"Fuck..."
The word escaped Aria's lips as she took in the grim reality. Without the king, without his troops, this fortress wasn't just struggling—it was doomed. The nightmare creatures would come, a relentless tide, and they would sweep through everything. The fortress was a hollow shell, its fall inevitable.
A heavy sigh escaped her as she dragged a hand down her face. She almost wanted to laugh—what an absurd situation this was. What did the Spell expect from her? A 16-year-old, thrust into a doomed fortress, somehow meant to save it? The thought was laughable. Maybe she'd misjudged the Spell's intent. Perhaps it didn't want salvation but something else entirely.
Shoving the questions aside, Aria walked deeper into the throne room. She didn't want to know who—or what—had slaughtered all these people. Stepping over the queen's lifeless body, she caught a glimpse of her face. Once, it might have been jarring. Now, it barely fazed her. Death had become a constant companion. She still despised it, but somewhere along the way, she'd grown indifferent. People died—that was it.
Her eyes fell on the sword impaling the king, pinning him to the golden throne like some grotesque trophy. It was stunning—gleaming with a cold, sharp beauty. Intricate designs danced along the blade, a craftsmanship far beyond anything she'd ever seen. Drawn to it, she reached out, her fingers brushing the hilt.
"Let's see..." she murmured, gripping the handle and pulling.
Nothing. The sword didn't so much as budge.
"Damn... Just how deep is this thing lodged in there?"
Annoyed, she braced herself for another try. But before she could, she froze, her heart skipping a beat.
The king's lips... moved.
"What the hell?" she breathed, stumbling back as her pulse quickened.
A faint murmur escaped his cracked lips, the sound barely audible yet unmistakable.
"K...il... m...e."
Aria's breath hitched. Her eyes widened as she realized the horrifying truth—this man, impaled and lifeless, was still alive. And he wanted her to end it.
She hesitated, stepping closer. "You want me to kill you?" she asked, her voice cautious, almost disbelieving.
"Y...es..." The sound rasped from his throat like a death rattle.
For a long moment, she simply stared at him. His body was a ruin, bloodied and pinned to the throne, yet somehow clinging to life. To endure such a state—it was almost unfathomable. She coughed, steadying herself.
"Alright," she murmured. "That... shouldn't be too hard, I guess."
Aria raised her shield, its edge gleaming in the dim light, and pulled it back, winding for a single, decisive blow. Her voice softened. "I hope you find rest."
She swung with all her might. The shield's edge collided with his neck, a resounding bang reverberating through the throne room. Aria stumbled back, her grip on the shield faltering.
"What the—?"
Her shield was bent, the metal warped as though struck by a colossal force. Her eyes darted to his neck, expecting carnage. Instead, there was only a shallow scratch. Cold dread washed over her.
'Just... how strong is this man?'
Her gaze lingered on his face. This man was strong—unimaginable, terrifyingly strong. Yet here he was, impaled on his throne, unable to fight back, begging for release. The sight weighed heavily on her, a grim reminder that no matter how powerful one might seem, death could come for anyone.
She let the ruined shield clatter to the ground, her expression darkening.
"I wanted this to be painless and quick. Looks like I'm not strong enough to make that happen." she muttered.
Aria reached for his head, griping it firmly yet under her arm. His head hung low, almost as if he welcomed the end. "Sorry," she whispered softly.
With a sudden motion, she twisted his neck. At first, it resisted, unyielding against her strength. Gritting her teeth, she threw her entire weight into the effort, and at last, the sound of a loud crack echoed through the room.
For a moment, there was silence. Then, the voice of the Spell resounded in her mind.
[You have slain a transcendent human, Aegis.]
Her face froze, the words sinking in like a blow. A transcendent? Her heart pounded as realization struck. He wasn't just strong—he was a saint. A being of unimaginable power, reduced to this... to a pitiful plea for death.
How? How had someone so mighty fallen so utterly, so silently?
The Spell continued.
[You have received a memory, King's Crown.]
Aria stood frozen for a moment, her grip on the lifeless king's head loosening as disbelief etched itself onto her face.
'Are you for real?'
The sound of hurried footsteps jolted her back to reality. She turned to see a group of knights storming into the throne room, their heavy boots echoing against the cold stone.
