The Guardian stood unmoving, clad in armor the color of sunrise metal. His eyes, visible through the helm’s narrow slit, burned like twin torches aimed straight into every heart.
The long sword in his grasp quivered, frost-bright edges glinting, a silent warning that even the faintest misstep would draw blood. Sweat pearled along Enaricus’ hairline. The Guardians truly exist, and we have roused one of them…
He risked a glance at Percival and Esorin. Both wore the same hard mask he did, grim, cornered, unsure which move might unleash ruin.
Dark haze leaked from Percival’s sleeves, coiling like angry snakes around his armor. Shame and fury crashed inside him, he was heir to the Malevolent Path Hall, yet a single Guardian kept his rage leashed. But facing such a formidable presence, he dared not take reckless action. His fists clenched until the gauntlets squealed, eyes locked on the Guardian, daring him to blink.
Esorin half-closed his eyes, mind racing through stratagem after stratagem. If they mishandled today, the tension between the two palaces could ignite a calamity felt across every realm.
No weakness surfaced in the Guardian’s posture; Esorin found nothing to exploit.
Behind that radiant suit stood Onneas, her shoulders finally loose, breath finally steady. With the Guardian here, no one would dare charge again.
She met Enaricus’ gaze with cool contempt, as if silently mouthing the verdict he feared.
Your scheme ends here!
Isabel and the surrounding Celestial Guards tightened their grips on spear and blade. Muscles coiled, eyes narrowed, they were one breath away from battle and held themselves ready for the inevitable spark.
Minutes dragged like hours. Air thickened, each heartbeat pounding as though under a mountain’s weight.
Whispers rippled among Enaricus’ troops, uncertainty dulled their earlier bravado, and more than one pair of eyes flicked toward the open road, the only path of retreat.
“Mr. Guardian… Today’s intrusion was rash on our part,” Enaricus began, voice trembling despite his effort to steady it. “But we act for the palace’s own welfare. Ms. Dusko took Celestial Guards to level seven without sanction, leaving warriors wounded. That violates every statute. We merely wish to inspect the palace. Nothing more!”
“For the palace’s welfare?” The Guardian let out a low, metallic laugh. “You bargain with the Malevolent Path Hall, waiting for the Celestial King’s absence so you may seize his throne, and you dare call that loyalty? Your crimes are already written in iron. Until we have restitution, no one leaves!”
Enaricus blanched. His mouth opened, closed, no argument would form.
Percival barked, “Careful! Malevolent Path Hall is no one’s prey!”
The Guardian’s eyes turned to ice. He lifted the sword an inch.
A tidal wave of sword energy exploded forth, howling straight for Percival and scouring the courtyard with blinding light.
Percival felt a cold knife of panic slide down his spine. Even after he twisted aside, the streak of sword energy clung to him like a parasite gnawing at bone, refusing to let go.
He had no choice. Demonic power surged through every vein, forming a trembling wall of power that barely, just barely, kept the killing wind from slicing him in two.
“Defy me again, and I will show no mercy!” the Guardian said, his voice as frigid as iron cooled in snow. Esorin watched the exchange, shoulders sinking with the grim certainty that the day could no longer end peacefully.
“Mr. Guardian,” he began, taking one measured step forward, “We never wished to stand against the palace. Today’s folly is ours alone. We are ready to pay the price. Tell us, what settlement will satisfy you?”
