The blade stopped.
CRACK!
The sound wasn't metal hitting flesh.
It was the sound of force being violently arrested.
The marble floor beneath Elrond's feet spider-webbed, the cracks shooting out ten meters in every direction.
The air pressure in the room spiked and collapsed in a single millisecond.
BOOM.
A shockwave blasted outward from the halted sword.
"Urgh!"
The forty nobles on the left stumbled back, shielding their faces.
The forty commanders on the right braced themselves, capes whipping violently.
Guards rushed forward, surrounding King Aelindor with shields raised.
"Protect the King!"
But the King didn't flinch.
He sat on his diamond throne, eyes locked on the scene before him.
Silence returned to the hall.
Dust drifted from the cracked ceiling.
Elrond stood frozen.
His sword was rigid, held with two shaking hands, hovering mere millimeters from Markil's neck.
Markil hadn't moved.
He hadn't blinked.
He was just... standing there.
What the fuck... Markil thought, his heart restarting with a painful thud. Was that really a test? Am I really an astrologer?
He swallowed hard, keeping his face poker-straight.
Oh fuck. I guessed right. But if I had guessed wrong... my head would be rolling on that red carpet right now.
Elrond slowly lowered the sword.
He was breathing hard, sweat dripping from his nose.
"My... My King?" Elrond whispered, looking at the throne. "Why...?"
King Aelindor stood up.
He walked down the dais, his steps echoing in the terrified silence.
He stopped right in front of Elrond and Markil.
"Step away, Elrond," the King ordered.
Elrond looked shocked.
"But, My Lord... you ordered—"
"I said step away."
Elrond gritted his teeth.
He sheathed his glowing sword with a sharp clack, bowed deeply, and stepped back.
The King stood toe-to-toe with Markil.
The height difference was minimal, but the King's presence was like a mountain.
"Tell me, boy," the King said softly. "What is your name?"
Markil looked at the King.
Why is he asking me now? Didn't I just introduce myself?
"It's Markil," he said simply.
"Only Markil?" The King narrowed his eyes. "What is your father's name? And your mother's name? Which lineage do you hail from?"
Father…
FLASHBACK.
A door slamming.
His mother crying on the floor, clutching his father's leg.
"Let go of me," his father had said coldly. "I can't tolerate you or your son."
The kick.
Markil's eyes darkened.
The goofy demeanor vanished instantly.
"Sorry," Markil said, his voice dropping. "But I can't say their names."
The King raised an eyebrow.
"You refuse a King?"
"I refuse to speak the name of a man who doesn't exist to me," Markil replied flatly.
"Insolence!"
SHING.
A blade pressed against Markil's throat from behind.
Cold steel bit into his skin.
It was Kalmen Solas.
The scarred elf appeared out of nowhere, his dagger resting on Markil's jugular.
"Just spell it out," Kalmen hissed in Markil's ear. "Or you will face the consequences. You do not disrespect the King."
Markil didn't look back.
He stared straight at the King.
"Sorry," Markil whispered, his eyes beginning to glow with a faint purple hue. "If I die, I can't say their names. You can try to force me."
Markil turned his head slightly toward Kalmen.
"Go ahead. Try it."
The air grew heavy.
A killing intent — not from Kalmen, but from Markil — began to leak out.
It was heavy, dark, and suffocating.
King Aelindor felt it.
"It's okay, Kalmen," the King said sharply. "Move your blade away."
"But My Lord!" Kalmen protested. "He is—"
The King gave him a look.
A look that promised pain.
"I said," the King repeated slowly, "Move. Your. Blade."
Kalmen flinched.
He sheathed his dagger and stepped back into the shadows, glaring at Markil.
"Okay, boy," the King said, clasping his hands behind his back. "I will not ask you anything about your parents. It seems we touched a nerve."
The King leaned in closer.
"Just tell me... why weren't you scared?"
Markil blinked.
"Scared?"
"When the blade was falling," the King said. "When death was an inch away. Your heart rate didn't jump. Your pupils didn't dilate. You accepted it."
The King stared into Markil's eyes.
"Don't you fear death?"
Elrond watched from the side, holding his breath.
That's really the thing I am thinking, Elrond thought. Why wasn't he scared? I have never seen a human like him. Even veterans flinch.
Markil stood there, his mind racing.
Oh, now what am I going to say to them?
How should I tell them that I thought it would be like a movie? That I was banking on plot armor?
Oh God... what should I say?
