I leaned closer to the glowing glyph, my eyes locked on the battle unfolding between the king and his attackers. The scene was nothing short of awe-inspiring yet nerve-wracking. The attackers were relentless, their skill and ferocity evident in every strike. Among them, a few stood out, their resonance skills turning the tide of battle into something akin to a chaotic storm.
One of them—a hulking figure clad in reinforced leather armor—stomped the ground, and a pulse of seismic energy rippled outward, sending chunks of stone and debris flying toward the king. The king, his golden aura flaring like a shield, sidestepped with an agility that belied his age, his sword cutting through the airborne debris with ease. The ground shook violently, but he remained firm, his movements calculated and precise.
Another enemy, wiry and covered in blackened gear, unleashed razor-sharp tendrils of shadow that darted toward the king with frightening speed. The tendrils coiled and lashed like living serpents, attempting to ensnare him. The king twirled his blade, the golden resonance around him cutting through the dark tendrils as if they were smoke. The enemy snarled, their resonance skill shifting as the shadows condensed into a massive spear that hurtled toward the king.
The king met the attack head-on, his blade flashing as he struck the spear mid-flight. The impact sent a shockwave through the hall, forcing even the Golden Knights around him to brace themselves.
Another enemy—a lithe, masked figure—moved at impossible speeds, their resonance skill cloaking them in streaks of electric-blue energy. They blurred into motion, appearing suddenly at the king's flank, twin blades coated in crackling electricity. The Golden Knights couldn't keep up; their movements were too slow, their weapons too unwieldy. But the king, as if sensing the strike before it came, pivoted on his heel, his sword meeting both electrified blades with a resounding clash. Sparks flew, and the attacker leapt back, their electric aura still crackling.
Despite the odds, the king stood tall, commanding the battlefield with both strength and presence. Yet, it was clear that the enemies weren't ordinary fighters. The woman clad in black armor etched with glowing glyphs raised her hands, and a fiery orb materialized between her palms. Her resonance skill ignited the air around her, the flames twisting and growing into a massive fireball. With a roar, she hurled it toward the king.
The fireball exploded on impact, engulfing the area in flames. My heart clenched as I stared, but when the smoke cleared, there he stood—unscathed, his golden aura shimmering brighter than ever, shielding both himself and the Golden Knights around him.
"Those strange weapons they carry," the magistrate muttered beside me, his voice grim and filled with unease.
I glanced at him briefly before returning my gaze to the glyph. His sharp eyes never left the scene as he continued, "I don't know which kingdom could have produced such weapons, but they're dangerous—game-changing. Even an unskilled soldier armed with one of those could take down seasoned knights or warriors with minimal effort. Whoever is behind this... they're not just testing the king's strength. They're testing the strength of our kingdom as a whole."
His words weighed heavily on me. These weapons, capable of killing with just a pull of a trigger, could turn the tides of war. They were unlike anything I had ever encountered.
My breath caught as I saw the king falter slightly. A well-coordinated strike forced him to his knees briefly, his blade raised in a valiant defense. Two attackers rushed him simultaneously, their weapons aimed directly at his heart. For a moment, I feared the worst—that I was witnessing the end of a warrior king, about to make his final stand.
And then, it happened.
From the shadows, they emerged—the King's Shadows. Like phantoms, they materialized with precision, their black armor sleek and unyielding, each adorned with subtle glyphs that shimmered faintly. One moved with blinding speed, intercepting an attacker mid-strike, a curved blade slicing cleanly through their weapon and into their chest. Another leapt into the fray, disarming the shard-launcher wielder in a flurry of swift, brutal strikes.
The woman wielding flames turned to retaliate, only to find her fireball snuffed out mid-air by another Shadow, whose glyph-covered shield absorbed the energy with ease. The speedster, attempting to outmaneuver them, was stopped cold by a trap glyph that ignited beneath their feet, freezing them in place.
The king, rising to his full height, joined his Shadows in the fray, his golden aura blending seamlessly with their precision strikes. In moments, the battle turned. The attackers were overwhelmed, their formation broken, their coordination shattered. One by one, they fell—slain or forced into retreat.
I gasped as one of the remaining enemies activated a shimmering portal glyph. The strange technology hummed as the air distorted, and the attackers began vanishing through the portal one by one.
"They're retreating," I murmured.
The magistrate's expression was grim. "Whichever kingdom crafted these... they won't stay silent for long. Power like this always breeds ambition."
He turned to me, his gaze sharp and measured. "This feels like the beginning of something much larger. Restlessness will grow, borders will be tested, and if these weapons are only the start..." He let the words hang, his silence more chilling than anything he could have said. "We should all be very worried."
As the last of the attackers vanished, silence settled over the hall. The king stood amidst the aftermath, his aura finally dimming, though his strength and presence remained. He turned, his gaze meeting the glyph as though he could see me through it. For a moment, I felt like I was being judged—not harshly, but with a weight that made me stand taller.