There were dozens of them—every remaining knight the fortress could muster. She recognized some of them, their dented armor a stark reminder of their earlier encounter. Their eyes widened in horror as they took in the scene, their gazes locking onto Aria like she was some sort of feral beast.
One of them, a tall knight with a commanding presence, stepped forward, his sword drawn and trembling slightly in his grip.
"You monster!" he shouted, the words reverberating through the throne room. His sword pointed directly at her. "What have you done?"
Aria scoffed, her expression twisting into one of disgust. "Me?" she spat, incredulous.
The knight pressed forward, his voice rising with anger and desperation. "How could you be so ruthless, so vile? How could you... our king!"
Aria let out a disbelieving laugh, raising her hands in mock surrender. "Wait, wait, you think I did all of this?" Her lips curled into a grin as a chuckle escaped her. "You really think I did this?" She facepalmed, her fingers pressing against her temples as her laughter deepened into something almost manic.
"Hah! I wish I was that strong."
Another knight, emboldened by the leader's outburst, stepped forward and barked, "Shut up, you vile beast!"
That was enough to push Aria's patience to its limit. Her amusement twisted into anger as her voice cut through the air like a blade. "Are you guys stupid? I don't even use a sword, you dumbasses!" She gestured wildly at the corpses. "And besides, if I did this, don't you think you'd all be dead already? Hell, I wouldn't even need to explain myself because there'd be no one left to explain it to!"
She took a sharp breath, her tone dripping with disdain. "And another thing, look at the fucking blood!" Her finger jabbed toward the floor, where crimson stains had darkened to rusty brown. "Most of it's already dried up. This happened days ago! How the hell do you think I could've done this now? Which, by the way, raises an even better question."
She paused, her eyes narrowing as she surveyed the group. Her voice grew sharper, colder. "How the fuck do you guys only just now know about this? How did it take a so-called 'barbarian' storming in here for you to finally realize your king and half your knights were fucking dead?"
She pointed at one of the corpses lying sprawled near the throne. "Aren't these guys your colleagues? How in the hell do you not notice if a hundred of them just vanish overnight?"
Her words hung in the air, the stunned silence of the knights a stark contrast to her fiery tirade. They exchanged nervous glances, their bravado visibly faltering.
Aria actually had a couple of ideas, there were enough powers to block out sound or do other stealth tings. A force strong enough to reduce a saint to a pitiable state could have wiped the minds of everyone here, leaving them blind to the massacre that had unfolded. No one knew what kind of powers it possessed, maybe it hadn't obliterated the entire fortress simply because it hadn't deemed it necessary—or maybe it had other plans.
Then there was another possibility, one she hated to consider but couldn't ignore. A traitor. Someone high-ranking enough to know the fortress's defenses, to guide the slaughter from within.
But in the end, none of it really mattered to her. It wasn't really her fortress, her king, or her duty. It was theirs. The knights standing before her, quaking in their boots and pointing fingers. It was their duty to protect this place. To protect the king. And they'd failed. Miserably.
Not only had they failed, but they hadn't even noticed. Days had passed, and they were clueless—blissfully unaware of the carnage that had taken place under their noses.
And now? Now they were accusing her.
Aria's eyes narrowed, her lips curling into a bitter smirk, "Pathetic." she muttered under her breath, the word dripping with disdain.
The knight's head snapped toward her, his eyes blazing with fury. "What did you just say?" he growled.
She shrugged, her smirk widening, daring him to act. "I said," she repeated slowly, her tone mocking, "you're pathetic."
"You wench!" he bellowed, raising his sword high. "Knights... Kill that insolent bitch!"
The knights roared, a clumsy war cry filling the room as they surged forward. But the sound of an arrow slicing through the air silenced them. It struck the ground with a sharp thunk, embedding itself mere inches from the leader's foot. He froze, his confidence faltering as the knights around him hesitated.
From the entrance of the ruined throne room, a familiar voice rang out, steady and laced with amusement. "You're gonna kill who?"
All heads turned to see Blake sauntering in, his sword casually slung over his shoulder, the cocky grin on his face daring them to make a move. The flicker of sunlight off his blade wasn't nearly as sharp as the fire in his eyes.
