A Few hour before the assasult
The garden of Count Heron's estate was a grand spectacle, a perfect blend of elegance and wealth. Exotic flowers from distant lands, silver-laced fountains, and intricate marble pathways—a paradise carved in stone and soil. Yet, despite the beauty surrounding him, Heron's mood was anything but serene.
He walked at a steady pace, hands behind his back, clad in an opulent crimson coat, his sharp eyes scanning the horizon as if expecting danger to rise from the earth itself.
Beside him, his loyal knight Ralph matched his stride, speaking in a low, cautious tone.
"The assassins we sent to Shaun's estate to eliminate Countess Redwood and that boy—none of them have reported back. It's been four days."
Heron's steps faltered for a fraction of a second before resuming. His face twisted into an expression of sheer disbelief.
"Four days?" he repeated.
"Yes, my lord."
The Count scoffed, his voice dripping with derision.
"Are you suggesting that all of them lost? To Redwood?" His lips curled in disdain. "Or even worse, to a goddamn kid like Shaun?"
Ralph kept his face expressionless, though the accusation stung his pride.
"I considered the possibility of betrayal," he admitted. "But that seems unlikely. We sent a force too large for them to even attempt such a thing. Our final reports confirmed the operation had begun. Then, silence."
Heron's expression darkened.
"Did you send anyone else?"
Ralph nodded. "I did. They never returned either."
That gave Heron pause.
Something was wrong.
This wasn't just a failed mission. This wasn't simple betrayal.
Something had happened.
Heron exhaled through his nose, a deep frown setting on his face. His gut twisted in unease.
Redwood… could she really be strong enough to wipe out an entire force of assassins?
No. It didn't make sense. Even if she had prepared for an attack, there was no way she had the power to completely silence the entire unit.
And the boy—Shaun?
That was even more laughable.
No, this had to be something else.
A third force?
A new variable?
His mind raced. He turned to Ralph. "If an attack comes, are we prepared to defend?"
The knight nodded. "Defending is not the issue. Just to be cautious, I already mobilized most of our forces. However, I strongly advise against launching another assault."
Heron's eyebrow arched. "Why?"
"Because it would be a waste." Ralph's voice was steady. "Think about it, my lord. If Silent Blade failed, what could a normal army do? If even hypothetically speaking, Countess Redwood somehow overwhelmed them, then sending more soldiers would accomplish nothing."
Heron clenched his jaw. It was the truth, but he hated hearing it.
"So what do you suggest, then?"
Ralph's eyes gleamed with a sharp, calculating edge.
"We stick to our original plan. We don't need to defeat them in direct combat. We have power in other ways."
Heron crossed his arms, considering. He had already been making moves against Redwood.
Blocking her trade.
Severing her resources.
Spreading rumors to discredit her.
But Ralph's suggestion? To intensify it?
Yes… yes, that was far more efficient.
He let out a cruel chuckle.
"You're right. We'll strangle her with politics and deception." His voice dripped with venom. "We'll ensure her noble status becomes unbearable. More rumors, more political pressure—let's make her life hell."
Ralph smirked.
"And Shaun?"
Heron's smile widened. "Same approach, but on a personal level."
He turned, eyes glinting. "I want eyes on Redwood. If she's still alive, I want to know exactly what happened."
Before Ralph could respond, he hesitated.
Something else had been gnawing at the back of his mind.
Something even more unsettling.
"There's one more issue, my lord."
Heron gave him a sharp glance. "What now?"
Ralph's voice lowered, as if speaking of it too loudly would summon something from the abyss.
"It's Walaroth."
Heron narrowed his eyes.
"What about it?"
Ralph's tone was grim.
"Our connections there—our informants, our control over the underground—are all but gone. Getting cheap labor, slave and narcotics is getting harder and selling weapon is also is not possible now"
Heron's body stiffened. "What? Why?"
Ralph inhaled sharply.
"Casualties. A lot of them.
It started slowly—random disappearances. Gangs, beggars, criminals, even normal citizens. At first, it seemed like just another shift in the underworld.
But then… it got worse.
People weren't just dying. They were being erased.
