Edgar Lorran stood frozen in the doorway, watching the chaos he had unleashed.
Swords clashed.
Juichi and Sakura moved like demons through the guards, overwhelming them in bursts of speed and violence.
The nobles outside the study screamed as more soldiers poured into the hallway.
And Edgar... could only watch.
What have I done?
His hands trembled at his sides, the phantom weight of the magical orb still searing into his mind—the image of his wife, bound and terrified.
He gritted his teeth, forcing himself to stay rooted.
You had no choice, he told himself. It's them or her.
Yet even as he thought it, something inside him cracked.
Juichi wasn't even fighting seriously.
He moved like a wild flame, laughing under his breath, dodging heavy halberds by inches.
Sakura's eyes burned with cold fury, but there was no hatred. Only disappointment... as if she already knew.
A blade slashed toward Edgar—he flinched, but it missed.
He wasn't their target.
He wasn't worth it.
"Get outta the way, old man!" Juichi barked between blows, flashing a wicked grin. "Before you catch a sword you can't pay off!"
Even now... he joked.
Even now, after Edgar had sold them out.
The guilt stabbed deeper than any blade.
From the shadows at the far end of the hall, a figure watched—the hooded man, the one who had given Edgar the cursed ultimatum.
Their eyes met for a brief second.
A silent warning.
Finish it, the gaze seemed to say. Or she dies.
Edgar's fists clenched.
The world spun around him—violence, shouting, fear—and he realized he was standing at a crossroads he could no longer avoid.
---
To be continued...