?”
“You won’t hear my last words, child,” Aidan muttered. He looked up when most with a sword through their chest would be too overwhelmed with shock to make any motion whatsoever.
“I just did,” Mason said, pulling out his sword, readying another shot straight to Aidan’s head—
“You’re not the only one with a trick up their sleeve,” Aidan said, stabbing Mason’s chest with the palm of his left hand. As Mason thrust his sword down, he paused to what sounded like an explosion. Blood splattered from his mouth to the alley wall opposite himself. A massive gust of air came from Aidan’s glove, with pink mist rising from the back of his hand. Aidan grabbed the blade with his right hand, pointing it away from his head while he crawled back and away.
“NO!” Dean called out in horror. “MASON! NO!”
Mason’s chest pushed in, and his insides crushed. His ribcage was like many daggers used against his internal organs.
“That’s rough,” Kiba said. “He almost had him. A shame.”
Meek, Vason, and now… Mason? “NO! BASTARD! I’ll KILL YOU!”
Aidan turned from the alleyway across. He didn’t wear a murderer’s face, but that of a man who had simply did his job. His eyes drifted up to Kiba, who dropped down from up top, landing on his feet.
Dean retreated to the wall.
“Unfortunate,” Kiba shook his head. “But Aidan never ceases to entertain me.”
He reached down, reaching to grab a beaten and defenseless Dean. “No,” Dean muttered. “It’s not supposed to end this way!”
Kiba’s eyes went wide from within his mask. He snapped his body, swinging his hand to his back to catch a falling Quin with a dagger in her hand. He held her up by her collar, and her body started turning white.
NO! NOT HER TOO! Dean was already too shaken to pull out his sword. He was weak when he was needed most to be strong.
Quin struggled, and in the two seconds she had to escape his touch before she teleported, she pulled her hand down before stabbing up at Kiba’s wrists with her dagger. Blood fell with the chains near his hand, rattling on the ground as Quin freed herself from his grasp.
Immediately, she rushed to Dean, picking him up and over her shoulders before she ran deeper into the alley, searching for a way out.
“Why,” Dean whispered. He felt himself growing mad, insane even. The horror he saw replayed in his head like film, and his eyes felt forced open to watch. “You weren’t supposed to get involved!”
Quin remained quiet, hurrying out of the alley as fast as she could. Despite being able to carry Dean’s weight over her shoulder, the speed at which she ran wouldn’t work if Kiba ran after him again.
“I’m useless,” Dean admitted. “I failed them. All three of them. Mason, he’s dead!”
Quin rushed, turning around the corner.
“And you… I almost lost you too. Why? Why did you come?”
Quin grunted. “Will you shut up! We have to get out of here. Can you run?”
“No,” Dean said. “My knees… are shattered. They’re going to come after me! They’ll catch you too! Leave me! I’m useless now.”
Quin grunted, ignoring him as she continued running down the alleyway maze.
Why can’t you let me go?
Dean sniffed, helpless, carried away from his defeat off the back of Quin.