PREVIOUSLY-
In a moment, Rybak struck Vincent with four different parts— fists, shins, elbows and knees— before throwing him to the sky. The clouds turned grey as bolts of lightning struck Vincent's body.
CRACKLE-THOOM!
His arm moved towards Vincent once again, lightning forming a lance around it.
WHAM!
Rybak's eyes widened.
"Stop."
—X—
Harkon calmly parried his strike. His eyes went to Vincent as the young boy's foot stopped just inches before Harkon's throat.
"This duel will be considered a draw."
As the three gracefully touched the ground, the old man's lips curled upward in satisfaction.
"So," he turned to the younglings, "What are your thoughts on the duel?"
Rybak turned towards Vincent, his posture stiff before he bowed respectfully,
"It was my loss. Vincent, no, the Young Count, despite being a mage, fought me with his body."
His hand clenched into a tight fist,
"I am humbled."
Vincent dusted his shirt before extending a hand towards Rybak,
"Sir Rybak, I have learned much from our duel."
Rybak returned the gesture, a smile of acknowledgement and respect stretched across his face,
"Young Count, I look forward to our next duel. And don't hold back the next time."
'The next duel huh…'
Harkon ran a hand through his hair,
"Boy, follow me. Also, get ready for hell."
Vincent's shoulders loosened as the tension from the duel melted away.
"So, it seems," Rybak wrapped his arm around Vincent, "We are going to train together, junior."
Vincent only gave a respectful nod,
"I will not disappoint, senior brother."
BACK AT THE LEONHART DUCHY-
"Alexander and Edward are gone at Emperor's orders,"
Sophie leaned in her chair,
"The Templars will take two more days to reach the nearest warp station to Duskrane."
Her eyes went to the map laid on the table,
"Agnes, there are only two ways to enter Duskrane."
"One by Duskrane's own portal, and other by,"
Her eyes narrowed slightly with focus as she turned towards the woman behind her. Golden hair, the colour of wheat, gracefully tied in a ponytail as eyes, two drops of molten gold looked towards Sophie.
She was dressed in minimal armour, robes that covered the body yet did not disturb movement. Her silver chest plate shone in sunlight as the metallic shoulder pad, glinting with the golden crest of Leonhart glowed like a mystic rune.
A ring-hilted Swiss Saber hung to her side as a small dagger remained strapped to her waist.
Agnes' pink lips parted as her hands unconsciously rested over the sword's hilt,
"They will go through Leonhart."
Sophie stepped forward,
"Agnes, I would like to send you to Duskrane."
Agnes' eyes widened for a second before her expression stabilized,
"Forgive me, my Lady. But I can't leave your side or the duchy at such a critical moment."
"Agnes Ferros."
Sophie interjected,
"I tell you not as my knight, but as a sister. Please help me protect my loved ones."
"Sophie,"
Agnes' expression softened,
"I will send the Lycan Squad for the mission. Whatever the circumstances, I cannot leave your side, that too when you are pregnant and neither my brother nor Seradin are present."
Sophie's breath caught for a moment. Her shoulders tightened, then softened all at once. She lowered her gaze—not out of shame, but from the sting of helplessness—before lifting it again with quiet resolve.
Her hand rose, reaching for Agnes' forearm.
"Your brother, Alexander. I am worried about him too; he left in such a rush."
The corners of her mouth softened in resignation.
"Both of you siblings are just too protective of me."
Agnes wrapped her arms around Sophie in a warm embrace,
"I don't know about that donkey, but I just can't bear to see you in danger. I will be sending Elsa too, just in case."
Sophie returned the hug,
"Okay," her eyes sharpened,
"You are right, I was too emotional. After all, all of them in Duskrane are monsters,"
She straightened her back slowly, as if a weight just lifted off her chest.
"Now, I have a little plan for our future guests," she turned to Agnes,
"Let's give them a spectacular welcome."
Location- Felgris Palace, Tigranclaw Duchy
"Beatrice."
Amelia stepped inside the room. A wooden table stood in the centre as four figures-two in black armour, two in black robes- circled around it.
"We greet the duchess!" The silhouettes stood up before bowing respectfully.
The duchess turned to the red-haired woman beside her.
Beatrice Umbra.
Her robes were crafted for work, not display—a long, slate-grey spellcloth mantle that fell to her boots in clean, unbroken lines. The sleeves were broad at the upper arm but narrowed at the wrists so nothing interfered with sigil-casting. A rune-stitched leather belt held her tools: chalk, vials, sealing thread, and a small folio of notes.
Over her chest lay a high-collared vest reinforced with subtle anti-hex filaments, giving the robe quiet durability. The hem had minimal side slits for movement, never revealing more than it should. Her boots were sturdy, travel-worn, and made for long hours in ruins and cold halls.
