Lightning lit up the sky as the heavy rain drenched the road turning it into a puddle of mud. The horse tried its best to run at full speed in an attempt to outrun the pursuers behind and yet the carriage still tilted and fell to ground. Masked assassins appeared at that moment and plunged their swords into the fallen contraption but there was no reaction. The carriage was empty.
Five silhouettes ran through the rain. Using the carriage as a diversion gave them more time to put distance between them and their pursuers but Lyonel knew that it would not last long. They were no ordinary assassins, each were armed with enchanted high grade weapons that can pierce and cut anything.
He didn't know how long they had been running and despite all of their effort to confuse the enemy, they still caught up. Several men in black surrounded them. Lyonel's breathing was heavy, his body hot despite the cold rain drenching them. He could feel them through the ground and how his four bodyguards chose to place him in the center of their protection.
Red mana started to bubble in his hands as he waited for the inevitable. The rapid vibrations sent by the enemy movement alerted him of the impending battle. Casting a protection spell, his red aura covered his four guards as they started engaging with the assassins.
He could hear the sound of clashing swords, crisp and loud, despite the pouring rain and his own pounding heart. His head was moving from side to side, intently listening to the battle going around him and with his mana reinforcing his guards, he followed all of their movements.
His guards were swinging their swords with deadly precision and wounding several of the assassins. They were jumping back and forth, disappearing and appearing in different locations facing the onslaught of weapons aimed at them and at the crown prince.
Lyonel did not stand still either, he did his best to support them from where he was. Casting consecutive attack spells to fend off the attacks that were aimed at him and defensive spells to protect the five of them from the magic casters that were hiding in the darkness.
He started breathing heavily as the standstill continued. He knew that he wouldn't last long. His body was about to give up but he knew he couldn't fall. He couldn't let them fight the battle on their own. He could hear it, their blades started to sound dull, they were also getting weary and slow.
Resentment bubbled within him, resentment at the fact that his body was not strong enough and resentment at the thought that they would die because of him. It was the first time that he felt too much negativity.
"Your highness!" One of the guards shouted amidst the heavy rain. "Let us go!"
Lyonel shook his head. He can't. He wouldn't. They would die. He can't let them die. Everyone was already gone because of him. They're the only ones left, no one will die, as long as he is standing, he will support and protect them.
With his emotion reaching its peak, his mana started to gather and the dark and convulsing red aura surrounded him. His senses sharpened and within a radius of one hundred meters, he found them all. With all targets locked, he released his mana. The surge of mana shook the ground with several streaks of red light escaping in all directions, piercing through the bodies of the enemies and splattering blood along its wake that within a minute every enemy within his range fell to the ground, lifeless with their bodies mangled and unrecognizable.
As his mana receded, his body also fell. That moment of victory turned into screams as the four bodyguards turned around only to see a sword glint fast approaching Lyonel. He could hear them but his body was now beyond his control. He failed. He thought he got them all and yet here it was, the distinctive swooshing of sword as it cut through the wind and rain, towards him.
The nearest one of them wanted to parry the sword but his knees almost gave out with his hands shaking, that he couldn't hold his sword to stop the attack. He looked at the prince and at that moment he made a decision. The soldier used his body to block the attack. Warm blood splattered on Lyonel's face. The other three managed to stab the enemy but at that moment, Lyonel felt a surge of mana and when he opened his eyes, his four guards were already dead, pierced with sharp, gray metal that exuded with dark mana.
Before he could react, a sword pierced through his chest. Blood flowed from his mouth and yet he didn't feel the pain. What made him sorrowful was the death of the innocent people caught up in this scheme of betrayal and power struggle. They all died protecting him. Despite his incompetence, they remained by his side. Those soldiers and servants who treated him kindly died just because someone wanted him to be gone.
Lyonel can't be reconciled. He did not want to die without fighting back. And in that moment of desperation, he felt his whole body suddenly filled with unexplainable strength. His golden eyes flashed red and fueled with the desire to fight back, his mana rose, filling the entire forest with a bloody and deadly aura, paralyzing their attackers. Below him red and gold glowed, bathing him in magnificent light, like a blooming flower in the midst of a dead valley, not long after the mana around him materialized into long tendrils with pointed ends that were moving, looking for their victim.
**Die.** A quiet and yet powerful whisper traveled through the wind and to each tendril.
Receiving the command, these snake-like materialized bloody mana rushed to all directions and killed all the paralyzed enemies and brought death to all that they touched.
Abyssal whispers murmured from the depths of darkness, wailing into the night as black faces and hands emerged from the ground, grotesque and gnarled, not letting anything in their path escape. Trees and grass withered, not even a single animal survived. The enemy's death did not stop the rain nor the coldness wrapping around his heart. Their deaths did not erase his sorrow, regret and anger.
That's when a voice whispered to his ears, "This world is dying, will you break it?"
Lyonel coughed, "I will." Blood poured out from his mouth.
"This world is rotting, will you break it?" The voice asked again.
With all his remaining strength, he answered, "I will."
A ghostly laugh filled the air. Giggles and whispers surrounded him and with his blurry vision, he saw ghostly apparitions, bouncing and slithering around his body. It felt like they were celebrating. He struggled to keep his eyes open and yet as seconds passed, his eyelids felt heavier and heavier. And as he let the darkness swallow him, a flash of white appeared before him. It was his last memory and he breathed his last breath.
"I will fulfill your desire. I will make sure that this world will fall."
Lyonel kneeled, his head hung, on the damp and cold ground like a statue, not even the rain nor cold made him move.