Entire districts turned into ghost towns overnight.
Corpses left in the streets—limbs twisted unnaturally, vocal cords ripped from their throats, skulls caved in as if crushed by something massive and unseen.
And the worst part?
It was spreading.
Ralph's expression was grim. "It's as if something is walking across the land. Wherever it goes… destruction follows."
Heron stared, his blood running cold.
"…A curse?"
Ralph exhaled. "Whatever it is, it's beyond us."
Heron's decision was immediate.
"Cut all ties. Blockade Walaroth. Do not let this reach us."
Ralph nodded.
And with that, the garden walk ended, but the storm brewing in the distance had only just about to begun.
As the sun began its descent, painting the sky with hues of orange and pink, Count Heron and Ralph continued their walk through the estate.
The air was filled with the scent of blooming roses, a fragrance that contrasted sharply with the sinister conversation they had moments ago.
Then, suddenly—
A burst of laughter.
A child's voice, high and full of innocent joy, called out to them.
"Uncle Heron! Sir Ralph!"
Both men turned to see Lila bounding toward them, her little arms clutching a handful of freshly picked flowers.
She was a delicate child, no older than seven, with cascading black curls and eyes that gleamed with excitement. The very image of innocence, untouched by the cruel machinations of the world around her.
Heron's face softened immediately. His expression—usually cold and calculated—melted into something warm, almost tender.
"My little star," he greeted, kneeling slightly to accept the flowers. "What have you brought me today?"
Lila beamed, carefully placing the flowers into his hands.
"These are special flowers, Uncle! They're the prettiest ones I could find."
Ralph, ever the hardened knight, allowed himself a chuckle.
"And why am I not getting any?" he teased.
Lila giggled and plucked a small white daisy from her bunch, holding it out to Ralph with a bright smile.
"Here! You can have this one."
Ralph took it with exaggerated gratitude, bowing deeply.
"Lady Lila, I am honored beyond words."
The child burst into laughter, the kind that only pure joy could produce.
As they walked through the garden, Lila suddenly clapped her hands together.
"Let's play tag!" she declared. "Uncle, Sir Ralph, you have to chase me!"
Heron let out a deep, indulgent sigh, though there was a smirk on his lips.
"Lila, do you know how important I am? I can't be seen running around like a—"
"You're IT!" she shouted, tapping his leg before sprinting off.
For a moment, Heron simply stood there, staring at her in mock outrage. Ralph, suppressing a laugh, tilted his head.
"Well, my lord, it seems you've been chosen."
Heron exhaled dramatically. "Fine."
And with that, he sprinted after her.
Of course, both men purposely lost.
They let Lila outrun them, slowing down just enough so she could have her moment of triumph. Every time they got "close," they would "trip" or "get tired", letting her laugh victoriously.
The evening air was filled with laughter, playful shouts, and the rustling of leaves.
As the sun dipped below the horizon, Lila tugged at Heron's sleeve.
"Uncle, let's have tea and cookies!"
Heron raised an eyebrow. "It's nearly time for dinner, little star."
She puffed out her cheeks, staring at him with wide, pleading eyes.
Ralph smirked. "Oh no, my lord. She's using the puppy eyes."
Heron exhaled in defeat. "You truly are a tyrant, Lila."
Her giggle was pure delight.
They sat at a finely set table on the estate's terrace, with servants bringing out warm tea and delicate cookies.
Lila hummed happily as she dipped a biscuit into her tea, swinging her legs beneath the chair.
Heron watched her fondly. This child—his only family left.
She didn't know of the blood, the politics, the war he waged behind closed doors.
And he wanted to keep it that way.
For a moment, all was peaceful.
Then—
BANG.
A distant explosion shook the ground.
The teacups rattled, a few tipping over as the shockwave rippled through the estate.
Lila gasped, her eyes wide with fear. "Uncle?"
Heron stood immediately, his face darkening.
The explosion sent a violent tremor through the estate.
Count Heron didn't hesitate—he immediately caught Lila in his arms, shielding her small body.
She trembled against him, her little fingers clutching his coat. "Uncle—?"
