Alpha Instinct-Chapter 38: "The Storm Unleashed"

As he parried yet another attack, Roland's thoughts raced. In his periphery, he caught a glimpse of Belfort's motionless body, and then he saw Leonard's vivid imagination—a young man who was defenseless, naive, and oblivious to the impending threat. This time, he would succeed. Yes, losing wasn't an option.

With a mighty roar, Roland unleashed a vicious counterattack, his blades moving at a dizzying pace. Attempting to keep up his pace, Garrick's grin faltered for an instant. Despite this, the spy showed no mercy, acting with the precision and logic of a surgeon.

"You're wasting your energy, old man," Garrick hissed, his voice cutting through the din. "Your lad has passed away. After a while, you'll be joining him."

Roland's heart clenched at the words, but he refused to believe them. Leonard was strong. He had survived worse. He had to.

Battle raged on, the mill trembling under the weight of their blows. Breathing became more difficult for Roland as he honed in on the shiny blade of Garrick's sword. There was no way he could bear to lose. Not at this moment. In all possible futures.

But as the battle wore on, a chilling realization settled over Roland. Garrick wasn't just here to kill him. He was here to send a message. And if he were ever to fall, Leonard would be next.

He was about to be swallowed whole by the crushing weight of that reality. But Roland maintained his position. His resolve would remain unshaken right up until his final breath.

Garrick's sword pierced Roland's armor and sent him tumbling to the floor. As he struggled to stand again, a red liquid encircled him, and his vision began to fade. In the wan light, Garrick's blade glinted as he towered over him.

"You're finished, old man," Garrick sneered, his voice dripping with malice. "As I told you, the boy's next." And he spat aside.

Roland recalled the long-ago vow he had made to Leah. His remorse for Belfort's murder and his resolve to put an end to King Edward's dictatorship. Like a storm brewing, an unbridled surge of power started to gather within him.

The mill trembled as Roland was getting up; a "whoosh" echoed through the night, a sound that seemed to shake all trees nearby. Garrick stumbled back, his blade faltering for the first time. The atmosphere surrounding Roland buzzed with intensity, a palpable force emanating from him. His eyes shone with an ethereal brilliance, and the earth below him started to crack, breaking apart under the immense power of his awakening.

Garrick's smirk disappeared, giving way to a brief moment of fear. "What the hell is this?" he muttered, his voice barely audible over the rising hum of Roland's power.

Nothing came out of Roland's mouth. That was impossible for him. He was feeling an overwhelming and unprocessed amount of energy. Many years ago, he had vowed never to unleash this power again, and he had kept it hidden away. With Leonard's life on the line and the blood of Belfort on his hands, Roland felt he had no other option.

Roland yelled, "ENOUGH!" His ELEV was active; the aura's force was so strong that the mill's walls flew like paper bags. His energy was producing a dark-reddish light that could be seen far away from there.

He raised his sword, the blade glowing with the same eerie light as his eyes. The air around it warped, as if the weapon itself was bending reality. Garrick lunged, his instincts screaming at him to strike before it was too late, but Roland moved faster. His blade met Garrick's with a deafening clash, the impact sending a shockwave that shattered the mill's basement and sent debris flying in all directions.

Garrick staggered, his arms trembling under the force of Roland's strike. "Impossible," he hissed, his voice tinged with disbelief. "You're just an old man. You're supposed to be broken!"

Roland's voice was low, almost a growl. "You should've left the boy alone."

He swung his sword once more, this time with a speed and precision that seemed almost beyond comprehension. Garrick just managed to deflect the strike, but the impact propelled him across the floor, his boots carving lines into the wood.

Roland didn't let up.

He advanced, each step deliberate, each strike more devastating than the last. At this point, the mill no longer existed, and the ground groaned under the strain; trees were cracking, and their leaves threatened to collapse.

Doubt crept into Garrick's mind. He was clearly outmatched despite his deft parries and dodges. As he moved, Roland's blade danced like a flurry of light and dark, giving the impression that he belonged in another dimension.

As the relentless assault began to erode Garrick's armor, he felt his breath come out in irregular, labored gasps.

"You think t-this changes a-anything?" Garrick spat, desperation creeping into his voice. "Edward will still win. Leonard will still die. You're just delaying the inevitable!"

In retaliation, Roland raised his greatsword with both hands and unleashed a devastating blow.

With ease, his blade sliced through Garrick's defenses, sending the spy rocketing into the trees and out into the night.

With a thud, Garrick's body slid across the floor before crashing to a tangled heap. Almost every bone in his body had been broken, and when he tried to stand, his legs gave out from under him.

Roland stepped through the gaping hole where the mill was located, his aura still blazing. He approached Garrick slowly, his expression unreadable. Garrick looked up at him, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth. "Y-you're a m-monster," he whispered, his voice trembling.

"Monster?... Hunf..."

Silently, Roland lifted his sword once more, the blade shining with an intensity unmatched. Garrick's eyes grew wide with shock, but before he could say anything more, Roland swung the blade down onto his forehead, cleaving Garrick in half.

A reddish flash of light and energy erupted from the ground, sending shockwaves that carved a deep trench into the earth, 150 meters distant.

When the dust settled, Garrick's remains could be seen, his body reduced to two pieces of burnt meat.

Roland stood amidst the destruction, his breathing heavy, his aura slowly fading. The mill had vanished, the surrounding trees had collapsed, and their leaves had either burned or flown away.

