Indra Translations
Navigation
Star-Embracing Swordmaster Chapter 292: Side Story – The Destroyed Nest

Chapter 292: Side Story – The Destroyed Nest

Collapsed⁠​ buildings.

Air‌‍‍ saturated with the⁠ smell of blood.⁠‍

The​‍ head of an⁠ old man rolling⁠‍⁠ at his feet.​‍‌

And,⁠ in the distance,⁠‍​ the roar of‌‌‍ the Deathworm.

‘What‌‌‌ do I do?‍⁠⁠ What am I supposed to do?’​⁠‍

Emil’s‌‍​ sharp hearing picked⁠ up the footsteps‍⁠‍ beginning to surround‍⁠​ the building.

At‌‌⁠ least several dozen.‌‌

The​ moment he realized‍ they were already​‌⁠ surrounded, Emil’s eyes‍​ darted everywhere, but‍​​ he could not⁠⁠ find a single‍​‌ escape route.

“It⁠‍ must have been​⁠‍ hard getting here.‍‍ Honestly, I thought⁠​⁠ I was going‌⁠‌ to die.”

As‍ if he were‍‍ completely satisfied with⁠‌‌ the situation, Ishtvan​ scratched his chin‌ and began joking‌‍ around.

Emil,⁠⁠​ who was watching​​ even the slightest⁠⁠​ movement he made,‍​ unconsciously followed the‌⁠ direction of his​‍‌ fingers.

‘……!’​​

And‍ at the end‌ of that gaze,​⁠ he found a horrifying scar.

A deep, dark scar‍​ carved into Ishtvan’s‌‍‍ neck.

It‌ looked as though‍⁠‌ someone had tried‍ to tear his‌⁠ throat out.

Faced⁠⁠‌ with that brutal‌⁠ mark, Emil swallowed​‌ unconsciously.

“Or‍‌​ maybe I already​‍ died once.”

A strange madness shone‍‌⁠ in Ishtvan’s eyes‌​ as he looked⁠⁠‌ at Emil.

Yes.‍

That’s‍ how you should⁠‍‌ look at me.​​⁠

Don’t‍ ignore me like‌‍ before while you​⁠⁠ looked at Godin‍ behind me.

Perhaps​‌⁠ it was because⁠‍ those eyes looked‌​ so much like‍​‍ Vlad’s.

Because‍‌​ at that moment,‌⁠ Ishtvan was trapped‌ inside a scene‍ from the past.‌‍

The⁠⁠​ impeccably maintained training​‌⁠ yard of Daermar.‍‌

The​‍‌ assembled knights.

And​ that blue-eyed boy​‍ staring directly at‌​‍ him.

But‍​​ this time that⁠ boy was not​ ignoring him.

“As‌‍​ it turns out,‌ the prison those⁠‌ dwarves built was​​ too sturdy. So​‍ sturdy that I couldn’t escape with‌ my own body…”⁠​​

The​‍ madman lost in‌​‍ the past no‌⁠ longer distinguished between​ Vlad and Emil.​‍⁠

Unable⁠​ to separate reality​ from memories, Ishtvan​ swayed like a drunkard.

And‌​ then two shadows‌ lunged at him.​

“Haaah!”‍

“You⁠‍⁠ bastard!”

Taking​⁠‌ advantage of the‍ slightest opening Ishtvan‍‍‍ had shown.

Perhaps‍‍ the first and‍‌​ last opportunity.

Ramund⁠ and Telsa swung⁠ their swords at⁠‍ the same time.‌

“Ah…”​​​

With⁠‌ a vacant gaze,​‍‌ Ishtvan watched the​⁠ two auras approaching.‌‌

One‍ was a sharp‍ thrust designed to‌ create an opening.‌‍

The‌​​ other was the​‍ familiar aura of‌‍ Body Reinforcement.

“Vlad!!!”‌​

The⁠ same strategy Vlad⁠‌‌ had used against⁠⁠ him in the‍ past.

Completely​ immersed in his‍‍ memories, a crazed⁠ aura began pouring⁠ from Ishtvan’s left​ eye.

“You⁠‌‍ damned bastard! A back-alley brat who⁠⁠ doesn’t even know‍‌ who his mother⁠ is!”

