Geb charged forward with a speed that shocked everyone present. Every step was measured, his form showing a level of training with the shortsword that his friends could never have imagined.
In a heartbeat, he was upon the prince, his blade a blur as it sliced through the air. The initial strike was a feint, a clever misdirection that forced Zastan to raise his guard toward his neck. Instead, the cold steel of his blade darted toward the prince's heart.
"Impossible." The word escaped Eis' lips as he watched his friend demonstrate skills he never imagined Geb had.
It didn't matter.
Zastan's lips curled into a curious smile, the kind Eis had only seen in children when they pet small animals.
The prince's hand darted forward with a supernatural speed, outpacing everything around him. Geb's attempts felt not just clumsy in comparison; they resembled the hesitant, unsteady steps of a child just beginning to walk.
With casual grace, Zastan caught the blade between his index and middle fingers, holding it in place as if it were nothing more than a twig.
"Very good," Zastan murmured, his voice carrying a tone of almost genuine admiration. "Brave, talented, and quick on his feet. It's a shame this is an honor duel, and someone desired your death so much that they sent you here, boy." His voice had a trace of regret as if he genuinely lamented the waste of potential standing before him.
In that brief moment, as Geb's sword hung suspended in the air, the brothers made their move. Without a word or even a backward glance, they bolted, their desperation evident in every frantic step. They ran as if their very lives depended on it—because they did.
Zastan's expression shifted from curiosity to disgust as he watched them flee. "Such dishonor," he muttered, his tone dripping with contempt. He casually waved his hand as if brushing away a minor annoyance.
The effect was immediate and horrifying.
The brothers' bodies ignited in the dark fire, and their screams of agony tore through the air. They dropped to the ground, rolling in desperate attempts to extinguish the flames, but it was futile. The fire consumed them utterly, leaving no trace of their former selves. What was more terrifying was that the flames didn't spread—nothing else caught fire, as if the dark magic had will of its own.
Eis stood frozen, his mind reeling from the implications. There was no doubt now. This prince, Zastan Shocan, was awakened. The sheer power he wielded, the ease with which he manipulated reality.
This was a man who could bend the world to his will, a force of nature in human form.
Cold sweat covered Geb's face as he realized the futility of his situation. Despite knowing there was no hope against Zastan, a lingering ember still flickered in the back of his mind. But that it was snuffed out, much like the brothers who had been reduced to ashes by the prince's power.
Geb glanced at Eis, who stood paralyzed with fear, his gaze fixed on the ashes scattered by the wind. Eis' words earlier—about facing the gate and no longer running—echoed in his mind, bringing a faint, almost invisible smile to his lips. He took a step back, releasing his blade from Zastan's grip, and then charged again, and again, and again.
Each assault was met with the same outcome. The prince easily blocked every strike as if a toddler was attacking him. Geb's blade never once reached its mark, never drew a single drop of blood. Sweat poured down his face, his strength waning with each failed attempt.
The prince didn't mock, taunt, or say anything. He just kept eye contact and didn't look away from his attacker.
Geb let out a roar and charged with everything he had left. But as he closed in, Zastan's hand shot forward with terrifying speed, piercing Geb's chest and crushing his heart. The prince's hand emerged from Geb's back, stained with blood. Geb's eyes locked with Zastan's, the light in them fading rapidly.
"What a splendid display," Zastan remarked as Geb's lifeless body collapsed to the ground.
"Let us dispose of the last insect, Prince." One of the still-prostrated men on the ground asked with reverence.
"You will not do such a thing," Zastan commanded, his gaze shifting to Eis. "That man fought an honor duel, and laying a hand on you would be a dishonor of unimaginable disgrace. What is your name?"
"Eis," he replied, his voice barely above a whisper, as his mind struggled to process what had just happened. "Geb is dead? Impossible. Geb had dreams, goals... he wouldn't die here."