The once-quiet clearing was now a battlefield, scarred by the sheer force of Roland's power.

He put away his sword, his hands shaking a bit. The vibrant energy that once drove him had vanished, leaving him feeling empty and exhausted. He gazed at his hands, feeling the heavy burden of his actions pressing down on him.

He had broken his oath. He had unleashed the power he had sworn to keep buried. And now, there was no going back.

Roland didn't linger. He knew the fight would have drawn attention, and he couldn't afford to be caught. He hurried along, feeling the ache in his body with each step. The surge of adrenaline that had propelled him through the fight was dwindling, making him feel exposed.

He had to locate a safe haven, a place to gather his thoughts and strategize his next steps.

He went into a neighboring wooded area, where the dense foliage provided protection from bystanders. While he walked, his mind danced frantically, trying to make sense of how the king had discovered his plots.

Belfort was dead, and the secret meeting had been compromised. Someone had betrayed them, but who?

While he strolled along, something unusual caught his eye—a subtle trail of blood heading further into the woods.

Roland scowled, his gut urging him to dig deeper. He walked along the path, his hand gently resting on the hilt of his sword. The path brought him to a quaint, secluded cabin, its door gently left open. Roland approached cautiously, his senses on high alert.

Inside, he found Elizabeth.

She was sat on the ground, her shoulders heavily against the wall, her complexion wan and her breaths coming in shallow gasps. Her hands were tied, and her dress was ripped and stained with blood.

Roland felt a heavy weight in his chest as he knelt beside her, his hands determinedly seeking her pulse. She was alive, though just hanging on.

"Elizabeth," he whispered while touching her shoulders, his tone slightly rough. "What happened?"

She stirred slightly, her eyes fluttering open. "Roland..." she murmured, her voice weak. "They... they knew. They knew everything."

"Who did this to you?" Roland asked, his voice tight with anger.

Elizabeth coughed, blood staining her lips. "The King's men... they came to the inn. They... they tortured me. Wanted to know about Leonard... about you." She winced, her body trembling with pain. "I didn't tell them anything, Roland. I swear."

Roland's jaw tightened, his fists clenching. "Till when will they keep these atrocities?" he said, his voice low and sad.

Roland's instincts kicked in. He couldn't stay here. The cabin was too exposed, and if the King's men had found Elizabeth, they could be close. He needed to move, but first, he had to know how much time they had.

He set Elizabeth down gently, propping her against the wall. "Stay here," he said; his voice sounded gentle. "I'll be right back."

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Elizabeth gave a faint nod, her eyelids fluttering shut as she tried to save her energy.

Roland stepped outside, his senses alert despite the fatigue that hung over him. The forest was hauntingly quiet, sending chills down his spine. He moved quickly but cautiously, his eyes darting between the trees for any sign of activity.

Rising to a nearby hill, he could see the faint light of night torches approximately half a mile away. The king's armies. They were moving closer, and they weren't trying to be stealthy. They should be at the cabin in approximately five minutes, according to Roland.

He cursed under his breath. Five minutes wasn't enough time to get Elizabeth far, but it was all they had. He hurried back to the cabin, his mind racing. He needed a plan, and he needed it fast.

Roland knelt beside Elizabeth again, his voice urgent but calm. "They're coming. We need to move."

Elizabeth's eyes fluttered open, her gaze unfocused. "Leave me," she whispered. "I'll only slow you down."

"That's absolutely not going to happen," Roland declared determinedly. As a last resort, he tore a square of cloth from his cloak and delicately bandaged her injuries. "You're gonna come along with me."

Elizabeth attempted to voice her objections, but her strength was insufficient to make a case. Roland scooped her up effortlessly, her lightness almost unnoticed as adrenaline coursed through his veins.

He emerged from the cabin, his gaze sweeping across the forest in search of the optimal path. He had no choice but to move forward. The King's men were tightening their grip from behind. He sought an alternative route, one that would grant them some extra time.

The moonlight barely lit a narrow trail that he could make out as it wound deeper into the forest. There were some flaws, but it was their best chance. Roland adjusted his grip on Elizabeth and started moving, his pace steady but quick. Every second counted.

As they were disappearing into the trees, the sound of voices reached Roland's ears. The king's men were nearer than he had anticipated. He picked up his speed, his heart racing in his chest. Elizabeth's breath came in quick, shallow gasps, her body feeling weightless and unresponsive in his embrace. He couldn't stop, not now.

The forest grew darker, the trees closing in around them. Roland's mind raced. He needed a safe place to hide, somewhere the King's men wouldn't think to look. But with Elizabeth in this condition, he wasn't sure how much longer they could keep going.

Elizabeth shook her head weakly. "No... You need to go. They're coming... for you. For Leonard. You can't... you can't save me." She whispered.

Roland ignored her protests again, gently putting his hand on her mouth while she was carried into his arms. "I'm not leaving you," he said firmly. "Not again."

As Roland kept with Elizabeth through the dark forest, he heard the sound of footsteps approaching. He froze, his eyes scanning the darkness. Shadows moved among the trees, their shapes indistinct but unmistakable. The king's men had found them.

Roland's grip tightened on Elizabeth. He couldn't fight them, not in his current state. But he couldn't run, either. Not with Elizabeth in his arms.

They were in the heart of the forest, Roland standing and carrying Elizabeth.

Surrounded by enemies, his mind raced for a way out, and for the first time in years, Roland felt the cold grip of fear.