Arthur lay deep in sleep, his breath steady and peaceful beneath the soft covers, the warmth of the birthday evening still clinging to his dreams.
Suddenly, his door burst open.
"Arthur! Wake up!"
Artoria's voice was sharp and urgent, her hand shaking his shoulder.
"Sweetie, pack your important things, only the essentials!"
Arthur blinked groggily, confused and alarmed.
"W-What? Mom? What's going on?"
She was already grabbing a bag and tossing in spare clothes, papers and money, and a phone and camera on her person.
"Someone tripped the alarms. The ones I set up in a mile-wide perimeter and they're not normal trespassers. I counted at least a hundred strong signatures. High-Class at least. They're headed straight for our home, less than a minute out!"
Arthur's eyes widened in shock. "Wiat, what? But how did they find-"
But before he could finish, Artoria suddenly turned her head toward the window. Her expression shifted into one of pure instinct.
"Get down!"
She ordered.
She grabbed him and threw him to the floor, shielding his body with her own.
A blinding white light exploded through the house, accompanied by a deafening boom that shook the walls.
The sound shattered windows and sent the house into a wave of tremors.
...
Arthur's ears rang, and his vision blurred as the floor splintered beneath them.
When he came to, he felt weak, his body ached, and his senses were dulled.
The scent of smoke and ash filled the air.
He was being carried by his mother on her back through the burning remains of their home.
Her body was trembling and coated in blood.
Her left arm hung useless at her side, her clothes torn, but she held him tightly with the strength she had left.
"M-Mom… what… happened…"
Arthur murmured through dry lips.
Artoria didn't answer immediately.
Her eyes were sharp, scanning for any escape route through the inferno.
But before she could respond, two cloaked figures surged from the smoke-filled hall ahead, blades drawn, their intentions unmistakable.
Artoria didn't hesitate.
With one swift motion of her remaining arm, she summoned a glowing, ornate sword.
In a flash of light, she cut the two attackers down, their bodies collapsing in a bloody heap.
Arthur caught a glimpse of the blade, and he immediately recognized the design.
Excalibur Ruler.
He stared in disbelief.
"That's… that's…"
"Be quite... save your strength."
Artoria said, pushing through the scorched hallway.
More voices echoed through the burning house, shouts, orders, the sound of boots crashing against broken tile.
"FIND THEM!"
"They're in here somewhere!"
Artoria gritted her teeth and kicked open the door to her bedroom.
She rushed in and set Arthur down gently in the corner.
The walls were cracked, the curtains on fire.
She slammed the door shut and barricaded it with the fallen dresser.
Then, from out of nowhere, she pulled a small parchment inscribed with scriptures.
She pressed it to the floor and activated it.
The room instantly glowed with a brilliant white light, forming a protective barrier around them.
From outside, the sound of furious banging and howling rage began.
"You can't hide forever!"
"Come out, you whore!"
"We'll gut that filthy hybrid in front of you!"
The door shook violently with every slam, but the barrier held… for now.
But Artoria moved swiftly.
She knelt down and gently lifted Arthur, placing him and his packed bag into the back corner of her closet, tucking him in among old coats and a box of mementos.
The small space was just enough to keep him hidden, shielded by layers of thick cloth and magical seals lining the closet frame.
Arthur stirred weakly, eyes half-lidded, his body still aching.
"M-Mom…"
He whispered hoarsely, the dread in his voice unmistakable.
Artoria turned to him with a soft, trembling smile.
"It's going to be okay, sweetheart. Just stay here, okay?"
She said, brushing the sweat and blood from his forehead.
But Arthur didn't feel okay.
He could hear the pounding against the bedroom door, louder now, more violent.
Voices shouted for someone, calling for reinforcements, calling for orders.
The sound of magic crackling filled the air outside.
Artoria reached for the closet door, ready to shut it.
But Arthur's hand shot out, grabbing her wrist with what little strength he had. His eyes were wide, glassy with tears.
"No... Mom, don't leave me... Please, d-don't go..."
Her breath caught in her throat.
She looked back at the shaking door, then back to her son.
Her hand trembled as she held his face, trying to soothe him.
"Arthur… I need to do something important. I need to keep them away from you..."
She whispered, her voice soft and strained.
"But you must not leave this closet unless… unless everything goes bad. Do you understand?"
Arthur violently shook his head.
"No! No, I don't care... Please, I-I don't want you to go!"
He gripped her hand harder, crying now, the fear of losing her taking over.
"Don't leave me alone, please!"
Artoria's eyes welled with tears.
She leaned in and embraced him, holding him so tight it felt like she was trying to become part of him. Her voice was gentle and warm but filled with unshakable resolve.
"You are never alone, Arthur."
She whispered into his ear.
"Even if I'm not with you in person, I will always be with you. In here."
She placed her hand gently over his heart.
"I'll be part of you. Always."
Arthur cried harder, trying to form words but failing between sobs. His small hands held onto her, not wanting to let go.
She pulled back slightly and looked him in the eye.
"Promise me… if I don't return, you'll run, as far as you can... and live... for me... and for yourself."
His lip trembled as he looked at her tearful face.
"I… I promise… But… you have to promise you'll come back…"
He whimpered.