Booom!​‍⁠

“Guh!”​‌

Ramund’s‍‍ knees buckled as⁠‍​ he blocked Ishtvan’s‌​ sword.

‘What​‌ the hell is‍ this strength?!’

The‌⁠ blow was so​ brutal that the​ ground trembled.

Even‌​‌ after taking the‌ impact head-on, Ramund‍ desperately tried to​ keep Ishtvan’s sword‌‌​ pinned down.

‘Now!’⁠‌​

And‌​ right behind him‍‍⁠ was Telsa.

With‌ precise movements, she⁠‍​ launched her sword.​‌‍

The‍ combat style of‌ a duelist from‍​‌ the Southern Archipelago.​​

A technique perfected over‌ a lifetime of​​ short engagements.

The​​⁠ rapier shot out‌​‌ from behind Ramund‌⁠ and curved like⁠ a serpent, piercing‍‌ through the back‌​ of Ishtvan’s neck.‍​

‘I⁠​​ got him!’

The⁠‌‌ sensation transmitted through‌ the tip was⁠ unmistakable.

Cutting‌‍ flesh.

Breaking‍​​ bone.

Yet​ even amid that​‌ familiar sensation, Telsa​ sensed something strange.​‍

Because​⁠⁠ Ishtvan’s madness-filled eyes‍ were still staring‌​ at her.

“Move!”⁠

Ramund‍ shoved Telsa aside​​ and raised his‌ sword once more.​‌

Booom!⁠⁠​

“Aaaah!”‍‍​

“Guh!”⁠‍

This​‍​ time it was​ a merciless horizontal‍​‍ slash.

The⁠‍​ enormous mass of‍ the sword swept‍⁠⁠ both of them‌⁠‍ away in a single strike.

“Guh…⁠​‌ Cough!”

Not​⁠ even Body Reinforcement​ could withstand such‍‌​ destructive power.

Buried​ beneath the rubble,‌‍​ blood began pouring‌‌ from Ramund’s mouth.‌

“Once‍⁠ again you’re trying‌​⁠ to trick me​ with those damned​ tricks!”

That‍ cowardly sword that‍‍​ wore down my‌ endurance.

That‍ cursed forehead that‍​‍ shattered my fists.​​​

“You‌‌ think I’ll fall⁠ for the same‌‌‍ thing again, Vlad?!”⁠

If​‍ not for that.‌

My‍⁠‌ sword would never‌​​ have been taken‌‍​ from me.

My⁠⁠ father would not​‌​ have died.

My‍‌ family’s banner would‍ not have fallen.⁠

“But‌⁠‍ that’s not going⁠‌ to happen anymore!‍‍ I’ve come back!‍‍ I’ll never be‍‌ defeated by you​‍⁠ again!”

To‌ Ishtvan, imprisoned within​⁠​ his memories, it​​​ no longer mattered‍ who stood before‍‌‍ him.

He​⁠ only needed someone‌‌ upon whom he⁠‍⁠ could vent his⁠⁠ rage.

Someone​ to bear twenty​⁠ years of sorrow,​ anger, and despair.​​⁠

“Die,​ Vlad!!”

The​‍ gigantic sword rose.‍⁠‌

As​​⁠ it reached its‌ highest point, the​⁠ very air seemed⁠⁠‍ to hang from⁠ its edge.

And‍​​ just as it⁠‍ was about to⁠‍​ fall upon the⁠‍ two knights—

Crack!‍​‌

“……!”⁠

Ishtvan’s​⁠⁠ eyes shook violently.‌

A kick had slammed⁠‌‌ into the side‌‍⁠ of his head.‌‍​

Someone‍ had been waiting⁠ for that moment.‌‌​

The⁠ instant Ishtvan focused⁠⁠ all his strength⁠ into a single‌ point.

“Haaah!”⁠

A child shining intensely​ with yellow light.‍‌

Moving​ at terrifying speed,⁠‌‍ Emil struck Ishtvan’s⁠ head and continued‍​⁠ his momentum until‍‍​ he smashed into‍‌ the ceiling.

Like‍‍ a sharpened arrow.‍

Like​ a yellow line‍ cutting through the‌ air.

“The‍​ one who’s going​ to die is‍ you!”

