The rustle of the trees outside the estate was the first warning. Knights moved through the courtyard, tall and armored, riding horses and spears at their backs.
At first, nothing distinguished one knight from another. Yet there was something different in the frontmost rider that made the others defer subtly.
The leader rode elegantly and composed. The horse beneath him bore a crest-- two swords crossed over a single rose.
The group advanced carefully, surveying the estate below, but not yet entering.
Then, steel groaned as the gates of the estate groaned open. Torches flared in the night wind, their glow catching on polished armor as ranks of soldiers filed into the courtyard.
"Pathetic," the leader muttered as his eyes swept the courtyard. "She left this place to rot with her bandits playing house. And now she expects me to clean up her mess."
He chuckled, low and mocking. He savored the memory of the Duchess' promise before he marched.
"Bring me Amelia's head. If the Order Knights find her alive, my husband will see what we've done here."
"That's no small request, Milady. If what they say about her blood is true, then what you're asking me is dangerous. Heavy work deserves heavy reward."
"And what would you ask, Sir?"
"Your daughter's hand," he said smugly.
A duchess's bloodline, a seat at the Duke's right hand. ridding Amelia-- this little parasite, the leader wanted more than coin.
"So be it. Get rid of all the witnesses, then bring me Amelia's corpse, and my daughter will be yours."
A hint of desperation was laced in the Duchess' words.
At the present, he smirked, licking his teeth. "My, my, Milady, that's hardly a challenge."
Behind him, one of the knights shifted uneasily.
"My lord, reports spoke of unrest. Some of the guards… they were killing the slaves as well."
"Then it will make things easier for us." he said with a shrug. "Her bandits, kill them all as well. Witnesses are inconvenient things."
The knights nodded without question.
Together, they pushed into the estate.
What greeted them made the leader's lips tighten.
Streaks of red painting the walls. The scent of blood reeking in the air. The guard's bodies lay slumped, armor shattered, skulls crushed, throats torn open.
The knights exchanged uneasy glances.
"This… wasn't I was expecting." The leader's eyes widened.
He crouched over a corpse of a guard, prying open the slack jaw. The neck bones had been broken, the helmet caved inward in his skull by blunt force.
He inspected closer, and what he found was red marks coiled in the guard's neck which looked like the hand of a person.
"What in Norn's name happened here?" he murmured, his smirk lost.
"Sir, we scanned for magical footprints. Nothing. No demonic taint lingers here." One of the knights cleared his throat.
Malum straightened. "There are no signs of sword fight either. Those wounds, they're not of metal work."
He walked through the blood-stained corridor. His knights followed.
But the leader's thoughts turned elsewhere.
A memory.
Whispers in the guild was of Amelia, the cursed Blutracher girl. How she was Maledictus' spawn, a demon in human flesh.
He refuses to believe that it was this case, but he cannot stop the feeling of uneasiness.
At the far end of the estate, Amelia shoved open the last cell door. The final slave stumbled into her arms.
"It's over," Amelia whispered. "You're safe."
Dozens of eyes turned to her in the dim corridor. The slave women huddled together, their wrists wounded by the chains, and their faces pale with disbelief.
"We leave. Now." Her voice carried no hesitation.
They moved in a desperate, stumbling line, led by Amelia through the servants' passages. The night called at the narrow exit leading into the estate's backyard.
But before they could step into freedom, shouts echoed from the courtyard.
"My lord! Movements at the rear of the estate!"
Amelia froze, pressing the youngest of the girls behind her.
"Bellum's beard, the reinforcements are here already?!"
From the courtyard, armored figures emerged, brandishing their swords and lances at the ground, ready to slaughter.
The slaves were already slipping through the forest at the edge of the estate's backyard, disappearing through the night. All except Amelia.
Her body was drenched in blood, some of it her own, most of it not. She grasped the arm of one trembling girl.
"Go," Amelia whispered as she caresses the girl. "I'll be back. I promise."
The girl's eyes brimmed with hope, clinging to those words before she finally followed the others into the trees.
She turned to the Knights, their lances pointed at her, their swords unsheathed at their sides, they were a all bearing down on her. She only inhaled once, then moved.
"Bring it on." She met them in full force.
The first rider thrust down his lance; she pivoted, catching the shaft with both hands and wrenching it sideways. The horse screamed as its momentum sent it crashing into another rider, and Amelia used the lance to impale the knight before he could rise.
