Kieran lunged forward, his massive sword swinging with brutal force. Kenelm barely managed to block in time, the clash of their blades echoing through the room. Sparks flew as Kenelm sidestepped, narrowly evading Kieran's follow-up slash.
Kieran pressed his assault, his strikes relentless, each one aimed to overwhelm. Kenelm, however, kept his composure, parrying a downward strike before sidestepping again and countering with a sharp slash across Kieran's chest.
The blow forced Kieran to retreat a few steps, his hand instinctively going to the fresh wound. He glanced at the blood on his fingers, then brought it to his lips, licking it with a predatory grin. "Oh, you're dead now," he growled, his emerald eyes burning with newfound intensity.
Kenelm held his sword at the ready, his breathing steady despite the tension. His eyes narrowed as he examined Kieran's towering figure, the faint green hue of his skin now more visible in the moonlight. Something clicked in Kenelm's mind, and his expression darkened.
"Wait a minute," Kenelm said, his voice low but laced with realization. "Your skin... it's green. That makes you the orc I've heard about—the one in the Protectors. Which means…" He paused, his grip tightening on his sword as the pieces fell into place. "Calvin sent you here. He wants me dead because I oppose your group. It all makes sense now."
Kieran smirked, his grip on his greatsword tightening. "Took you long enough to figure it out," he said, his voice dripping with dark amusement. "Too bad it won't save you."
Kenelm's stance shifted slightly, his resolve hardening. "If you think I'll go down easily, you're mistaken. Calvin sent the wrong man for this job."
"Or the right one," Kieran retorted, his grin widening as he readied himself for another round. Kieran slammed his massive sword into the ground, the vibrations shaking the balcony beneath their feet. Kenelm's eyes darted to the princess's bed, panic flashing in his expression.
"PRINCESS, WAKE UP!" he shouted, his voice cutting through the chaos.
The princess stirred, her groggy eyes widening at the sight of the chaos unfolding before her. Before she could react, Kieran had already wrenched his sword free from the ground, swinging it with deadly precision toward Kenelm.
Kenelm barely dodged the slash, stumbling back as the blade whistled past him. "I need you to get the guards!" he shouted over his shoulder at the princess. "Call for backup and tell them the or—"
Kenelm's words were cut off as Kieran surged forward with terrifying speed. The orc's massive hand clamped onto Kenelm's arm, twisting him violently toward the edge of the balcony.
Kenelm struggled, his eyes widening as he realized Kieran's intent. "What are you—"
Kieran didn't give him a chance to finish. With a guttural roar, he ran toward the edge of the balcony, dragging Kenelm with him.
"Orc, no!" Kenelm shouted, but it was too late.
With a mighty leap, Kieran launched them both off the edge. The sound of the impact echoed faintly from below as she quickly runs twords the balcony. The princess stood frozen on the balcony, her hand gripping the railing tightly. Her breaths came in short gasps as she stared into the darkness where they had disappeared.
For a moment, she didn't move, her mind struggling to process what had just happened. Then, her knees buckled, and she sank to the ground, trembling.
She whispered, almost to herself, "What just…? Why?" Her voice was faint, barely audible over the night breeze.
Tears welled in her eyes as she scrambled to her feet, clutching her robe. "Guards!" she shouted, her voice breaking. "Guards! Help!"
The sound of hurried boots echoed down the halls as guards rushed into the princess's chambers. The king, dressed in a hastily donned robe, pushed through the gathered soldiers, his face etched with worry.
"My daughter," the king said, his voice firm yet laced with concern. "What happened here?"
The princess stood trembling, clutching her robe tightly as her pale face betrayed the shock she felt. "I… I was sleeping," she stammered, her voice shaking. "An assassin came into my room. He tried to kill me, but Kenelm… Kenelm stopped him." She swallowed hard, fighting back tears. "They struggled, and then… the assassin took him. They fell off the balcony together."
The king's jaw tightened, and he walked toward the balcony, his footsteps deliberate. His eyes scanned the scene below until they landed on a massive hole in the rooftop of a nearby building. His expression darkened, his voice calm but commanding. "Guards," he ordered, pointing toward the damaged structure, "go to that house immediately. I want answers."
The head guard nodded sharply and barked, "You heard His Majesty! Move!" The soldiers poured out of the room, their armor clinking as they rushed to carry out the order.
The king turned back to his daughter, his face softening slightly. "Are you hurt, my child?"
She shook her head, though her hands still trembled. "No, Father. I'm fine… but Kenelm… he… he saved me." Her voice broke on the last word, and she covered her mouth, tears streaming down her cheeks.
The king placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "You are safe, and that is what matters most," he said gently, though his tone carried the weight of unspoken anger. "We will find Kenelm and that assassin, dead or alive. Rest assured, justice will be served." Kieran groaned as he pushed himself off Kenelm's broken body, blood dripping from his arms. Kenelm, barely clinging to life, coughed weakly, his breaths shallow. Despite the gaping wound in his chest and the broken bones pressing against his organs, a mocking grin spread across his face.
Kieran unsheathed his sword with deliberate slowness, the blade gleaming faintly in the dim light of the room. He stood over Kenelm, who chuckled hoarsely, blood bubbling up from his lips. "Any last words?" Kieran asked, his voice low and cold, as if daring Kenelm to provoke him further.
Kenelm spat a wad of blood onto Kieran's face. His voice was weak but filled with venom. "Yeah," he hissed. "Fuck you. Fuck Calvin. Fuck the Protectors. You're nothing but tools... puppets."
Kieran's expression hardened as he wiped the blood from his face with a gloved hand. He didn't respond. Instead, he raised his sword and drove it into Kenelm's stomach with brutal force, twisting it for good measure. Kenelm's body convulsed once before going limp, his smirk fading into a hollow stare.
