"BOOM"
The manor shook violently as the explosion tore through its walls. Dust and debris fell from above, crashing down in heaps and sending splinters flying in every direction. Riley barely managed to dive out of the way as a large piece of the ceiling collapsed where he had been standing moments before.
"Damnation, now of all time, just when I try to act like a charlatan in front of this old men, this guys destroyed it." Riley mumbled.
His heart pounded in his chest as he quickly regained his footing, ears ringing from the blast. The once quiet manor was now a chaotic battlefield.
The man who caused the explosion retreated, his black robe fluttering wildly as he ran as fast as he could, swearing silently and cursing Riley. The moment words reached II George Steelheart that the soldiers he had carefully picked to carry out Riley's execution were killed. II George Steelheart had commanded a battalion of army to make sure the boy is dead.
Outside, the rhythmic stomping of boots grew louder—an army closing in, their movements precise and unyielding. Riley could see them through the shattered windows, their chainmail armor glinting under the pale light, and red tunics marking them as soldiers of the infamous Steel Wings.
Their expressions were grim, focused, and deadly as they encircled the manor like a tightening noose. A voice boomed over the sound of marching.
"Ryan Raven! By order of His Majesty II George Steelheart of the Ravenheart kingdom. You are charged with treason for the deaths of the King's personal soldiers, who were sent to carry out your execution. For this crime, you have declared yourself a fugitive and shall be put to death!"
"Tsk!. This twisted world and their treason charge. Just say you want to kill me because I demanded a little compensation for calling off the engagement." Riley grumbled, as he scrambled to dodge the collapsing chunks falling from the ceiling.
Riley stumbled out of the dilapidated Manor, his body battered and bruised. He was in bad shape—there was no denying that—but a crazed smile curled his lips. He laughed loudly, the sound echoing eerily across the open courtyard.
"Treason? You're blaming me for killing the soldiers who were here to kill me? I thought justice was supposed to be blind, not stupid! Is that all you people know how to do—kill anyone who doesn't fit into your perfect little order?"
The soldiers didn't as much as blink. Their loyalty was unwavering. Orders were absolute, they were dogs raised to serve the royal family and they intended to carry them out without question.
The soldier leading them gave a signal. Without a moment's hesitation, the archers drew their bows, arrows nocked and ready.
The tension was almost as sharp as a knife. The air thick with anticipation as the archers waited for the signal. Their leader gave the signal they had been waiting for. And then, in a single, synchronized movement, they released the arrows.
A storm of arrows darkened the sky, slicing through the air with deadly fastidiousness. The arc they formed was so flawless, so artistically beautiful, that it artists would kill to paint the sight—if it weren't also a herald of death.
Riley's heart skipped a beat. His instincts screamed at him to move, and he did—throwing himself to the side just as the first volley struck where he had been standing. He rolled across the ground, narrowly avoiding the first wave of deadly rain.
The arrows struck the manor's crumbling walls, splintering wood and tearing through stone like paper.
Dust and debris flew in every direction, turning the air thick and gritty. Riley scrambled for cover, diving behind the remains of what was once a beautiful pillar, his mind racing.
But there was no time to think—only to react. He could feel the air shift as more arrows whizzed past him, barely missing his head. He gritted his teeth, the sharp sting of a few grazing his arms and legs as he continued to evade the relentless barrage.
The bishop and imam—though not the intended targets— were caught in the crossfire. They scrambled around trying to save their skin.
"This… This is an overkill!" Riley screamed, laughing like a manic as he grabbed the remains of the table —he had once thought was a dining table — as shield.
The Bishop and Imam ducked and weaved, desperately trying to avoid the deadly rain of arrows. Hector was nowhere to be found, the old man had long fled the house to safety. It could be said that he is the only one who knew how dangerous the Steel Wings soldiers were.
The soldiers showed no concern for the damage; done to the surroundings. They were focused solely on ensuring their orders were carried out— killing Riley. A unit of Steel Wings broke moved forward with shields to protect themselves. They were moving in the direction of the religious leaders.
