The Forsaken Hero-Chapter 670: The Law of Strength

All hell broke loose as we fled the throne room. Chunks of rock and debris broke from the walls and ceiling, and the fissures in the floor widened. Entire rooms gave out behind us or fell through the ceiling, burying our level. Shouts and screams rang in the billowing clouds of dust. Cries for help, pain, and loss melded together, smothered only by the dreadful roar of cave-ins.

Elaine led the way, the emperor held in her arms. The sixth-level guards had since vanished into the spire, following her orders to save who they could. R’lissea and I followed after, clinging to Fable’s back for dear life. I squinted against the dust, hoping for a flicker of violet light in the gathering dust, but Luke and the other apostles had vanished.

"I’m sure they’re alright. They escaped when the floor cracked," R’lissea said.

I shook my head, tail curling. "But why did he leave me?" I mumbled, squeezing my eyes shut. He was supposed to be there when this happened, just like he promised. Or...had he actually promised anything? Was I confusing him with Soltair?

She hesitated, chewing on her lip. "He didn’t look well. He was pale, and his tail was trembling. Even before this happened. He looked scared, or maybe...sad."

"Scared?" I bit my lip. What could make someone like Luke afraid? Did he sense what I did? No, that didn’t make sense. He didn’t fear monsters.

The temperature started to rise as wisps of smoke curled amidst the dust and rubble. A faint orange glow rose within the deepest fissures, painting the crumbling keep with the colors of hell.

We burst out of the keep as fires erupted behind us, the ground rolling beneath our feet. Thick pillars of smoke trailed into the evening sky as towers cracked and tumbled, and the passages and tunnels carved within the spire collapsed. Brave soldiers stained with soot, blood, and dust emerged from the destruction, carrying servants, nobles, and children, dropping them off with their weaker companions before staggering back into the spire, looking for more survivors. Sometimes, they didn’t return.

"This way," Elaine said, moving vigorously toward the eastern wing of the courtyard.

As we approached the small, fortified keep, a surge of aura nearly threw me from Fable’s back. The keep exploded, sending chunks of obsidian the size of houses in all directions. They cratered the earth around us, releasing small shockwaves as they disintegrated from the force of impact. A twenty-foot section of rampart crashed on top of us, but Elaine cut toward it with her sword, releasing a blazing arc of mana toward it. The magical technique bisected the debris, sending the halves crashing on either side of our party.

A figure strode out of the ruined keep, his ninth-level aura blasting the smoke and dust away. Behind him, the members of the church’s embassy stumbled after him. Threads of mana encircled their necks, trailing to the mage’s hand like leashes. Undill was shaking, her face white. Except Father Ithris, who walked with complete composure, none of the others seemed any better.

"Avant, I see you took care of things here," Elaine said.

The mage, Avant, stared at the emperor. "What the hell happened?"

Elaine raised her sword, the tip leveled with Undill’s neck. "I was wondering that myself. Care to explain?"

Undill’s eyes bulged, and her knees gave out. She collapsed hard, clutching at the magic noose as if it were choking her. Her mouth opened and closed, but only strangled gasps came out."

Avant snorted. "I doubt you’ll get anything useful from this lot. They’re all just pawns meant to legitimize the church’s true mission."

Her sword turned to Father Ithris’s. The Father eyed it, but his expression didn’t change.

"Explain," she said coldly.

Father Ithris raised an eyebrow. "There is nothing for me to say. Even if we were innocent for whatever mess has befallen your empire, you would never believe us."

"So be it," she said. She raised her voice, "I charge the church with high treason, inflicting grievous harm upon the royal family, destruction of empire lands, and deliberate deception in official communications against the best interest of the Blacksand Empire."

"I witness the charges," Avant said solemnly.

"Wait, you can’t do this!" Undill protested, choking the words out between tears. "We’re diplomats with immunity! You can’t–"

Elaine released her aura, silencing the sniveling woman. "I find the charged party guilty and sentence them to death."

Father Ithris’s complexion paled, though from fear or her aura, I couldn’t tell.

"For all your speak of justice and law, you are quick to disregard due process," he said.

Elaine smiled grimly. "This world has been too peaceful for too long. Even the lauded fathers of the church have forgotten the truth. There is no law without strength. In fact, you could say strength is the law. And I am that strength."