Emil‍​ carried no sword.⁠

Because​‌ a squire had​⁠‌ no right to⁠​ bear a sharpened‍⁠⁠ blade.

Bang!​‍ Bang! Bang! Bang!!‍‍​

So⁠‍‌ what he was‍‍⁠ using was Ramund’s‌‌ body technique.

The⁠‌ same one that​ had crushed assassins‌​ only moments before.‌

‘Emil…!’‌​

The‍ yellow line moved‍‍⁠ so quickly it‌ was difficult to⁠‍ follow with the⁠​ eye.

But⁠​ Ramund recognized it.‍

Those‌‌ movements were the‍​‌ fundamentals of Body‌‍‌ Reinforcement that he⁠ had spent his⁠ entire life perfecting.​

‘Don’t‍ lose the flow!’​​‌

Triangles⁠‍‌ appeared endlessly around‍⁠⁠ Ishtvan.

With‌‌ elbows.

With‍⁠ knees.

Sometimes‌⁠‌ with his forehead.​⁠‍

The‍‌​ points of those‌ force-filled triangles struck‌‌ Ishtvan again and‍​⁠ again.

“…Damned​⁠‌ brat!”

Without​⁠⁠ a sword, Emil⁠​ could get even‌ closer.

Just⁠‍ as Vlad had⁠‍ neutralized Ishtvan’s greatsword‌ in the past.‌⁠

Emil⁠‌ constantly stuck close‍‍‍ to him, destroying‍⁠‌ his ideal range.‌

The‍⁠‌ cruelty of a dragon exploiting the⁠⁠⁠ weaknesses of its‍⁠ prey.

The​​ boy’s pupils had⁠⁠⁠ already become vertical,‌‍ like a dragon’s.‍

“Graaaah!!”‌

Realizing‌‌‍ that he would‍‌‌ never catch Emil‌ through speed alone,‌‌⁠ Ishtvan raised his‍‍ sword once more.‌

Reason​ no longer existed‍​​ within him.

But‌⁠‍ that was precisely​​ why certain instincts⁠ remained.

Booom!‍​⁠

The‌⁠ sword came down‍⁠ with enough force​ to bring down‍⁠ a building.

And‌⁠‌ the resulting shockwave‍‌ was not directed​ at Emil.

It‍‌ was directed at‍ Ishtvan himself.

“Aaaagh!”⁠

An‌ explosion of debris‌ and energy in⁠‍ a completely unexpected‌ direction.

Emil‍ took the full‌​‍ impact head-on and‌‍ was sent flying.‍​​

“I⁠‍‍ finally caught you.”​

“……!”‍⁠‍

Ishtvan’s‍ entire body was​⁠ covered in wounds.‍

Half‍ of one of⁠‍ his thighs had​ been torn away.‌‍⁠

But⁠⁠ he smiled as​​ though he felt​‌ no pain at​ all.

Grabbing​​ Emil by the​ ankle, he raised⁠⁠​ his hand.

Crack!​​

Emil’s​ head slammed brutally‌‌ into the ground.‌

A sound that should‍‍ never be heard⁠ near a child.‍⁠‌

Ramund’s‍ eyes trembled.

Crack!​⁠ Crack!

As⁠​‍ if he were​‌ shaking a toy.‍

Again⁠ and again.

At​ first Emil struggled‍ to break free.‌⁠​

But‍‍‍ after three, four,‌‌ five impacts…

The⁠ boy’s consciousness began​⁠⁠ to fade.

“No!⁠‍‍ No!”

Trembling,‌ Ramund managed to​​ get to his⁠‍⁠ feet and grabbed⁠​‍ Ishtvan’s wrist.

But‌ the violence continued.​‌‌

Crushing.⁠​⁠

Relentless.​

Faced‍‌⁠ with that absolute‍‍⁠ madness, both Ramund’s‌​‍ aura and the‌ blessing protecting Emil‌‌‍ began to weaken.⁠‌

Booom!!‍​‍

“Don’t‌‌ let her get‍ away this time!”‍‍‍

“It’s‍⁠ the red-haired girl!​‌​ Kill her!”

Hampton⁠ watched the scene⁠​​ unable to breathe.‍

And⁠ when another explosion​⁠ echoed behind him,‍​ he shut his‍‌ eyes.

