"What the hell is that?" The prince muttered as he held his blade high to the summon which stood infront of them.
"Your highness, it seems this man is an apostle of the death god... its The Veilborn Mourner" she said as she swallowed the lump on her throat.
Sylphina used this opportunity to climb to the wall and shot a web from her hand that hit their legs which left them vulnerable.
"What the-?" Before the prince could finish his sentence he was struck by the summon's hand and landed on the wall which turned into rubble mess "Vale!" Sasha screamed in horror.
***
In the kingdom of Valoria stood a room. In the room was 6 individuals, each one was the vice commander of each respective squad.
For the stealth squad was a creepy, tall, lanky woman who's face was covered by her overgrown silky-smooth hair that now reached to her chest. With her style she wore a neatly arranged white dress. This was Vyre.
Next is the vice commander of the brutality. Was a young girl, no older then 10. Blonde hair and blue eyes and a fancy dress worth 100 gold coins (one gold is worth 1,000USD) while griping a teddy bear. Behind her stood a man covered in steel, this was her guardian. Ms.Celestine Wintervale and Sir Aegis.
Kyron was the vice commander of the arm's squad, his body no longer flesh and blood but metal and chucks of artifacts were the replacement. Of what he called his weak form. Now he was a 7 foot tall cyborg.
Moving forward was tye vice commander of the death squad. A man with silky-smooth blonde hair, white robes and a face that defined angelic beauty. Yet the way he carries himself was quite unusual and his perfect form was uncanny, this was Saraphis
Beside him stood a man in attire from the west, he was a gunslinger. Simple coeboy boots and hat, a bandana coving his face while carrying two arms on his waist. This was Scars. The vice commander of the trap squad.
Next to the gunslinger was a clown, to be more precise a jester, a pale face by the makeup and a heart on her cheek, black lipstick and a formal royal jester attire that hugged her curves. The pattern of the outfit was comprised of purple, blue, and red. This silly jester was Harleth. The vice commander of the execution squad.
And final was Zola. The vice commander of the strategy squad. A dark brown woman with a puffy and gorgeous afro, a white silk dress that showed off her beauty. And makeup with gold to elevat her status of wealth.
Zola first spoke "this meeting will now commence, today we'll talk about the financial situation of the kingdom".
The room fell into a heavy silence as Zola's words lingered in the air. Each vice commander exchanged glances, some disinterested, others intrigued.
Saraphis let out a soft chuckle, his unnervingly perfect face twisting into an amused smile. "Financial situation? My dear Zola, is this truly why we've been summoned? I thought we were warlords, not treasurers." His voice was smooth, nearly melodic, but laced with condescension.
Zola met his gaze unfazed, her gold-adorned fingers tapping against the table. "A kingdom runs on more than just blood and steel, Saraphis. Without funds, your precious Death Squad won't have the resources to continue their 'holy crusades.'"
Harleth giggled, spinning a knife between her fingers. "Oh dear, are we going broke? Maybe I should start charging extra for my executions. Royal discounts can't last forever, you know."
Scars, leaning back in his chair with his boots up on the table, adjusted his hat. "All this talk about money, sounds like a problem for the king. Why are we wastin' time on this when there's war brewin' in the kingdom of Noctis?" His voice was low and gravelly, a thick western accent coloring his words.
Kyron, the metal-bodied warrior, let out a sharp exhale, his mechanical parts humming softly. "War costs money. Weapons, reinforcements, technology. You'd be a fool to think this doesn't concern us."
Ms. Celestine, still clutching her teddy bear, tilted her head. "I can just ask father to fund us… He always does." Her voice was eerily sweet, childlike but with an unsettling undertone. Sir Aegis, the knight behind her, did not move but his presence was enough to deter anyone from responding too harshly.
Vyre, the silent one, finally spoke—her voice as delicate as silk yet carrying an air of authority. "If we do not resolve this soon, rebellions will rise. Hungry people do desperate things." Her overgrown hair obscured her face, but her words held weight.
Zola nodded, standing up and placing both hands on the table. "Exactly. We need solutions, not complaints. Our coffers are depleting, and with the recent attacks near the border, trade routes are being threatened. If we do not act soon, Valoria will suffer."
The room fell silent again.
***
The Veilborn Mourner let out a guttural whisper, its hollow voice echoing through the ruined chamber. "Flesh is fleeting… all must return to the void."
Sasha rushed to Vale's side, her hands trembling as she pressed against his chest. He coughed, blood dripping from his lips, but his grip on his blade did not loosen. "I... I'm fine," he rasped, trying to push himself up.
Sylphina, still perched on the wall, narrowed her eyes at the apostle. "It won't stay vulnerable for long," she warned. She flicked her fingers, reinforcing the webbing, but the Mourner twisted its skeletal arms unnaturally, its gaunt fingers slicing through the strands with eerie precision.
The creature turned its hollow gaze toward her. "Your threads are but dust in the wind." With an effortless step, it vanished from its spot, reappearing behind her.
Sylphina's eyes widened in shock as cold fingers wrapped around her throat.
"Sylphina!" Sasha shouted, drawing her twin daggers and charging forward. But before she could reach, the Mourner flung Sylphina to the ground with a sickening crash.
Vale, now on his feet, wiped the blood from his chin and gritted his teeth. "No more games." His blade ignited with blue flame, the sacred energy roaring to life. "If you serve the god of death, then let's see if you can withstand the flames of the living."
The Mourner tilted its head, as if amused. "Then come, prince. Let us see which fate is stronger—your fire, or the abyss."
With a battle cry, Vale lunged forward, his blade clashing against the darkness itself.
Their swords clashed repeatedly, the sound of steel on steel ringing out as their battle grew more intense. Gradually, they fought closer to the civilians.
With a swift, precise strike, Vale beheaded Malachi with a single blow. "It's over..." he said, his voice cold and final.
But Sasha's gaze drifted upward. On the roof, Sylphina stood, watching with a calm, almost detached expression. Is she not saddened by his death? Sasha wondered.
As the summoned creature disappeared, the crowd erupted into cheers. But then, a pop—a head exploded. Another pop. Then another, and another, each explosion echoing through the air. Vale and Sasha watched in horror as the people around them fell, their blood swirling in the air, rushing toward Malachi's severed body. Soon, his head began to reform, filled once again. A twisted grin spread across his face as he slowly rose.
"You're really interested in this, huh? Too bad. My time with you two is up," Malachi said, scanning the area with disgust. "Damn, they were all too close to my radius."
Sasha moved in front of Vale, shielding him with her own body. "Please... I beg you," she pleaded, her voice trembling. "Kill me, only me. Let him live."
Malachi's eyes gleamed with cruel amusement. "How sweet," he taunted. "Too bad I was ordered to kill the royal family, but you can join him if you'd like." He raised his scythe high.
Sasha's thoughts swirled. Memories flooded her mind—of the days spent by Vale's side, of being his loyal knight, sworn to protect him. It had always been her duty... but no. This was no longer just about orders. The years together had transformed their bond. They were in love.
Vale stepped forward, wrapping his arms around her, positioning himself as a shield between her and the incoming attack.
"Your Majesty—Vale... I'm sorry," Sasha whispered, tears streaming down her face.
Vale's voice was soft yet reassuring. "Sasha, it's alright. I promise, we'll be happy in the next life."