DONG!
I heard the dry sound of the impact before seeing Rolsvince fly like a broken doll. He flew through the air and crashed into a tree with brutal force, the trunk cracking with the thud. His blood splattered in arcs on the ground, forming a crimson trail wherever it went.
I was still standing. Barely. But standing.
My breathing was ragged, heavy. The sword in my right hand was shaking, but not from fear - it was pure wear and tear. Blood dripped from what was left of my left arm... or rather, what was left of it. The amputation still throbbed like wildfire, the pain almost blinding me, but I clung to it as a reminder that it wasn't time to fall yet.
I stared at them. Goro and Gresy. They were circling me like hungry wolves, but too wounded for a direct attack. The three of us formed an unequal triangle. A dance of imminent doom.
"We were the best duo in the army... remember, Rolsvince?" I muttered, laughing through clenched teeth. The laugh came out hoarse, insane. Part of me had already crossed the line.
Goro was limping, his right leg ruined by my blade. His knee no longer bent; the poor guy was dragging his leg like a chain.
Grasy... ah, Grasy.
She paid the price for my loss. My left arm for her entrails.
The dagger I used on her was still there, embedded deep like a cursed dagger. The jagged blades destroyed everything inside - a wound that wouldn't heal.
"It all has to end today!" Gresy shouted, his voice shaking with pain, anger and dread.
Rolsvince scrambled into the bushes, coughing up blood as he tried to get up. His sword clattered against the ground for support, but the purple on his chest revealed the internal damage. He wouldn't have any more breath left for duels.
"I thought we were on the same level..." I whispered to him, letting my gaze burn. "But you relaxed after you won your position. You became soft. Weak."
I felt my body tremble. The blood I was losing made everything blurry, but the adrenaline kept me conscious. It was like walking on the edge of an abyss.
They surrounded me. But they hesitated. They knew what I could still do, even if I was dying.
After all, it was my right arm that wielded the sword. And with it... I could kill.
The pain was constant now. A living presence. But inside it, there was a flame. A thought.
Zaatar.
My son.
His image struck me like thunder. Dark hair, determined eyes. Skin like hers.
Even now, after everything, she still inhabited my dreams.
The woman I loved.
The woman who gave me the only thing that mattered.
(I can't die here. He still needs me.)
I swallowed. The taste of blood rose in my throat. But I didn't care. My eyes met theirs once again - Goro, Grasy, Rolsvince.
They were hurt. Tired. But not defeated. And they knew that if they attacked me, I would take at least one of them with me.
The four of us...
We were silent. A tense, desperate silence.
Like wounded animals that know the end is near, but none want to take the first step towards death.
I took a deep breath.
And I smiled.
A maniacal, insane smile.
Because I knew something they didn't.
I didn't intend to get out of there alive.
But I wasn't going to leave alone either.
***
I wiped my hands on my cloak, trying to remove the smell of blood that wouldn't leave my skin. No matter how much I wiped away, the sensation wouldn't go away. My mind was in a state of cataclysm, as if everything around me was in ruins and I was the only survivor. But what had happened inside the castle, the deaths I had caused, no longer mattered. They were done for. Just bodies in a now marked place.
The servants barely dared to look at me, their faces pale and their bodies shaking like leaves in the wind. The fear was palpable. They said nothing. There was nothing else to talk about. I, the young master, the one they had once trusted, had become a feared figure, a dark shadow who had passed over everything and everyone without so much as a glance of regret.
Benta stood there, her face pale like the rest, but she was still staring at me. She was breathing heavily, almost panting, as if she were trapped in a nightmare. She knew what would happen, she knew that I no longer had any limits.
"I've dealt with spies before." I said, my voice sounding cold. My eyes fixed on her as I walked past.
She didn't answer, she just looked at me, fearful. Bodies were scattered across the territory, the smell of death permeating the air. I felt nothing. Nothing but emptiness.
A guard, his fists shaking, approached. He was visibly frightened, his eyes almost bulging with fear. He stopped in front of me, trying to keep his composure, but his doubt and panic were visible.
"Are you going to save your father?" The question sounded like a desperate cry, as if there was still hope.
I didn't look at him. The silence dragged on for a long moment while I thought about the answer, about how to say something that wasn't a lie. I wasn't going to save my father. He was beyond my help now.
"I can't." I finally replied, my voice as cold as the blade of a sword. "Two hours. Even if I travel at full speed, it will take that long. He needs to deal with the crisis and get back." I paused, letting each word echo. "I'm going to the Rolsvince house. I'm going to kill everything that breathes there."
Benta stepped forward, her eyes full of worry and terror. She tried to stop me, and I could see the struggle on her face. She wanted to convince me that there was still time to prevent all this.
"Zaatar, don't act rashly, you don't need to put yourself at risk now and..."
"They technically killed my father." My voice came out low, but sharp. I interrupted her mercilessly. "I'm going to kill the whole new generation of them. There's nothing you can do to stop me."
Without another word, I pushed past her, the feeling of her hands on my shoulder, trying to reach me, but I kept moving. The sound of my heavy breathing mingled with the rhythm of my steps. Anger burned in my chest, and nothing else mattered. My goal was clear. There was no turning back.
I reached my horse, a creature as black as night, and leaned on it with the lightness of a specter. The black bow was on my back, its strings taut, waiting to be used, and ten quivers, each filled with razor-sharp black arrows, were strapped to my side.
I was ready.
And so, without further hesitation, I pulled the horse away, hooves pounding against the ground, dust rising behind me like a storm. The shadows of the trees seemed to stretch and bend as I passed, as if the world knew that something irreversible was happening.
I was heading towards the Rolsvince house, and nothing and no one was going to stop me.