The‍ doors of the​‌ trading company that‍‍ had filled him‌⁠ with so much‍​⁠ pride.

The‍⁠ doors bearing the⁠‌ emblem of the​​‍ Kannor family.

Had‍ just been destroyed.⁠⁠‌

And⁠⁠‍ men dressed in‍ black began pouring⁠⁠ inside like a flood.

“F-Father!”‍‌‍

The‌​‍ remnants of the⁠‌​ past continued advancing‍ toward the children.‌‌

The⁠ mercenaries tried to​ hold them back.⁠

But‌ the enemy already‌‍‌ outnumbered them several‍ times over.

And⁠⁠⁠ when that wave‌⁠ of despair reached‌‌‍ a child’s throat.‌⁠​

Only⁠ a few words⁠⁠‌ remained to be‍​‍ spoken.

“Father!‌⁠‍ Dad! Dad!”

The​ broken nest.

The⁠ voice of the‌​ child calling for‍⁠⁠ his father was‍⁠‍ heartbreaking.

But​​​ his father had‍ no time to‍​ turn around and⁠⁠ look at him.⁠

‘Father!​ Where did you‍‌ put it?! Father!’⁠‍‌

Portly⁠ was searching Olson​​‍ Kannor’s corpse.

Not⁠​ the head that​ had been thrown​ in front of‌⁠​ Emil.

The‌ decapitated body.

‘Father,⁠⁠ please!’

Like⁠ a madman, Portly‍ emptied pockets, tore‍⁠‌ open the collar​​​ of the shirt,⁠‌ and desperately searched‍‍ through the corpse’s‍​ belongings.

A son rummaging through⁠‌‍ his own father’s⁠⁠​ body.

It​ was a disrespectful‌‌‌ sight to anyone​‌‍ watching.

But⁠ Portly’s hands did⁠ not hesitate for​‍⁠ even a moment.​⁠

“…I‌⁠​ found it!”

Because‍⁠ behind him, his⁠​ little son was⁠⁠‍ still crying.

Because‌⁠​ his father would‍⁠⁠ have done exactly‌ the same thing.‍

“Everyone‌‌ get back!”

In‍‍ Portly’s bloodied hand⁠​⁠ was a small‍​ brooch.

The​​ symbol that only‌ the head of​ the Kannor family​⁠‍ was allowed to⁠​ carry.

When​ he opened the​‍ lid, a complex​​ magical formula engraved⁠​​ with tiny characters​ appeared.

“You⁠ damned bastards.”

Portly⁠‍​ bit his index‍‍ finger and let‍ blood drip onto⁠‍ the brooch.

It​​ was an artifact​ that responded only‌‍‌ to the blood‍⁠​ of the Kannor⁠‍⁠ family.

A bluish light began‍ running across his⁠‍​ fingers.

Without‌⁠⁠ hesitation, he pointed​​⁠ toward the assassins.​

Booom!‍

His⁠ index finger exploded.⁠‌

And​‌ at the same⁠​ time, an icy⁠‍‍ flash tore through‍ the air.

“Guaaah!”​‌​

“Guh…”​‍

Snowflakes‍‍ began to fall⁠ upon the mercenaries’⁠‍‍ corpses.

And‌ among that snowfall‍ appeared the assassins.​‌

Turned‌​​ into statues of‌ ice.

At​​ the sight of​​‌ the sudden silence,‌‌⁠ Portly let out‌ a groan of‍​ pain.

“Guhhh…”‌

It⁠⁠⁠ was an artifact​ of extreme freezing.‌

A relic that only⁠‌⁠ the head of⁠⁠ the Kannor family​‍⁠ could use.

A type of magic​​⁠ indispensable for a family involved in‍‍ the meat trade.‌⁠‍

He⁠ had never imagined‌​‌ he would end​‌ up using it‌ like this.

Normally‌‌ it required a proper activation phrase⁠⁠‍ and an exact‍ amount of blood.​

But‌⁠‍ it didn’t matter.‍‍​

“Sir​ Ramund…”

This‌‌​ time he bit‌‍‍ his middle finger.⁠

Then‍‍‍ he looked toward‍⁠ Ishtvan and Ramund.⁠⁠

Ishtvan‍‍ was still striking​⁠‌ Emil like a madman.

