Vale opened his eyes with a deep look of confusion and disorientation. His memories were slow and dulled, and it took him a full five minutes before the recollection hit, and he groaned, rolling and trying to get back to his feet.

And failed.

His mind was willing, but his body simply refused to comply. His whole body hurt; every single bit seemed to come alive with pain, and his limbs were too heavy to even lift.

He flopped back on the ground and tried to piece together what was happening around him, sweeping his shaky gaze around him. And although his body wasn’t responding to him, his mind remained sharp.

The sandstorm was gone; the vacuum it left behind was now occupied by deep silence.

A silence that was broken by a bark of laughter. "Can this be considered as you Athrimir not being able to take a single hit of my attack?"

It was Eirikr’s voice.

Vale didn’t turn to track the direction of the voice because it was getting closer anyway, and sure enough, a shadow loomed over him and blocked the light.

Eirikr grinned. "But I’m still impressed that you and your boy here aren’t dead, considering you are both in the Errant Knight Rank."

Vale ignored them.....wait.....he looked around sharply and almost cursed out loud as his head swam and eyes darkened, pain hitting him like a hammer to the head. 𝙧𝙚𝙚𝔀𝒆𝓫𝓷𝙤𝓿𝒆𝙡.𝒄𝙤𝓶

But he still looked.

Right there, held tightly by the hair, Eirikr held Tiber, his grip so strong he had already begun pulling hair from his head.

Vale’s eyes narrowed, and he unconsciously drew in a deep breath, which he regretted immediately as his ribs screamed at him. He must have like two snapped ribs.

"Leave him alone!" His voice came out raspy and dry, as if worn by sand. He swallowed to moisten his throat.

Eirikr only laughed and jerked his hand again, pulling tightly once more and making Tiber shout in pain. "Or what? What are you going to do? Kill me?"

Vale almost winced out loud. Indeed, things weren’t looking good for him at all. He didn’t know where his allies were, and as things stood, they—or some of them—might be dead. Even though he could hear the sound of battle in the distance, he still didn’t put hope into it that he would be rescued.

Maybe....maybe he’d really lost now.

Without ceremony, Eirikr snorted and threw Tiber to the ground. The man clutched his head painfully, his face showing a hint of fear and confusion.

It seemed even Tiber couldn’t think of a way out in the face of the undeniable power.

"I wanted to kill you before Vale Athrimir, but I changed my mind. I will make you watch as I destroy everything, and then you’ll watch as I remake things as I want.

"Let’s start with this mule of yours....I’ll make you regret not bending your neck when you had the chance!"

Vale still didn’t say anything. Now that he wasn’t holding the sword, he could feel his essence flowing once more, carefully healing him back. It was slow, but it was still the fastest any Errant Knight could ever wish to accomplish.

Eirikr’s glare turned to Tiber.

The sand on the ground suddenly leaped up, warped around the man’s hand, enclosing his right hand like a tight glove from the elbow down, even to the individual fingers.

Tiber yelped in surprise and tried to yank the sand off, but it proved futile.

"You are the one who stole my drake. You deserve more than this, and I’m only too ready to give it."

Crunch! Snap!

"Waiiiiiiiiiiii!!"

The sand constricted and then bent; fingers snapped and broke, the elbow dislocated, while flesh was squeezed to bursting. Tiber screamed in pain, his eyes glittering with desperation and fear. He shuddered and frantically tried to get the sand off—the same sand that was now creeping to the end of his hand.

"Oh? I expected more than that. Are you used to pain? This is no fun if...."

Suddenly, a confused and dull expression appeared on Eirikr’s face, his eyes turning deep and blank.

Tiber stopped whimpering at that moment and leaped to his feet. His face—his eyes—were the darkest Vale had ever seen them, his whole body seeming shrouded in a dark cloud that brimmed with terror and fear. Sweat dripped down his face as he went into focused concentration.

