ERYNDOR ESTATE – THE DUEL IN THE FLAMES
The world narrowed to steel and fire.
Leon’s saber met The Whisper’s blade again and again, sparks flying as they weaved through the burning wreckage of the estate’s great hall. Around them, the battle raged—mercenaries clashed with Leon’s men, but none dared to step between the two warriors locked in combat.
The Whisper was fast—inhumanly so. His strikes came from impossible angles, his footwork silent, his presence almost vanishing between attacks.
But Leon was no ordinary noble.
He fought with the precision of a man who had trained for this very moment. Every movement calculated, every counter planned. Where The Whisper relied on speed and misdirection, Leon met him with ruthless efficiency.
A thrust—sidestepped.
A slash—parried.
A feint—anticipated.
Steel whispered through the air, missing Leon’s throat by an inch. He twisted, driving his elbow into The Whisper’s ribs. The assassin barely flinched, retaliating with a spinning kick that sent Leon skidding backward.
For the first time, The Whisper spoke.
"You’re not like the others."
Leon smirked, wiping blood from his lip. "Neither are you."
They lunged at the same time.
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THE TURNING POINT
Celica saw the fight and cursed.
Leon was holding his own against The Whisper, but she knew how these duels ended. The Whisper didn’t just fight to kill—he fought to break his targets, to dismantle them piece by piece.
And he never lost.
Aldric, still covered in enemy blood, limped to her side. "We need to move."
Celica’s grip tightened on her dagger. "Leon’s playing with fire."
Aldric glanced at the battlefield. "We all are."
The estate was falling apart. Draymore’s mercenaries kept coming, even as their numbers thinned. Fires raged uncontrolled, painting the night in violent shades of orange.
If they didn’t end this soon, they wouldn’t have a home left to defend.
Celica made her decision.
"Cover me," she growled, before slipping into the shadows.
Aldric didn’t argue.
Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.
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BREAKING THE ASSASSIN’S FLOW
Leon barely dodged The Whisper’s next attack—a curved slash aimed to open his side.
He countered with a vicious riposte, forcing The Whisper to disengage for half a second. But it was enough to see the assassin’s plan.
The Whisper was pushing him—slowly backing him toward the burning wreckage, where movement would be limited, where the smoke would blind him.
Clever.
But Leon had played this game before.
Instead of retreating, he advanced.
He feinted a step back—then lunged forward, driving his saber in a brutal, unexpected arc.
For the first time, The Whisper hesitated.
Leon’s blade caught the assassin’s cloak, slicing through enchanted fabric, drawing first blood—a shallow cut across the shoulder.
The Whisper’s reaction was instant. He vanished into the smoke, resetting the fight.
Leon exhaled sharply. "Damn, he’s good."
Then he felt it—movement behind him.
He spun, ready to parry—
A dagger flashed through the air.
Not The Whisper’s.
Celica’s.
It hit its mark, sinking deep into The Whisper’s forearm just as the assassin reappeared for his next strike.
A mistake.
Leon didn’t hesitate. He moved.
His saber slashed in a brutal downward arc, forcing The Whisper to retreat further, blood dripping from his injured arm.
For the first time, the assassin staggered.
Leon leveled his blade at him, breathing hard.
"You should leave while you still can," he said.
The Whisper’s gaze was unreadable behind his mask. He touched his wounded arm, then gave a slight, almost amused nod.
Without a word, he vanished into the flames.
Leon let out a slow breath.
Celica grinned, wiping soot from her face. "You owe me for that save."
Leon chuckled. "Fine. Drinks on me—if we survive this."
Aldric’s voice boomed from across the battlefield. "Then let’s finish this damn fight!"
Leon turned, his blade still dripping with the assassin’s blood.
Draymore’s mercenaries were breaking.
It was time to end them.
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THE ROUT
Leon fought like a man possessed.
With The Whisper gone, the morale of Draymore’s men shattered. The battle turned from a siege to a slaughter.
Aldric led the charge, cleaving through the remnants of the enemy forces. Celica danced through the chaos, her blades reaping lives in the dark.
Leon?
Leon hunted.
He moved through the battlefield with ruthless precision, cutting down anyone still foolish enough to raise a weapon against him.
It wasn’t long before the last of Draymore’s forces either lay dead or fled into the night.
Velkath belonged to House Eryndor once more.
For now.
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HOUSE DRAYMORE – THE RECKONING BEGINS
Kain Draymore stared at the bloodstained messenger before him, his hands clenched so tightly his nails drew blood from his own palms.
"They failed."
His forces? Broken.
His mercenaries? Dead or scattered.
The Whisper? Wounded and gone.
Eryndor had humiliated him.
The veins in Kain’s neck pulsed as he seethed. Then, slowly, a cruel smile twisted his lips.
"He thinks this is over," Kain whispered.
His men remained silent.
Kain turned to his second-in-command. "Summon the council. Every ally we have left." His voice was ice. "Leon Eryndor wants war?"
His fingers curled into a fist.
"Then we burn everything."
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ERYNDOR ESTATE – A TEMPORARY VICTORY
Leon sat in the ruins of his estate, a bottle of whiskey in his hand.
The fires had been put out. The dead had been buried. His people had won.
But it wasn’t over.
Celica dropped into the chair beside him, cradling her own drink. "Draymore won’t take this loss lightly."
Leon exhaled. "Good. Let him come."
Aldric approached, arms crossed. "Velkath’s watching now. The underworld’s waiting to see who makes the next move."
Leon took a slow sip of whiskey.
He already knew his next move.
This wasn’t just about revenge anymore.
This was about power.
And Leon wasn’t going to stop until House Draymore was nothing but ashes.
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END OF CHAPTER SIXTEEN.