General Surt never saw it coming—he had not the slightest inkling that the man would strike at this very moment. It was no wonder, really. After all, the proposal the young aide had put forward earlier was perfectly aligned with Wester's national interests. For that reason, Surt had not harbored the slightest suspicion. From Wester's perspective, dealing with a high-ranking general from an allied nation was bound to be a delicate matter. That was why he had been so engrossed in weighing the proposition. Even when the scream tore through the night, his first thought was that they had been ambushed by the Sith Empire—not that their supposed allies from Wester had turned on them.
It was that split second of hesitation that sealed his fate. Though, as a high-ranking swordsman, Surt's reflexes were nothing to scoff at, his attacker had struck with the resolve of a man ready to die, and he had been lying in wait for this exact opportunity. In the end, Surt failed to dodge the sneak attack, and the dagger plunged deep into his abdomen.
"Damn it!"
Staring down at the young aide's lifeless body, Surt gasped, a chill running down his spine. The man may not have possessed the combat prowess of a high-ranking swordsman, but as a mid-rank swordsman capable of wielding soul power, he had easily pierced Surt's defensive aura. To make matters worse, Surt could feel his abdomen growing numb, the pain fading away with every passing second. It meant the dagger was most certainly laced with a deadly poison. But he had no time to dwell on that now. There was only one thought racing through his mind: he had to get back to the royal heirs, and fast—he had to save them!
He knew his men all too well. After days of grueling travel, they were exhausted, their strength sapped. The enemy, on the other hand, had clearly been plotting this for a long time, lying in wait for the perfect moment to strike. With their men worn out and the enemy fully prepared, the outcome was all too predictable. Now he could only pray that his soldiers could hold out long enough—long enough for him to make it back… if only he could reach them in time…
Surt turned and ran back toward the camp, abandoning all pretense of stealth. In a race against time like this, wasting even a second on hiding was pure folly. At the same time, he could feel the numbness spreading from his abdomen, creeping through his limbs. He knew full well that the more strenuously he moved, the faster the poison would course through his veins. But he had no choice left. Gritting his teeth, a faint golden glow flickered to life around his body. He straightened his back, took a deep breath, and charged headlong toward the camp in the distance.
By then, the camp was already a scene of utter carnage.
Blake hid silently in the shadows, watching the slaughter unfold with detached interest. Just as he had predicted, the soldiers had been caught completely off guard, cut down before they could even mount a proper defense. Though the attack had been blown wide open when one of the assassins had slipped up at the last minute, the tide had already turned completely in the enemy's favor. The Orltan soldiers had tried to fight back, but the mysterious attackers, with their superior numbers, quickly gained the upper hand. After a few brief skirmishes, all but a handful of veteran soldiers guarding the carriages lay dead on the ground, their bodies cold and lifeless.
"Your Highness! Run! Save yourselves!" one of the veterans shouted, waving his weapon desperately as he fought to hold the line.
At his cry, the carriage door finally flew open. A stocky young boy jumped out, clutching a sword tightly in his hand. His lips were pressed together in a determined line as he scanned the battlefield before him. He looked no older than thirteen or fourteen, his youthful face still tinged with the innocence of adolescence. But when he saw the full extent of the carnage, his face turned ashen white. He spun around in a hurry, grabbing the hand of another figure inside the carriage.
"Sister! We have to go! Now!"
With that, the boy pulled a woman, her entire body shrouded in a cloak, out of the carriage. Under the cover of the remaining veterans, they began to retreat into the depths of the forest. But unfortunately for them, the Westeran soldiers had anticipated this move, surrounding the camp to cut off all escape routes. Seeing them flee, the assassins closed in immediately.
Perhaps it was the desperate situation that pushed the remaining veterans to tap into reserves of strength they never knew they had. They swung their swords with all their might, barely managing to fend off wave after wave of attacks. Though they were riddled with wounds, they managed to inflict serious injuries on several of the black-cloaked attackers. Seeing this, the assassins were forced to halt their advance, spreading out to tighten the encirclement.
"Not bad at all," Blake murmured, nodding in approval as he watched the fight unfold. There was no denying the loyalty of these soldiers—they were willing to lay down their lives to protect their masters. It was this unwavering resolve that had momentarily stayed the assassins' hand, preventing them from closing in for the kill right away. And the boy was no ordinary youth either. He had not chosen his escape route at random. Blake noticed that the path he had taken led directly to the spot where General Surt had disappeared earlier. Clearly, he was hoping to rendezvous with Surt, relying on the general's strength to break through the encirclement. For a boy his age, it was a remarkably astute judgment call.