"Fear not, fear not. I am here." His voice was low, reassuring. A lie.
Before she could protest, he gently pressed a hand to her forehead, channeling a small pulse of magic. Just enough to lull her into sleep. Nothing more.
Her body relaxed, her breathing steadying.
He turned sharply to Ralph. "Call Sarbe immediately. Secure the estate. No one enters, no one leaves. Find out what's happening and report to me in the study. NOW."
Ralph nodded and vanished.
Minutes later, several men arrived, Sarbe among them.
He was young yet imposing, clad in regal attire that oozed superiority over the other knights. He stepped forward, arms crossed, a smirk playing at his lips.
"My lord, you summoned me?"
Heron didn't waste time. "Inform me. What's happening outside?"
Ralph, face grim, answered first. "It appears the entire town is being devoured by fire. Multiple explosions occurred, but the cause is unknown."
Heron's eyes darkened. "This is an attack, isn't it?"
Ralph hesitated. "Most likely. But… the scale of the explosions is alarming. Setting up something like this would require an enormous amount of preparation. Yet, we had no warning."
He clenched his fists. "I've stationed our most trusted and capable men inside. Everyone else is patrolling the perimeter. I've also sent word to our other bases, calling for reinforcements and fire control."
Sarbe let out a sharp, humorless laugh. "They won't respond."
Heron narrowed his eyes. "Explain."
Sarbe's smirk faded. "The moment the fire started, I attempted to contact our stationed units. I received no response."
A cold silence filled the room.
"Not a single one?" Heron's voice was deadly quiet.
"None."
Ralph inhaled sharply. "That means—"
"Our enemies are eliminating our men as we speak," Sarbe finished coldly.
Ralph gritted his teeth. "We have an army of mages, mercenaries, knights, and beastmen. It would take an entire legion to bring us down."
Sarbe's expression was unreadable. "Perhaps. But… how about you use the emblem command?"
Heron's brow furrowed.
Sarbe continued, **"You have direct access to our top commanders. No matter where they are, they should be able to respond—if they're still alive."
Heron felt his stomach drop.
"Do it."
Ralph activated the emblem command, his hands moving swiftly as he tried to connect with their forces.
Seconds passed. Then minutes.
Each attempt yielded nothing.
After ten agonizing minutes, Ralph finally lowered his hands, his face pale.
"…Squad leaders 1, 3, 4, 5, 6, 9, and 12 are all dead."
Silence.
Sarbe let out a slow exhale. "This is definitely an assault."
Ralph swallowed hard. "We need to run."
Sarbe nodded grimly. "Too many emblem holders dead? That's impossible. Our attackers must have been planning this for months. And if they were thorough enough to wipe out our communication, it means they're not just attacking.
They're erasing us."
Heron's breath came slow and measured. This was bad. Worse than bad.
"What are our options?"
Sarbe's mind was already racing. "We don't know how many enemies there are, their abilities, or their affiliations. But one thing is certain—we cannot afford to waste any more time."
His voice turned cold. "Use the forces outside as disposable shields if necessary."
Heron and Ralph both nodded. Sacrifices were inevitable.
Ralph added, "The fire will slow them down just as much as it slows us. We have hidden tunnels leading to multiple exits—town square, near the harbor, the forest gate, and the gambling house."
His eyes flickered to Heron. "Worst case scenario, my lord, you take the tunnel adjacent to the irrigation canal. It leads directly to the mountains. That's our safest option."
Heron clenched his fists.
How?
How did it come to this?
Everything—**the empire I built, the influence I cultivated, the men who swore loyalty to me—**all of it is burning to the ground.
This wasn't supposed to happen.
My networks stretched across regions, my soldiers were trained to kill, my assassins were unmatched. I controlled everything. And yet… I know nothing.
I don't know who is attacking. I don't know how they did it. I don't even know if I will live to see another day.
This—this is not possible.
No army marched upon my gates. No great force declared war. No warnings, no negotiations—just fire.
Everything vanishing in an instant.
But—no. Maybe I am overthinking this. Maybe this is some freak accident, some miscalculation.
