Ben pushed himself up as blurry eyes opened to stare at the floor under him. Pure white stone unlike any he had ever seen before laid there stained by his sweat.

He felt something drip from his mouth, it landed red and bright. Ben gulped, there was a distinct taste of blood. The metal boots stood before him, gibberish words sounded out but they were far away and unintelligible.

He looked up only to see bright blonde hair reflecting the sun's light into his blurry eyes. The glare prevented him from seeing the other person's face or figure. It was at that moment that a foriegn feeling entered him, forcing him to react before he understood what was going on.

It was a Will. A form of enhanced determination to get past this human shaped obstacle. He roared as anger he could not control bubbled in his chest, his blood and spit spraying on the person's silhouette.

He didn't not know why or who stood before him, but he would rather die in that moment than kneel a coward and shame everyone he loved…

Everyone he loved…? Ben had no one left who could he possibly–

Images of faces appeared in his mind as they became one with his memory. Slanted eyes, fair white skin, and happiness abound. Many people who surrounded him; that would die for him. An emotion he had forgotten appeared as it grew stronger like a tide. Love, acceptance, support.

“...you deaf, He Zhihao?” the figure said. “Or must I kill you before you understand your place in life?” An unsheathed sword emphasized the masculine voice.

He Zhihao. That was his name. Ben knew it instinctively, it defined who he was as a person. Cold and aloof to strangers, fiery and passionate to those close to him. It sounded as natural as Benjamin Sterling White.

The feeling of sharp metal on his neck tugging at the skin, but not breaking, brought him back to the present. This person could kill him at any moment and he would be incapable of doing anything. Something deep inside him felt utter disgust and humiliation at this.

But, wasn’t this his goal just a few moments ago? What changed? Why was he so averse to the thought of dying? He wanted the darkness to engulf him, not to stand before the sun’s glare.

Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

The figure huffed and brought his arm wide, preparing a swing to cleanly separate his head from his shoulders. He Zhihao stared at the blade, it moved slowly as though it was in water. It was so well polished he could see his own reflection. His face was morphed in great anger, sharp brows furrowed and nose curled in pure unwillingness.

His eyes shone brightly.

But what shocked him the most was the amount of blood on his robes and the state of his beaten face–mostly black and blue instead of the fair color of the He clan. A wound stretched across his face, cauterized the instant it occurred. Vivid recollection of the wound sprung up in his mind as the blade inched towards him.

That very sword had slashed him mere moments ago, but imbued with the flames of true dragon fire made it unstoppable. It cut through his reinforced saber, it had been refined and strengthened for nearly seven years with Qi Flames by a master, and scarred him for life.

Only seeing it now did its angry pain surface again. It ate at his face like a devouring beast. But that Will, that determination rose again to the surface, forcing him to focus. These were his last moments, just as quickly as he had arrived, he would leave.

The blade looked to be aimed at his neck, made to sever his head with a clean stroke that would put him out of his misery without pain. Ben’s desire for no more suffering would finally become true… yet…

Something in him screamed a shrill thing at the thought of leaving everything behind. ‘How could he abandon his family?’ were the first thoughts to invade his head. ‘How could he abandon his clan?’ were a close second. All those that sacrificed pounds of flesh and soul so that he would be here today, would he be so ungrateful?!

He raised a heavy hand, it was like moving the entire planet, hoping it would slow the blade enough for him to clumsily fall over out of the way. But he knew better than that. True Dragon Flame required metal of at least the Heavenly Rank to be forged and perfected by a Grandmaster Smith then imbued by someone who was at least in the Transcended Realm. Mere flesh could not even be considered a slight hindrance.

How Ben knew this with full conviction, he did not know, but it was there. He was no longer only Benjamin Sterling White. No, he was He Zhihao as well.

Just as the blade nicked his palm, the flames instantly cauterizing the wound and leaving a permanent scar, it stopped. He Zhihao looked up at the face of the person attempting to kill him. A young man with near feminine features, pale white skin like he had never seen the sun a single day. Cascading golden hair and brows that made him seem more like an angel than human. A slight scratch on his perfect face still seeping blood from the closest he had gotten before being utterly defeated moments ago.

And maybe he was angel. The royal family did claim their ancestor had married a celestial being.

Those narrowed eyes and hateful scowl did much to paint him as a demon in He Zhihao’s eyes though. There was no purity or innocence, just cold killing intent and gritted jaws that creaked in effort. His arms, covered in dragonscale armor, shook as they attempted to cut him into two pieces.

The world froze for a moment as they were stuck in this exchange, then sound returned. The screams and roars, some laughter in between. He Zhihao felt the world spin and blackness took him away, maybe forever.

The last thing he saw was a knight in white armor, helm with a black plume, holding the back of the prince's blade effortlessly. The flames lapped at his fingers but did nothing else. He Zhihao could not get a single glimpse of what the person looked like, but he knew that armor though. A royal guardian, reserved only for the Emperor himself and none other. A behemoth that could end small countries alone.

One of twelve that kept the world at peace in the midst of unending chaos. A knight from the Order of the Pale Rose.