Luminia De Lionheart - POV
The conflict against the formidable Demon King "α" (Alpha) and his relentless army has dragged on relentlessly, each day feeling like an eternity. Their sheer force is unparalleled, their mastery of magic far surpassing our own, and the strength of their knights strikes fear deep into the hearts of our most valiant soldiers.
Amidst this chaos, a beacon of hope emerged in the form of Alfred Astorious, the renowned Hero known as the "Wise Hawk." His reputation precedes him, celebrated for his ingenious strategies and unmatched intellect on the battlefield. Even without the legendary Holy sword bestowed upon him, he managed to vanquish one of the Demon King's generals, a feat that left us all in awe.
But for all his prowess and vigilance, I find myself questioning why he failed to prevent my abduction, along with that of my devoted servants. His eyes, said to be as sharp as a hawk's, were supposed to pierce through darkness and shadow to safeguard those he holds dear. Yet here I am, torn from my home and loved ones, wondering if his gaze truly missed me or if fate had other plans.
***
Every day brought forth a harrowing ordeal as demons relentlessly stormed our prison, their vile intentions always fixated on my devoted servants, who bore the brunt of their assault in a desperate bid to shield me from their depraved clutches.
"Anny, Sammy..." I whispered their names, my voice barely a whisper amidst the chaos that engulfed us. Tears streamed down my cheeks unabated, my sobs echoing off the cold, stone walls of our prison cell. But despite my anguish, my loyal servants offered words of solace, their voices a beacon of hope in the darkness that threatened to consume us. "Princess, don't cry out loud... Sometimes, it's better to shed tears in silence," Anny consoled me, her gentle tone imbued with a quiet strength that belied her own suffering. "That's right, Princess... We mustn't lose hope. Someday, someone will come to our rescue," Sammy added, his unwavering optimism a testament to his resilience in the face of adversity.
As months dragged on, the toll of their torment became painfully evident. Anny and Sammy bore the physical scars of their ordeal, their bodies bruised and battered, yet their spirits remained unbroken. Meanwhile, the other four servants, once robust and full of life, now withered away before my eyes, their emaciated forms and rotting limbs serving as grim reminders of the horrors we endured. In that haunting moment, I knew with a heavy heart that they were no longer among the living.
Another week dragged on, each day marked by the same relentless torment and despair. But then, a sudden burst of noise shattered the oppressive silence—a loud explosion reverberated through the prison, signaling that a battle was raging on the upper floor. Hope surged within me at the thought that help might finally be at hand.
"Sammy, Anny, there's someone fighting above us! They might rescue us!" I exclaimed, my spirits buoyed by the prospect of salvation. But even in their weakened state, my faithful companions found strength to reassure me. "That's wonderful news, Princess. You must prepare yourself," Anny said, her voice tinged with maternal concern. Sammy chimed in, urging me to put on a brave face. "You should smile, Princess. Let them know you're okay," she said, her words carrying a weight of resignation.
I nodded eagerly, determined to heed their advice and remain hopeful. Yet, as two more weeks passed without any sign of rescue, my optimism waned. Sammy and Anny remained motionless, their once vibrant spirits extinguished by exhaustion and relentless assault. Their lifeless forms bore witness to the horrors of our captivity, their blue eyes now dulled and their once-bright hair turned white with despair.
My heart shattered as I gazed upon their still figures, their absence leaving a void that seemed impossible to fill. And then, in a cruel twist of fate, I saw a figure clad in the familiar uniform of my beloved Butler—a sight that brought a chilling realization crashing down upon me. This was no salvation; it was the depths of hell itself.
From that day forth, the remaining three servants transformed into undead and zombies, their once-familiar faces now twisted into grotesque caricatures of their former selves. Yet, even in their monstrous forms, they showed no inclination to harm me, leaving me to grapple with the unbearable weight of loss and despair. And so, I wept in silence, my tears a silent lament for the lives lost and the suffering endured in this cruel, unforgiving world.
I cradled Sammy and Anny in my lap, their lifeless forms a heartbreaking reminder of the horrors we endured. With bowed head, I resigned myself to the inevitable, waiting for death to claim me. But then, a voice shattered the oppressive silence of our hellish prison.
"Who's the fucker that pulled me?!" The rough, commanding voice reverberated through the walls, sending shivers down my spine. His words were like a jolt of electricity, piercing through the numbness that had enveloped me. Tears streamed down my cheeks as I sobbed uncontrollably, my despair overwhelming.
Suddenly, I felt a bump against my head, followed by a soft apology. Startled, I glanced up to see a boy around my age standing before me. Quickly averting my gaze, I buried my face in my hands, unable to bear the thought of facing another stranger in this wretched place.
"Are you okay?" His voice was gentle, filled with concern. But when I dared to meet his gaze with a daggered glare, he recoiled as if stung. Ignoring his presence, I returned my focus to the cold, unforgiving floor beneath me.
The boy retreated to a corner, seeking refuge in the shadows where the light couldn't reach. I stole glances at him, my curiosity piqued, but quickly averted my eyes once more, unwilling to risk another encounter.
Moments later, the sound of heavy footsteps echoed through the chamber as the iron door burst open. A tall figure clad in the armor of a royal knight strode in, his presence commanding respect. Hope flickered within me at the sight of the Lionheart crest emblazoned on his chest—a symbol of strength and protection.
But as he approached, my strength failed me, my body betraying me at the crucial moment. Helpless, I watched as he drew a knife from behind his back, his intentions chillingly clear. With trembling hands, he aimed the blade at my throat, leaving me paralyzed with fear and uncertainty.
