Arthur woke with a gasp, his body jolting forward as his eyes darted around the dim clearing. For a moment he couldn't place where he was, only that every inch of him throbbed with pain and his instincts screamed at him that he wasn't safe. His breaths came quick and ragged, his hands pawing at the dirt as if he expected someone to come down on him at any second.
"It's alright, Arthur. You're fine. You're safe." A voice said from beside him.
He turned and saw Myrna kneeling at his side, her hands close but not yet touching him, like she was afraid of startling him worse. His shoulders eased, his breathing slowed, and though the ache in his chest and ribs hadn't lessened, the fear started to bleed out of him. "What happened?" he asked hoarsely, still trying to make sense of why he was lying there half-naked.
"When I woke up, you were on the ground by the fire," Myrna explained. "Your brother was out too. I tied him to a tree so he wouldn't wake up and hurt you, then I... I did what I could. I bandaged you, and I had herbs with me, so I used those on your cuts. They'll help stop infection."
Arthur looked down at himself, blinking at the sight of the strips of cloth wrapped around his torso and arm in place of his tunic. He touched them carefully, feeling the tightness of her knots, the faint scent of crushed herbs clinging to the wrappings. They looked a lot better than when he did it. "Thank you," he said. "I would've died if you hadn't helped me." He managed a faint smile despite the throbbing in his ribs.
Myrna hesitated, then gave him a small smile in return, though her cheeks reddened with color. "You've done a lot for me too, Arthur. Don't forget that."
He let out a chuckle, wincing as the movement tugged at his ribs. "I don't think anything I've done compares to saving my life." His eyes drifted across her face and froze on the dark mark blooming across her cheek, the bruise his brother had left. The smile slipped away. "I'm sorry about that. I should've stopped him before he touched you."
Myrna shook her head firmly. "It wasn't your fault. You're not responsible for him."
Arthur's mouth twitched into a faint smile again, though guilt lingered in his eyes. He braced his hand on the ground and tried to push himself up, only to grimace sharply as pain shot through his arm and side. Myrna was at his side immediately, slipping an arm under his shoulder to guide him to his feet. With her help, he shuffled over to the log near the fire and lowered himself down.
"Big brother hasn't woken up yet then?" Arthur asked once he caught his breath.
Myrna's lips curved faintly. "He did. He shouted all sorts of threats at me when he first came to, demanded I let him out. I gave him some water with valerian root mixed in. He's been asleep since."
Arthur's tired face cracked into a grin. "Smart."
Myrna glanced toward the fire, then back at him. She reached for the small pot beside it, poured water into a cup, and held it out to him. His hands shook too much to take it, so she kept it in her own, pressing the rim gently to his lips and letting him drink slow sips. Afterward, she tore off a small piece of bread and handed it to him, waiting patiently as he chewed. When she offered a bit more, she raised it herself, feeding him bit by bit while her eyes never left his face.
"Is there anything else I can do for you?" she asked quietly when he'd finished, her hands still hovering like she expected him to collapse again.
Arthur shifted against the log, grimacing as the pain gnawed at him no matter how carefully he tried to sit still. He shook his head. "I'm Fine thank you," He told Myrn, though both of them knew it wasn't true. His body felt broken and his mind wasn't much better, because even as he tried to push it aside, all he could think about was Mira and the fact that she was about to be handed off to one of the Tanners like she was nothing more than a bag of grain. All because of him. Because he couldn't control himself and keep his cock in his trousers.
'I'm such a fool,' he thought bitterly, the words tasting like ash in his mind. His fists clenched on instinct, sending sharp pain up his knuckles, but he didn't release them. He had to save her. That much was certain. But as he looked at his bandaged torso, the burns of the wolf's bites and scratches, the throb of his swollen hand, he couldn't help but wonder what he could realistically do in this state. His body felt ruined and yet time was running out. He needed an edge, something that could tilt the balance in his favor. His thoughts drifted to the sword upgrade token he had earned. Maybe that could help.