Artoria didn't answer right away.
She only smiled, leaning in and pressing a kiss to his forehead.
With her bloodied left hand, she wiped his tears with a tenderness only a mother could give.
"I love you, Arthur. My little prince."
She whispered.
Then, with a heavy heart, she gently closed the closet door.
Arthur sat in the dark, trembling, his eyes staring through the crack of the door as he whispered.
"Please… come back, Mom…"
The room trembled again.
The closet remained sealed.
But outside… the storm was about to begin.
DxD
The glow of the protective barrier began to dim, its light flickering.
Inside the scorched and broken bedroom, Artoria stood tall, battered but unbowed.
Her breaths were shallow, every movement strained, but her resolve burned brighter than ever.
She turned from the closet, her gaze steeled as she looked toward the bedroom door where cloaked figures clawed and slammed, eager to get in.
Her right hand tightened around the hilt of Excalibur Ruler, its once-pristine blade now marred with the blood of the invaders.
Her left arm hung limply at her side, broken, burned, and bloodied from the explosion, but with her remaining strength, she reached into her night robes and pulled out a scripture.
She muttered a verse under her breath and pressed the scripture against her wounds.
A glow of light enveloped her form.
The gash in her side stopped bleeding.
The burns along her shoulder dulled, the pain numbed just enough to give her movement.
It wasn't a full healing, she didn't have the time or strength for that, but it would have to be enough.
She closed her eyes.
A soft whisper escaped her lips, not for her enemy, but for a higher power.
"Dear God… if Your light still watches us, if any part of You remains in this forsaken world… grant me strength. Let my body stand one more time. Let my sword strike one more time. I beg You, if my life ends here, so be it… but please… please let my son live…"
A beat of silence.
Then, the magical seal on the door shattered with a deafening boom.
Her eyes snapped open, now filled with divine fury.
The instant the door broke, she lunged forward.
The Excalibur Ruler cleaved through the wooden frame and through the cloaked figure who had just breached it.
His body split in two, severed from shoulder to hip, blood spraying across the hallway.
Artoria did not stop.
She was a blur of golden hair, slightly torn robes, and righteous fury.
She charged down the corridor, her blade dancing with precise, merciless cuts.
Another enemy raised a spell, but before the spell finished, his head fell from his shoulders.
A third tried to strike her flank, only to find her holy blade skewering his chest in one fluid motion.
Slash after slash.
Step after step.
She moved through the house like a storm of judgment, her feet stumbling at times, her breath ragged, but her will unshaken.
And then she burst through the smoldering wreckage of the front door and onto the scorched yard.
The night air greeted her with a sharp cold.
The fire behind her crackled, casting orange light on the battlefield ahead.
A dozen cloaked figures stood waiting in formation.
Bat-like wings unfurled from their backs.
They hovered slightly above the ground, blades and spells primed in their hands.
Their auras were corrupted with devilish power and malice.
At the center of the group stood a tall man, his presence distinct, composed, and commanding.
As he stepped forward, he removed his hood.
Long silver hair flowed down his back in a neat braid, and his pale skin almost glowed under the moonlight.
He wore a finely pressed butler's uniform, the crest of the Lucifuge Clan pinned to his chest.
Artoria's body tensed.
Her eyes narrowed into blades of ice.
"Euclid Lucifuge. Rizevim's stupid lap dog."
She hissed, her voice barely above a whisper but filled with venom.
Euclid gave a shallow bow, his face untouched by emotion.
"Artoria Pendragon. How long I have waited for this moment ever since your beloved dared to strike down my master."
Artoria's grip on Excalibur Ruler tightened.
"If you think Sirzechs will let you or your sugar daddy hurt me or our son, then you are gravely mistaken."
Euclid tilted his head slightly, the faintest smirk playing at the corner of his lips.
"Oh, but we accounted for that. Your beloved would never leave you unguarded, even from afar. So naturally, we disrupted your distress signals, severed your communication channels, and warded the area with a concealment field."
He gestured casually with one gloved hand.
"You are alone, Artoria. No help is coming."
The weight of his words hung in the air.
Artoria's eyes burned, not with fear, but with fury.
Euclid continued, his voice cold and condescending.
"Let us assess the situation. You are injured, heavily so. It has been 10 years since you've been in a life-and-death battle. You are alone, outnumbered more than a dozen to one. And your precious son… is still inside that burning wreck. How unfortunate."
A long silence passed.
Then Artoria slowly stepped forward, her eyes never leaving Euclid's.
"You are right."
She said quietly.
"I am injured, rusty, outnumbered, and my son is weak and in a dangerous position."
She lifted her blade into a battle stance, the edge glinting in the firelight.
"But there's one thing you forgot to account for."
Her voice rose, filled with defiance, and righteous fury.
"The one thing you should have never done…"
The wind howled as her aura surged with light.
"You've got the nerve... the gall... and the audacity..."
And then she charged.
"TO HURT MY SON!"
DxD
Hello readers!
If you are wondering why the MC is a crybaby, I have reasons for that.
Besides, don't tell me that you wouldn't fear for your loved ones' safety if they put themselves in harm's way?
Thank you everyone and see you later!