Harbinger Of Doom: The Attainer

27. Fense County (3)

(A/N: this chapter contains extreme violence theme which may be disturbing to the reader. Therefore, reader's discretion is advised)

Luna shined the brightest, illuminating the sky as though it didn't want to miss a bit of the anarchy. In the hue of moonlight, black armoured silhouettes could be spotted brandishing swords and spears like the grim reaper's wrath at dusk hungry to harvest the souls of men.

Another batch of silhouettes showed up, arming themselves with swords from tables and barrels cached beneath fabrics. They emerged from vandalized stalls. Their battle array confirmed the fact that they were once soldiers.

"Let's go." Lores told the prince without waiting for him to keep cool and express heartfelt gratitude. Mo bobbed with eyelids twinkling, understanding the dire situation of everyone present. A bloody combat cropped up between Mo's troops and the veterans. The soldiers started barking an order at one another to protect the prince.

Cinan showed up but was suddenly engaged in a fierce battle by Hilbwet. They both wielded their sword ferociously against each other, one trying to surmount the other in a brutal rage. Both were skilled swordsmen and couldn't get past each other for a long while.

More than two decades of elite knights matched in a cluster with the prince to ensure his safety. They fought and mercilessly killed off their adversaries. Whoever dared to get close either got a savage slit on the throat or a jab in the chest. Enshrouded in the moon, the blood spattered from skewered flesh seemed inklike, as if heaven sent a shower of blood to the earth.

Mo who was environed by these elite knights was untouchable. They were like a strong fort, difficult to break through; a mountain that posed as a serious obstacle. Under the moonlight, their steel armours glimmered coldly, like the dim glow of soul eaters.

In any case, the veterans were formidable as some men of Black Iron Cavalry fell.

Meanwhile, Lores' hair billowed in the night's cold and deadly breeze as he stared aghast at what was happening - the carnage littered here and there as if waiting for their ghosts to be summoned. A wave of bloodlust surged from him. He lunged with a yell, careful not to expose his powers though, he joined the fray with a fiendish aura. The reflection from the beam made his sword gleam like frost and snow, as if emitting the faint glow of a reaper's scythe in the night.

The moment he slashed from left to right, blood spilled on his face, a warm and ugly sensation was felt, but he did not shiver. Once in his beast mode, he would be greatly amok, raging like an indignant mutant. Someone crashed against a stall after they received a potent kick from seven. A veteran tilted his sword with a boisterous shout, aiming at the chest region. Lores evaded and gave him a slit, his blood freely poured down. Another veteran got his arm chopped off after attempting to swipe at Lores. The latter parried the action and retaliated with a fatal strike, causing an arm to fly off as if it was a propellant, pieces of flesh and blood skimming all over.

He was up against veterans anyway - formidable veterans who had fought battles for many years of their lives. No matter how talented he was or seemed to be, the fact remained that he's contending with experienced veterans. While Lores was in the middle of a ferocious battle, an unpleasant sensation triggered in his crotch. The ache put him in a dire state of disorientation. He collided with a barrel, hitting the earth with his rear.

He groaned in discomfort and excruciating pain, unable to even struggle to his feet. He laid down there panting and gritting his teeth. His vision was hazy for a short while, his grip yielding subconsciously on his weapon.

The sudden apparition of a silhouette was before his eyes in a fleet. From the external features, he could tell the figure whosoever wasn't his comrade. He was not wearing an armour. His turban was evidently visible enough for Lores to see amidst his haziness. But he was infirm, unfit to unleash a deadly strike. His rival lifted his sword and was about to pierce through his chest. Lores' eyes shone. He struggled to clasp his hilt, but his effort was futile for he was as weak as a dried up leaf.

"No...no I can't die here and now. I'm yet to see my father. No I can't. I really can't!" The voice in his head was pleading with death but death...as horrifying as it is never heed to tearful pleas. Apart from lurching, Lores could do nothing much. Unfortunately for him, he was left at the mercy of the veteran.

But something shocking happened that very moment. In the nick of time, a crunching sound was heard and then a short but emphatic gutteral sound. Lores saw that his bane suddenly let go of his sword. At this moment of profound shock and relief, a sword was already bulging halfway through the veteran's chest, red dropping viscously from its tip.

The killer retracted his sword, and the body fell down like a flower cut down by the sickle. Lores' shock quickly turned to curiosity to know his saviour. The killer didn't make a speech. He only offered a hand that Lores clasped after hesitating a little, and helped him back on his feet. Lores looked on with surprise because his saviour was his least expectation.

It was unexpectedly Prince Mo. The usual bossy look on his face could not be found.

Lores shut his eyes and sighed before uttering a low mournful sound. He reeled a little, but was then held back on the shoulder by the prince. They stared at each other for a good while. It was indeed incredible. One couldn't believe he'd be in the arms or sincerely rescued by an embodiment of pride and respect while the other couldn't believe he would deign to save the most disrespectful person in the world.

The elite knights resumed their duty of simulating a fence around the duo. Lores was unable to walk on his own so he was aided by Mo.

Hilbwet and count Cinan were still interchanging strikes. None of them faltered all through the combat. By now, they both had bruises and sweats on them. Despite everything that occurred, Count Cinan was still in the mood to cackle with satisfaction. A straightforward and impatient person like Hilbwet got his anger augmented, and charged once more.

The count being an experienced soldier, parried the attack on time, then gave Hilbwet a terrible kick. The latter was heavily repelled, banging into the debris and rolling several metres away.

While the chaos was under way, Mo took Lores to a secured spot for Lores to recuperate for he was almost lame and lifeless. He took off seven's mask while the knights still simulated a round fence.

Several of the veterans had been finished. The smell of blood hovered in the air, and the atmosphere was gruesome.

Prince Mo knew he had to obtain the seal from Count Cinan. He left Lores under the protection of the knights and approached the count. Everything that was experienced today showed Mo the other part of life he had not seen. He wished everything would come to an end as soon as possible.

"You've had enough." He said while some of his knights towed slowly from behind in case of any eventuality. Count Cinan took out the seal, his stance wasn't very firm.

"What made you think you're going to have it. I'd rather destroy it."

"The seal is just an object. Even if you ruin it, Black Iron Cavalry will still be in tact." Mo countered. Before the Count could utter another word, an arrow came from the blue, drifting through empty air. It spiked the Count's throat, bulging out from the nape. The protruded area was coated in thick red. The Count dropped his sword while coughing out a large volume of blood. He fell on his knees, then dropped down dead.

The assassin could not be traced as what was left from the ghostlike execution was the empty air and quick inquisitive glances. The assassin had gone out of sight after just a millisecond his mission was completed.

Someone had helped Mo. It didn't take long for Mo to figure out who it was. It was his father.

After recovering from the shock, a knight went to pick up the seal and handed it respectfully to Mo.

Hilbwet released a yelp and got to his feet with the help of his sword. He staggered towards the prince with a bright face that seemed really odd in the midst of bruises. Mo was quickly alarmed by the state of his guard. He inquired about his well-being but Hilbwet claimed that he was okay.

The prince stood gallantly and showed the seal to the knights. Each and everyone of them sank on one knee and ducked their heads, submitting to his authority.

"Congrats on retrieving the bronze seal, your highness. We are at your beck and call!" They all chorused.