The Dread Knight's Rage-Chapter 58: The Name

Solomon hears many voices arguing all at once. Though he cannot make out any faces or bodies amidst the white static that fills his vision.

"No! She’s a cheat! A cheat! It’s not fair!"

"It doesn’t matter. We are oath-bound."

"Curses... curses..!"

"It is for the best. Perhaps with this new host we may finally exact our revenge on the betrayer."

"Or we will fail as the others have, and become docile hounds that serve at the behest of their wearers!"

"If that is to happen, so be it. We no longer control our own destinies, and we haven’t ever since we let that-"

"Shh... He’s listening."

Solomon feels his skin prickle.

He is acutely aware of the fact that he is being stared at. But by whom, he is unsure.

He only knows that there are many of them. Too many for him to realistically count.

And then he hears a voice that he knows for certain is speaking to him.

"...Our Disaster. Our Havoc. Fulfill the wishes of our people. Stray not into the ways of the fledgling, for he is but a tool for the..."

-

*Clink, clink, clink..!*

Solomon hears the sound of something small and hard striking metal. Almost like fallen pebbles on a resting shield.

The low growls that accompany it warn him that Bansha is chewing on his clothes again.

’So much for the belief that she was becoming docile...’

He opens his eyes slowly, only to realize that his room is dark. Night has completely fallen, and Raizel has yet to return.

Solomon starts to bring a hand to his head when he pauses.

His entire arm is covered in glittering black armor. Staring back at him from his palm is a single orange eye.

It blinked at him, and Solomon sat up abruptly.

He lunged across the floor at great speed and entered his bathroom.

His focus went to the mirror hanging against his wall.

Solomon wasn’t hallucinating. The armor was on his body once again.

Only this time, he felt no bloodlust. No madness.

There was only his grief, and him.

Memories came rushing back to him.

He saw the morning before his world fell, and the knight where everything he knew was destroyed by his own claws.

A wave of nausea threatened to overtake him. He wanted it off.

As if that were the only cue it needed, the armor on his body suddenly took on a liquid shape and re-entered his pores. In seconds, he was staring back at his own face in the mirror.

His breathing was shaky. His pupils trembled unconsciously.

He hears a small noise at the door and turns around.

Bansha is staring at him from beyond the door. She is wary of him in a way that she hadn’t been since he first found her.

Turning around, Solomon gets on one knee and holds out his hand.

"It’s alright, girl. It’s just me."

Bansha seems to have difficulty believing his claim, if she even understands him.

Solomon reaches for his belt and draws a knife.

Without hesitation, he slices open his palm and allows his blood to flow.

The cut closes up in less than ten seconds. However, the evidence of what he has done remains in his hand.

Bansha sniffs the air repeatedly.

Slowly, she walks from behind the door, taking several pauses to ensure that she is certain about her decisions.

But eventually, she reaches Solomon and his outstretched hand.

All three of her heads bite into his hand at once, ripping away flesh.

The meat begins to grow back before it can even fully leave the bone.

Solomon touches his chest as Bansha chews in satisfaction.

His body doesn’t feel any different at all. More than anything, he just feels as though he had a good nap.

He doesn’t feel more powerful or smarter in any capacity. And yet, he is aware of at least one thing that has changed.

"..."

Solomon thinks it, and the armor appears on his body again. However, he immediately regrets this decision as Bansha becomes frightened and runs away to hide.

"...Shit."

It all comes rushing back to him suddenly. Yari. The note. She knew.

How she knew is something he can’t quite figure out and as a result, it threatens to drive him insane.

Before he knows it, he is pulling his boots back on and rushing out the door.

It must be late. There was no way she was still in her classroom.

And yet, Solomon can’t stop himself from rushing out to look for her anyway.

He moves just a hair shy of a full sprint, determined to make it to Yari’s classroom before she can leave, if she hasn’t already.

Travelling is almost a blur. He can hardly remember anything other than the moment he paused at the east wing staircase.

Ever so slightly, Solomon turns his head towards another wing of the school. The second-year dorms.

He cannot explain his decision, but he takes his hand off the railing of the staircase and ventures in that direction.

As he crosses the threshold, he becomes aware of a totally different atmosphere.

The first-year dorms feel bleak almost all of the time. Everyone in their year can only think about surviving with the memory of all those who died at orientation still on their minds.

The second-year dorms do not feel that way at all.

There are people in the halls laughing. Holding hands. Making friends and merriment at their leisure.

It is as if they have already accepted that their lives would be short. And thus, they had been freed from the anxiety of having death breathe down their neck.

More than a few older students notice him. It would have been hard not to.

Solomon was very tall, and he was walking around with a bit of a gaping look as if everything was new to him.

Not to mention, he is a uniquely handsome sort. Rugged and tall with a noticeably off-putting aura that made him seem untamed and exciting.

Exactly the kind of man whom noblewomen, young or old, enjoy eating alive.

"Hey there, handsome. Don’t think we’ve seen you around before."

"Oh, he’s a first year. How cute."

Solomon is not flattered by the attention. He isn’t even sure what he is doing here to begin with.

Just as he starts to sidestep them, one of them says something that catches his attention.

"Are you one of the party favors...? You’re a little big, but I’m sure that you’ll be fun in your own way~"

Solomon raised his brow. "Party favo-"

Suddenly, a distant yell shakes his ears. Solomon’s head immediately snaps toward the source like a bloodhound.

’Everet..!’