Chapter 71: Shatter It
The Royal Palace, Peak of the Magic Spire.
Adler, a Tier 5 Court Mage, hovered in the mid-air, overlooking the chaos engulfing the Capital. He clicked his tongue in irritation. If this were an open plain, he could have scoured these low-tier bone-racks from the earth with two spells. But here, amidst the civilian density, his hands were tied.
His deputy, a Tier 3 Mage, spoke through the communication crystal, his voice frantic.
"Lord Adler, we have located twelve energy nodes."
"But every time we attempt a breach, it triggers a localized Mana explosion. We've already taken casualties in three different squads."
"Decoy cores," Adler muttered, his voice a flat, cold line.
"The enemy used nodes in the residential districts as bait, specifically so we would hesitate to strike. The true core is buried far deeper than we anticipated."
"Then what do we do? His Majesty demanded the barrier be brought down within the hour!"
"The Palace Guard and the Garrison are tied up purging the undead from the streets. There's no support coming."
"I am aware."
Adler closed his eyes, his Mana expanding outward like a web, touching the blood-red canopy that shrouded the sky. It was uniform, stable, and terrifyingly seamless. This barrier wasn't something constructed in a panic. It felt like a gargantuan project decades in the making, only officially activated today.
Pierre was sprinting.
A skeleton lunged at him from an alleyway. Pierre sidestepped, his longsword threading through the creature's ribs and shattering the Soul Fire within.
He had no time.
No time to wonder who these frames had been in life.
The baker? The tax official's clerk?
It didn't matter.
They were monsters now. They were killers. They were a threat to Karl.
That singular thought drove Pierre's body forward. Battle Aura surged beneath his plate armor, sustaining his stamina and numbing his fatigue.
The corner. Just one more block.
Pierre saw it. The wooden door to his home.
A dozen skeletons were swarming it, slamming their fists and bodies against the timber.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
The wood groaned, splinters flying. Pierre's eyes turned a violent, bloodshot red.
"GET AWAY FROM MY SON!"
With a guttural roar, Pierre became a silver streak, slamming into the undead cluster. He swung his blade—no finesse, no technique—just raw, industrial-strength slaughter.
His Battle Aura erupted. One skeleton was cleaved in half at the waist. Another had its skull pulverized by the pommel of his sword. He caught a third with his shoulder, shattering it into a pile of calcium dust.
He was a maddened bull. In less than ten heartbeats, the doorway was cleared. Pierre lunged for the handle, jammed his key into the lock, and burst inside.
"KARL!"
The living room was a wreck. Karl was huddled in the corner, hands clamped over his head, his small frame shaking with a violent tremor. Pierre dropped to one knee before the boy.
"Karl! Don't be afraid! Papa's here!"
Suddenly, the sound of footsteps echoed from the doorway. These weren't the erratic, shuffling steps of low-tier fodder. There were two sets. Steady. Heavy. Lethal.
Pierre spun around, drawing his sword and shielding Karl with his body.
Two skeletons entered. These were different. Their bones were thicker, stained a darker hue, and the Soul Fire in their sockets burned a deep, menacing blue. One held a heavy knight's broadsword. The other gripped a slender, wickedly sharp rapier.
Tier 2 Undead.
Pierre settled into a low defensive stance. He knew instantly: this was a real fight.
The broadsword skeleton moved first. It executed a textbook lunge, its blade coming down in a vertical cleave. Pierre caught the blow on his crossguard.
CLANG!
Sparks showered the floor. Pierre's arms went numb from the impact.
Such strength...
The rapier skeleton began to circle him at an unnatural speed, its body twisting into a bizarre, fluid posture. The rapier struck like a viper, darting for Pierre's flank.
Pierre retreated a step, parrying the thrust and counter-attacking in the same motion. But the broadsword skeleton was on him again, its heavy, wide-arced swings forcing Pierre back into a defensive loop.
They worked with a terrifying, silent synergy. One suppressed him with heavy blows while the other hunted for a crack in his armor. Pierre felt like he was fighting two maddened duelists rather than mindless monsters.
The battle tore through the small living room. Tables were upended; chairs were reduced to kindling. Deep gouges were carved into the stone walls.
Pierre's breathing grew ragged. His Battle Aura was draining fast. He couldn't drag this out—he had to end one of them now.
Pierre deliberately overextended, baiting the broadsword skeleton into a full-power overhead strike. He gathered his remaining Mana, prepared to take the hit and trade his life to shatter the creature.
The skeleton took the bait. Its blade whistled through the air, aimed for Pierre's head.
Now!
Pierre prepared to lunge, but the rapier skeleton was faster. It lunged from his blind spot, the tip of its blade striking Pierre's right wrist with surgical precision just as he was about to exert force.
The broadsword fell. Pierre tilted his head at the last possible second. The blade scraped across his helmet and bit deep into his left shoulder. The sheer weight of the impact forced him to his knees.
Before he could stabilize, the rapier skeleton closed in. It didn't thrust. Instead, it used the flat of its blade to hook beneath the edge of Pierre's abdominal plate and yanked upward.
Pierre felt himself become weightless. He was flipped backward, slamming into the floor directly in front of Karl. His helmet rolled away, clattering across the tiles.
Pierre struggled to rise. He didn't want Karl to see him like this. He didn't want his son's pillar of strength to crumble. He propped himself up on his elbows, coughing blood.
But the undead had no mercy. The broadsword skeleton stepped forward, leveling its blade at Pierre's exposed chest.
Karl watched.
In his eyes, the world of monsters had vanished. In its place was a reality far more horrific than any nightmare he had ever conjured.
His father. The omnipotent hero. The man who could topple any giant.
He was lying on the ground, broken.
He was going to die.
Memories flickered through Karl's mind like a rapid-fire kaleidoscope.
His father's warm smile.
His father's constant, gentle encouragement.
"You must have faith. You must have conviction."
Karl slowly, shiveringly, stood up.
Pierre saw the movement. "KARL! RUN!" he screamed with the last of his breath.
Karl didn't run.
He stepped in front of his father.
His legs were shaking, but he turned his thin, fragile back to Pierre and faced the two towering monsters radiating the cold scent of death.
Karl extended his trembling right hand. Then, with his left, he gripped his right wrist tightly, locking it into place like a fixed ballista.
His gaze became incredibly focused.
He looked at the two skeletons. In his vision, they morphed into two gargantuan, blood-red, pulsating eyeballs.
Karl's lips parted. He reached into the deepest well of his soul and unleashed the loudest sound he had ever made in his life.
"I WILL SHATTER YOU!"
☆☆☆
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