Ramund​‌ remained clinging to‍ his arm.

“Do‌​‌ it… hurry…”

The‌​ old man’s broken‍​​ voice showed that‌​ he had almost​⁠ no strength left.​‌

Even​⁠‍ so, he gathered​‌ what little remained‌‍​ and began prying​⁠⁠ Ishtvan’s fingers open.⁠‍⁠

“Guhhh…”‌‍‌

Every‌​ muscle in his​‌ body felt as​​ though it were⁠‍‍ tearing apart.

His‍ old body could⁠​‌ no longer withstand‌⁠ any more aura.⁠​

But‍⁠ if it was‌‌‍ only for an​‌‍ instant.

“GRAAAAH!”⁠

All⁠‍‌ of Ramund’s remaining‌⁠‌ aura concentrated into⁠‌ his hands.

Slowly,​​‍ Ishtvan’s fingers began​ to open.

“You‍ worthless old bastard!”‌‍‌

The‌ madman’s roar struck‌ his ears.

But​ Ramund managed to‌‌ free the boy.‌​

Then‌⁠⁠ he quickly crawled​ over and covered‌ Emil’s body with‍ his own.

Booom!​‌

A monstrous burst of‍ freezing energy exploded‌​​ behind him.

“Guhhh…”​‍‌

His⁠​⁠ back was left‍​‌ completely exposed.

Body‍​‌ Reinforcement had been‍​‌ unable to protect⁠ it.

He​‍ felt the ice⁠‍‌ beginning to spread‍ through his flesh.‌⁠

But⁠ the more he​‌ froze.

The‍‌‍ tighter he held‌ Emil.

Just‍⁠ like that time.⁠​‍

So‌ many years ago.‍‍⁠

When⁠‍ he blocked the‍​⁠ breath of the‌ fastest dragon to​​ protect Vlad in‍ the middle of‌ a snowstorm.

“…Sir‍‌‌ Ramund.”

At⁠ last, the Kannor‍ Trading Company building​⁠⁠ fell silent.

Snowflakes‍‌‌ drifted down on‌⁠ a day that​‍ did not belong⁠‍ to winter.

Holding⁠⁠ his ruined fingers,​ Portly approached the⁠​‍ old man.

“……”‍​⁠

But‌‍ Sir Ramund’s blue​ lips could no​⁠ longer move.

The‍ only thing he⁠‌ did was continue⁠‍ protecting the boy​​‍ in his arms.​​‌

“I​ understand.”

Portly‌ took Emil.

“I’ll‍ make sure to​ get him to⁠ Soara.”

Protect‌ the potential of⁠⁠ the young.

Do​ what you must⁠⁠​ when your time⁠ comes.

They⁠‌​ were vows every‌‌⁠ knight was expected‌‍ to fulfill.

But‍ Ramund did not‍⁠‍ act as a knight that day.‌⁠

He⁠⁠ had lived his‌⁠​ entire life as​ one.

Yet⁠ in the final​‍ moment of his⁠ existence, he was⁠‌​ a grandfather crawling‍⁠​ across the ground‍‍ to protect his​‌‌ grandson.

Until​​⁠ the very end.‌​

He⁠⁠ never stopped loving‌⁠ him.

“Let’s⁠‌ go!”

Gathering​‍​ the survivors, Portly⁠ hurried out of‌‍​ the building.

No​‍ matter how much⁠‍ pain he felt,‍⁠​ an adult still⁠ had things to​ do.

As⁠​‌ he examined the​ street.

A metallic noise echoed‌​ behind them.

GRRRRRR—​

It⁠ was the building’s​ armored gate.

Slowly‌‍‍ descending.

Normally‌ it protected the‍‌ company’s valuable merchandise.‌‍‌

But​⁠ it should not⁠‍ have been lowering​⁠ now.

“…I‍‍ suppose that artifact‌ didn’t have enough‌‌ power.”

Telsa‌‌ smiled sadly from⁠‍‍ beneath the gate​‍ that continued descending.‌

“He’s​ still alive. Or​ maybe he’s dead‍‌‍ and still moving.”‌

The‍​ interior was filled⁠‌ with ice statues⁠‍ created by Portly.‌⁠

And​ among them stood‍​ Ishtvan.

