The night after Jack's betrayal draped the Westeros manor in an uneasy stillness, the air thick with the scent of stew and the faint crackle of the courtyard fire. Kayle Westeros stood atop the manor steps, the Enhanced Mechanical Arm gleaming faintly under the moonlight, its energy lines pulsing with a quiet menace. His side ached where Garen's dagger had grazed him, and the Bloodline Curse tugged at his strength, but the energy crystal's boost kept him upright—stronger than he'd been in years. He'd sent a message with Jack's flight: the Westeros name wasn't broken yet. But he knew the Laytons wouldn't let it slide—Garen's defeat and the traitor's intel would only stoke their fury.
Lilia sat nearby, tending the fire with a stick, her auburn hair glowing in the flickering light. "Brother, do you think they'll come tonight?" Her voice was soft, tinged with worry, but her eyes held a spark of trust that steadied him.
"They might," Kayle replied, his gaze fixed on the horizon. "Garen's pride's hurt, and Robert's a coward who'll squeal to his father. If they do, we'll be ready." He tapped the mechanical arm, its gears clicking. The system had been silent since Jack's departure—no new tasks, just a lingering sense of readiness. He'd used the refining tools blueprint in his mind to sketch a crude hammer and tongs on a scrap of parchment, a plan to work the crystals later, but for now, defense was his focus.
Old Tom hobbled up, his cane tapping the stone. "Young Master, the men are set—Jasper's at the gate, Ryan's got rocks piled high again, and Martha's sharpened that axe of hers. But I'll be honest—Garen's no fool. He'll bring more than last time." His gray eyes squinted toward the hills. "Hear that?"
Kayle tilted his head, catching the faint rumble—hoofbeats, heavy and fast, growing louder with every second. His pulse surged, the mechanical arm whirring as he clenched his fist. "They're here," he said, voice low and sharp. "Lilia, behind me. Tom, get the others moving."
She scrambled to his side, clutching his sleeve, while Old Tom barked orders. "Jasper! Ryan! To your posts! Martha, flank 'em when they breach!" The courtyard erupted into motion—servants grabbing their makeshift weapons, shadows darting to their stations. The system chimed: "Task issued: Repel the Layton Knights. Reward: 25 Initial Evolution Points + Basic Energy Weapon Blueprint." Kayle grinned grimly. Perfect.
The hoofbeats thundered closer, and a line of figures burst from the darkness—Captain Garen at the head, his dented armor patched and his broadsword raised, a snarl twisting his scarred face. Behind him rode six Layton knights, their horses snorting steam, their steel glinting in the firelight. Garen reined in just beyond the gate, his voice booming. "Westeros filth! You think you can humiliate me and live? I'll burn this rathole down and drag your corpse to Robert myself!"
Kayle stepped forward, the mechanical arm glowing brighter as he raised it. "Big words for a man who ran last time," he shot back, his tone cold and taunting. "Come try it, Garen. I'll break you again."
Garen's eyes blazed, and he spurred his horse, charging the gate with his knights in tow. "Smash it down!" he roared, his sword slashing at the patched wood. The barrier shuddered, splinters flying, but Jasper swung his pitchfork from the side, jabbing at a horse's flank. The beast reared, throwing its rider, who hit the ground with a groan.
"Now, Ryan!" Kayle shouted. The boy shoved the rock pile, sending a cascade of stones tumbling from the gate's arch. Two knights yelped as boulders crashed into them, one pinned beneath his thrashing horse, the other knocked senseless. Garen dodged, his sword hacking through the gate's remains, and stormed into the courtyard, his men spilling after him.
Kayle met him head-on, the mechanical arm swinging in a brutal arc. Garen's broadsword clashed against it, steel ringing on steel, the impact jarring Kayle's shoulder. "You're dead, cripple!" Garen snarled, pressing his weight into the strike, but the arm held—its reinforced plates unyielding. Kayle twisted, wrenching the sword aside, and slammed his fist into Garen's chest. The armor buckled, and the captain staggered back, gasping, his horse rearing in panic.
Around them, chaos reigned. Martha barreled into a knight with her axe, the blade biting into his shield as he stumbled off his mount. Jasper wrestled another to the ground, pinning him with sheer bulk, while Ryan darted between the horses, hurling rocks with deadly aim—one cracked a knight's helm, sending him reeling. Lilia stayed close to Kayle, her small hands clutching a stick, her face pale but fierce.
Garen recovered, dismounting with a roar, his sword slashing at Kayle's legs. "I'll cut you down piece by piece!" Kayle dodged—his cursed body slow, clumsy—but the mechanical arm snapped up, catching the blade mid-swing. Metal groaned as he twisted, snapping the sword in half, shards flying into the dirt. Garen stared, stunned, and Kayle seized the moment, driving his fist into the captain's gut. The blow doubled Garen over, air rushing from his lungs, and Kayle followed with an uppercut—mechanical power smashing into Garen's jaw. Blood sprayed as the captain flew back, crashing into a horse and slumping to the ground, dazed.
"Finish them!" Kayle barked, turning to the remaining knights. Two charged him, swords raised, but he sidestepped one, grabbing the other's arm with his mechanical grip. He twisted hard, snapping the bone, and hurled the screaming man into his comrade, sending both sprawling. Martha's axe took down another, embedding in his shoulder with a wet crunch, while Jasper and Ryan tackled the last, pinning him beneath a flurry of blows and stones.
The courtyard fell silent, save for the groans of the fallen. Garen stirred, clutching his shattered jaw, his eyes wild with hate as he crawled toward his broken sword. Kayle loomed over him, the mechanical arm glowing fiercely. "I told you," he said, voice low and lethal. "You step on my land, you bleed. Get out—crawl back to Robert and tell him I'm still here. Tell him I'm coming."
Garen spat blood, his words slurred but venomous. "You… you're nothing… Ironfist'll crush you…" He staggered to his feet, limping to a horse as his surviving men dragged their wounded away, fleeing into the night.
Kayle stood tall, chest heaving, as the system chimed: "Task completed: Repel the Layton Knights. Reward dispensed: 25 Initial Evolution Points + Basic Energy Weapon Blueprint." Warmth surged through him, the crystal's energy mingling with the system's boost, dulling the curse's ache. He turned to his crew—Jasper nursing a bruised arm, Martha wiping blood from her axe, Ryan grinning like a wildcat, and Lilia rushing to hug him.
"Brother, you were amazing!" she cried, her voice trembling with pride. "They didn't stand a chance!"
Old Tom emerged from the manor, his cane tapping as he surveyed the wreckage. "Young Master, you've got the devil's own luck—and the strength to match. Garen won't forget this."
"Good," Kayle said, his gaze hardening as he watched the knights vanish into the dark. "Let him remember. Let them all remember." The mechanical arm clicked, its glow a beacon in the night. He wasn't just holding the line anymore—he was pushing back, and the Laytons would feel it.