Closing his eyes he activated the sword upgrade token.
[Warning: multiple upgrade paths detected.]
Arthur blinked. "What?" he muttered under his breath.
[Option 1: Normal route. Upgrade token will raise Swordsmanship (Apprentice) to Swordsmanship (Journeyman).]
[Option 2: Player may take a chance and roll for advanced version of this skill.]
Arthur frowned. "What do you mean advanced version?" he asked mentally, not sure if the system would even answer him.
[All skills are not created equally. Some are inherently superior. Swordsmanship is a common skill. It can be upgraded steadily from Novice to Expert but no further. it will remain a plain style as it is basic with no alterations.]
[However, certain sword styles are classified above common Swordsmanship, each with their own potential paths. These include styles such as: Three Sword Style, Sun Breathing, Arthurian Knight Style, Way of the Sword. The list is extensive.]
Arthur's heart thudded in his chest. That sounded incredible. Who wouldn't want that?
[However, be warned. Choosing this path is a gamble. For every superior technique you might obtain, there is an equal chance you may receive an inferior one. Options include: Goblin Style, Caveman Technique, Blunted Blade, and other such failures.]
Arthur's jaw tightened as he absorbed the words. This wasn't like the Otherworld Tokens where the only risk was wasting potential. Here, if he rolled badly, his swordsmanship could actually get worse. It was stupid. He shouldn't risk it. And yet... what good would sticking with a plain, common style do him now? He needed more than just basics. He needed something that could make the difference between saving Mira and losing her forever.
"Shit. I hope I don't regret this," he thought, before mentally choosing the second option.
[Warning: Progress will be reset to 0 upon successful transfer.]
Arthur tensed. He hadn't expected that, but before he could change his mind the system had already taken hold.
"Dragon Fang Style... Whispering Edge... Crimson Veil... Broken Hilt Technique...Steel Serpent... Hollow Cut...Vulture's Peck..." His stomach turned as the wheel ticked past one dreadful option after another, every second stretching longer than it had any right to. His palms grew slick with sweat despite the cool night air.
The wheel slowed again, hovering on Rusted Sword. "No, no, no—" Arthur muttered in his head, the panic clawing at his chest. It lurched forward, slid over Crippled Guard, then spun past Split Wrist Method. His heart pounded so hard he thought it might burst out of him. Finally, the glow clicked into place.
[Legendary Falling Star Style (Apprentice)]
Arthur's eyes widened.
[Falling Star Style: An ancient style of House Dayne, taught since the Dawn Age. Its flow mirrors the stars themselves. Recognized as superior to nearly all other sword techniques across Westeros. Grants potential to bond with the sword Dawn.]
Arthur almost dropped forward from shock. His breath escaped him in a ragged laugh. The Sword of the Morning. House Dayne's legacy. He had their style. House Dayne had some of the greatest swordsman on all of Planetos; there wasn't a man woman or child who hadn't heard of the Sword of the Morning, or Dawn. If he weren't half-broken, he would've leapt to his feet and screamed his joy into the night sky.
He forced himself ro calm down and asked mentally, "Why hasn't my progress reset?"
[Falling Star Style has no Novice tier.]
Arthur froze, staring at the floating text in disbelief. He hadn't lost a thing, he had beaten the system. He was going to be a legend with this.
Ping.
Arthur's eyes narrowed. "...What?" The familiar sound of the system notifications sounded.
Ping.
"No... no, no, no." His breath quickened.
Ping.
"Wait, wait, wait—!" His chest sank as the next notification appeared.
[Warning: Due to player's acquisition of superior style, the world has been rebalanced. Several individuals now exist within the world who will possess an unnatural hatred for the player. Histories and spawn locations have been randomised.]
[Judge Holden.]
[Villanelle.]
[Trinity Killer.]