Flanking him was Reese, his massive Warhammer resting comfortably in his hands as his gaze bore into the knights. Next to him, Tarin stood poised, his bow already nocked with another arrow, his expression cold and focused. Lyra followed close behind, her calm, calculating demeanor promised no mercy.
Behind them, thirty-two battle-hardened guards stood in formation, weapons gleaming and ready, their presence radiating a grim determination.
Blake's grin widened as he took a bold step forward, his sword resting lazily on his shoulder. "Really, though. Let's hear it. Who exactly were you planning to kill? Because from where I'm standing, looks like you're stacking fifty of you against us." His tone was mocking, his dark chuckle reverberating in the cavernous throne room. "And I gotta say, the monsters brought better odds."
Aria's lips curved into a sly smirk as she crossed her arms, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "So you guys finally decided to show up."
Blake shot her a cocky smile. "What can I say? Couldn't let the princess bite the dust against some tin cans."
The knights glanced at one another, their leader's face twisting in a mix of rage and hesitation.
The throne room was heavy with tension.
Aria sighed deeply, her frustration etched into every line of her face. "Are we seriously about to fight each other when the fortress is already on its last legs? We don't have the numbers or the strength to waste on this nonsense, do we?"
The knight commander frowned, clearly taken aback by her words. "What are you talking about?"
Aria let out a dry laugh, her voice laced with disdain. "What am I talking about? Gods, you really are dense." She gestured broadly, motioning toward the desolation around them. "This fortress is doomed. Do you honestly think those two monster waves were just some freak coincidence? Because they weren't."
The knights shifted uneasily, glancing at each other, but the commander stood firm, confusion still clouding his features. Aria pressed on, her tone sharp. "Those waves weren't random. They were controlled—sent by something far stronger than anything you've faced before. And since those two waves were completely different species of monsters, there's at least two beings pulling the strings. Maybe more."
She paused, taking a step forward, her eyes narrowing as she fixed the commander with a glare. "So what's the plan, then? Are you knights so powerful that you think you can kill us and defend the fortress against whatever's coming next? Because I hate to break it to you, but you can't even handle the being that did this," she said, sweeping her arms wide to encompass the carnage that surrounded them.
Her voice dropped, cold and cutting. "Look around you. This wasn't a fight. It was a massacre. Unless one of you has some brilliant plan tucked away, we're all dead anyway. So maybe—just maybe—spending your last moments fighting the people who are supposed to be on your side isn't the brightest idea."
The throne room fell silent, the weight of her words settling heavily over the assembled knights and guards. The tension was thick enough to cut, until Blake's laugh suddenly broke through, loud and unapologetic.
"You sure know how to lighten the mood, Beth," he said with a smirk.
Aria let out a tired sigh, her shoulders sagging slightly. "I'm not here to lift anyone's spirits. I'm just being realistic." She scanned the room, her gaze moving from face to face. "So? Does anyone have any bright ideas? Or are we just standing here waiting to die?"
The knight commander gritted his teeth, hesitation lacing his voice. "I... I might have something."
Aria's eyebrow shot up. "Oh? And what might that be?"
He cleared his throat, shifting uncomfortably. "I've heard that this fortress has a last-resort defensive measure. Though, calling it defensive wouldn't be entirely accurate. It's more... offensive. They say only the king had access to it, and if activated, it would eviscerate the entire fortress."
His voice grew steadier, almost accusatory as he continued. "But how do we know you're not just lying? How do we know you're not manipulating us?"
Aria let out an exasperated scoff. "I think you already know I'm not lying," she said, her tone sharp. "You fought those millipede-looking things yourself, didn't you? That wasn't just an ordinary group of monsters. They didn't swarm the fortress because they were hungry or territorial. They had one goal—bring this castle down. Even if it cost them their entire horde, they didn't care. Does that sound like some random attack to you?"
As if on cue, a deep, resonant horn echoed through the fortress, its mournful cry cutting through the tense silence. It blared three times—a signal every soldier knew by heart.
Aria's breath hitched as the reality of the sound settled over them like a shroud. The knight commander's face paled, his earlier defiance replaced with dread. Whispers spread through the ranks of the gathered knights, fear taking hold as they realized what the signal meant.
"They're here," someone muttered, their voice trembling.
The scouts had spotted them...
The final wave.