Reincarnation of the magicless pinoy.
From Zero to hero "No Magic?,No Problem! "
Encounter 2: betrayal
The night had fallen quiet over the Elroy Dukedom, but no one could rest. The air was thick with worry—the kind that settled deep in the chest and refused to leave.
"Where is my brother!?" Elian's voice broke the silence, his eyes scanning the dark horizon beyond the shattered walls. The wind carried nothing but the smell of smoke and steel.
Tessa, Bragg, Solis, and Ren stood near the ruins of the west tower—Elian's bedchamber, where Rolien was last seen standing.
"We don't… know, sir," Tessa said softly. "We searched every corner of the castle, but… not even a trace."
Leto clenched his fists. "He wouldn't just vanish, young master! Rolien wouldn't leave without a word!"
"I know…" Pete's voice cracked slightly. "He was standing next to me—handing me a potion—and then he was gone. Just like that. No sound, no light… nothing."
The group fell silent again. The adventurers of Asher Hawks stood nearby, bruised and worn from battle. Their faces were grim—they'd fought monsters, assassins, even gods. But this was different.
Rolien was their anchor. Their calm in every chaos. And now, he was gone.
Sir Marcellus finally spoke, his voice low and heavy. "We can't stay here. The scouts reported movement from the east. If the enemy pushes through the forest, this place will fall before dawn."
Pete turned sharply. "And leave him?! He might still be out there!"
"Pete," Marcellus said firmly, though his tone carried no anger. "If he's alive, he'd want us to survive. You know that."
Pete's shoulders trembled, his jaw tightening as he fought to keep himself together. "Damn it…" he muttered, kicking the dirt.
Elian placed a hand on his shoulder. "We'll find him. No matter what it takes."
As the group prepared to move, the sound of distant horns echoed—enemy war cries rolling like thunder from the valley below. The night sky flickered orange as fires lit across the horizon.
Their world was beginning to fall apart.
Elian turned once more toward the distant mountains, his voice barely a whisper.
"Where are you, Rolien…"
A sudden tremor rippled through the ground. Dust rained from the cracked walls as a deep, guttural roar echoed from beyond the eastern ridge.
"They're here!" someone shouted from the watchtower before the horn blast was drowned by a monstrous bellow.
From the forest, hundreds of shapes emerged—grotesque silhouettes illuminated by the burning horizon. Winged beasts, twisted ogres, and scaled horrors poured from the treeline like a living tide. The monster horde had begun its march.
Mir came rushing into the courtyard, panting and pale. "The eastern line's broken! They've breached the outer walls!"
Prince Jun drew his sword, his golden cape tattered and stained from battle. "Everyone move! Now!" he shouted, his voice echoing through the ruins. "Marcellus, lead the civilians to the west gate. Elian, keep your people close!"
Marcellus bowed quickly. "Yes, Your Highness!" Then he turned to the soldiers still standing. "You heard him! Gather every civilian you can find—women, children, wounded! The west gate, now!"
Knights and adventurers scattered, shouting orders and dragging frightened townsfolk out from their homes. The sound of clashing steel and dying screams soon drowned the air.
"Elian!" a familiar voice called. Princess Sophia stumbled through the smoke, her white gown streaked with ash. "Have you found Rolien?"
Elian shook his head. "No… he's still missing."
Sophia's eyes darted around the crumbling courtyard. "Then I'm not leaving! Not without him!"
Before she could turn back, Mir grabbed her wrist. "Your Highness, please! It's too dangerous!"
"I said let go!" she snapped, but her voice trembled with tears. "He's still out there!"
Prince Jun stepped in, gripping his sister's shoulders. "Sophia, listen to me! If Rolien were here, he'd be the first to tell you to run!"
She looked up at him, her lips quivering. "Then you don't understand him at all…"
The ground shook again as a massive beast—something like a horned wyvern—crashed through the eastern wall, roaring fire into the courtyard. Its flames swept across the stone, melting armor and banners alike.
"Damn it!" Jun yelled. "Asher Hawks—get her out of here! Now!"
Tessa and Pete rushed forward, pulling Sophia back as she screamed Rolien's name, her voice breaking through the chaos. Elian turned away, clenching his fists. There was no time to grieve.
Marcellus's command voice cut through the noise. "Form lines! Protect the retreat! Move the civilians first!"
Knights shielded fleeing families as arrows rained from above. The once-proud banners of the Elroy Dukedom were now burning tatters, fluttering in the storm of ash.
From the sky, shadows circled—the first wave of the enemy's dragon riders closing in.