As the big knight lunged towards me with his blade poised for a fatal strike, a sudden force pushed him back, sending me tumbling to the ground. Strong arms wrapped around me, pulling me away from the looming threat. The touch was warm and reassuring—could it be the boy from earlier? In that moment of chaos, he was the only one who could have intervened with such decisive action.
Through the haze of confusion and fear, I watched as the knights clashed swords, their movements a blur of violence and desperation. Amidst the chaos, four figures materialized before me, their presence both comforting and unsettling. It took a moment for recognition to dawn upon me—these were the same devoted servants who had suffered alongside me in this nightmarish prison. But now, they stood before me, their forms ethereal and otherworldly.
Questions swirled in my mind, but before I could find answers, memories flooded my thoughts. I remembered the days we spent together, the laughter and camaraderie we shared in the garden. Sammy, Anny, and the others—how could they be here now, and in such a surreal form?
My attention was drawn to a fifth figure, the boy who had crossed paths with me earlier. He retrieved something from the ground, his actions swift and purposeful. In an instant, my two servants sprang into action, pinning down the big knight with surprising strength. At the same time, the boy leaped forward, plunging his weapon into the knight's chest with a single, decisive strike.
I couldn't tear my gaze away, watching in disbelief as the boy dispatched the other two knights with lethal precision. It was a sight that shook me to the core, witnessing someone so young take a life with such ease.
As darkness threatened to overtake me, I saw my servants kneel before the boy, their forms gradually fading into wisps of dust. And then, with a final flutter of consciousness, my vision faded to black.
***
Blinking away the remnants of sleep, I found myself staring up at a familiar sight—the ornate ceiling of my own room. Relief flooded through me as the realization sunk in: I was safe. The events of the prison and the harrowing encounter with the knights felt like a distant nightmare, fading into the recesses of my mind as I focused on the present moment. Sitting up slowly, I took in the familiar surroundings—the soft glow of lamplight, the gentle rustle of curtains caught in the evening breeze. It was a stark contrast to the darkness and despair I had endured in that hellish prison. As I breathed in the familiar scent of my room, a sense of gratitude washed over me. I was home, I was safe, and I was alive.
As I sat there, the weight of my experiences pressing down on me like a heavy burden, I couldn't help but let the tears flow freely once more. The memories of that hellish ordeal haunted me, refusing to fade even after three days of being back in the safety of my room.
But amidst the pain and the sorrow, there was a flicker of something else—a spark of determination that refused to be extinguished. With trembling hands, I reached for the pen and paper on my desk, the familiar tools of my resolve.
As I began to write, each stroke of the pen became a testament to my strength, a proclamation of my will to overcome. "I'm going to be strong enough," I wrote, the words taking shape on the page with a sense of purpose that belied my inner turmoil.
"I'll never let anyone take anything from me anymore," I continued, the ink flowing smoothly as I poured my heart into each word. It was a promise to myself, a vow to never again be a victim of circumstance.
As I finished writing, a sense of empowerment washed over me, filling the room with a newfound energy. Folding the paper with care, I tucked it away in a safe place, a tangible reminder of the strength that resided within me.
"I'm going to find that boy," I added to my written declaration, the inked words carrying the weight of my determination. The boy who had saved me from the depths of hell deserved my gratitude, and I was determined to express it.
3 days ago.
When I awoke, they told me that someone had found me lying outside the army barracks and brought me back to the safety of the Empire. Each time I inquired about the boy who had saved me, their responses were always the same—confusion and bewilderment. It seemed he was as mysterious to them as he was to me.
Determined to express my gratitude, I made it my mission to find him. Even my father, alarmed by my insistence, dispatched his men far and wide in search of the elusive boy. But until he was found, I knew I had to focus on becoming strong enough to protect him when the time came.
As I gazed out the window at the vast expanse of sky, a sense of purpose filled me. With each passing day, I would train and hone my skills, preparing myself for the moment when I could finally express my gratitude to the one who had saved me from the depths of despair.
"All I could remember is his red-pale hair and his cat-like eyes," I murmured to myself, a faint blush creeping onto my cheeks. But I quickly brushed aside those thoughts, focusing instead on the task at hand.
With a sigh, I stepped back from the window, feeling the gentle caress of the wind tousle my silver hair. My blue eyes like the ocean, gazed skyward once again, lost in contemplation.
With renewed determination, I made my way to the training hall, eager to begin my journey towards strength and self-reliance. As I entered the spacious chamber, the sound of clashing swords and grunting soldiers filled the air, a symphony of determination and discipline.
Taking a deep breath, I approached the nearest training dummy, gripping my practice sword tightly in hand. With each swing and thrust, I poured my energy and focus into every movement, pushing myself to the limit and beyond.
As sweat dripped down my brow and muscles screamed in protest, I felt a sense of exhilaration wash over me. This was where I belonged—on the path to becoming stronger, both physically and mentally.
With each passing day, I vowed to push myself harder, to train longer, to become the best version of myself that I could be. And someday, when I finally found the boy who had saved me, I will not be protected when that time comes, I would be ready to stand by his side as an equal ground.
"Mysterious boy. I'm gonna find you." I murmured again.
***
Ω's (Omega) POV.
As I strode along, cloaked in shadows, a sudden sneeze interrupted my silent journey. "Aaahhhhh.... Achoo!!" I grumbled, unable to stifle the sound. "Bless me," I muttered sarcastically to myself, my voice rough and tinged with irritation.
Glancing around, I narrowed my eyes, scanning the dimly lit surroundings for any sign of disturbance. "Who's the fucker calling me?" I growled, my tone low and menacing as I continued on my way, every step filled with purpose and determination.
Chapter 3.5 : Luminia De Lionheart's side. End