[Warning: The moment any of these individuals hear of the player, even without knowing his name or seeing his face, they will be unnaturally drawn to him.]
Arthur's blood ran cold. He stared blankly at the glowing screen, every bit of elation crushed beneath a weight of dread. He had no idea who any of these people were but it couldn't be good. The trinity killer? What in seven hells was that. His mouth worked, but no sound came out. At last he whispered in his mind: 'Please. Take it back. I want my common swordsmanship back. I don't want this.'
The system stayed silent.
"Arthur?" Myrna said managing to catch his attention. She was closer now, crouched beside him, her hand hovering near his arm. Her eyes searched his face nervously. "Are you okay?"
Arthur dragged his eyes up to hers. He forced his lips into something that could pass for a smile, but it was hollow, and his voice came out flat. "I'm fine."
But he wasn't. Not even close. He leaned back against the log as Myrna pressed a small waterskin into his hands, her eyes never leaving him. For a while she said nothing, but when she finally spoke her voice was gentle. "You know... you can talk to me if you need to. About any of it. I'm here for you."
Arthur lifted his gaze from the fire to her, and despite the pain twisting through his body, he managed a nod. "I appreciate that," he said quietly. "I'm just... worried about Mira. I don't want her to get married to that Tanner boy. I know she'd hate it. She deserves better than that."
Myrna tilted her head slightly, confusion flickering across her features. "Are you... planning to stop it?" she asked.
He didn't hesitate. "I am. After I rest a bit, I'm gonna go after her, get her, and then leave this place."
Her lips parted as if she wanted to say something, but nothing came. Instead, she looked at him with a sadness he couldn't quite place. She dropped her gaze to the dirt and kept quiet, though the silence between them spoke enough.
With effort, Arthur planted his hands on the log and forced himself to his feet. His legs wobbled and his chest ached, but Myrna was at his side in an instant, steadying him with her arm around his waist until he found his balance. He gave her a small nod of thanks before turning his eyes to the sword lying in the dirt beside Gregor.
He walked over slowly, each step jarring his battered body, then bent to pick it up. The blade wasn't anything special, but the weight in his hand made his chest tighten with something close to relief. He waited, half-expecting the system to flash and confirm the end of his sword prodigy quest, but nothing came. His brow furrowed.
'Why?' He turned the blade over, studying it. He had to get a real sword for the quest to be completed. This was a real sword was it not? Then the thought struck him—this wasn't good enough. The quest hadn't been about getting any blade. It had wanted something more, something of better quality than a half-rusted, workman's edge his brother had probably carried for years. He let out a breath, annoyed but resigned. Still, a sword was a sword, and right now that was enough for what he needed to do.
Arthur crouched beside Gregor, carefully working the sheath free from his belt. Once it was loose, he strapped it around his own waist, adjusting it until it sat right on his hip. He slid the sword home and felt the soft click of it settling. To his surprise, the motion brought a nice familiarity, a sense of belonging he hadn't realized he'd been missing. The weapon seemed natural in his grip, as though his body already knew it, and that was saying something because even before, blades had felt comfortable in his hand. This was different. It seemed like the Falling star style was already doing its job.
He stood straighter, adjusting his stance with the added weight on his belt, when a loud noise broke the moment.
"AAARGH!"
Arthur froze. The yell had torn from Gregor's throat. His brother was awake.
"You fucking bastard! Untie me right now!" Gregor roared while thrashing against the rope. His arms pulled so hard the bark of the tree creaked under the strain, and the veins in his forearms bulged as he tried to rip himself free. "You think you've won? You think this is over? I'll kill you, Arthur! I'll break every bone in your body and I'll drag you home by the hair, you fucking mistake!"
