Chương 125: Chapter 124 - Duty of a Noble

The group scattered as the Unfaithful lunged forward, its massive form barreling through burning wood and stone. One of the silver badges was too slow. The creature's claw caught his shoulder, sending him sprawling to the ground with a scream. The cloaked girl was already moving. She dashed forward, low and fast, her dagger finding the creature's hind leg. It roared in pain, twisting toward her. The bald boy took the opening, his sword slicing across the creature's flank.

Blood, purple and thick, oozed from the wound. But it was not enough. The creature was too strong, too fast.

"Alaric!" someone yelled.

"Use your abilities! Help us!" Alaric stood there, paralyzed. He had nothing. No artifacts, no plan. Nothing but fear clawing at his throat. The creature turned its burning gaze toward him. It saw weakness. It saw prey. It charged. Alaric stumbled backward, tripping over debris. The creature loomed over him, flames dancing across its body, purple eyes staring down with hunger. The bald boy shouted, "No!" He threw himself between Alaric and the creature, his sword raised in a desperate block.

The impact sent him skidding backward, boots carving lines into the stone floor. The cloaked girl appeared on the creature's other side, her dagger plunging deep into its neck. It roared, thrashing wildly. She held on, twisting the blade. The other silver badges rushed in, weapons drawn. They struck at its legs, its sides, anywhere they could reach. The creature was surrounded, overwhelmed. Finally, with a gurgling roar, it collapsed. Flames flickered and died. Its purple eyes dimmed to black.

Silence fell over the group. They stood there, breathing hard, covered in blood and ash. The bald boy turned to Alaric, who was still on the ground, eyes wide with shock.

"Get up," he said, his voice cold.

"If you can't fight, then stay out of the way." The cloaked girl wiped her dagger clean on her cloak, saying nothing. Her eyes, however, spoke volumes. Disappointment. Disdain. The ground trembled again. This time closer. More violent. Alaric scrambled to his feet, his face burning with shame. His ribs ached where he had been struck. His pride ached worse. The square-chinned boy he had punched earlier looked at him with something close to pity, which made the shame burn hotter.

Blood spilled from Alaric's lips as he tried to speak. He wiped it away with the back of his hand, staring at the crimson streak. His hands were shaking. When had they started shaking? Just as the square-chinned boy opened his mouth to speak, three, then four other Unfaithful appeared from the smoke and flames. The group recoiled in fear, taking steps back, their formation breaking entirely. The beasts charged. One lunged at the bald boy. He raised his sword to block, but the impact was too much.

The creature's claw struck with brutal force, sending him flying backward into a burning shelf. His sword clattered to the ground. He tried to stand but collapsed, blood pooling beneath him. His eyes flickered, barely conscious. The cloaked girl screamed, rushing to his side. An Unfaithful intercepted her, its massive jaw snapping inches from her face. She dodged backward, but another creature flanked her. She was trapped. Her dagger trembled in her hand. This was it. She was going to die.

The other silver badges scattered, paralyzed by fear. They were children playing at being warriors, and now they would pay for that arrogance with their lives. Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions. Alaric stood frozen. His body would not move.

'Why should I die here? For what? For them? For these pathetic silver badge nobodies?' He looked at the cowering students. At the bald boy bleeding out. At the cloaked girl cornered like prey.

'I did not sign up for this. I did not ask to be dragged into this hellhole. This is my brother's fault. His selfishness. His ambition. Not mine.' The bald boy's sword lay on the ground mere feet away.

'Why should a nobleman of House Fenshore die alongside commoners and failures?' But then he looked at the Unfaithful closing in. At the jaws opening wide. At death approaching with certainty.

'But if I die here, cowering, what does that make me?' His hands clenched into fists.

'No. A nobleman does not yield. Not to beasts. Not to fate. Not to anything.' Something ignited inside him. Not courage. Not nobility. Pure, stubborn refusal to accept this end. Alaric lunged forward and grabbed the sword. It was heavy, heavier than anything he had ever held. His hands were slick with blood. His own blood. It spilled from his lips, dripping down his chin in thick crimson streams. He raised the sword with both hands, pointing it at the beasts. His arms shook. His legs trembled.