Another knight's blade slashed across her back, pain seared at her back but she spun with it, her elbow driving into the knight's throat before stabbing his face with his own sword.
The rest of the knights came at her in waves. She dropped low, rolling beneath a horse's legs, her hand slamming against the joint of its knee with unnatural force. The creature toppled, throwing its rider, and Amelia seized his dagger and drove it up through the gap in his helm.
And then suddenly, her body betrayed her.
Amelia's muscles spasmed, her bones cracked under the strain. When she tried to sprint after two knights breaking off toward the fleeing slaves, her ankle gave way with a snap. She crumpled, gritting her teeth.
Bellum's powers proved too much of a strain in Amelia's body. If it were Aron's old body, he could've ended the fight without breaking a sweat. Now, he is holding Amelia's body back or she'll die if she pushes it to its limits.
"Amelia.. please... don't give up on me now"
The others closed in, circling her like wolves. She forced herself up on one knee, staggering. A sword came down, and she caught it on the shaft of the broken lance. Another one of the knights lunged, then she twisted, driving her foot into his knee and sending him sprawling.
But she was slowing.
Still, she fought. Her body was breaking piece by piece, but Aron didn't give up and guided her forward with his skill.
Silence filled the entire place.
The doors of the estate open once more. This time, it made Amelia froze. Who came out of there... she knew him all too well.
The leader of the cavalry emerged out of the shadows.
"Malum Sylvestris," her eyes widened.
The captain of the Cavalry Knights.
Malum's smirk widened. He raised his hand, palm open, and ordered the remaining knights to stop attacking.
"So the rumors were true. The cursed child… hiding in plain sight all this time. Waiting for the perfect moment to strike back."
His gaze on Amelia lingered too long, it turned rotten. His smile twisted into something foul.
"You know," he drawled, stepping closer, "I could spare you. No need for this nonsense fighting. I am a hero after all."
His smirk turned grim.
"Offer yourself to me, and I'll keep you as one of my... concubines. I am sure your body will make a fine plaything."
The look she gave him was not fear but disgust.
"Oh not you, disgusting and ploughing moron."
He sneered at her silence, pressing further. "Or... you can die by my blade, spawn of Maledictus. That's what you are, isn't it? Just like your whore of a mother. I hope she rots in the void, where you'll soon follow."
"You speak of rot, yet it drips from your tongue, hypocrite," she spat. "You do not deserve what the gods placed in your hand."
Malum's face twisted.
"You all robbed me of my dignity, the life I deserved, and took everything that I own, but now I'll make sure that you all will pay tenfold. None of you will be an exception."
The yard erupted with laughter as Malum tilted his head back.
"Absurd. A sickly little parasite dares bare her fangs?" He unsheathed his sword, and readies himself. His forehead shimmered.
"You just dug your own grave, Amelia von Blutracher!"
Amelia noticed the mark on his forehead. Bellum's sigil had been carved into him. He was no mere knight. He, too, was a Hero. Yet she felt no fear. In fact, she laughed softly.
Aron had hoped for this moment, that he can finally face someone with the same blessing as him.
Let's see how strong you are, Hero!
Their blades clashed. Their movements are quick. The knights who lingered too close were thrown off their feet by the force of their battle.
Malum lunged first, his sword cleaving through the air with a powerful force capable of shattering shields. Sparks flew as Amelia's lance parried, the shaft vibrating in her hands upon impact. She twisted her body sideways, letting the sword's edge graze harmlessly past her cheek before she drove the lance's blunt end into his chest.
"What is this?" Malum staggered back. His eyes wandered closely at Amelia. His thoughts wondering how is this girl able to fight back? She had known and seen Amelia for years even before the Duchess transferred her to the estate.
He had never seen her wield a blade before let alone spin the lance like its weight is nothing to her. Even knights have a hard time controlling such a heavy weapon.
"You're too slow, Milord!" she muttered, mockingly.
Snarling, he came again, hacking downward meant to split her skull. Amelia caught the strike at an angle, sliding the lance along the sword to deflect it. She spun with the momentum, her spear sweeping low to slash his legs. Malum barely leapt in time, his boot grazing the ground as her weapon cut through the grass.
