It was a scene long lost in the past.
A sea of white surrounding a small house on a lone hilltop.
The dreadful silence of a young couple, shackled and beaten as they were taken away to their execution.
The cold hands of the creatures responsible for their action, as well as their eyes of scorn and contempt as a child begged for his parents’ lives.
And now, they appeared before him again. This time, it was him that they were after.
“It seems that a trial is no longer needed,” finally, the one that looked like the leader of the bunch – one holding a steel sword – uttered.
“Um… Lord Angel, if I may…” The knight, contrary to his aggressive nature towards the two boys just moments ago, was as meek as a housecat before the beings beyond his imagination.
And such beings weren’t amused at the sight. “... Speak.” The one with the sword glared.
“Her Highness ordered us to bring him back alive… So…”
“... Tch,” the angel clicked his tongue in annoyance. “So be it.”
He flew forward, leaving behind only a white blur, aiming straight at a straggling Peter. With the wound on his shoulder, the boy barely had enough time to take half a step, and it was naturally nowhere near the speed of the angel’s wings. Peter’s right stomach burst into crimson, staining the grassy field with a pool of blood. And to add insult to injury, there were still dozens more attacks ready to be aimed at him at any moment.
Though his vision was already blurred from the blood loss, it was still enough to spot another white shadow zipping through the scene. Even with a tired mind, Peter could tell that they were aiming at his vitals, and so, using every ounce of strength left, he dropped down as fast as he could, rolling on the ground to avoid a direct hit.
The whooshing sound of the angel’s weapon proved his gamble to be effective. However, it was only one attack out of many more. With his body on the ground, Peter was nothing more than a sitting duck.
Even if his mind was sane enough to think so, his arms and legs weren’t listening to him anymore. No matter how much the boy commanded them to move, they refused to budge for even a second. Worse off, warmth was rapidly leaving his body, leaving the boy with a shivering cold, even if it was in the middle of summer.
[I took my eyes away from you for a moment, and you’re already at death’s door, huh?]
Just when he was at his wit’s end, a voice called out to him. Though with his mind as hazy as it was, the boy couldn’t tell if it came from his mind, or if it was coming from the outside.
Within Peter’s line of sight, a familiar back stood in front of him yet again.
His body was shaking. Nay, he was barely standing straight, clearly still hurt from the punch just now. Compared to the knights and angels in front of him, the owner of that small back was nothing. And yet, the dark-skinned boy still stood tall, even before the suffocating pressure that his opponents exuded.
“Boy,” one of the angels spoke. “You are a squire, are you not? The rapier you hold and stance you’re making are proof of the Round’s training.”
“... Yes, I am, Milord,” Pedro answered, his voice shivering due to fear and fatigue.
“Then move. This is your final warning.”
“But, Milord, angels aren’t supposed to harm civilians.”
“Does he look like a civilian to you, squire?” Mr. Bakere interjected, but once he caught the glare of the angel, his mouth was shut tight.
“If you wish to prove your point, it’s simple,” the angel continued, lowering his weapon. “Just leave him be. If he gets up on the count of ten, then he’s a proven heretic. If not, we’ll bring him to the nearest aid. Does that sound fair to you?”
“But, Milord, he’s losing too much blood!” Pedro cried out. “If he’s not treated properly, then…”
“I said, does that sound fair to you?”
“... Yes, Milord.”
Pedro clenched his fist in anger. However, there was little he could do. Recklessly fighting the angels and Mr. Bakere would only lead to his death, and there was no telling if they would jump to Peter as soon as he was gone. And so, he could only grit his teeth in frustration and pray that his friend had enough within him to survive until the dreaded count of ten.
“Ooooonnnnneeeee…”
As soon as the first sound was uttered, the truth was clear. There was no saving from the start. It was only a twisted sense of humor from the angels, laughing and stepping on Pedro’s earnest attempt at a peaceful solution to the conflict.
Peter, on the other hand, didn’t have any expectations from the start. The boy had long accepted the fact that fighting their way out was the only option, but his body was leaving him by the second.
[Looks like you’re in quite the predicament. Want a hand?]
Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.
Once again, the same voice called out to him. This time, however, his mind was now at its peak despite his consciousness gradually slipping away from him. This time, Peter knew for sure; that this voice was none other than the mysterious figure that dragged him into this situation in the first place.
“Who… are you…” The boy muttered with the last ounce of his strength.
[I’ll explain when we properly introduce ourselves. Now normally there’s supposed to be a whole process of doing things, but since you’re gonna croak at this rate, I’ll throw in a freebie for you. But remember, just this once, all right? Then we can talk.]
As the words echoed in his mind, Peter’s stomach felt as if it had caught on fire. But hidden within the initial burn, there also existed a soothing feeling, as if this fire was meant to cleanse all the fatigue away. When the boy finally had enough strength to turn his neck and look down towards where the wound was, he was almost blinded by the intense, glowing light coming out from it. Not only the stomach wound but his shoulder wound as well. Bright yellow dots, akin to fireflies on a summer night, gathered around him. The bountiful light illuminated the night sky like a small sun, washing away all of the boy’s pain by the second. And soon enough, Peter stood up again, all of his wounds filled just as new.
Repeatedly clenching and stretching his hand in the shocked eyes of everyone present, the boy mumbled:
“What in the world…?”
[Think of it as enhanced regeneration, my brief partner. With my power by your side, you shan’t worry about flesh wounds anymore.]