Arthur's stomach clenched, but he didn't move closer. He planted his feet, keeping his hand near the hilt of the sword at his side. The firelight flickered across Gregor's face, showing the bruises and dried blood Arthur had left there, but his brother's eyes still burned with the same hateful fury as always. "You're nothing!" Gregor spat, his chest heaving. "You've always been nothing! You think anyone will look twice at you? You think Father gives a shit if you live or die? You'll end up rotting in the dirt, and no one will even remember your name!" He bared his teeth like an animal and yanked hard against the ropes again, the fibers groaning under the pull.
Myrna stepped closer to Arthur, her hands trembling, and her face pale. "Arthur..." she said softly. "He's going to break free if he keeps pulling like that."
Arthur's grip tightened on the hilt of Gregor's sword, his knuckles whitening. He didn't answer her at first, his eyes locked on his brother's wild face. Gregor's words burned in his ears, but beneath the rage was something worse. Part of him still feared he might be right.
But not this time.
Arthur finally spoke. "You're not dragging me anywhere, Gregor. You're done giving orders. You're done putting your hands on me. And you're done deciding what my life's worth."
Gregor snarled and thrashed harder, the rope digging into his skin, flecks of blood smearing onto the bark. "You little cunt! When I get out of this, I'll put you in the ground myself! You hear me? I'll gut you like a pig and send your whore Myrna to the other Tanner boy as a wedding gift!"
Arthur's jaw clenched so tight it hurt, his heart was hammering in his chest. He pulled the sword from its sheath in one swift motion. The sound alone cut through Gregor's ranting, and for a brief moment, the older brother's eyes widened.
Arthur stepped closer, the tip of the blade catching the glow of the flames as he leveled it toward Gregor's chest.
"You won't touch her," Arthur said. "Not while I'm breathing."
His brother froze, the firelight catching the sweat on his brow and the fresh trickle of blood at the corner of his mouth.
"I could kill you right here," Arthur said coldly. "And I wouldn't lose a moment's sleep over it."
"Arthur!" Myrna's voice cracked as she hurried to his side. Her wide eyes flicked between him and the steel pressed toward Gregor. "Don't. Please don't. If you kill him, there's no going back. They'll call you kinslayer, and that stain never fades."
Arthur didn't take his eyes off Gregor. Gregor had gone silent now, no longer roaring and cursing, but breathing hard through his nose, staring at the sword point as if it might plunge into him at any second.
"You can't do it," Gregor said finally, his voice quieter, though he tried to muster a sneer. "You don't have it in you. You'd piss yourself before you'd spill my blood. You wouldn't kill your own brother."
Arthur leaned in, his face close, his eyes empty of warmth. The tip of the blade pressed just enough against Gregor's chest to indent the fabric. "Why not? You said you'd kill me. You said you'd gut me like a pig and laugh while you dragged me home. So tell me, why shouldn't I do it to you?"
The older boy's breath caught, his bravado faltering as his eyes darted to the sword again. His lips moved soundlessly for a moment before he whispered, "You're bluffing." He tried to reason. "You wouldn't. You... you can't. I'm your brother."
Arthur leaned forward until the firelight cast half his face in shadow. "Look at my face," he said quietly. "And tell me if I care about you."
Gregor's mask cracked. His eyes widened, his throat worked as he swallowed hard, and sweat now poured down his temple. The sneer was gone, replaced by a desperate, pitiful look. "Wait, wait, Arthur, don't. Please. Don't do it. I was angry, I was wrong. I shouldn't have said those things. I didn't mean it." His voice broke, and he tried to shift away from the sword that pressed firmer against his chest. "You're not nothing, you're not. You're better than me, I see that now. Just—just don't kill me. Please. Have mercy, brother."
Arthur's eyes narrowed. He didn't lower the blade. "Where's Mira?"
Gregor's lips trembled. "Locked in her room. Father's keeping her there until the wedding. Five days from now, she'll be wed to Brant Tanner. He already gave his word." He gulped hard. "That's all I know, I swear it."
Arthur kept the sword steady against him, his mind racing, fury and fear boiling together in his chest.
