"Ah!" Karl cried out in agony, clutching his bleeding right arm as he staggered backward. His face was pale, and sweat dripped from his brow like heavy raindrops.
After striking Karl back with a single blow, Casar did not follow up with another attack. To him, a low-ranked squire was nothing more than an ant. Angelina was his true target. Casar sheathed his sword and continued his pursuit.
Tonight's assassination had been delayed for far too long. The original plan was for the entire Crimson team to strike together, eliminate the shadow guards, and capture Princess Angelina. But first, they had let Angelina escape to avoid being entangled with local noble militias. Then, after a prolonged chase, they had finally tracked her down, only to encounter Garrel soldiers at the last moment.
The variables were mounting. Casar never accepted missions without confidence in success. The longer he delayed, the more unpredictable factors would arise. He had to capture Angelina immediately and escape.
Under the relentless pursuit of a high-ranking squire, Caesar and his companions seemed utterly powerless. Soren glanced back over his shoulder and saw the crimson-armored figure drawing closer, the sword of death in his hand gleaming ominously.
"We can't keep running like this! Split up!" Soren shouted to Caesar after a brief moment of hesitation. It was clear he intended to abandon Caesar. The crimson-armored man's target was obviously Caesar, who carried Princess Angelina. If they split up, the pursuer would certainly go after Caesar, not him.
Sacrificing a subordinate—that was Soren's plan. He had no intention of dying alongside Caesar. As the heir to a barony, Soren wasn't ready to meet death so soon. As for Princess Angelina, carried by Caesar, she was already forgotten in his mind. Survival was now his only priority.
Caesar stared at Soren in shock. He couldn't believe that the same noble who had once called him "brother" was now issuing such a command. It was a death sentence, plain and simple. In his four years of military service, Caesar had witnessed plenty of darkness—bullying by older soldiers, plundered war spoils, withheld wages by corrupt officers—but betrayal among comrades? Such outright treachery was rare, even in the shadows.
In the military, unity was everything. Soldiers entrusted their lives to one another.
Perhaps this was the difference between them. Caesar realized this with a sudden clarity.
After all, he himself had left ordinary soldiers behind earlier to escape. What right did he have to judge Soren?
Caesar looked at Soren silently, then turned to Jon and Tom—two comrades who had fought beside him for years. They had understood Soren's order too, but said nothing. Orders were absolute in the lower ranks, and Soren was their superior. Yet Jon and Tom wouldn't abandon Caesar. Each of them owed Caesar their lives multiple times over. Jon, a scout, had been saved by Caesar from encirclements more times than he could count. Tom had collapsed on the battlefield repeatedly, only for Caesar to carry him back to safety.
If there was a bond strong enough to die for, Jon and Tom embodied it.
And Caesar felt the same. Whether it was Jon, who had fought shoulder to shoulder with him during the bloody battle at Gordon Highlands, or Tom, who had shielded Caesar with his broad chest and back multiple times—these were bonds forged in blood.
But Caesar couldn't bring himself to order his brothers to their deaths. The crimson soldiers were after Angelina, and whoever carried her was in the most danger. Caesar would not sacrifice Jon or Tom. Soren had ordered him to flee with Angelina, and Caesar intended to obey.
Caesar glanced back at Uncle Karl, who lay bleeding on the ground. That man had lost an arm saving them.
"You two, take Uncle Karl back! I'll take her!" Caesar barked. Without hesitation, he pulled Angelina onto his back.
"Ah!" Angelina gasped, caught off guard. Caesar glanced briefly at her face. Despite the dirt and grime, her beauty was unmistakable.
"No way!" Jon and Tom refused instantly. In this moment, ranks and orders meant nothing—only their bond as brothers mattered. Their ten-man squad had been forged through life and death, and Caesar was their leader not just by rank but by heart.
"We're brothers, Caesar. We won't leave you," Jon said firmly.
Caesar's promise echoed in their minds: "We're brothers. Give me three months, and I'll make sure you both become squad leaders!"
It wasn't arrogance that made Caesar say those words—it was responsibility. His comrades had followed him through life and death; he owed them loyalty in return.
"Cut the nonsense and go!" Caesar snapped, his usual calm demeanor breaking into anger. "Go save Uncle Karl! Now!" He shoved Jon and Tom away and bolted into the dense forest with Angelina on his back.
The forest was his last hope. Caesar prayed silently that the trees would grow thicker, the shadows deeper—but it was the wrong season. The branches were bare, offering little cover.
Angelina, still in shock, couldn't process the betrayal by the noble earlier or the rough soldier now carrying her. Her chest pressed against Caesar's back, her waist supported by his strong hands—no royal had ever been treated this way.
But before she could protest, she was moved by the raw camaraderie she had witnessed between Caesar, Jon, and Tom. It was different from the silent loyalty of her shadow guards. This was something fiery, alive—brotherhood.
Caesar was running for his life. Four years in the army had prepared him to face death at fourteen. At eighteen, death no longer scared him—but he still wanted to live. He wanted to see his sister again, to build a home with Xaxi, the girl he loved. For the first time, Caesar felt a fierce will to survive.
"Hold on tight!" Caesar yelled at Angelina as he channeled every last bit of fighting energy into his legs. The swirling energy within him surged toward his calves.
"Run!" he roared, propelling himself forward with every ounce of strength.
Angelina tightened her grip around his shoulders, her face flushed. She had never met a man like Caesar—unrefined, raw, but deeply admirable.
Casar, still in pursuit, sneered at the fleeing pair. "You think you can escape me?"
Caesar's only thought was: Run, run, run! Every memory, every dream, every loved one fueled his flight.
But their difference in strength was too vast. Casar was like a mountain, an unstoppable force. Death loomed over Caesar.
Sensing Caesar's determination, Angelina summoned the last reserves of her magical strength and cast a Lightness Spell on him. Her energy drained, and she collapsed against his back, unconscious.
Caesar didn't even realize his steps had become lighter. He was too focused, too driven. In his heart, only one thought remained:
Run.