Elian's heart pounded as he looked toward the flames consuming the castle. "Brother…" he whispered, before joining Marcellus in the retreat.
Behind them, the east wall crumbled completely, and the monsters poured in.
The Elroy Dukedom had fallen.
The night burned red behind them. The once-proud Elroy Dukedom was now a sea of fire and collapsing stone.
Smoke choked the sky. Screams and roars blended into one endless, merciless sound.
"Keep moving!" Sir Marcellus bellowed, waving his sword to guide the line of survivors through the outer streets. "Stay together!"
Elian ran beside him, supporting an injured soldier. Pete, Tessa, and the rest of the Asher Hawks guarded the flanks, cutting down stray monsters that slipped through the wreckage. Every swing, every breath, was survival.
Mir shouted over the chaos, "The west gate's just ahead! Another hundred meters!"
But before they could reach it, the sound of snapping branches and heavy footsteps echoed from the forest ahead. The knights froze. From the treeline, dozens of figures emerged — assassins and soldiers clad in black armor bearing crimson crests. The enemy nation's strike unit.
"They're cutting off the escape!" Pete cursed.
Behind them, the wyverns' roars grew closer. From above, the sky shimmered with the glow of another wave of fire. They were trapped.
Prince Jun stepped forward, his blade igniting faintly in the firelight. "Marcellus," he said, calm despite the fear around them. "Get them out of here."
Marcellus's eyes widened. "Your Highness—"
"That's an order," Jun interrupted, his voice steady and sure. "They want me. You know that." He looked at the frightened civilians, the wounded knights, the crying children clutching their mothers' skirts. "Every second I buy you is another life saved."
Elian stepped forward. "No, we can fight our way together—"
Jun smiled faintly. "You'll lead them now, Elian. You have to."
The prince turned to Mir. "Take Sophia and go. Don't let her look back."
Sophia's voice cracked as she grabbed his arm. "Jun, don't you dare—"
He brushed her hair gently aside, smiling like the big brother he used to be. "I'll find you again, little sister. I promise."
Then, without another word, he turned toward the enemy. His cloak fluttered in the wind as he raised his sword.
"Knights of Greyfall!" Jun shouted, his voice echoing through the smoke and fire. "For the crown, for our people—CHARGE!"
A roar erupted from the remaining soldiers. They rushed forward, clashing against the assassins and armored soldiers with desperate fury. Steel met steel, and fire swallowed the night.
Marcellus clenched his jaw and turned away, shouting, "Move! Everyone move now!"
The survivors surged toward the west gate. Sophia was dragged by Tessa and Pete, tears streaming down her face as she screamed Jun's name.
Behind them, the ground shook with the thunder of battle. The glow of flames painted the sky as the prince fought at the front, his sword cutting through enemy ranks like a blazing beacon.
Then came a deafening explosion. The west wall shuddered. Elian looked back one last time — the spot where Prince Jun had stood was swallowed by light and smoke.
No sound. No cry. Just silence.
The west gate burst open, and the survivors spilled into the dark forest beyond.
The prince of the empire was gone.
The forest swallowed them whole.
Smoke trailed faintly through the canopy—the last echo of the burning dukedom miles behind them. Every step cracked brittle branches, every breath came out ragged and cold.
Elian stumbled as they moved deeper into the woods, the distant glow of fire finally fading behind the trees. Pete was right beside him, supporting one of the wounded knights. Tessa took point, eyes sharp even in the dark, while Bragg and Solis guarded the rear. Leto stayed close to the flank, dragging what supplies they'd salvaged and checking every direction like a restless hound sensing danger.
No one spoke for a long while. The only sounds were armor clinking, boots sinking into mud, and thunder rumbling somewhere far beyond the horizon.
When they finally stopped near a half-frozen stream, Sir Marcellus gave the order.
"Set a perimeter. No fires. We rest here until dawn."
The knights obeyed silently. There were fewer of them now—less than thirty, maybe fewer if you counted only those still able to fight.
Princess Sophia sat near a fallen log, her hands trembling as she stared blankly at the dirt. Her gown, once royal white, was torn and streaked with ash and dried blood. Pete knelt beside her carefully.
"Princess… are you hurt?"
She didn't answer at first. Her voice came out small, almost lost.
"He said he'd come back…"
Pete lowered his gaze. "I know."
Elian approached, his steps heavy. "We lost too many tonight," he said quietly. "But we can't stop. Jun bought us time—if we waste it, his death means nothing."
Sophia looked up, eyes glistening. "And Rolien?"
That question hung in the air like a knife.
No one could answer.