“Thanks… whoever you are.”
[Unfortunately, my gift to you is only as temporary as our makeshift bond. There is a long way until you’re able to wield a suitable weapon.]
“Then should I run away now?”
[Impossible. You can’t outrun their wings.] The voice sounded with a tint of playfulness. [But right now, you’re essentially immortal, aren’t you? Stand your ground and fight; that’s your greatest weapon right now.]
As the words echoed in Peter’s mind, a spear had already made its way to his stomach once more. Another spurt of blood stained the ground, but despite it all, the boy let out a laugh louder than ever before. With countless light gathering around him yet again, Peter’s face contorted into a bloodshot grin:
“Oh, I’ve been waiting for this.”
His fist flew forward, landing directly on the attacking angel’s face and causing him to slide away a good few inches. The sudden punch made the winged man drop his spear, resulting in the polearm dangling in the middle of Peter’s stomach akin to a skewer. Grabbing the weapon and gritting his teeth, he pulled it out with all his strength.
Blood rained on the ground. A shocking pain ran through his entire body. But yet again, in mere seconds, the wound had already closed thanks to the magical regeneration that he received.
A brief moment of silence ensued. Then, as if forcefully being awoken from his dreams, Mr. Bakere was the first to shout:
“... Demon! He’s a Demon!”
“Get him!”
All of the angels shouted in unison, leaving a distraught Pedro to fall on his knees in despair.
Spears were supposed to be long-range weapons. Offensively, its main uses were for stabs and thrusts, while defensively, its long handle could help defend against incoming sword slashes with large arc swings. Now with a spear in his hands, Peter had the theoretically best option against the swarm of angels coming his way.
As a sword slashed towards him, the boy grabbed the spear with both hands and swung it as fast as he could akin to a bat. The force of impact sent the sword flying, while his hands shook wildly from the aftershock. The boy didn’t get a chance to breathe a sigh of relief, however, as an axe was already rushing down at him.
Against a heavy weapon like the axe, a direct confrontation would almost always result in a loss. A spear’s fighting style against this opponent wasn’t to block with a long-range defense but to cut the offense with a strike at the vital point. And Peter instinctively knew this well.
Thrusting the spear forward with all his might, the boy aimed at the incoming angel’s arm. As the tip pierced through his flesh, the angel let out a scream in pain and reflexively dropped his axe, letting its heavy blade lop off a part of his foot in the process. This, of course, only served to anger him more, but he had long lost his combat abilities already. With a decisive stab to the remaining leg, Peter disposed of the threat with ease.
[I can’t believe it… you’re a natural.]
“Do you mind? A little busy here!” Hearing the sudden praise, the boy let out an annoyed shout as he turned to stab another angel in the shoulder. But in that moment of loose concentration, an enemy strike had slipped through the cracks of his defense.
The spear might have been unrivaled in melee combat, but it was by no means the weapon with the longest range. That honor would belong to the bow and arrow, along with its distant relatives, the crossbow and catapult.
While Peter was busy dealing with the angels coming at him in a direct confrontation, the boy had failed to notice a small group purposely flying to the back of the formation, readying their arrows at the most opportune time.
Once one arrow made its way to his body, it was easy for the others to continue. Two. Three. Ten. Twenty. Soon enough, Peter was littered with arrow wounds from top to bottom. Shocked by the pain, the boy couldn’t even properly scream, with the only thing keeping him conscious was the constant glowing light repeatedly forming and going into his body, desperately trying to close the holes of the wounds.
“Go for his neck,” said one of the angels. “No matter how powerful his healing might be, his head is his main connection with his Demon. Cut his head off, and he’s dead.”
[Looks like we might be in a bit of trouble.]
“Some help you turned out to be…” Peter grunted, his vision slowly slipping away from him. But before the boy could close his eyes for presumably one last time, a clear voice echoed through the air, familiar, yet strange at the same time:
“Enough!”
Though the boy couldn’t even turn his neck anymore, there was no need to. Peter knew who that voice belonged to, and that person, almost right on cue, took a step forward.
Still donning the same attire as before, yet her attitude was something entirely different. There stood Bea, brimming with confidence and elegance, exuding an air of nobility. Regality, even.
“Even though I told you that it was supposed to be a test! Even when I specifically asked to not hurt him, let alone leave him half dead like this! It seems that you people seem to have forgotten my presence in these isles, haven’t you?”
“P–Princess!” The angels, as well as Mr. Bakere and Pedro, all knelt in utmost respect.
“... Bea?” Peter, meanwhile, could only utter a single word before his entire body ached in pain once more.
“It’s alright. I’m here now,” lightly touching the boy’s bloody face, Bea let out a gentle smile. However, as soon as she turned to the rest, her smile quickly disappeared, replaced by a stern look of absolute authority:
“Listen, all of you! By the First Princess’s order, Peter Pendragon shall be sentenced to a period of three-day detention in London’s dungeon, effective immediately! During that time, no one is to harm him in any way, lest they be punished according to Britain’s laws!”
“Y–Yes, Milady!” As the others bowed once more, Bea took a step back to whisper into Peter’s ears:
“Sorry, but this is the best I can do for now. Bear with it for a while, but I promise that you won’t be dying on my watch.”
As the final words of assurance were uttered, the last of the boy’s strength finally left my body. The last thing he was able to hear was the vague screams of worry as he fell into deep darkness…