He looked at the intense faces around him.
Okay. Fine. Let's make up a cool dialogue. Something Thoos would say.
Markil took a deep breath.
He looked the King in the eye.
"Not really," Markil said calmly.
"I think of it like this: I wasn't afraid before I was born."
The room went silent.
"I didn't exist for billions of years," Markil continued, his voice steady. "And I suffered no inconvenience from it. Why should I fear going back to that same state?"
Gasps echoed through the hall.
Elrond's eyes widened.
This boy... he speaks like an ancient sage.
Even the King looked taken aback.
For a moment, the arrogance on his face slipped, replaced by genuine curiosity.
"Hah..." The King let out a short breath. "You possess a strange wisdom for a human child."
The King turned and walked back up the stairs to his throne.
He sat down, regaining his composure.
"So," the King announced. "You claim that you protected my little daughter from bandits. Is that right?"
Markil nodded.
"Yes. I did it."
"Then prove it."
"Prove it?"
"Words are wind," the King said dismissively. "Even Elrond claims he sensed 'awareness' in you. But I trust only what I can see."
The King raised his hand.
"If you really possess the strength to save a Princess of the Silver Spires... show me."
The King pointed a finger at Markil.
"Fight with Elrond Leon."
Markil blinked.
"Huh?"
"The Special Grade Knight of the Elven Kingdom. An SS-Rank warrior. The strongest blade we have."
The King smiled cruelly.
"If you can just touch him... once... I will believe that you protected my daughter. I will grant you your life."
The court erupted.
"WHAT?!"
"A duel with Sir Elrond?!"
"That boy will be slaughtered!"
Amreth stepped forward from the line of knights.
"My Lord! But he can't!" Amreth shouted.
The King glared.
"Can't what?"
"Sir Elrond is the Strongest!" Amreth argued. "Even I... I would have trouble fighting him, and I am an S-Rank! You are asking an unranked human to fight a Special Grade monster!"
"If he can't touch him," the King shrugged, "Then I can't believe him. And if I can't believe him, he dies."
Elrond looked at the King.
My Lord is thinking something... He knows this boy isn't normal. He wants to force his hand.
Markil looked at Elrond.
Then at the King.
Fight Elrond? Just touch him once?
Markil suppressed a grin.
With Thoos's experience... touching him won't be the problem. Not killing him by accident will be the problem.
"As you say," Markil said, bowing slightly. "I will fight."
The King smiled.
"Good. Then tomorrow will be your duel. In the Field of Honor."
"Herald! Publish the posters! I want the whole city to see the human's fate!"
BANG!
Suddenly, the massive golden doors flew open.
"FATHER!!"
Every head turned.
Markil looked back.
"Melian..."
She was there.
And she was furious.
Her silver hair was flying behind her as she stomped down the red carpet.
She wasn't acting like a Princess.
She was acting like a storm.
She marched right up to the dais, ignoring the guards.
"Father! Are you going to kill him?!" Melian screamed.
"Melian," the King sighed. "What are you doing here? You should be in your room resting."
"He didn't do anything!" Melian pointed at Markil. "He really protected me from bandits! And you are going to kill him?! I am not going to let that happen!"
She spun around to Elrond.
"Elrond!"
Elrond straightened.
"Yes, Mam?"
"I order you!" Melian shouted, her eyes blazing. "Protect Markil with your life! Do not fight him!"
"But... Princess..." Elrond looked conflicted.
"Melian, please listen to me," the King interjected, raising his hands. "I am not going to kill him. I will just make a duel between Markil and Elrond."
Melian looked at her father like he was insane.
"Are you kidding me?!" she shrieked. "You are thinking to get him into a fight with Elrond?! Elrond will kill him in a second!"
"Please listen, daughter," the King soothed. "I just told him he had to touch him. Once. And Elrond will not put his all effort in. He won't kill him. So relax."
Melian didn't relax.
She turned to Markil.
She didn't say a word.
She just grabbed his hand.
"Come on," she snapped.
She started walking, dragging Markil behind her.
"Hey—whoa!" Markil stumbled.
"We are leaving!" Melian shouted over her shoulder.
"Melian! Melian, come back here!" the King stood up, shouting.
She ignored him.
She ignored the nobles.
She ignored the knights.
She just dragged the confused human out of the Throne Room.
As the doors began to close, Alith Anar sighed, leaning against a pillar.
She rolled her eyes.
"What a fucking drama."
(Chapter 19 Finished)