Perhaps—perhaps the explosions were not an attack.
Perhaps my men are simply out of reach.
Perhaps—
I turn.
And my eyes fall on Lila.
My niece, my little star, still asleep, curled in a chair. The soft rise and fall of her breath is the only thing steady in this entire world crumbling around me.
And the fear hits me all at once.
This isn't just about me.
This isn't just about power or influence or reputation.
Because of me, because of my ambitions, she is now in danger.
The walls that were supposed to protect her are failing.
What if I die?
What if they get to her?
Even if I survive, what will I have left?
My county is gone.
My men are dead.
My allies will turn their backs.
There will be no excuses. No recovering from this loss. Even if I flee, I will be nothing more than a disgraced noble, a target for every vulture in the aristocracy.
I will never have the same power.
Never have the same influence.
And worst of all—this will not be the last time.
Whoever did this will not stop.
They will come for me again. Again and again, until there is nothing left of me.
Unless—
Unless I survive.
Unless I crawl from the ashes.
And take my revenge.
Whoever did this… whoever took everything from me… I will find them.
And when I do, they will suffer.
Count Heron took a deep breath, steadying his trembling hands. His empire was gone, but he was still alive. And as long as he drew breath, he would not let this be his end.
"Gather anything valuable. Now." His voice was sharp, leaving no room for hesitation. "We're leaving through the kitchen passage."
Ralph and Sarbie exchanged quick glances, nodding. There was no time for arguments.
Then—
A soft, drowsy voice cut through the tension.
"Uncle...? What's happening?"
Heron turned to see Lila rubbing her sleepy eyes, confusion flickering in her bright gaze. Innocent. Clueless.
And afraid.
He immediately knelt beside her, wrapping his arms around her small frame. His heart ached.
"Hush, little star," he murmured, running a gentle hand through her dark curls. "Everything is fine. I'm here."
"But—"
"It's okay." His voice softened further, reassuring. Lying.
He felt her tiny fingers clutch his sleeve. She was scared. And he hated this.
This wasn't her battle.
Ralph and Sarbie flanked them, weapons drawn, escorting them swiftly through the halls. The Silent Blade founders and every available fighter had been summoned to hold the line. They had no idea Heron and the others were slipping away.
The moment they reached the kitchen, Heron covered Lila's ears, muffling the distant screams, the shouts, the sounds of battle. She wouldn't hear any of it.
"Get the passage open," he ordered.
Sarbie wasted no time. He ripped apart the kitchen floorboards, exposing the hidden gate beneath the cooking zone. Ancient enchantments shimmered over it, protective runes locking it shut.
He had to break them.
With a crack, the first sigil shattered. Then another. The old iron door groaned, creaking open.
And then—
"I'm thirsty," Lila whispered.
Heron's chest tightened.
He couldn't ignore her. Not now.
He reached for a jar of water on the counter. Just for a second.
Just a second.
But in that moment—
Lila turned. Her eyes fell on the creaking gate.
Her curiosity sparked.
She didn't understand.
She didn't know.
And she took a step forward.
Just as Lila curiously approached the hidden passage, a sinister presence emerged from the shadows like a wraith. Jim. His arrival was soundless, his aura suffocating, a predator descending upon prey.
In a flash, Ralph moved with near-sonic speed, intercepting the attack meant for the child. Jim, however, was already gone, slipping past him like a phantom and materializing inside the kitchen. His piercing gaze immediately locked onto the escape route—an opportunity he would not allow.
Without hesitation, Jim unleashed his power. A near-invisible, malice-infused blade of decomposition shot through the air, so fast and imperceptible it was like a phantom's whisper. Serbie, his instincts honed by countless battles, sensed the unnatural, vile energy and barely managed to evade. A terrible sensation gripped him—a crawling, rotting feeling that sent shivers down his spine.
But Jim's attack had never been meant for him in the first place.
The cursed blade struck its true target—the escape passage itself. With a sickening hiss, the enchantments crumbled, the stone rapidly deteriorating as if centuries of decay had occurred in mere moments. The once-secure route disintegrated into dust and rubble, sealing their last hope of escape.