Roy's laugh calmed down, but it didn't disappear.
"The Ironhold?" the King whispered. He stumbled toward the parapet, his knees buckling. He would have collapsed over the edge if the cold stone hadn't caught his chest. Lucian was there in a heartbeat, his armored gauntlets steadying the King's trembling shoulders.
"What did we do?" the King asked the sky, his voice cracking. "What did we do to deserve such a fate?"
Lucian tightened his grip on the King's arm, his voice a steel-edged vow. "My Liege, do not despair. I will lead the guard to the gates. I will hold them off, even if it costs my life. To buy this city a single second of breath, I will happily pay in blood."
"No," the King said, his voice suddenly hollow. He pushed himself away from the wall, forcing his spine to straighten even as his hands continued to shake. "Go, Lucian. Sound the bells. Do not call the men to the walls. Call them to the tunnels. Start evacuating the people through the southern pass. The curtain wall is thick. It will hold for a time."
"Sire, you cannot!" Lucian protested.
"I must," the King replied, a terrible calm settling over him. "If they find an empty palace, they will hunt the woods for the sport of it. If I am here, perhaps their greed will anchor them to this hall long enough for the children to reach the tree line."
"What a noble thing to do, your Majesty," a voice came from the sky.
They didn't have time to look up as the man landed on the parapet, breaking it into a mess of stones and standing on it like the hundred-meter fall behind him didn't exist. One of the falling rocks struck a guard in the courtyard below, killing him instantly. Screams erupted as the people began to flee the citadel in a panicked tide.
The King's pupils grew as he saw him. "Impossible," he murmured.
"They really paid the Mercenary King?"
The man put a hand on his weapon's hilt. He called it a sword, but it could hardly be called that. It was more of a huge piece of metal with a handle. It didn't even have an edge. "Will you open the gates willingly or with force?"
Roy looked up. "No matter how many times I see you in this form, it still looks weird seeing you this young, Bors."
Bors had about the same look, but bigger, with fewer scars, more muscles, black hair, and no facial hair.
"Wait!" the King cried, his voice shaking. "You work for coin, do you not? What is your price to turn your army around? I will pay it!"
Bors removed his hand from his weapon. "If you can better the offer King Kaelum made, I might consider a change in employer."
"And what was his offer?"
"Three million crowns."
"Thr... three million?" The King's voice was shaking.
'That's three years of what the whole kingdom makes,' the King thought.
"Three million?" Roy whistled, doing the mental math. "That's the purchasing power of... about five billion dollars. Damn."
"There is no point in this talk, my Liege," Lucian whispered as he moved his hand toward his sword, but the King stopped him.
"We can pay it!" the King shouted, desperate. "We will pay. If it buys the Mercenary King's loyalty, we have a chance!"
"That covers my fee," Bors said coldly. "For my men? That will be another two million."
A laugh escaped Roy's mouth. "I wish I made that money."
"A... ano... another two?" the King said in disbelief.
Lucian tried again to draw his sword but was stopped again.
"Can I ask," the King tried one last time, "that if we open the gates, your men will spare the lives of the innocent?"
Bors put a hand in his pocket, searching for something. "That actually might be possible."
The King smiled.
Bors finally found the piece of paper that the contract was written on. As he opened it, his nose wrinkled as if he smelled something spoiled. "That asshole."
The King's smile faded.
"The best I can do," Bors said, tucking the paper away, "is promise the peasants safe. Other than them, I can't. And I can't promise what will happen once that piece of shit Kaelum takes over."
"The negotiation is over," Lucian growled, drawing his blade. The King didn't stop him this time. "There should never have been a bargain with your kind. The gates remain closed!"
"Is that your final word?" Bors's voice turned to ice.
Roy sighed. "The end is finally near."
"It is," Lucian said as fire came out of his sword, covering Bors's body.
The knight maintained the heat until a massive, tan hand reached out from the flames. Bors gripped Lucian's helm and launched him into the sky. With a single explosive leap, Bors followed. He caught the knight midair and drove a kick into his chest, sending Lucian hurtling downward. The impact leveled a house in the city center. Bors landed a moment later, crushing a fruit stall beneath his boots.
Chaos reigned. Bors ignored the screaming civilians and drew the slab of metal from his back. Roy hovered just above him, a spectator.
Bors stepped over the splintered remains of a merchant's cart, moving toward the ruins of the house with a predatory, slow-burning gait. Suddenly, a jagged rock whistled through the air, flung by the desperate knight. He blocked the rock with the flat of his sword. The rock bounced off his blade and hit the house behind him.
Lucian came out of the rubble, ready to use his fire again, but he stopped at the last second.
"What? Did your fire die?" Bors mocked.
"You brought the fight here for this reason, didn't you?" Lucian said, looking at the house behind Bors that had a kid holding himself from falling after the ground was destroyed by the rock.
'Using civilians as a human shield. It is effective, and I saw him do worse,' Roy thought.
"I have to say, I don't like to be burned, so I had to find a way," Bors said.
"Do you have no honor?"
"Honor? I sold that for a crust of bread a long time ago."
Lucian dashed at Bors, attacking with everything he had, but every time he came close to using his fire, he saw another civilian and stopped.