'I have faith in myself. Faith that I will not die here. Faith that a nobleman does not yield.' Blue fate essence began to gather around the blade. Faint at first, then brighter. It crawled up the steel like living fire, responding to his will, to his desperate refusal to die. He had awakened. Latent. For a brief moment, fate essence answered his call. The first Unfaithful lunged. Alaric swung. The blade, wreathed in blue light, connected with the creature's hide. It cut deeper this time.

The beast roared, staggering back. But it was not enough. Two more closed in from the sides. Alaric parried the left, the impact sending shockwaves up his arms. His shoulders screamed in protest. He twisted, brought the blade around in a desperate arc, caught the right creature across its jaw. His feet slid backward. The ground cracked beneath him from the force of their blows.

"Get back, you useless worms!" he screamed at the cowering silver badges.

"If you are going to die, at least die fighting instead of whimpering like dogs!" One of them flinched. Another looked away, shame coloring his face.

"You think hiding will save you?" Alaric spat blood, his voice venomous.

"Pathetic! Absolutely pathetic! I am bleeding out here while you cower like rats!" The bald boy, barely conscious, reached toward him.

"Alaric, stop. Save your strength."

"Save it for what? To die quietly? No!" Alaric parried another strike, the impact nearly knocking the sword from his grip. The blue essence flickered, weakening.

"I refuse!" But it was not enough. The essence was fading. His body was failing. Blood loss made his vision swim. His arms felt like lead. An Unfaithful's claw caught him across the ribs. He gasped, stumbling. Another struck his shoulder, spinning him around. He fell to one knee, sword tip scraping against stone.

'Shit. This is it. Not enough. Not strong enough. Not fast enough.' His legs threatened to give out completely. The sword felt impossibly heavy now. The blue essence guttered like a dying candle. The Unfaithful reared back for the killing blow. Then, a calm, radiant pressure filled the air. An elegant figure clad in silver armor appeared behind him. Their arm supported his back before he could fall. Blue aura radiated from them like flames given form. The pressure was immense, suffocating, divine.

The figure spoke, voice formal and righteous, each word measured like a knight from ancient tales.

"Thou hast displayed admirable resolve, young noble. To stand when all others falter, to fight when death is certain, this is the essence of true valor. I commend thee for thy courage in the face of overwhelming adversity." Alaric tried to speak. Blood bubbled from his lips instead. The figure gently transferred his weight to the bald boy, who had staggered to his feet. Then the armored knight turned toward the remaining Unfaithful. Four beasts circled, sensing a new threat. The figure walked forward.

Blue flames left scorching marks with each step, burning into the ground itself. The silver armor rustled with each movement, defining a feminine form beneath the metal plates. Silk blonde hair exited from the back of the helmet, flowing like a banner of war. Each step left a sizzling mark on the pristine white ground of purple grass, now overturned with earth and debris. The knight evaluated the remaining Unfaithful. Four rank creatures, all hungry, all deadly. Then the figure decided. The sword was not necessary.

The knight formed a blade-like gesture with their palm and raised it high above their head. The air itself seemed to hold its breath.

"Heavens judgment." The hand came down in a perfect arc. The air split in two. A shockwave of blue energy tore through the battlefield, enveloping everything in blinding light and devastating force. The ground erupted, earth and debris exploding outward in all directions. The shelves toppled like dominoes. The pristine white ground of purple grass was completely overturned, revealing raw earth and stone beneath. The Unfaithful simply ceased to exist. Not burned. Not even destroyed. Erased. Gone just like that.

When the light faded and the dust settled, there was nothing left but scorched earth. The figure continued to walk forward, each step measured and purposeful, leaving sizzling marks in the ruined ground. Toward the rift that pulsed in the distance like a wound in reality. Alaric, held upright by the bald boy, watched the knight's retreating form. His vision grew dim. Blood loss pulled at his consciousness. But his last thought before darkness took him was not gratitude. It was rage.

'I was not strong enough.'