For a moment, Malum thought, "Renova's tits... this speed... this power... this is of no mere girl! Is this the power of Maledictus?!"
"Eyes up here!"
She pierced through his guard. The sharp edge of her lance grazed his armored shoulder. Malum grunted, retaliating with a backswing. She ducked beneath, turning on her heel, and followed with a stab targeting his chest again. Only his quick twist saved him from being skewered.
"You dare mock me?!" Malum spat,
Amelia laughed, the sound cruel and sharp. "Oh, I am just getting started, Milord."
Malum spread his arms wide, chanting under his breath. Crimson runes seared into his palm. Heat thickened as light spiraled into his hands.
A sword materialized. It was massive, jagged, and dripping molten rock as if torn from a volcano. Its blade pulsed with magma, veins of flame crawling up its tip. The ground seared where it touched, grass shriveling into ash.
"A Celestial Armament…" Amelia's eyes narrowing.
Even Aron's thoughts stirred uneasily inside her.
So he's also… an armament wielder. Interesting.
Malum's grin stretched, "You leave me no choice, demon-spawn. This is the weapon of the Almighty Bellum's chosen one. None shall withstand its might, and you're the first to get a taste of its wrath."
But within Amelia, Aron's voice mocked.
How fitting. Yet… I've been holding myself back. Only the barest trickle of strength, no more than her body can manage. If I called upon my Armament… this fragile flesh would shatter before the weapon even took form. Not yet. Not in her body.
Instead, Amelia shifted her stance. She lowered her lance, and with a sharp kick, she sent a fallen knight's longsword flying from the ground into her grasp. She caught it mid-air, flipping it with her left hand, testing the grip.
Malum leveled his molten greatsword. The ground at his feet bubbled from the heat, stone beginning to soften like wax.
Amelia, by contrast, seemed untouched by the suffocating heat. Her body lowered into a fluid stance. Her lance angled forward in her right, sword steady in her left. Her breathing slowed, measured. She emits the same crimson aura as Malum.
For a moment, silence stretched. Then--
He moved.
His molten blade crashed down, an eruption of fire exploding from the swing. The ground cracked and flames leaped high. Amelia twisted aside, her lance whipping up to divert the strike just enough for it to gouge the ground instead of her skull.
She countered instantly. The spear lashed out, driving for his gut, but Malum spun with surprising agility, his magma blade sweeping outward in a wide arc. The heat seared her face down to her lower skin, forcing her to leap back.
Their weapons met again. Amelia's sword parried the strike, her spear stabbing high for his throat. Malum snarled, batting it aside, his molten blade spitting lava with every movement.
"His swings are wide. Too wide. He relies on brute strength, no blade control at all. Each attack drains him faster than he realizes." a smirk came from her mouth.
Her sword parried another blow, sparks biting her palm.
"He leads with his right shoulder. Overcommits. Leaves his left chest vulnerable every time, though I've repeatedly exploited this weakness many times, he seemed not to realize it."
"He fights like a butcher!" disdain filled Amelia's eyes.
When Malum raised his sword high for another crushing overhead strike, she found a chance.
There it is.
She stepped forward. Her spear shot the inside of his forward leg. The sudden poke collapsed his balance, his sword crashing into the dirt instead of her head.
Before he could recover, her sword lashed out, cutting a shallow line across his unguarded side.
Blood sprinkled to the ground.
Malum staggered back, his face twisted in rage.
"You damnable wench!" he spat.
Malum's fury boiled over. His blade pulsed violently, cracks of magma crawling up his arm as he screamed,
"ENOUGH!"
He planted his feet wide, drawing every ounce of his strength into the greatsword. The weapon swelled as he raised it high above his head. The very ground shuddered beneath him. The knights, terrified, scrambled back.
With a deafening roar, Malum brought the greatsword crashing down.
The impact split the estate's backyard in half, earth and stone exploding outward. A shockwave rippled violently, toppling trees, shattering windows, and throwing debris into the night sky. Walls cracked.
When the dust began to clear, the knights and Malum gasped in disbelief. He staggered back, his molten sword torn itself apart. His body ached. That was the last of his powers. His knees dropped to the ground, powerless.
But Amelia was still standing.
Blood seeped from a deep searing gash across her shoulder, burning her body. Her hand grip trembling on the sword in her hand. Her lance lay broken, and her sword reduced to fragments at her feet.