Kieran stepped back, pulling his sword free with a sickening sound. He exhaled deeply, his muscles tensed, his adrenaline still surging. He turned his gaze to the bartender, who stood frozen behind the counter, clutching a rag in trembling hands.
The bartender raised his hands defensively, his face pale. "Hey! Don't look at me! I didn't see a thing, alright? In fact, I think I might be legally blind. Yeah, blind in both eyes. I don't even know if anyone was killed here. Nope, not me!"
Kieran tilted his head, a faint smirk playing on his lips. "Smart choice," he muttered, shaking his head as he turned to leave.
As Kieran stepped outside, the cool night air hit his face, doing little to calm the storm brewing inside him. He wiped his face and surveyed the street, only to find himself surrounded by 55 guards. The faint clinking of their armor and the sound of swords being drawn filled the silence.
One of the guards stepped forward, his expression grim. "You're under arrest for the murder of Kenelm Wembleye! Surrender now, or we'll take you down by force!"
Kieran sighed, flexing his shoulders and gripping his sword tighter. "Great," he muttered, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Now I'll have to kill some more."
The guards hesitated for a moment, seeing the cold, deadly glint in his eyes. Kieran cracked his neck, lowering his stance slightly. "I'm giving you one chance to step aside. I've had a long night."
The lead guard tightened his grip on his weapon. "Not a chance, orc. Prepare yourself!"
Kieran grinned, a wild, bloodthirsty grin. "Your funeral." Kieran tightened his grip on his sword, his knuckles white against the dark leather of his gauntlet. His breathing was steady, but his mind raced. He scanned the semicircle of guards before him, counting each one, calculating his odds. There was only one conclusion.
"They've seen my face," he thought grimly. "There's no walking away from this. No witnesses."
The lead guard raised his blade, barking orders. "Take him down! He can't escape!"
Kieran let out a guttural growl, his blood boiling. He surged forward with explosive speed, his greatsword carving a deadly arc through the air. The first guard didn't have time to react as the blade cleaved through his chest, splitting him open in a spray of blood.
The guards hesitated, stunned by the sheer brutality. That hesitation was all Kieran needed.
With a roar, he spun on his heel, the momentum of his blade carrying it into the side of another guard, severing his arm and sending him screaming to the ground. Kieran didn't stop. He slammed the hilt of his sword into a third guard's face, shattering bone and teeth before plunging the blade into his stomach, twisting it violently.
Two guards charged him from the sides, swords raised. Kieran ducked under the first swing, bringing his greatsword up in a brutal uppercut that tore through the guard's torso, splitting him in half. Blood sprayed across the cobblestones as Kieran grabbed the second guard by the throat, slamming him into the ground with bone-crushing force. He brought his boot down on the man's head, a sickening crunch silencing his cries.
Another guard lunged at him from behind, but Kieran pivoted, catching the blade on his own. With a feral snarl, he pushed forward, driving his sword into the man's neck and nearly decapitating him. The body slumped to the ground as Kieran pulled his blade free, blood dripping from the edge.
The guards tried to regroup, forming a defensive line, but Kieran was already upon them. He swung his greatsword in a wide arc, the sheer force of the blow knocking weapons out of their hands and slicing through flesh and bone. One guard's head flew clean off, landing several feet away, while another's chest was ripped open, his ribs exposed like a broken cage.
"Faster. Stronger. They can't keep up."
Kieran moved like a demon unleashed, his movements fluid yet feral, every swing of his blade designed to maim and kill. He ducked, dodged, and weaved between attacks, his instincts honed to perfection. Blood soaked the ground, pooling beneath the bodies that fell in his wake.
One particularly brave guard managed to stab Kieran in the side, the blade piercing his armor. Kieran grunted in pain but didn't falter. He grabbed the guard's wrist, snapping it with a sickening crack before driving his sword through the man's chest. He yanked the blade free, the motion tearing organs and spraying blood.
The remaining guards were visibly shaken, their morale crumbling as they watched their comrades fall. Kieran smirked, his face splattered with blood. "You should've run when you had the chance."
A group of five rushed him at once, desperate to overwhelm him. Kieran roared, slamming his sword into the ground and sending a shockwave of debris and blood-soaked dirt into the air. The guards were thrown off balance, and Kieran took advantage, leaping forward like a beast. He swung his sword in a brutal horizontal slash, cutting through two guards at the waist. Their torsos fell to the ground, twitching as their lifeblood poured out.
He grabbed another guard by the throat, lifting him off the ground with terrifying strength. The man choked and clawed at Kieran's hand, but it was futile. Kieran threw him into the remaining guards, knocking them over like bowling pins.
He advanced on the pile, stabbing downward with ruthless precision. Each thrust was accompanied by a spray of blood and a dying scream until only silence remained.
Finally, only one guard stood between Kieran and the empty street. The man trembled, his sword shaking in his hands. "M-monster," he stammered, backing away.
Kieran's eyes burned with fury, his chest heaving. "Monster?" he repeated, his voice low and venomous. He stepped forward, his blood-soaked sword dragging along the cobblestones. "You came for me. You die for it."
The guard turned to run, but Kieran was faster. He lunged, driving his blade through the man's back. The guard gasped, his body convulsing before going limp.
Kieran stood over the carnage, his breath ragged, his muscles aching. The street was painted red, bodies strewn about like broken dolls. He wiped his blade clean on a fallen guard's cloak, his expression cold and unyielding.
He looked up at the moon, its pale light illuminating the horror he had wrought. "No witnesses," he muttered, sheathing his sword. He turned and disappeared into the shadows