Since his advancement to the Errant Knight Rank, he had grown stronger—more than even Vale anticipated. The same was true with Slya.

Since Eirikr captured him, Tiber knew it was flatly impossible for him to win in a direct fight. In fact, it should be unthinkable. But he’d spent enough time beside Vale, and they almost always fought enemies stronger than them.

He used all the essence in his body—everything in him—and he only acted when Eirikr was distracted.

With the Master Knight Clan leader still under his power’s control, Tiber leaped forward. He forgot about his dangling right hand and raised his left.

Time seemed to slow down.

Vale saw as Tiber’s right hand transformed into one of his nightmare forms. This one was a hard green shell, a rough bladed thing that curved in the middle.

Without hesitation, he swiped down.....

.....just when Eirikr regained control of his consciousness!

But the Clan leader was still baffled, as if he was trying to understand what happened after waking up from a long, deep sleep.

Wham!

The bladed hand connected with Eirikr’s neck just as the man’s eyes widened, and he raised his own hand super fast in a punch!

Two things happened at the same time.

The blade cut off Eirikr’s head, and a punch caught Tiber directly in the chest, crushing it inward in a spray of blood and gore that sent the man skidding back.

Vale froze. His eyes locked on the sight of Tiber on the ground, unmoving and barely breathing.

What. The. Fuck.

"What the fuck?"

It took Vale a moment to understand that it wasn’t him who spoke aloud.

He turned his head blankly and stared...at Eirikr.

"What the fuck?" the man continued, irritation coloring his face. He flicked the blood from his fist. "What type of monsters are in the Athrimir Clan? Trying to kill a Master Knight and succeeding. Isn’t that just too insane?"

Vale looked at the man blankly. "You... you are alive."

Eirikr smirked. "Oh? You think you can kill me just like that? Didn’t I tell you? My life is interwoven with the throne. You can’t kill me in my territory. And don’t even think about the throne—you can’t see it, talk less of touching it."

Somehow, Vale felt strangely calm. "Is he dead?"

"What?" Eirikr gave him a confused look. "What are you....oh, your dog? He’s not dead, but he won’t last. Why worry when you’ll be joining him?"

It was then that Vale’s eyes blazed with an intensity—and not without a hint of madness. He stood and dusted himself. "Good. If he were to die, then your death would have been made painful and counted in years."

Somehow, Eirikr felt a chill run down his spine as he heard that. He opened his mouth in shock.

But Vale just ignored him and went to Tiber. The wound in his chest was pretty bad, but it wasn’t something he could deal with right there and then. Instead, he brought out a potion from his spatial ring and fed it to him.

Thankfully, he was still breathing, and the potion should help till something else could be done later.

Throughout all this, Eirikr just stood there in stunned silence.

Vale then turned back. He was angry—very angry. His anger was so much that his mind automatically shut down into calmness and turned the anger into cold fury.

"Alright then, Eirikr. Let me kill you."

☆☆▪︎▪︎☆☆

Slya was shifting impatiently on her ship, her hand clutching her sword as she watched the demon sit in a cross-legged position and close his eyes.

’Didn’t he say he already had the location, and we’ve gotten the go-ahead from Vale? What are we still waiting for?’

Her impatience was caused by many things, and the first of them was the fear of failure. She knew how incredibly important their mission was and that a lot depended on them...on her.

It was a responsibility she had never had to carry before. Half the time, she just followed Vale and did as he instructed, but now she had to act on her own instructions.

It was too sudden and....it was heavy.

"Why don’t you calm down, Captain Slya? As our commander, you’re making everyone nervous with the way you’re moving around," her second-in-command, Astra, said in a low voice to her.

Slya paused and then looked around. Indeed, the warriors were all looking at her, their faces showing tension, as if they were also hiding their nervousness.

She cleared her throat and straightened, opening her mouth to speak when Tong opened his eyes and rose smoothly to his feet.