But unfortunately for them, their brave efforts were not enough to change the outcome of the battle.
Just as the boy pulled the woman toward the depths of the forest, a hail of arrows shot out from the trees without any warning. Caught completely off guard by the sudden ambush, neither of them had time to react. The girl behind the boy was the first to be hit—after all, the arrows had come from behind her. The boy, his entire attention focused on the fight ahead, had not noticed the danger creeping up from behind. By the time he turned his head instinctively, it was already too late.
Three arrows pierced the woman's body without mercy. The sheer force of the impact sent her stumbling forward. She did not even have time to let out a scream before collapsing to the ground.
"No!!!"
Watching the woman fall, the boy let out a roar of fury. He spun around, his eyes blazing with rage as he glared into the depths of the forest. Raising his sword high above his head, he charged toward the trees nearby. But a second volley of arrows rained down on him before he could get far. Struck by four arrows, the boy crumpled to the ground, his body going limp, and he fell silent forever.
Witnessing the deaths of the very people they had sworn to protect, the last remaining veterans lost all will to fight. They were no longer the fierce warriors they had been just moments ago. After struggling to fend off one final attack, exhausted and beaten, they too met their end.
Only then did the black-cloaked assassins cease their attack. They exchanged glances, then nodded silently at one another. Closing in, they stared down at the two fallen figures—the last remaining heirs to the Orltan royal family.
"And with that, the mission is complete," the leader of the assassins said, his voice cold and emotionless as he stared at the bodies on the ground.
"We do this for our country. Forgive us, Your Highnesses."
With that, the man lifted his head, scanning the depths of the forest warily before raising his hand.
"Mission accomplished. We withdraw…"
A cold wind blew through the trees. The man's hand froze mid-air. His eyes widened in shock as he stared at the empty forest before him, his raised hand never lowering. The other assassins standing around him paid him no mind, still staring blankly at the bodies at their feet.
The only difference was that, at that moment, not far behind them, Blake stood there with his back turned slightly toward the assassins. The corners of his lips curled up into his usual elegant, gentle smile—but in stark contrast to that smile was the sword at his waist. The slender blade had been drawn halfway out of its scabbard. The cold, snow-white moonlight shone down on the pitch-black sword, reflecting a chilling glint of light.
"I would love to say it's a pleasure to meet you, gentlemen," Blake said, turning his head casually to look at the black-cloaked figures before him.
"But it seems I'll have to say goodbye instead."
"Click."
As the words left his mouth, the sword Blake had been holding in his right hand slid back into its scabbard with a soft click. At that exact moment, the black-cloaked men standing motionless on the spot suddenly went limp, collapsing to the ground. Their eyes remained wide open, unblinking. Apart from the shocking crimson stain on each of their necks, no one would have been able to tell what had happened to them.
Moments later, two petite figures—one dressed in black, the other in white—stepped out from the trees. Misaya and Semia walked curiously over to Blake's side, both of them glancing at the bodies lying not far away. From the tips of the parasols they held, blood dripped down slowly—leaving no doubt as to the fate that had befallen the poor souls who had been lying in ambush in the grass.
"That's it? Just like that, Brother?" Misaya asked.
"That's it? Just like that, Father?" Semia echoed.
"For now, it is," Blake replied, nodding slightly in response to the sisters' questions. He then walked over casually to where the two siblings lay. By the light of the moon, Blake got his first clear look at the faces of the two royal heirs.
The woman shrouded in the cloak was in her early twenties, around the same age as Blake. She had a delicate, beautiful face that exuded the charm of a mature woman. Her soft, pale golden hair was now a tangled mess, spread out haphazardly on the ground like a ball of cotton discarded by a seamstress. In the moonlight, one could clearly see three black iron arrows protruding from her chest, right shoulder, and abdomen. Blood flowed continuously from her wounds, soaking her elegant white robe. Her face was as pale as a sheet, and her breathing was shallow and faint. Blake could tell that she would be dead within ten minutes at most.
The boy's condition was no better. Though his sturdy, well-trained body was clearly more resilient than his sister's, it had done nothing to protect him from the arrows. The gaping wounds on his body were a clear indication that the arrows had been fired by mid-rank swordsmen capable of wielding soul power. Horrific wounds covered his entire body, and his throat had been torn open in a gruesome gash. Blood gushed forth from the wound, mixed with the faint, gurgling sounds of his final, futile gasps for air as his life slipped away into the darkness.
After checking on both of them, Blake walked over to the woman's side. Kneeling down, he grabbed the arrow protruding from her body and pulled it out forcefully.
"Ugh!!!"