Watching‍​‌ them with eyes‌⁠ completely consumed by⁠‍ madness.

“Telsa!”‌‍⁠

“I’m‌ already too badly‍ injured. I won’t‍ get very far.”‍

Little⁠ by little, the⁠‍‍ gate concealed her​‍ figure.

Seeing​​ her disappear, Tarenian‍⁠ tried to run‌ toward her.

But⁠​ Renvar grabbed her‍​ firmly.

“Milady,​⁠​ remember this! Your​​‍ mother loved you!”​​‌

“Telsa!‌‌ Telsa!”

Tarenian‌‍‌ screamed desperately.

But​ the gate ultimately‍‍ hid the knight‌⁠‌ completely.

Booom!‍⁠‍

“TELSAAA!”‌

Tarenian’s‌‍ scream echoed through‍ the ruined alleys.‍⁠‍

She​⁠ struck the gate​ again and again.​‍‌

The⁠ despair of believing‍ there was no​‍ one left in‍ the world who‍​ loved her made‍ her cry with​​​ all her strength.‍‌

“We‍⁠ have to go!”‌⁠‌

With⁠‌‌ Emil slung across​‍⁠ his back, Portly‌ signaled to Renvar.‌‍​

Under​⁠ other circumstances, he​ would have let​​‍ her cry as‌‌ much as she​ wanted.

But⁠⁠ there was no‍⁠⁠ time now.

“Let⁠ me go! Let​​ me go!”

“That’s‍ enough! We have‍ to move!”

Renvar,‍⁠‌ the tallest of‌⁠ all the children,​ hoisted Tarenian onto‍‌​ his shoulders.

The‍⁠ dark-skinned child continued‍ crying and struggling.‍

But​​‌ there are times⁠​⁠ when even grief‍‌ must be left‍‌ for later.

“To​ the horse market!”‌

Now​‌ Portly was the​​ only adult left.​‍

Without‍‍ even bandaging his⁠​ bleeding fingers, he​​ led the children​ toward the market.‍​⁠

“There’ll‍ be carriages there!‌‌​ It’s a horse​​‌ market, there have‍‌ to be some!”​

He⁠ remembered the place​‍ near the city‌⁠‍ gate perfectly.

The‍⁠ same one from​‍⁠ which Emil had‌ been thrown out.​⁠

A place full of​ horses.

Surely⁠ they would find​⁠ a carriage.

“There!”‍

Just​ as Portly had‍ said, several abandoned‌ carriages stood there.⁠

And⁠​ dead merchants lay‌ scattered on the‌⁠ ground.

‘They⁠​ reached here too.’​⁠‌

It​ seemed the invaders​‌ had not relied‍ solely on the‌ tunnel opened by‍​ the Deathworm.

They​‌ had probably infiltrated⁠⁠‍ the city through‍​⁠ multiple routes to‌ spread chaos.

“Move!”‍‌

If⁠​‌ they had already‍‍⁠ passed through here,​‌ perhaps they would⁠‌ be safe for‍‍ a while.

After​⁠‌ all, a storm‌ does not usually​⁠‌ devastate the same​⁠ place twice.

— There they are!‍‌‍

— Don’t let them⁠‍ escape!

But‍​ the storm pursuing​‍​ them was made‍ of pure malice.⁠

“Sir…”​‍

Renvar‌⁠ called out to​‍ Portly, his face‌⁠ pale.

Because‌​​ hundreds of assassins‍‌​ were descending the​‍ hill.

They‍​‍ looked like a black waterfall made⁠‌‌ of human beings.‍

An​ avalanche of hatred​‌‌ that could not‍⁠‍ be stopped.

“What‍‍‍ is your name?”​‌​

“Me?‍ Why?”

“What‌‌ kind of answer‍‌ is that? An‌ adult is talking​‌ to you.”

Despite⁠⁠ the desperate situation,‌⁠‌ Portly seemed calm.​⁠​

Anxiety‌‍⁠ comes when you‍‌⁠ don’t know what‍ to do.

But​ when the path‌ is clear.