The Father opened his mouth to protest, but Elaine’s sword blurred. UNdill screamed as her head separated from her neck. The attack carried on, slicing through the rest of the church’s diplomats and leaving them gurgling in puddles of their own blood.

My stomach twisted with the dying screams of the diplomats. I covered my mouth, bile bubbling in my throat. The violence was too sudden, too unexpected. Just like that, they were dead. All except for the Father. I hadn’t even the time to look away. fгeewёbnoѵel.cσm

Father Ithris’s voice died in his throat, his eyes bulging.

"What have you done?" he gasped. "You would turn your sword on a Father? Have you no fear of–"

You said it yourself," Elaine said, nudging his chin up with the point of her sword. "We don’t negotiate with demons."

She cut forward, and I averted my eyes, anticipating the scream.

The sharp clang of steel made me jump, and my head snapped up. Father Ithris was on the ground, his eyes wide. His head was still attached.

Standing above him was Lord Evlon, gleaming silver blade crossed with Elaine’s. Sparks of mana erupted from the clash as the swords ground together, and their auras whipped into a frenzy. Evlon strained against the obsidian blade, every muscle and ribbon of mana forced into keeping it from his throat. Elaine, for her part, merely held it there, lips pursed in a frown.

"This is most barbaric, Lady Elaine," Evlon growled through clenched teeth. "Even you should think twice before murdering a Father."

"Thank you," Elaine replied.

"For what?"

She smiled, increasing the force on her sword, forcing the inquisitor back a step. "For coming here. I was afraid I would have to leave to the city to hunt you down myself, but you saved me the trouble."

"Things aren’t what you think!" he spat.

"Oh?" She arched an eyebrow. "Tell me, then. Why are there thirty thousand of my dear people dead in the sand? Who killed them?"

"There’s no other way. You can’t surrender to the demons, or this realm will fall under darkness. The God of Fate has spoken it. A few thousand is a small price to pay for billions."

"Damn you!" she swore. "You so brazenly admit it?"

"Elaine!" I cried, pointing to the top of the spire. A violent tremor shook the ground. "We’re out of time! It’s going to–"

I froze as a cold blade pressed against my throat. R’lissea cried out as a man materialized between us and shoved her off Fable, taking her palace behind me. Fable tensed but was too slow to react and could only growl as the assassin grabbed my waist, pulling me flush against him, knife still to my throat.

Elaine’s gaze flickered toward me, her frown deepening. R’lissea scrambled off the ground but froze as another inquisitor appeared behind her, a sword held to her back. Another white-cloaked woman appeared by the emperor, dragging the unconscious man to his feet.

"Did you think I came alone?" Evlon asked, sweating furiously as Elaine returned her attention to him, aura fully unleashed.

"Inquisitor, cease this at once. Or I won’t be merciful," Avant growled, his own aura seething.

"Move your sword," Evlon said, glaring at Elaine.

She glanced at the emperor and, scowling, eased the pressure on her blade. Evlon stumbled back, gasping for breath.

"Better," he said, wiping a trickle of blood from his lips. "Now, what were you saying about strength? Funny how things change, isn’t it? Even with two ninth-levels, you are powerless."

I could kill you before these even realize I moved," Elaine said.

"But you couldn’t kill all of us. I know you don’t care much for the demons’ pets, but what if you’re too slow to save your precious emperor?"

She gritted her teeth.

Evlon chuckled wryly. "I’ll make things easy for you. Give us the filthblood and Life Hero, and I’ll allow your emperor to go free."

Avant’s soul buzzed, and the beginnings of an eighth-level spell began winding around him. There was no change to his aura, visible runes, or even a rise in ambient mana. It was beautiful, the true essence of a chantless cast, but I barely noticed. The assassin’s fingers pressed into my flesh, bruising with the slightest touch. I couldn’t see his soul behind me, but it felt at the peak of the seventh level. The other three seemed the same strength, though they wore armor and white cloaks in the traditional inquisitor manner, not black like the one who held me. Not even Fable had sensed their approach.

Elaine glanced at me. My heart sank as I saw the conflict in her eyes. Faced with this choice, there was only one possible outcome.

"Don’t believe him. It’s breaking free! There won’t be anything left to save." I croaked, wincing at the painful dryness in my throat.

"Silence," the assassin hissed.

His blade bit into my throat, drawing a bead of blood down my neck. Shivers wracked my body, my heart trembling in my chest. This wasn’t supposed to happen. This hadn’t been a part of my visions!