"Let's go to him," I said, turning to Elara. Her face was pale, her hands trembling slightly, but she nodded resolutely.
"Caelan," she said softly, her voice breaking. "Is he... is he really okay?"
I looked at the glyph one last time, seeing the king standing amidst the ruins of the hall, the Shadows and Golden Knights gathering around him.
"He's okay," I said firmly. "Your father's stronger than anyone I've ever seen."
Elara nodded, her expression softening just a little, though the worry didn't leave her eyes. Together, we made our way to him, the weight of the night pressing heavily on my shoulders.
**
I sat slumped in the corner of the magistrate's study, my back resting against the cool stone wall. The room was eerily silent save for the soft crackle of the lanterns and the faint hum of protective glyphs surrounding us. Elara knelt beside me, her hands steady as she cleaned my wounds with a damp cloth and healing salve. Her face was composed, though her small hands trembled slightly when they brushed against my skin.
Now that she knew her father was safe, her earlier panic had subsided. The attackers were either dead or had retreated through those strange portal stones. The sight of the glowing glyph devices swallowing the enemies whole still lingered in my mind—a disconcerting display of power and technology far beyond anything I'd ever seen. Judging from the magistrate's grim expression, these weapons and methods were completely new, a harbinger of something far more dangerous.
"This could signify the beginning of a brutal and bloody war," the magistrate had muttered under his breath earlier, his voice a mix of dread and certainty.
"Ouch!" I winced as Elara dabbed the salve onto one of my deeper cuts. The sting was sharp, and I instinctively jerked away. She responded by narrowing her eyes and grabbing my arm with surprising force for someone so small.
"Stay still," she said indignantly, her tone leaving no room for argument.
"Well, it hurts," I whined, though I regretted it immediately.
She didn't respond, focusing instead on cleaning another wound. Her composure surprised me. I thought she'd be more hesitant or uncomfortable, especially after what she'd endured in the Eldergrove forest just days ago. Yet here she was, tending to my wounds with a calm determination that made me feel both guilty and grateful.
The magistrate stood a few paces away, observing us with a look I couldn't quite decipher. Perhaps he thought it improper for the princess to be tending to someone like me—a farmer's son, half-naked and covered in bruises and cuts. Or perhaps he simply found the entire situation beneath his station. Either way, he said nothing, though I caught a faint twitch at the corner of his mouth.
"Shouldn't we go see how the king is doing?" I asked, trying to distract myself from the sting of the salve. I gestured toward my arms and torso, littered with superficial cuts and one nasty bruise blooming across my side where Razorwind had punched me. "This can be taken care of later."
"A glyph bandage, please, magistrate," Elara said, ignoring my complaint entirely. Her tone carried the authority of her title, but there was also a softness to it, like a sister scolding an older brother for being careless.
The magistrate inclined his head, though I saw his jaw tighten ever so slightly. "Of course, Princess." He retrieved the bandage from a drawer and handed it to her, his movements precise yet slightly begrudging.
I held back a grin. He clearly wasn't thrilled about the princess fussing over me, but I suspected my saving his life earlier was enough to keep him silent. For now.
Elara peeled the backing off the glyph bandage and pressed it carefully against a particularly nasty cut on my shoulder. The moment it adhered, I felt a faint warmth spread from the glyph, soothing the pain almost instantly. A soft golden glow emanated from the bandage, and I watched in fascination as the edges of the wound began to close, the flesh knitting itself together with surprising speed.
It was oddly comforting, like being wrapped in a gentle heat on a cold day. Within moments, the bleeding had stopped entirely, and though the wound wasn't fully healed, it no longer felt like a liability.
"These are amazing," I muttered, flexing my arm slightly.
"Be still," Elara snapped, though there was no real bite in her voice.
After another ten minutes of her meticulous care—during which she insisted on checking every cut and bruise, no matter how small—we were finally ready to leave. I pulled my shirt back on, wincing slightly as the fabric brushed against my sore side, and stood. Elara followed, her gaze steady and unwavering.
As we made our way out of the study, I couldn't shake the unease settling in my chest. The devastation outside awaited us, a grim reminder of just how close we had come to death. The attackers were gone, but their presence lingered like a shadow, and I couldn't help but feel that this was only the beginning. There were enemies out there—dangerous, faceless enemies with powers and weapons I couldn't even begin to comprehend.
I glanced at Elara, who walked quietly beside me. Despite her composure, I could see the strain etched into her face. She was trying to be strong, but she was still just a child, thrust into a nightmare far beyond anything she should have to endure.
I let out a soft sigh. I was terrified—absolutely terrified. But fear wasn't going to stop me. I had made a promise to protect her, and I intended to keep it.
Somehow, I would survive this. I would survive, marry a nice village girl, and become a famous explorer, just like I'd always dreamed. And when I grew old, sitting by a fire with stories to tell, then—and only then—would I allow myself to die.
For now, though, survival was all that mattered. And protecting her was the only way to ensure it.