A simple hood rested at her back as crimson eyes glanced through clear glasses. Her hair was short, stopping just below her nape.
"Yes, duchess."
Beatrice nodded before handing each figure an amulet.
"Dame Joyce Grant. Dame Eilidh Fuller. Sir Amory Rowe and Sir Bellen Garner."
Amelia extended a folded piece of parchment towards the knight at the centre,
"You will be sent as a precautionary reinforcement to Duskrane. The amulet handed out to you is a spell that will save your life once."
A smile curved along her lips,
"I hope you don't have to use it."
Joyce, the knight who received the parchment bowed once again as others followed,
"We thank Her Grace!"
Then her face turned to Beatrice, as she gave a confident nod.
As the squad members exited the room, Beatrice watched as a sigh escaped Amelia's lips.
"The issue with Duskrane is resolved. Now, I just hope Edward and Raphael are safe."
A faint smile appeared on Beatrice's lips,
"Please be at ease, duchess. Theodore is with the duke and as for Young Master Raphael,"
A glimmer of warmth appeared in her eyes,
"I think it's time we introduce Theobald to him."
Amelia tapped a soft pat on her shoulder,
"I am sure they will become friends quick. After all, I heard Theobald resembles you more."
Beatrice's cheeks flushed with colour,
"He is a very soft-hearted child. I hoped he would be sterner like his father."
"Like Theodore?"
Amelia pinched her cheek playfully,
"I would prefer if he was cute and shy like you."
Embarrassment coloured Beatrice's face as her earlier cold demeanor vanished,
"Your Grace! You tease me too much."
CREAK!
Location- Ashen Church
The huge marble doors of the hall opened as a figure entered the bloodied prayer hall. Bodies of templars lay over as flesh and blood drenched the area in stench.
The man had long cyan hair with focused eyes that shone like masterfully cut pair of yellowish-brown tourmalines.
His armour, molten gold spilled over a masterpiece of mithril and steel exuded an aura of strength and authority. A giant halberd, the size of an average man rested on his back.
"Sir Bartram!"
The remaining templars, along with Kaelan and the Luminaries kneeled in practiced submission.
Bartram Hobbs removed his twin horned helm. His face was rectangular with a flat chin and defined cheekbones that seemed to complement his two-metre-long muscular frame.
"How pathetic." A deep voice left his throat.
"A single man came in, unarmed, and yet,"
He looked over the broken pews and bloodied bodies,
"Even more than a hundred templars, two Luminaries and one platoon commander couldn't handle him."
He smirked,
"Even Luminary Cinthia," he gestured to the stone golems standing besides, "Has disappointed me beyond belief."
Bartram took one step on the staircase,
"Pathetic bastards."
Kaelan could only stutter as he watched Bartram climb the stairs,
"He… He was a monster,"
"But so is Sir Bartram."
Blaze interrupted,
"Sir Bartram has the Godly-Iron-Physique, and has outstanding swordsmanship. He is the fourth most powerful in the whole church."
"So, what are you doing, Sir Kaelan?"
?!
Cinthia narrowed her brows as she watched Kaelan follow Bartram to the next floor.
"Lady Cinthia. As a knight, I want to see what the gap between the church and the count really is, and what happens when two powerhouses of the continent collide."
BOOM!
The oaken door broke in a hundred shards as Bartram calmly walked inside the corridor. The once pristine marble was now a lovely crimson as flesh and bone scattered everywhere.
"Jack Nairn!"
He shrieked towards the scarlet-marred visage before him. The man clasped a hooded silhouette by the hair.
"Henry Duskrane! How dare you!"
Henry turned to Bartram, the figure clenched in his wrist swayed to the ground.
'Unbelievable!'
Kaelan gasped,
'When the count appeared, he wore pure white clothes, but now it's all red and black. Even his hair is coated with the blood of his enemies.'
'What a monster.'
"Who are you now?" Henry sighed, "This guy," he gestured to the fallen figure,
"Said he was a big-shot—the church's sixth strongest," Henry sighed, shoulders rising in a careless shrug.
"Funny how easily he broke."
"You heretic!" Bartram lunged, the mere action making the floor tremble.
Henry calmly took his stance as the giant halberd came crashing like a meteor.
"Another weakling…"
His hand flowed like water as he whipped the halberd away.
WHAM!
The blade blossomed a crater in the marble, and for the first time, surprise broke across Henry's face.
"You!" He jabbed a finger at his assailant, "Your weapon did not break!"
A smile cracked across his face as colour flushed his cheeks,
"I finally got a sturdy toy!"
Bartram's grip tightened,
"Is that so?" veins popped on his forehead as the knight swung his halberd again.