Even‍‌ death can seem‌⁠‍ simple.

“R-Renvar.”‍​‍

“Good.⁠ Renvar. Do you‌‌ know how to‍‌ drive a carriage?”⁠

Portly⁠ had already harnessed​‍ the horses.

And‍ handed him the‍​​ reins.

“From‍‌‍ now on, you’re‍‍ the adult here.‌⁠‌ Get the children​​ to Soara.”

Renvar‌⁠⁠ had never driven‌⁠‍ a carriage.

He⁠⁠ had been born‍‍ and raised as​‌ a noble.

But‍‍​ faced with that‌‌‍ strange presence Portly⁠ radiated.

He‌ could not say⁠ no.

“All​​ right, children! You’re⁠‌ going to Soara!⁠ Don’t look back!”‌

Then⁠ he opened the‍‌‍ corrals.

“Dad!”​‍

Hampton’s⁠​ eyes widened.

He‍ understood what his‌⁠ father was about⁠⁠ to do.

“Dad,⁠‍‌ no! Come with‌‍ us!”

Hampton‌ waited for his‌⁠⁠ father on the⁠⁠ carriage.

But⁠ the one who​​ climbed into the​ driver’s seat was‍‌‌ Renvar.

Portly​ simply smiled.

And​ waved his hand.​​​

“Son!‌ Catch!”

Hampton​ caught the object‌​​ thrown to him.⁠

It⁠‍‌ was the Kannor​⁠ family brooch.

The​‍⁠ insignia of the⁠⁠​ family head.

The⁠‌ same one that‍ had stopped Ishtvan​ and the assassins.‍‌​

“Son!⁠⁠ I wanted to‍​​ tell you before,‌ but I never‍ had the chance!”⁠

The‍⁠ carriage was already​​‍ beginning to move⁠​‍ away.

Despite‌ Renvar’s awkwardness with​‍ the whip, the‌ horses chosen by⁠ Portly knew exactly‌⁠⁠ what to do.⁠⁠

“Congratulations‌‍ on becoming a squire of the​​⁠ Bayezid family! I’m‌ proud of you!‍ Your father got⁠⁠ in by paying‌​ money, but you‌‍ got in through‍ your talent!”

Wheeeet!⁠

A sharp whistle echoed‌​‌ throughout the area.‍

It‌​⁠ was a sound​‌⁠ no man of‌‍ the Kannor family‌‌⁠ could fail to‌⁠‍ recognize.

Portly⁠⁠ raised the whistle‌‌ to his lips.‌⁠‌

And⁠ then the horses‍ began charging out‌ of the corrals.‌‍

“Dad!”‍⁠

Hundreds⁠​ of horses burst⁠‍⁠ forward in a stampede.

And‌⁠‍ crashed into the​‍ tide of assassins​‍ descending the hill.‌

Portly‌⁠‍ stopped the wave⁠‌ of hatred pursuing‍​‌ the children.

And‍⁠ kept waving his‌‌ hand.

Until‍⁠ the carriage disappeared‌⁠ from his sight.‍​⁠

“Dad!”‍‍

Above‌ them, the Deathworm‍‍⁠ roared across the‌⁠‍ sky.

Upon⁠⁠ the earth advanced⁠ a tide of​‌ hatred.

And​ from the ruined⁠‌ buildings came the⁠‌ screams of a madman.

That‍ day, the children​⁠‌ lost their nest.​‍

The‍‍ time had come‌⁠‌ for even the​​ youngest chicks to⁠​ learn how to​ fly on their​ own.

As​‌ they left behind‌ the blackened walls​ of Sturma engulfed⁠​​ in flames…

The‌⁠ beating wings of⁠ those little birds​​ departing for distant‍‍​ lands seemed unbearably⁠‍⁠ sad.

What did you think of this chapter?
1 reaction

0 Comments


There are no comments yet. Be the first!

Reader Settings
Page mode
Timer
Text Indent
Auto scroll
Tap to read
Pin menu
Translate page
Select language to automatically translate chapter content.
Audio & AI Voice
This chapter has pre-loaded audio
Ads Blocker Image Powered by Code Help Pro

Ads Blocker Detected!!!

We have detected that you are using extensions to block ads. Please support us by disabling these ads blocker.