Bors kept blocking until the wall of the city was behind Lucian and in front of him. Even though it was 500 meters away, that was close for him.
Bors kicked Lucian up in the air.
'Finally,' Roy thought. 'Normally he'd just crush a skull and be done with it. I didn't know what took him so—' Roy's eyes widened. "Huh?"
Bors had shifted his stance. He held the blunt slab behind his shoulder in a perfect swordsmanship form.
"A rare sight," Roy murmured. "The old man is actually using a technique."
Bors waited until Lucian was in the perfect place, and he made the cut. It looked instant. His body changed in an instant. You could only see the before and after, not the in-between.
The cut didn't cut the air. As the sword was blunt, it pushed the air. The air traveled at a speed that was lethal. It cut through Lucian's armor, cutting the knight in half. But it didn't stop there. It continued, destroying everything in its path, killing anyone in its path. It reached the walls and destroyed them. Rocks, iron, and all kinds of debris covered the place. The remains that were thrown in front of the moving air were destroyed again, and again, and again, until they turned into dust.
One corner of Roy's mouth had a small smile. 'That was pure physical power, and he doesn't even look tired.'
The sounds of a roar came from behind the wall as the mercenary army, Ironhold, came inside the city. Thousands of them, warriors from every land, wearing mismatched armor, carrying weapons of every kind. Some were on horses, others on weird animals that looked like they came out of a fantasy, and most were on their feet.
One of the ones on a horse went to Bors. He wasn't wearing any armor, just some clothes. "Boss?"
"I don't care what you do with the people, but make sure to destroy every building in this place." Bors turned around and looked up at the King, who was so shocked that he was stuck in his place. "And no one touches the King. I will be the one who deals with him."
Roy was listening to the conversation, thinking, 'Why hasn't this ende—' Then his sight turned completely dark.
Meanwhile,
Omar screamed in pain as Valeria broke his arm. As the bone gave way, the abyssal, muddy brown in his eyes receded, washed away by their original hazel color.
"Okay! Okay, you win!" he gasped. "It's broken... let go!"
Valeria released Omar's arm slowly. Omar slumped back. "It's good to be back," he said under his breath, his words barely audible.
"To be back?" Valeria's ears caught it. She raised a blood-slicked hand, a silent signal to the others that the bout was over.
Omar looked up at her. "You are too calm for what just happened."
"You're also weirdly calm."
Elise quickly walked to Valeria and started healing her. She looked at Omar. "You—"
Before she could speak, Valeria gave her a look that shut her down. Elise lowered her head and focused on the healing.
The rest of the class drifted in, forming a wary circle around the two who were grounded on the stone. Marie knelt beside Omar, their voices dropping into a frantic, hushed whisper.
"You didn't answer my question." Valeria's voice cut through their private exchange like a blade. "What did you mean by 'coming back'?"
"Can't I at least get some help with this before you begin questioning me?" He raised his broken arm, the bone clearly displaced beneath the skin.
"Elise won't heal you even if I ordered her, and I don't have access to the healing potions. So you will have to wait until Instructor Darius returns."
"Instructor Darius?" Omar questioned the new formal tone.
"Don't try to pivot," Valeria snapped, her eyes locking onto Marie before shifting back to Omar. "What are you? No—what are the three of you, including Roy, keeping from us?"
When the light came back to his eyes, he still wasn't in his room. He was in the throne room, but it didn't look fancy. It was completely destroyed. It didn't even have a ceiling. It was open to the sky. The moon is its only source of light.
Bors was sitting on the throne, his men scattered throughout the hall in various states of celebration.
Roy looked around. "So, there is more?"
The sound of expensive boots grew louder and louder until, finally, King Kaelum and five of his full-armored knights entered the room. The King had discarded his helm, letting his long, crimson hair flow over a suit of armor that was more jewelry than protection. It was embossed with gold filigree and etched with the sun-crests of his house. But to an experienced eye, the joints were too loose, and the metal too soft. At his hip hung a sword with a hilt so heavily encrusted with gems that it looked unbalanced, a weapon designed only for show.
The King walked until he was at the beginning of the stairs that led to the throne. He looked up at Bors. His veins were visible from anger. "You better have an explanation for this if you want the rest of your pay."
Bors tossed the blood-stained contract at the King's feet. "You're the one who needs to explain."
"Ha?" The King put a hand on his sword.
"We agreed on us taking the city for you and giving it to you on a silver plate, and that's what I signed on. It said nothing about slaughtering the royal family and the guards. It seems you 'forgot' to mention that part."
The King gave a crooked smile. "It was always like that. It isn't my problem if you don't read. Now, where is the city? You destroyed it completely. Fixing this would cost more than I can make from it for years."
"It wasn't, but sure," Bors said, standing up. One of his men handed him a golden crown, covered in fresh blood. Bors walked down the stairs, looming over the King. "The contract said we must deliver the city within the walls. It said nothing about the state of the buildings... or the people."
Bors leaned down, shoving the bloody crown onto Kaelum's head. Blood dripped onto the King's face.
"Congratulations," Bors whispered. "You are now the King of the city within the walls. If so much as one orb is missing from our payment, your bloodline ends tonight."
Bors walked past the King. "We are done here. Let's leave."
Everyone followed Bors out.
Roy opened his eyes to his cell ceiling.