As Malum's molten blade descended with ground-splitting force, Aron pulled the surrounding magic into Amelia's sword, compressing it violently. The counter redirected the blast, tearing the ground to shreds behind her instead of consuming her entirely.
It's a technique I forged back in the old days. You take the enemy's power, compress it into the core of your own weapon, and before it can fully detonate… you throw it back, just like how parrying works. A blade becomes a mirror.
"But it's never perfect. The body always pays the price." Her smirk deepened, though her hand clutched the bleeding wound at her side, "But there are times when pride demands it. You meet his strike with your own, even if it breaks you. I could have dodged his attack, but pride took a hold of me. I should unlearn this habit in the future."
"Who in Renova's name are you...." His eyes widened in disbelief.
"Now this is entirely disappointing, Malum."
Malum tried to recover. But Amelia didn't give him the chance.
She closed the distance in a blur. Her hand shot out, seizing him by the throat, lifting him off the ground.
Her crimson eyes glowed, reflecting the horror dawning in his own. "You mocked me for being a curse… for being my mother's wretched child."
She leaned closer, her breath against his ear.
"Then tell me, Malum Sylvestris... what does that make you, a Hero who cannot even kill a Demon's daughter?"
Malum's lips quivered.
Amelia slammed him into the ground, the ground cracking beneath the impact. Dust and debris scattered. She didn't let him breathe. Her foot pressing against his chest, pinning him.
"You called me weak," She crouched, pressing her hand to his cheek mockingly. "Look at you now. Shaking. Do you still see weakness?"
Malum's face contorted between rage and terror, but his body betrayed him, trembling under her gaze.
"You berated my mother as disgusting, but I wonder, Malum-- what would she think of you now?"
Amelia tilted her head, crimson eyes narrowing with a sinister smile. "The truth is simple: your insults were never for me. They were for yourself. Every word you spat was the desperate scream of a man who knew he could never measure up."
She pressed harder, his ribs groaning under the pressure of her heel. His face twisted in pain.
"Bellum chose you? Then your god has poor taste."
Malum's hands clawed weakly at her foot. But she pressed down harder, savoring the way his eyes bulged, the way his men froze, too terrified to move.
"You threatened to make me your plaything," she hissed, "Tell me, Malum… does this feel like control?"
His lips trembled. No words came, only a strangled gasp.
"Speak. Tell them what you called me."
His voice cracked, pathetic. "Y-you're… rotten... wench! Curse you…!"
Amelia laughed sharply, cruelly. She crouched, gripping his jaw so tightly her nails drew blood, forcing him to look her in the eye.
"Curse me? No, Malum. I am the curse. I am the one you could never kill." She leaned closer, "And now… the world will see what a 'Hero' looks like when he begs."
She shoved him back down into the dirt, grinding his face against the rubble. The knights flinched at the sound of stone scraping flesh.
"You will not live," Amelia declared.
She raised her arms, addressing the fazed knights. "Look well, all of you. This man will die here, crushed beneath the heel of 'Maledictus' child.' Remember this sight."
Malum gasped beneath her boot, blood running from his mouth. "W-wait!"
Amelia crouched. Dark aura began to seep out of her. She grabbed him by the jaw, forcing him to look up at her.
"Wait? That's all you have left? No, no, no, don't be like that, Malum. Curse me, Curse me with all that you have got."
With a sudden, vicious movement, she dragged him up by the jaw, lifting his entire body with one hand.
"Watch closely," she said coldly, her eyes never leaving theirs. "This is just the beginning."
Malum's scream tore through the night as Amelia's grip crushed his face. His jaw snapped, teeth spilling to the ground. She didn't stop. Slowly, deliberately, she pressed harder, her strength overwhelming his struggling limbs until his skull cracked with a pop.
Blood and brain matter ran down her arm, staining her dress as she finally let his limp corpse drop into the dirt with a dull thud.
She wiped the blood from her hand and smeared it across her pale cheek, her lips curling into a smile that chilled every knight to their marrow.
"Your Hero is dead," she declared.
The knights stared in stunned silence, their weapons trembling in their hands. None dared move, none dared speak.
Amelia tilted her head, dark aura now completely emanating from her.
"Now… who else wants to play his part?"
END OF CHAPTER THREE