Arthur's grip tightened, and without another word he drew the blade back just enough before snapping it forward, not the edge, but the butt of the hilt. It cracked against Gregor's temple with a thud. His brother's eyes rolled back, his mouth slackened, and he slumped against the ropes that held him.
Arthur exhaled, before turning to face Myrna. She still stood close to the fire, her hands clasped against her chest, her face pale with worry. He forced a smile onto his face, one that reached just enough to soften his eyes. "Don't look like that. I wouldn't have killed him," he said. "I just needed to scare him."
Her body eased at that, the tension loosening from her shoulders, and she let out a breath she had been holding. The worry in her face didn't vanish entirely, but relief broke through.
Arthur sheathed his sword slowly, as if to reassure her, before lowering himself down onto the log with a groan. His body still ached, every movement pulling at bandaged wounds. Myrna moved closer, sitting just opposite him, her knees tucked under her dress, her gaze flicking toward Gregor and back again. "What are you going to do now?" she asked softly.
Arthur leaned forward with his elbows on his knees, staring into the flames. "I told you already," he said. "I'm not letting Mira marry one of the Tanner bastards. Father can rot for all I care. I'll rest up here, get my strength back, and then I'll go for her." He paused. "I'll take her, and we'll leave this place. I don't care where we end up, anywhere's better than here."
Her lips parted as though she wanted to say something but held it back. Her expression faltered for a moment, sadness touching her face as if she knew something he didn't, but she lowered her gaze to her hands instead of speaking.
Arthur noticed the change in her but didn't press. His eyes drifted toward his brother's unconscious body, then back to Myrna. "He said five days," Arthur muttered. "That's when the wedding is. Father has Mira locked in her room. Which means I don't have much time."
Myrna shifted uncomfortably. "If you try to take her... won't the Tanners, your father, even the guards—won't they all come after you?"
Arthur's eyes hardened as he turned back to the fire. "Let them. They'll have to catch me first. And if they do, I'll make them bleed for it." His hand brushed against the hilt of Gregor's sword at his hip. "I'm done playing by their rules."
She looked at him again, concern etched into her face, though there was something else there too. "If that's what you've decided," she said slowly, "then I'll help you however I can."
Arthur finally looked up at her, meeting her eyes. He gave her a small smile, one that was as much gratitude as it was relief. "I know you will and I thank you for it," he said. "You've already done more for me than anyone ever has."
She lowered her gaze again, her cheeks warming.
Arthur leaned back, letting the silence rest between them again, his mind already racing with possibilities and risks.
He only had five days.
────────────────────
[New Quest Received]
BROKEN CHAINS
Description:
Your sister Mira has been promised to Brent Tanner. The match will bind your family tighter to the Tanners, but at the cost of Mira's happiness. You know what it means if the wedding goes through: misery, cruelty, and a life wasted in their hands. If you want to protect her, you'll have to find a way to stop it.
Objective:
– Prevent Mira's marriage to Brent Tanner
Bonus Objectives:
– Convince your father to break the match
– Defeat Brent Tanner in a duel
Rewards:
– +1 Otherworld Token
– 75 XP
– Random Skill Upgrade
Failure:
– Mira is wed to Brent Tanner
– She lives in misery under their roof
– Relationship penalty with Mira
────────────────────
(AN: so Arthur has gotten a pretty rare skill at least in terms of this world. Obviously it's unconfirmed and unlikely that House Dayne have their own Sword style, but I like to think they do if they consistently pump out good swordsman. Anyway some of you may think I'm being a bit harsh with the punishments, I don't think they're too bad tbh plus if everyone's confused on why he got a penalty even though it was apprentice level it a because the skill itself is legendary it's kinda hard to explain, but yeah think of the skill having inherent value despite the level it's at. Anyway I hope you enjoyed the chapter.)
Support for more.
Patreon.com/captainalfie78works