Zastan nodded thoughtfully. "Eis. I will remember your name. Geb gave his life so you could live. The punishment for attacking a foreign noble is death, yet that man believed in you so much that he didn't even consider running or bargaining with me for the information that set you up. My men will escort you to the guards of Stonehold," Zastan spat on the ground in disdain. "As much as I hate everything about this countryside witch-hunting dump, I must obey its laws."
"I don't understand," Eis murmured, his voice trembling.
"Hm?" Zastan raised an eyebrow.
"I don't understand why he did that. Why would he die so I wouldn't die here? I'll be executed anyway."
Without warning, Zastan moved with blinding speed and slapped Eis across the face, sending him flying several meters before crashing to the ground. Eis' shortsword landed a few meters away. "Why, I do not know. I see nothing special in you. But that man fought bravely in a losing battle and died with honor. The least you can do is live the little time you have left with pride."
With a burst of desperate energy, Eis sprang to his feet and, in an instant, was in front of the prince. His eyes, now pitch-black with red streaks, blazed with fury. He held his dagger just centimeters from Zastan's left eye.
Zastan effortlessly caught Eis' wrist, halting the attack. With his other hand, he struck Eis across the face, knocking him unconscious. "Oh, the little bee actually had a sting. There is more to you than meets the eye," Zastan mused, holding Eis' limp body.
"Dion, take him to the guards and explain the situation. After that, find someone to clean up this mess and arrange for new transportation. I'm going to take a nap." Zastan walked over to the roadside and lay down on the grass as if nothing had happened.
The noble named Dion bowed deeply, lifting Eis' body. Just as he was about to leave, the prince's voice stopped him.
"Also, order one of the shadows to watch the boy. I'm interested in him. The shadow is to stay with him until Eis is dead. Let's see if the faith that man had in him was justified," Zastan said, his eyes still closed.
Dion bowed again and vanished into the woods.
"Prince, what about that young man's body?" the woman in the group asked, gesturing toward Geb.
"Bury him here. Let me know when you're done so I can pay my respects."
The woman exchanged surprised glances with the other nobles but said nothing. The prince's orders were absolute, and though it was unheard of for a prince to pay respects to a commoner thief, questioning Zastan was not an option.
Eis only regained consciousness when Dion turned him over to the guards, and he passionately regretted that fact. The guards, seeing a lone survivor and having no one else to vent their frustrations on, unleashed their cruelty on him without restraint.
They took perverse pleasure in beating him, their imaginations running wild as they found new ways to inflict pain. His status as a resident of The Belows only fueled their brutality, their fists driven by disdain for someone they saw as the lowest of the low.
Laughter bubbled up from deep within Eis, uncontrollable and bitter. The guards paused, puzzled by his reaction, their expressions twisting into anger at the sight of his joy.
He laughed and laughed at their pitiful attempts to make him feel pain; after all, what he felt in his chest was far beyond what mortals could help to imitate. They didn't understand that it wasn't defiance—it was despair. The laughter echoed hollowly off the dungeon walls, a sound devoid of hope or sanity.
All his friends were dead. His pitiful attempt to make some coin had failed spectacularly, leaving behind nothing but regret and a trail of blood. The weight of his failure bore down on him, crushing any sense of purpose he had clung to.
His newfound determination, so fierce just days ago, was now shattered into pieces, scattered like the ashes of his friends. The little ember of hope he had nurtured was extinguished, leaving him hollow and numb.
It didn't matter anymore because they were gone.
The clanking of chains reverberated through the silence for the last time before Eis finally fell asleep. The darkness of the dungeon embraced him like a long-lost friend.
When the morning came, a harsh shout jolted Eis awake. His body ached, but it was the cold, empty feeling inside that truly tormented him. He blinked groggily, trying to make sense of his surroundings. The dim light of the dungeon barely illuminated the figure standing just outside the iron bars.
"You have a visitor, rat," the guard snarled. "Keep it short, or I will personally beat the teeth out of you." Without waiting for a response, the guard turned and stomped away, his heavy boots echoing off the stone walls.
After a few moments, two figures walked in, and Eis instantly recognized one of them.
"Narni? What are you doing here?"