Tessa turned away, pretending to check her blades. Bragg stared at the ground, jaw clenched. Even Solis, the calmest among them, said nothing.
Elian took a slow breath, forcing the tremor out of his voice. "Until I see his body, I'll believe he's alive. Both of them."
Sir Marcellus stepped closer, resting a firm hand on his shoulder. "Your brother's strength isn't something that fades easily. If he lives, he'll find us. But for now… you're the highest-ranking among us, Elian. The men need orders."
Elian hesitated, then straightened. The weight of command settled on him like cold iron.
"We move west at sunrise. Find a safe zone, link with the main army, and regroup. No one gets left behind."
The others nodded. It wasn't much—but it was something to hold onto.
As the night dragged on, the survivors drifted into uneasy rest.
Solis sat by the edge of the camp, staring at his dimly glowing staff. "The air feels strange," he murmured. "Like something's bleeding through the world itself…"
Tessa frowned. "What do you mean?"
He shook his head slowly. "It's as if nature itself is unbalanced. The monsters that attacked Elroy… they didn't just appear. They were drawn—by something. Or someone."
Leto glanced up from sharpening his sword. "Then it's not over," he said grimly. "Whatever hit Elroy might just be the beginning."
Pete looked between them, worry creeping into his tone. "I just… I just hope Rolien's alright."
A cold wind swept through the trees then, rustling the leaves like whispers. Somewhere far off, a low, inhuman growl echoed across the valley.
Tessa rose to her feet, blades gleaming faintly in the moonlight. "Guess dawn's not bringing peace."
Elian stood, staring toward the faint glow on the horizon where morning began to touch the mountains. His eyes hardened—not with despair, but with resolve.
"We keep moving," he said quietly. "No matter what comes."
And as the first rays of morning broke through the trees, the survivors of Elroy walked west—
carrying the weight of the fallen,
the silence of the missing,
and the fading hope
that the day would ever feel warm again.
Meanwhile at elroy's fallen chaimber
The scent of smoke and iron filled the wind as Luke Arcadia stood atop the ruined walls of Elroy's fallen fortress. The once-proud banners of the Elroy family now lay tattered beneath his boots, dyed in blood and ash. Below him, the Valkarian army—his supposed "allies"—continued their ruthless march through the scorched lands.
Before him hovered a faint blue glow—an active communication crystal. Inside it shimmered the image of Crown Prince Keain, his face pale and drawn in the dim light of his chamber.
"You've done well, Luke," Keain said quietly, voice carrying a restrained thrill. "Prince Jun's death will shake the empire. The council will scramble, and when they do… I'll be the only one left fit to inherit."
Luke smirked faintly, brushing a streak of blood from his cheek. "Don't thank me yet. The Valkarian army moves faster than expected. Once they push past the plains, they'll be at the capital's doorstep in less than two weeks. I'll redirect them when I'm ready. When the time comes, seize the throne before your father can react."
Keain nodded, lowering his voice. "And the emperor? He suspects nothing?"
"Not yet," Luke replied, his tone calm, confident. "He's too focused on Elroy's downfall to see the knife aimed at his own back."
But as Luke spoke, a faint shimmer pulsed through the crystal—barely noticeable to either man. Someone else had accessed the channel. A faint shadow flickered in the background, unseen, listening.
Scene: Imperial Palace, Two Days Later
Inside the grand throne hall, Emperor Albrecht sat in cold silence. His piercing eyes, sharp as steel, were fixed upon the trembling figure of Crown Prince Keain. The vast chamber was empty except for the royal guards and a handful of ministers—each wearing an expression carved from stone.
"Prince Keain," the Emperor began, voice heavy with restrained fury, "you are accused of treason—of conspiring with Luke Arcadia and the Valkarian army against your own blood. How do you plead?"
Keain's face went pale. "T-Treason? Father, I—"
"Enough!" Albrecht's voice thundered through the hall, shaking the very air. "We have a witness."
From the shadows, a figure stepped forward—a commander of the northern front, armor still scarred from battle. He knelt before the Emperor and presented a bloodstained crystal.
"This," the commander said, "was recovered from the ruins of Fort Elroy. It holds a recorded conversation between Prince Keain and Luke Arcadia. The enemy general himself confirmed the alliance before his retreat."
The court fell silent. The crystal flared to life, replaying the damning exchange.
Keain's eyes widened in horror as his own voice echoed through the hall—his words, his betrayal—laid bare before all.
The Emperor stood slowly, eyes glinting with cold rage. "For your crimes against the Empire," he declared, "you are stripped of all titles, lands, and inheritance. From this day forth, you are no longer of royal blood. Guards—take him away."
