The moment the Knight shifted, Ryckel bolted for the archway. His worn out shoes pounded against the ancient stone,
Almost there---
In the blink of an eye, a whistle of displaced air tore through the chamber. A slab of metal, six feet of edge and weight, slammed into the doorframe an inch from Ryckel's nose.
The impact sent a shockwave through the stone, spraying grit into his eyes.
"Son of a---!" Ryckel skidded to a halt, cursing the air.
He scrambled back as the sword vanished into thin air, only to reappear in the Knight's translucent grip a second later.
The Knight didn't breathe, but it vibrated with a low, dissonant hum. It stepped forward, the giant blade dragging on the floor with a sound like grinding teeth.
I can't die here. Not some damn hole.
Ryckel focused.
During those long, humiliating days with the Stained Brothers, he'd felt a prickle in his veins, a current of heat. He visualized it now, forcing that warmth toward his legs and knuckles.
It wasn't perfect, it felt like trying to push thick sludge through a needle, but he had been practicing. His muscles tightened with a new density.
He snatched two stones from the rubble.
He dashed left, then cut right, throwing the first stone as a distraction. The Knight didn't even flinch, its movements sluggish but inevitable. Ryckel closed the gap, his body low to the ground.
He saw the only opening, the narrow, dark slit of the visor.
"Eat this!" Ryckel roared, leaping and slamming the second stone directly into the helmet's gap with every ounce of his redirected energy.
Tink.
Tink.
Tink. Tink. Tink.
The metallic sound was mocking. The stone rattled harmlessly inside the hollow helmet and dropped to the floor.
Ryckel's heart plummeted.
The Knight moved. A casual, backhanded sweep of its gauntlet caught Ryckel mid-air.
The world tilted. Ryckel flew, his back slamming into a weathered pillar. He slumped to the ground, coughing up a spray of crimson that stained the pale stone.
He gasped for air, his vision swimming.
The Knight stood over him. It began to speak or at least tried to. The sound was a grating, disjointed wheeze, like wind blowing through a rusted pipe.
It sounded like his own tongue, but twisted. Ryckel's brain felt like melting just trying to make sense of it all.
As the Knight repeated the guttural syllables, the white words exploded in a frenzy of white sparks.
Ryckel looked up, his face contorted in a snarl of pure, unhinged hatred.
I can't die here. What would happen to my family?
He hated the Knight, he hated Hood, he hated the Hussars. But then, through the red haze, he saw Lyra's eyes.
He heard his father's voice, a ghost in his mind.
'I leave it to you... Be the man of the house while I'm gone. Alright?'
"Get... up," Ryckel hissed through blood-slicked teeth.
As he rose, something shifted. Black and white sparks began to arc off Ryckel's skin, crackling like dying stars. A low rumble shook the room, shaking dust from the ceiling.
The whispers. Faint, overlapping voices spoke in his ear, a language that sounded similar to what the Knight had been speaking.
It felt like he was losing it.
I'm hallucinating. Maybe cause of that hit…
But the power was real. He felt light. He felt dangerous. Just like he normally did during the Bleeding Hour.
The Knight paused, its flickering blue form tensing, then it charged. It swung the massive sword in a horizontal arc meant to bisect the room.
Ryckel didn't even think, he jumped. He soared higher than humanly possible, landing squarely on the flat of the blade as it buried itself deep into the wall.
Ryckel smirked. "My turn."
He lunged forward, his fist wreathed in black-white lightning. He punched the helmet clean on the jaw.
BOOM.
The impact sent the Knight flying backward, its hollow armor clattering as it smashed into the far wall. The sword remained stuck in the stone, vibrating.
Ryckel didn't wait. He scrambled down and ran back. He tore through the hallway, his feet barely touching the ground. He felt faster, the black-white sparks leaving scorched trails on the walls and the ground.
He reached the first room, but his gut screamed a warning.
He's coming.
Ryckel spun around, bracing himself. The Knight burst through the darkness, its roar sounding like a beast was collapsing. It had recalled its sword in blue flames, and in its mindless fury, it swung upward.
CRUNCH.
The giant blade bit deep into the ceiling, getting snagged in the ancient masonry. Stone crumbled, raining dirt over the Knight's visor.
Ryckel seized the moment. He stepped in close, his fists a blur of dark sparks, hammering at the Knight's torso.
Is it just the armor? If I break the shell, will he die?
The Knight let out a guttural shriek as Ryckel continued. It dismissed the sword into blue flames and slammed both hands onto Ryckel's shoulders. Ryckel fell to his knees, the weight of the Knights grip feeling like heavy boulders.
"No!" Ryckel roared.
He kicked back, disengaging, his movements blurring in a way they never had before.
Only reason he could do all this was because the Knight was clunky and Ryckel when he was with Hood was calculating different ways and strategies to win against Hood and his men in a fight.
He was winning. He could see the Knight's movements slowing down the more, the blue light fading---
Then, the world went cold.
The Knight didn't swing. It thrust.
A translucent, armored hand, coated in a sudden spike of blue energy, punched straight through Ryckel's abdomen.
Ryckel froze. He looked down, staring at the blue-tinted fingers protruding from his back.
There was no pain at first. Just a profound, empty cold.
He was speechless.
The Knight withdrew its hand. Ryckel's legs gave out, and he hit the cold stone with a wet thud.
Blood began to ooze out, pooling around him, dark and steaming in the chilly air.
I failed.
The image of Lyra waiting by the stilted house flashed one last time.
I'm sorry. I'm so sorry.
His eyes glazed over as the black-red sparks around him flickered. This time, he had actually hoped his family was dead.
No. He was slowly forcing himself to believe it so. Because the mere thought of living them all alone made him restless.
He wanted all of them to be dead. So they could rest.
The last thing he felt was the vibration of the ground as the Knight stood silently over his cooling body.
He was dead.
---The End of Chapter 11---