167 Punishing a Traitor [Chief of the Royal Guard]
167 Punishing a Traitor [Chief of the Royal Guard]
At seventy-four years old, I had lived long enough to know what decay felt like.
My joints ached in the morning, my breath came shorter than it used to, and worst of all, my manhood had stopped answering my call years ago. That was when His Highness, Prince Grant, extended his hand to me… with promises no mortal man could refuse.
Youth. Vitality. Strength. Even immortality, whispered like a secret between gods.
I had believed him instantly.
Why wouldn’t I? I had seen him do it with my own eyes, rewinding my age with nothing but a glance. Turning me into a man in his prime, then a boy, then back to the old shrinking thing I was now. All done with casual precision, as if time itself knelt at his feet.
As a reward for my loyalty after I killed the queen and the late king’s mistresses for him, he restored my manhood.
So when the young woman under me gasped, “Oh, you got them up!”
I felt the pride of a rejuvenated man.
Hefa Unryn was a pretty little thing, talented, noble-born, but from a fallen house. Prince Grant assigned her as my second-in-command. A reward, he said. I wasn’t foolish; she was also a leash, someone to keep an eye on me. But she was soft, inexperienced, and eager to please. That was enough.
“Incredible,” she murmured as she handled me, clumsy and fascinated. “So stiff…”
I chuckled, pleased. She would learn in time.
After our “exercise,” she lay beside me on the wide bedding we had set up in the cave. Over the last half-year, we had transformed this cavern into a functioning barracks. It was comfortable, fortified, and hidden. The ambush had been prepared meticulously: traps across the forest and mountain; caches of alchemical weapons; and dozens of new “recruits” culled from bandit dens and broken villages.
We forced them to awaken their gifts by making them fight for their lives. Only the strong survived, and those we could use.
To destroy the kingdom’s great houses, we needed overwhelming preparation.
I closed my eyes, settling into the warmth of Hefa’s body, when I heard it. A soft, distant thump.
My eyes snapped open.
“Hear that?” I asked. “Sounded like… something hitting stone.”
She giggled lightly and traced her fingers down my chest.
“Oh, Lord Woodion, it might just be your imagination. Or… do you want more from me?”
I smirked at her teasing and pulled her close again. I kissed her neck, slow and savoring. “Do you like that, hm? This old man still has vigor—”
She didn’t answer.
Her body jerked strangely in my arms.
Then something warm spilled across my face and chest.
I frowned and looked down.
An arrow jutted through her temple, buried deep enough to distort her eye. Blood trickled down her cheek like smeared makeup. Her expression was frozen in something between delight and horror.
My heart went cold.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
Arrows began emerging from the very walls, silent as ghosts, streaking from impossible angles. One sliced past my scalp as I dove off the bed, rolling onto cold stone.
“Enemy attack!” I roared, scrambling to my feet, reaching for my sword.
No answer. There was neither a single shout, nor a single footstep.
I stumbled out of my private tent half-dressed and half-panicked, shouting, “Enemy attack! Wake up, you dullards—” only to choke on my own breath as the scene before me unfolded.
Dozens of my men and women littered the narrow cave corridor like discarded dolls, their bodies twisted in the final spasms of death. Each had an arrow jutting clean through the eye slot or temple, bypassing whatever protection their helms should have offered. The precision was unnatural. It was as if each shot had been placed by a god.
My heart hammered in my chest as I threw on my armor with shaking hands, snatched my sword, and sprinted deeper into the cave. The sight in the resting hall was even worse. Rows of Royal Guards lay dead across the floor, arrows embedded deep into their skulls, and throats slit so cleanly the blood sprayed in thin, faint arcs on the walls. But not all were gone. A familiar man slumped against the distillery casks, several arrows embedded in his chest.
“Garn!” I slid beside him, grabbing his face as he struggled to breathe. “What happened!? Speak to me! Damn it, an arrow’s in your lung—”
His fingers twitched weakly against my gauntlet. “Run…”
That was all he managed before his head fell back, lifeless. Garn, forty-seven years old as of yesterday, one of the most reliable warriors in the Royal Guard, gone! A man with a useful gift, a dependable comrade, reduced to a corpse by some unseen attacker.
