"So… who exactly is this 'queen' that sent you?" Nyx asked at last, his voice flat.
They'd long since moved from the alley, settling in the outskirts of the city—a quiet, isolated spot beneath the shadow of the walls. The night hung heavy, silent, save for Elara's trembling breaths.
"We… we're sent by the Queen. Lady Lumina of the Night Elves. By the order of 'Mother'… to retrieve the strength of the Divine's Owner," Elara said, her voice shaking, her fear still fresh. She knew her life was dangling by a thread.
Nyx stared at her for a moment, then sighed, his mind clearly not keeping up.
"…You're confusing me more by throwing extra names around. Explain properly."
Elara swallowed, gathering herself.
"The Elven Queen sent us. To bring you to her… so that you could reclaim the strength of the Divine's Owner. You."
Finally, her words landed clearer.
Nyx rubbed the back of his neck, frustration mounting. His head felt like it was spinning.
'Oii, Sys. Translate this mess.'
[They basically want to beg you for help, dumb bitch.]
Nyx blinked.
'…Oh. Well, that's clearer… Wait—hold up. Why the hell've you been so quiet lately?'
Silence. No snarky reply. No sarcasm. The system, for once, didn't answer.
'…' Nyx's expression flickered, but he didn't press the matter. Not now.
He turned back toward Elara, gaze sharp but distant, mind elsewhere.
Without a word, he reached out and took the cloth from her trembling hands. He stared at it for a long moment. Then, with a quiet, bitter sigh, he slipped it into his pocket.
'Everything's a fucking mess.'
After what felt like forever, Nyx finally broke the silence.
"…What do you want from me?" His voice wasn't sharp now. Just tired.
"What can I do for you?"
---
"I don't see him here. Didn't you all come together?" Issac asked, his gaze flicking across the hall.
"He had something to handle," Samantha answered simply. "He'll join us later."
Issac gave a short nod, then raised his hand.
The music resumed. The hall brightened.
Soon, the mansion was alive with noise. Guests laughed, servants poured drinks, and the golden palace lived up to its name with its grandeur. The City Lord himself stood at the center of it all, cup in hand, his voice the loudest as he toasted and drank in celebration of his daughter's return.
Reina stood quietly near the side with Samantha and Ruby, her expression unreadable as she watched the man who was both her father and a stranger.
The celebration swirled around them.
Wine flowed.
Dancers spun.
Servants wove through the crowds with practiced steps, refilling goblets and offering plates of food. Issac himself drank without pause, swapping empty glasses for full ones, his laughter rolling across the marble walls like thunder.
And then, it happened.
It was small at first—a stumble, barely noticeable as Issac raised his next glass.
Then the glass slipped from his grip.
A sharp crack echoed as it shattered against the marble.
People froze.
Issac took a step forward, then another, before suddenly collapsing, clutching his throat. A horrible sound—half-choke, half-cough—escaped his lips, followed by a thick splash of blood spilling from his mouth.
"FATHER!!"
Reina's scream tore through the music, silencing the hall.
She sprinted forward, dropping beside him as he convulsed on the floor.
"FATHER!!"
Her hands trembled as she tried casting a healing spell, but the magic sparked weakly, flickering against the blood that stained his lips and chin.
"Father…! Father!! Please!!" Her voice cracked, her spells failing.
Samantha reached her side, scanning Issac quickly, then barked sharp orders.
"Seal the doors! Nobody leaves!"
Valon reacted instantly, moving to cover Reina, sword half-drawn, scanning the stunned guests. Ruby stood behind him, her hand glowing as she began forming a defensive spell.
Reina's panic reached a breaking point.
"CALL THE HEALERS!!" she screamed, her voice raw, shaking with desperation.
She whipped towards the guards lining the walls, fury in her tear-soaked eyes.
"WHY ARE YOU JUST STANDING THERE?! CALL THEM!!"
The guards didn't move. The guests didn't speak.
Everything had frozen.
Valon stiffened. Somewhere amidst the stunned crowd, he saw it—a figure edging away, moving too deliberately through the chaos.
But he didn't chase.
Instead, he gritted his teeth and stepped closer to Reina, his knuckles white around his sword's grip.
"We need help inside the Gold Palace. Emergency. NOW!!!" His voice was flat as he activated the mana slab in his pocket.
The message sent, Valon stayed exactly where he was. His hand rested tight around his sword's hilt, every muscle coiled, waiting.
Issac's breathing slowed further, each gasp weaker than the last.
Then—without warning—a voice broke the silence.
"Don't blame us, Reina."
A man stepped out from the crowd, his noble attire pristine, his smile anything but kind. His presence oozed smug satisfaction, every step deliberate as he approached the scene of chaos.
"Your father stood in glory for far too long," the man continued, voice casual, almost conversational. "Being the richest man in the region… he had it coming."
Reina looked up, eyes burning with fury and disbelief.
The man just smiled wider.
"We had planned to do this later… but your sudden arrival tonight gave us an opportunity far too perfect to waste."
He paused a few steps away from the group, glancing down at Reina cradling her dying father. His expression shifted—not pity, but cold amusement.
"Don't worry," he said softly. "I'll send you after him soon. You, and your friends."
Then, with an almost theatrical spin, he stepped back, raising his hand lazily.
"Guards." His voice dropped flat.
"Kill them."
Steel rang out as dozens of weapons were drawn at once. The guards turned. Blades gleamed under the golden chandeliers.
"Shit," Valon muttered, stepping in front of Samantha and Reina without hesitation. His stance tightened, sword ready. He wasn't built for defense—but today, he had no choice.
All around them, the circle closed.
The noble smiled.
"Even if you manage to break through these," he said, voice laced with poison, "you'll find the palace surrounded. Thousands are waiting."
The first wave of guards charged.
Valon burst from Ruby's barrier, his sword flashing as he carved a brutal path through the advancing guards. Blood splattered across the marble, staining his skin, his armor, the floor beneath his feet.
But his hands… they were trembling.
Every slash felt heavier. Every step forward dragged like chains. His blade, built for wild aggression, wasn't made to shield others—and neither was he.
Yet here he stood. Fighting to protect.
"Haa… haa…"
Breathing hurt. Every inhale was a knife in his ribs. His body screamed at him to stop, to give up. But he didn't.
Behind him, Ruby held the barrier, her mana flickering like a dying flame. Reina sobbed over her father, desperate healing spells failing again and again. Samantha watched with grim focus, blades drawn, her gaze flicking constantly between allies and enemies.
Valon stood between them and death. And he knew he couldn't hold much longer.
His sword struck another guard down. Then another. But his parries slowed. His stance faltered. He forced himself up from where his knees dipped.
'Damn it…' His blood-soaked grip tightened.
'I can't…'
He turned his head just enough to glimpse Reina's tear-streaked face. Ruby's trembling hands. Samantha's clenched jaw.
'I'm not enough.'
His legs gave out for half a second.
And then—
A voice sliced through the chaos.
"You're a fucking disappointment, Knight."
Cold. Flat.
Valon's eyes widened, dazed. His head turned forward, barely able to lift.
A silhouette stood among the corpses. Bathed in blood.
Sword dragging at his side, not from weakness, but apathy. Blue eyes burned beneath his messy black hair—not with sympathy. But with disappointment.
Nyx.
Valon's lips twitched. A cracked, broken smile pulled at his bloodied face. And then he fell. His sword clattered from numb fingers as his body crashed to the floor, darkness swallowing him whole.
"…You're late… bitch."