Normally, to avoid aggravating the wound, one would never remove an arrow in such a crude, brutal manner. But Blake clearly did not care whether the woman lived or died. As he pulled the arrow out, the barbs tore through her flesh, ripping away a chunk of her skin and muscle. Blood spurted out uncontrollably. The woman let out a muffled groan before falling silent forever. But Blake did not stop there. He used the same rough method to pull out the remaining two arrows from her body. Only then did he stand up, make a gesture over her body, and snap his fingers.
"Misaya."
At his command, Misaya immediately walked over to the woman's side, kneeling down beside her.
"Father, why didn't you let me do it?" Semia asked, pouting in dissatisfaction as she stared at her sister.
"Semia could have done it just as well!"
"Because she's not quite dead yet," Blake replied, shrugging his shoulders and giving Semia a helpless smile. He reached out and stroked her jet-black hair, a look of affection flashing in his eyes. "Once she's truly gone, she's all yours."
As the two of them spoke, Misaya knelt beside the woman, gently lifting her head and holding it in her hands. She stared at the woman for a moment before closing her eyes—and pressing her lips against the woman's.
A brilliant white light immediately erupted from Misaya's body, flowing outward like a tangible current of water. A pair of faint, white light wings emerged from her back, unfurling slowly before wrapping themselves around the woman's body.
An incomparable aura of life began to spread throughout the forest. Even the sleeping trees seemed to stir, their branches rustling softly in response to the powerful energy. Blake and Semia stood quietly by the side, watching the scene unfold before their eyes.
Moments later, the wings of light vanished. Misaya stood up, a satisfied smile on her face as she looked down at the woman lying on the ground. The woman's face was no longer pale and ashen; instead, it was flushed with the healthy glow of life. Her body, which had been on the verge of death just moments ago, was now completely healed. Ignoring the large bloodstains on her robe, she looked just like a sleeping beauty, waiting only for a prince to come and wake her from her slumber.
"Done?" Blake asked.
Misaya turned around with a smile, holding up her right thumb in a triumphant gesture.
"All done, Brother!"
At her confirmation, Blake nodded in satisfaction. This, in fact, had been a key part of his plan all along. He had never intended to simply take his target back to Twilight Forest. Blake knew full well that, as members of the Orltan royal family, they would not necessarily obey his orders. To prevent any mishaps, he needed a way to control them—to hold their lives in his hands. And these two sisters were the key to executing that plan.
As Blake's closest companions, Misaya and Semia possessed soul powers of an extremely unique nature. The elder sister, Misaya, wielded the power of faith known as "Immortality," while the younger sister, Semia, possessed the power of faith known as "Undying." The former granted eternal life, while the latter made one impervious to death itself. This was the reason why, seventy years later, the two sisters would still be by Blake's side. From the moment they had awakened their powers of faith and become Born Knights, time had frozen for them forever. Immortality and Undying—these two sisters would exist in this form for all eternity. Without these powers, even a Born Knight would never have been able to live for seventy long years. Without awakening such abilities, their fate would have been nothing more than to fade into the darkness of death.
Of course, the influence of these powers was not limited to the sisters themselves. They could even inject their soul power into others, subjecting them to the same effects. This was precisely why Blake had brought the two sisters along on this mission. He needed to use their powers to control the heirs to the Orltan royal family. If they ever posed a threat to him in the future, Blake would simply order the sisters to withdraw their power. And once deprived of the support of that soul power, no matter how healthy and normal they appeared on the surface, their bodies would instantly revert to the state they were in before receiving the power—and then they would plunge into the abyss of death.
This was one of the main reasons why Blake had chosen to bring the two sisters along. In fact, before setting out, he had already prepared two contingency plans. If his targets had somehow survived the attack by a stroke of luck, he would have Misaya bestow the power of "Immortality" upon them, restoring their lives. If they had been unlucky enough to die, he would have Semia grant them the power of "Undying"—even if they were nothing more than walking corpses, they would still be useful to him in one way or another.
"Father, what about him then?" Semia asked, growing impatient now that Misaya had completed Blake's orders. She pointed a finger at the boy lying nearby, her tone laced with dissatisfaction.
Blake glanced at the boy's body before turning his head away.
"As a brother, I would never let my sister kiss a strange man. As a father, I would never let my daughter kiss a strange man. And as a man, I have absolutely no interest in keeping a strange man by my side."
With that, Blake walked over to the woman's side, bent down, and lifted her body into his arms. He glanced into the depths of the forest, shrugged his shoulders, and said:
"Objective achieved. We can go home now."
**A/N: Thank you to all the readers! Your support is the driving force behind my updates!**