Chapter 41: An Unexpected Guest
Roland’s single eye followed the severed head of the enemy soldier as it rolled across the ground, his expression unreadable. Then he lifted his gaze to Darnell, whose eyes were as cold as ice. While his own soldiers trembled in fear, retreating dozens of meters, Roland stood unwavering. Despite his wretched state, his aura remained undiminished. He tightened his grip on his burned hand, still clutching his sword, and readied himself for battle. Channeling the last remnants of his strength into his weapon, he wrapped his body in a thin layer of energy - just enough to numb the pain and shield himself.
Without a word, he suddenly lunged at Darnell, swinging his sword with enough force to make the air howl. But his attacks were futile; his physical strength had waned drastically, and his energy reserves were barely enough to keep him standing. Calmly, effortlessly, Darnell deflected the blade with his bare hand before driving a brutal fist into the blind side of Roland’s face. The impact sent Roland stumbling sideways, blood spurting from his mouth. A strange fluid leaked from his ruined eye, further distorting his already ghastly visage. Yet he refused to yield, quickly regaining his balance.
Without hesitation, he attacked again - this time aiming for Darnell’s throat. As before, Darnell blocked with ease, but Roland suddenly released his sword and delivered a sharp uppercut to Darnell’s chin. Caught off guard, Darnell’s eyes widened in shock as he jerked his head back, narrowly avoiding the blow. His face twisted in anger as he swung his own blade, attempting to cleave Roland in half. Roland ducked swiftly, countering with a crushing punch to Darnell’s gut. The strike forced a grunt of pain from Darnell, but he kept his composure and retaliated with a vicious kick to Roland’s ribs.
Roland was sent sprawling, while Darnell took a single step back, suppressing the urge to cough. Despite his grievous injuries, Roland’s blows still carried terrifying force. A few more direct hits, and even Darnell would be in serious trouble.
A heavy silence fell between them for a single, eternal second - before they charged at each other once more. This time, the fight grew even fiercer, the very air seeming to scream in fear at their movements. Though Roland had abandoned his sword, his momentum didn’t waver. He relied on close-quarters combat, dodging Darnell’s strikes and retaliating with precise punches and kicks. Darnell, too, moved with fluid grace, evading Roland’s attacks effortlessly. From a distance, their duel might have looked like a harmless dance - each strike always just missing its mark. But the seasoned soldiers watching knew the truth: every attack was lethal. A single misstep would mean death. And so, with all their hearts, they prayed for their leader’s victory.
Meanwhile, hidden in the shadows, Sollivan observed the battle with cold indifference. He had no doubt Darnell would win - Roland was fighting on sheer willpower alone, his strength all but spent. It wouldn’t be long before his flames of rage flickered out.
Unlike the others, whose fates hinged on the battle in the hall, Sollivan’s mind was already weaving sinister schemes. His goal wasn’t just survival - it was seizing the treasure for himself while eliminating any potential obstacles. Despite how smoothly things had gone so far, unease gnawed at him. Two things troubled him: First, the oathbound Sergius had vanished without a trace. A man of his power wouldn’t die so easily. Second, there was Darnell himself. Their alliance had been hastily formed, built on shaky terms. Though Darnell appeared compliant, Sollivan knew better than to trust a man who hid his fangs while testing the waters.
"Ten minutes, at most. This fight won’t last much longer. We need to hurry."
Sollivan’s whisper was drowned by the clash of steel. He turned slightly, his gaze landing on Noctis, whose arms had morphed into four long, black tendrils, gripping the second barrel of thunderpowder. After feeding Noctis his Primordial Blood multiple times, the creature’s strength had surged - it could now hurl the heavy barrel with little effort.
’This won’t be easy. Noctis’s aim isn’t guaranteed, and we still can’t disable the light formation.’
Their numbers were few, and they had no one else to dismantle the formation. Worse, tampering with it would alert Darnell, who would undoubtedly flee at the first sign of danger.
Pushing aside his doubts, Sollivan steeled himself.