Keain's desperate cries echoed down the marble corridor as he was dragged away in chains.
As for Luke Arcadia—news spread swiftly across the empire. His name was branded into history not as a noble knight, but as a traitor who led foreign armies against his homeland.
The fall of Elroy was no longer seen as a tragedy of war, but as the consequence of betrayal from within.
Grand Duke's Camp, Western Front
The candlelight flickered weakly inside the command tent, throwing long, tired shadows across the maps spread over the table. Grand Duke Edric Grey stood silently, eyes scanning the parchment, but his mind was far away. The air around him was heavy—too still, too expectant.
A knock broke the silence.
"Your Grace," a messenger said, stepping in with a sealed envelope pressed to his chest. The imperial seal glinted faintly in the dim light.
Edric took it with a steady hand. He didn't speak as he broke the wax, but as his eyes moved down the page, his grip on the letter began to tighten.
'His Majesty Emperor Albrecht has decreed that Crown Prince Keain is to be stripped of his titles and imprisoned for high treason. Luke Arcadia has been branded an enemy of the state and is to be executed on sight. You, Grand Duke Edric Grey, are to return home for the time being. The Royal Knights will assume your post until further notice.'
The letter trembled slightly in his hand. For a long moment, Edric didn't move. The tent was silent except for the low crackle of the lantern flame.
"…Luke Arcadia," he muttered at last. "So you've finally shown your true face."
His aide shifted nervously beside him. "Your Grace, there are rumors spreading. Some say… the council suspects the Arcadia family might have acted under your orders."
Edric's cold gaze turned toward him, sharp enough to make the man flinch.
"Let them suspect," he said flatly. "Truth will not bend for cowards' tongues."
He folded the letter neatly and slid it into his coat. "Prepare the horses. We ride for Greyhold by dawn. Only a handful of men—no banners. I've no wish to attract attention."
"Yes, my lord."
As dawn broke, Edric mounted his steed, the faint orange light catching the grey streaks in his hair. Behind him, a dozen knights followed in silence. No one spoke as they rode through the misty fields, their armor muffled by cloth to keep their passage quiet.
The Grand Duke looked ahead, the horizon shrouded in pale fog. Home, he thought. But something in his chest felt wrong—like the calm before a storm.
Meanwhile at The Forests of Elroy
Branches snapped under hooves as Princess Sophia, Sir Marcellus, Elian, the Asher Hawks, Mira, and Leto rode through the forest. Mud splashed beneath the horses' legs, and smoke from distant fires still clung to the air.
"Keep moving!" Marcellus shouted. "Don't stop until we reach the ridge!"
Behind them, faint but growing louder, came the echo of war horns—the Valkarian army's pursuit. The crimson banners of Luke Arcadia were already visible beyond the treeline.
Sophia looked back once, her face pale with exhaustion and grief. "they're still following us…"
Elian guided his horse beside hers, voice tight. "that guybwon't stop until every survivor of Elroy is gone. We have to reach the Grey Dukedom—only the Grand Duke can shelter us now."
"Do you think the capital knows?" Mira asked breathlessly, clutching her reins. "Do they even know what's happening here?"
"No," Leto said grimly. "And even if they did, it's too late. We're on our own."
The group pressed on, vanishing deeper into the forest, unaware that while they fled one enemy… another storm was already brewing far away.
Elroy Plains – Distant Horizon
Across the ravaged plains, beneath the dying light of evening, Luke Arcadia stood atop a ridge. His armor gleamed with crimson stains, his eyes reflecting the fire of the setting sun. Behind him stretched a sea of banners—the Valkarian army, endless and hungry, their war horns rumbling like thunder across the land.
The wind caught his cloak, and Luke smiled faintly.
"Well played, Crown Prince Keain," he murmured, his tone dripping with mock amusement. "You took the fall… just as planned."
He raised his hand. The ground trembled as the front lines shifted, forming ranks like an unending tide of iron.
"Forward," he commanded, voice calm and cold.
As the army began to march, the view pulls back—revealing a colossal swarm of soldiers, siege engines, and dark banners moving as one, all heading toward a single destination—the Grey Estate.
The faint glimmer of torches stretched for miles.
And from above, the sound of war drums began to echo through the night.
Far ahead, Grand Duke Edric Grey's convoy disappeared into the fog, unaware of the inferno marching toward his home—
while deep in the forest, Sophia and the survivors ran for the same place, never realizing they were leading the storm straight to it.
The drums of betrayal had begun to beat.
To be continue...