Seraphina was dragged down the cold stone corridors, her bare feet scraping against the uneven floor. The nightgown clung to her like a mocking veil of fragility, and the chains binding her wrists rattled with each reluctant step. Every inch of her body protested, but the firm grips of the guards left no room for resistance.
Her mind was a haze of fear and despair. She couldn't even summon tears anymore; her soul felt wrung dry. Hope, the stubborn ember she had clung to, flickered dangerously close to extinguishing.
They reached the ornate double doors of the High Sovereign's private chambers. The guards exchanged lecherous smirks before pushing the doors open. The air inside was suffocating, thick with incense and a cloying aura of debauchery. The room was opulent to the point of garishness, with silken drapes, a massive canopied bed, and golden ornaments adorning every corner.
The High Sovereign stood by the window, draped in an ornate robe embroidered with symbols of his dominion. His eyes, cold and hungry, roamed over Seraphina as she was shoved into the room. The guards stepped back, bowing deeply before retreating, leaving her alone with the monster who ruled this forsaken land.
"Well, aren't you a sight," the High Sovereign said, his voice oily with satisfaction. He stepped closer, his fingers trailing the air as if savoring the moment before he touched her. Seraphina's stomach churned, her body frozen in a mix of fear and revulsion.
Her knees buckled, and she fell to the ground, the chains rattling around her. Her lips trembled, but no words came out. There was no one to hear her protests, no one to save her. Arthur wasn't coming. He couldn't be. This nightmare was hers alone to endure.
The High Sovereign reached out, his hand moving toward her face.
And then, a flash of light.
It was blinding, searing the room with an intensity that sent the High Sovereign stumbling back. The air crackled with raw energy, the scent of ozone replacing the cloying incense. Before Seraphina could process what was happening, the light dimmed, and a new figure stood in the room.
Arthur.
He stood tall, his azure eyes blazing with a fury that seemed to bend reality itself. His sword, Eclipse Blade, was buried deep in the High Sovereign's chest, the dark blade pulsating with power as it sapped the life from the man who had dared to touch what was his.
The High Sovereign's mouth opened and closed like a fish gasping for air, blood staining his ornate robes as he clutched at the weapon. Arthur didn't even spare him a glance as he yanked the blade free, letting the lifeless body collapse to the floor.
"Seraphina," Arthur said, his voice softer than she expected, trembling with a mix of relief and fury. In an instant, he was kneeling beside her, his hands cupping her face with the utmost care. "I'm so sorry. I'm so late."
Her lips quivered, tears finally breaking free and spilling down her cheeks as she collapsed into his arms. "You came," she whispered, her voice breaking.
"Of course I came," Arthur said, his voice low but heavy with anger—not at her, but at everything she had endured. "I should've been faster. I'll never let this happen again."
He pulled her close, one arm around her shoulders and the other gripping his sword tightly as his gaze flicked to the door. Footsteps echoed down the corridor, guards scrambling to respond to the chaos.
Arthur's expression darkened, a murderous edge sharpening his features. "Stay behind me," he said, rising to his feet with Seraphina still in his arms. He shifted her gently, placing her down on the bed for a moment. "I'll take care of this."
As the doors burst open, the guards flooding in, Arthur stepped forward, Eclipse Blade already glowing with the combined might of his eleven elements. His presence filled the room, a tempest of raw power and vengeance.
The High Sovereign was dead, but Arthur's fury was just beginning.
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What did it mean to wield a sword?
Swordsmen would offer a hundred different answers. Some spoke of artistry—a blade as a painter's brush, carving beauty and precision into the fabric of existence. Others spoke of honor, a reflection of their ideals and the lives they sought to protect.
But at its core, a sword was far simpler.
A sword was a weapon.
A weapon was a tool for violence.
And violence existed for one purpose: to end lives.
I hadn't killed many people in my life, not truly. Despite all my battles, my victories, I had always drawn a line, one that kept the blood off my hands and left others to face the consequences of their choices.
Yet now, as I stood in this hyperfragment, in the halls of a palace that had long ceased to exist, the weight of that line evaporated. I didn't hesitate. I didn't flinch.
I simply swung my sword.
The blade, infused with astral energy and layered with the sigils of Lucent Harmony, cleaved through the air. It wasn't just an attack—it was a force of nature, a tear in the very fabric of space. Reality screamed as the energy surged forward, and with it, all resistance crumbled.
The guards didn't even have time to scream. Their bodies, mere mirages of the hyperfragment, disintegrated in an instant, leaving no trace but the faint hum of power lingering in the air.
I exhaled, lowering Eclipse Blade, though its dark surface still shimmered with energy. "I won't forgive anyone," I muttered, my voice low but carrying a weight that would crush mountains.
I turned to Seraphina, who clung to me with trembling arms, her silver hair matted against her face. Her light blue eyes, usually fierce and unyielding, were dull, shadowed by pain I couldn't bear to imagine.
I touched the mana suppressors clasped around her wrists, their cruel design meant to crush her spirit as much as her strength. My fingers brushed the cold metal, and with a surge of power, they shattered, the fragments falling to the ground with a hollow clink.
Her mana, freed at last, surged back into her body. The light in her eyes flickered to life, and the warmth of healing energy washed over her wounds. Physically, she was whole again.
But her arms around my neck told a different story. She clung to me like a lifeline, her trembling breath brushing against my shoulder. Her silence spoke louder than any scream.
They had hurt her. They had dared to lay their hands on her.
Not just these guards, these illusions conjured by a fragment of the past, but the one who had created this hyperfragment. The one who had sent it to me.
They had hurt Seraphina.
For that, they would all die.
I adjusted my hold on her, my free hand brushing against her silver hair in a small, reassuring gesture. "It's over," I said softly, though the fire in my chest told me it was far from it. "No one will ever touch you again."
She didn't reply, but her grip on me tightened, and that was enough.
I turned my gaze forward, toward the distant halls where the High Sovereign had once ruled this empire of illusion. My resolve burned brighter than the stars.
'You sent this world to break me,' I thought, my steps steady as I carried Seraphina toward freedom. 'You wanted to teach me despair.'
My grip on Eclipse Blade tightened. Its dark edge shimmered with fury, as though it shared my resolve.
"But you only gave me a reason to destroy you," I muttered, the words carrying the promise of retribution.
And so, I moved forward, not toward the end of this nightmare, but toward the vengeance that awaited beyond it.