The clashing of metal echoed from outside the cavern mouth. I didn’t know how the enemy had massacred my unit so quietly. No screams, no warnings, no alarms, and nothing but the soft thumps of death.
I ran toward the sound, boots pounding against stone. When I emerged into the moonlit clearing, I froze.
Abner stood there, sword dripping red as he cut down a Royal Guard.
“Abner!” I roared, disbelief tightening my throat. “What are you doing here?!”
He turned toward me, his face grim, illuminated by the glowing embers of a nearby torch. Abner, my former apprentice, the boy I sent to Prince Grant because his ideals were too rigid to survive under me. I had known he’d be brainwashed. I wanted him to be, because he would never follow me otherwise.
“It’s obvious, isn’t it?” Abner said, lowering his stance. “I’m here to find the truth.”
“What is happening, Abner?!” I shouted. “Is this your doing? How dare you kill your brothers and sisters—”
“I am done,” an unfamiliar female voice cut in, sharp and cold.
When I turned, my blood went cold. A monstrous woman stepped out of the cave, her face carrying the sharp feline features of a tiger, her hands ending in sleek, curved claws dripping with fresh blood.
“A monster…” I staggered back in disbelief. “Abner… why are you allied with a monster? Is this the prince’s will? No… no, this doesn’t make sense…”
My thoughts raced. Could it be that the prince planned to discard us? But that made no sense. He relied on us. He gave us magic weapons. He sent us to gather more gifted. He needed us.
Unless…
“I see,” Abner said, raising his blade toward me. “You truly did scheme with His Highness. You turned your back on the kingdom, its people, and everything the Royal Guard stands for.”
“You don’t understand, kid,” I barked, fury boiling up inside me. “We toiled day after day, fought assassins with gifts stronger than anything you've seen, marched into wars with no reward, no protection, and nothing but empty gratitude. I couldn’t take the abuse anymore, and neither could your brothers and sisters!”
“But we swore to an ideal!” Abner’s voice cracked with grief.
“An ideal crafted by nobles to use us!” I roared, raising my sword. “Prince Grant has noble dreams, a vision that will reshape the world! He promised me power, fame, and youth eternal! How could I refuse? And you, Abner, you could have had it all!”
Before he could answer, a calm voice drifted from above.
“Let’s get this over with.”
I whirled around.
A silhouette stood atop the jagged crags, framed by the full moon. He held a bow lazily at his side, posture relaxed, expression unreadable.
“So, you are the Chief of the Royal Guard, huh?”
The moment I saw the bow in his hands, a jolt of instinctive dread shot through me. Images of my people lying dead with arrows through their skulls seared themselves across my mind. I shifted my stance, wary of the filthy beastwoman with her bloody claws, though I forced myself to keep half my attention on Abner. The boy’s heart was rattled. I knew him well enough to trust that hesitation would cripple him when the decisive moment came.
My gaze locked onto the figure above. As he stepped into the moonlight, I saw a young man, too young to wield such monstrous power. His presence chilled me more than any battlefield horror I had endured.
“Who are you!?” I demanded, tightening my grip on my sword. “I’ve never heard of a gift like yours… to shoot arrows through stone and flesh as if walls don’t exist! Such a technique shouldn’t be possible! Tell me your name!”
He gave an almost bored shrug. “Why? You’re already a dead man.”
“Lord Eclipse!” Abner shouted, stepping forward. “Allow me to deal with this old man!”
Eclipse. I had never heard the name. For someone capable of such carnage to be completely unknown… that alone chilled me. Abner’s posture screamed inner conflict; that boy would falter, I knew it. If I killed him first, I might slip past the two monsters with him.
I made a choice.
“Dragon!” I whistled sharply, loud enough to pierce the night. “Attack our enemies!”
Eclipse merely sat on the ledge, leaning his weight onto one arm, his hair swaying lazily in the breeze.
“Give it up,” he said casually. “I’ve already tamed the dragon.”
A cold tremor rolled down my spine. I wanted to accuse him of lying…but my gift wouldn’t allow me that comfort.