Riley lunged at one of the archers who wanted to help the Bishop and imam escape the encirclement, grabbing the bow and picking some arrows that bounced off the chucks of blocks on the ground.
Riley aimed — wildly— not that he cared about misfiring— he let the arrow loose— and surprisingly as if guided by an invisible hand, with insane dexterity, the arrow lodged in one of the archers head.
"Headshot!" Riley screamed, throwing his hands up in the air in celebration but quickly had to take cover. The archers seeming's pissed off. They drew their bows with fervent enthusiasm— not waiting for signal— they let the arrows loose— darkening the sky once more.
The arrows drew a beautiful arc in the air, turning the once grand manor into a ruined wasteland. Every piece of cover Riley found was quickly obliterated, leaving him more exposed with each passing moment.
"You're wrecking everything in sight!" Riley shouted, breathless and bleeding as he narrowly dodged another arrow. "You should avoid collateral damage, don't you think?"
But his words fell on deaf ears. The soldiers were like machines, single-minded in their purpose— cause destruction. Just like they were bred to do. They unleashed torrent after torrent, each one closer than the last, whittling down Riley's defenses until he had nothing left to hide behind.
The remains of the manor crumbled into dust, and all that was left were broken walls and shattered stones. Riley was exposed—a lone figure standing amidst the ruins.
His silver-white hair was now smeared —with the dust from the bricks — to ashy-Grey. The barrage ceased as sudden as it started. The soldiers lowering their bows as they tightened their formation.
Riley's breaths came in ragged gasps, his chest heaving as he tried to steady himself.
His limbs ached, his vision swam, but he forced himself to stay on his feet. He was battered and could barely move. He wasn't ready to die—he couldn't be. Not yet — the deep gnash on several parts of his body told him otherwise.
From the ranks of the soldiers, a figure stepped forward—a man with an aura that screams death. He wore the same armor as the others, but his blue tunic set him apart, signaling his rank was different from that of the soldiers.
His style was calm and measured, every step deliberate as he approached Riley with the quiet confidence of a man who knew he was in control. The other soldiers parted for him, clearing a path as he advanced.
Riley's eyes narrowed as the man drew closer.
There was something about him—a faint familiarity that tugged at the edges of Riley's memory. But there was no time to dwell on it. The man unsheathed his sword, the polished steel gleaming in the dull light. He held it with a practiced grip, the blade steady as he raised it above his head, self-confident to deliver the final blow.
But then, just as the killing stroke was about to fall, the man leaned in close and whispered, "The Otherworldly chicken is out of the east hen's house."
Riley's eyes widened in shock. The cryptic phrase sent a jolt through his mind, recognition flaring to life. "You… you're the one who wrote that book!" he gasped, his voice tinged with disbelief and desperation.
The man paused, his expression unreadable behind the faceless mask— save for the slit where his eyes were— as he held Riley's gaze. The soldiers around them were tense, uncertain of what was happening.
Klein's sword remained adjourned in midair, glinting coldly in the fading light.
"The name's Klein." the man finally said, his voice low and resonant. "This should be your first loop. You have three loops in total. It's not infinite, no matter what you might think. Find me in the next loop.
I'll be in the royal palace— maybe in the garrison— based on the day you arrive. If you find me, we can break this loop… together."
"You sure made a mess of this loop. I didn't escalate the matter to this stage when I was stuck. Remember it's not infinite."
Riley's mind raced, questions swirling in a chaotic whirl, but before he could respond. In one swift motion, the blade came down, slicing through the air with deadly precision. Riley barely had time to register the searing pain before his vision blurred, his senses overwhelmed by the sudden rush of darkness.
He felt the world slipping away, the sharpness of reality giving way to a red haze. The last thing he heard was Klein's voice, echoing in his mind like a distant memory.
"Find me…"
Then everything went cold. Numbness spread through Riley's body as his consciousness drifted, spiraling into the void.
"Klein… and I have two loops left… Damn it," Riley cursed inwardly, a mix of frustration and determination burning within him as darkness claimed him completely.
His world went red.