My Eyes of Truth showed the essence of all things: strength, power, and potential. I stared, and what I saw was despair. Eclipse was far beyond me. The beastwoman was no less terrifying. Even Abner’s power shone brighter than I remembered. There was no path where I triumphed over all of them.
But Abner alone, he should have been within my reach.
I turned toward him and raised my blade. “Come!”
His precognition might be powerful, but mine existed to counter uncertainty. Eyes of Truth always showed me a path and a possibility to achieve my desired outcome. Killing Abner without losing my own life should have been feasible. It should have been guaranteed.
But when I reached for that path, the world turned black.
My breath caught. “Huh?” I stared at Abner in disbelief. “Impossible… I cannot see a single path!? Not even one?!”
His eyes lit with a blue glow, piercing and cold.
“Nothing is impossible,” Abner said, raising his sword as the wind surged around him. “I will defeat you.”
Fool. He had no idea how my gift worked. Abner thought courage alone could bridge the gap between us, but he didn’t understand a thing. I shifted the criteria in my mind to ‘kill Abner, and do not die’. My Eyes of Truth showed nothing. I shifted again, kill Abner, regardless of cost.
This time, a path appeared… and in all of them, I died.
Eclipse. That damned bowman would kill me the moment I struck down Abner. My jaw tightened as I realized I needed time, anything that could give me a sliver of advantage.
“Don’t you feel remorse, Abner?” I called out, my voice sharp. “Your brothers and sisters just died!”
“And that’s because of you!” he snapped. “Did you really think I had a say in any of this? You should know by now there’s no escape for you. Fight me!”
He didn’t understand. I needed to get out of here. I needed to warn his highness. My reputation would suffer. The prince would be furious. But I could explain. I could regroup. Anything was better than dying here like a trapped animal.
But how did they even wipe out the Royal Guard? A hundred and twenty-four gifted. Even if most were newly awakened, they still shouldn’t have been slaughtered like insects. It defied every battle instinct I possessed.
“If you won’t come,” Abner shouted, “then I’ll come for you!”
He lunged. His movements were smooth, almost elegant. His sword flashed with unnatural speed thanks to his enchanted blade. But speed and prophecy weren’t everything. Against my experience, my Eyes of Truth, and my own weapon, he was still the boy I trained.
My sword hummed with telekinetic force, a precious artifact I used only in one-on-one battles. I parried his swift strikes and pushed back. Abner moved like he could see seconds ahead, but I matched him step for step. I read the essence of each of his motions, saw the precise moment when his resolve wavered, and used it.
Then I shifted tactics.
I let the sword fly.
The blade tore from my hand and curved behind him. Abner’s eyes widened, since he hadn’t known my weapon could do that. It lunged for him while I pressed him up close with my fists. I elbowed his wrist, forced him off balance, and…
A chance appeared!
A path forward.
I seized it.
I jumped onto the flying sword and soared away from him. I raced through the forest and into the cold night air, making sharp zigzags to avoid arrows. Eclipse should have been firing at me already. But nothing came.
No arrows.
No wind shifting.
Nothing.
Instead, something else appeared.
A blur of striped orange and white snapped from the shadows. Claws hooked like sickles clamped around my throat and yanked me downward. My breath hitched as I was slammed against stone.
The beastwoman towered over me, her tiger-like features contorted into a snarl. Her fangs glinted. Her eyes burned.
“H-How?” I gasped, my throat crushed under her grip. “I… I didn’t detect you… My gift… it failed to see you…”
Panic rattled my bones. I commanded the sword to strike her in desperation. The blade spun toward her back at lethal speed, but she just caught it! She caught my enchanted sword by the hilt with one hand and, without any hesitation, plunged it straight into my chest.
“Ah—!” My breath tore out of me in a wet gasp. “Let me go… let me go!”
I could feel something radiating from her claws that smothered my gift completely. My Eyes of Truth were blind. The world was blank. I couldn’t see any path, not even one that led to death. Nothing.
It was a complete erasure.
She leaned close, her voice a low growl. “No.”
The last thing I felt was her claw tearing across my throat.
Everything went dark.