Chapter 12: The Man Who Must Survive
The room was dim—lit only by a dying oil lamp and the glow of fire leaking in through the window cracks.
Rayan sat on a crate, shirt torn, blood soaking through a makeshift bandage around his arm. A silent maid dabbed his wound with trembling hands.
Across the room, Mikael, Sayra, and Kaelam crouched near an overturned table, listening to the chaos outside.
> "He has to survive," Rayan muttered suddenly, breaking the silence.
> "The visionary?" Mikael asked.
> Rayan nodded grimly. "If he dies, so does everything we're fighting for."
Kaelam raised an eyebrow, arms lazily crossed.
> "Cool. Love a good 'chosen one' speech, but how do we not die tonight?"
> "Far side of the harbor," Rayan said. "There's a smuggler I trust. Quiet ship. He'll wait for us—if we reach him."
Mikael stood, pacing. "We can't even step outside without being spotted. The Black Knights are everywhere."
Sayra's eyes narrowed.
> "Then we stop waiting and move fast. We either die in here or make a run for it."
Kaelam: "Ah, yes. The noble suicide sprint. Classic."
---
Outside...
Night had fallen.
But peace had not.
Maltoon was a ruin. Smoke curled from broken roofs. Buildings burned in orange silence. Children screamed. Civilians ran from shadows. The Black Knights stalked the streets like hungry crows.
But they weren't hunting Mikael.
They were hunting someone else.
A nobleman stood on a balcony, face twisted with fury. Sayra's uncle.
> "Twelve hours," he hissed at his men. "Twelve hours and still nothing?"
> "We searched every tavern, sire—"
> "Not good enough!"
He slammed a gauntleted fist on the stone.
> "The Black Knights don't care about Rayan. But I do. I want him dead. Tonight."
---
Elsewhere…
In the fogged streets of Maltoon, the samurai walked calmly.
His scarf flapped in the wind. His sword was unsheathed.
Blood still dripped from it.
Two Black Knights saw him pass.
> "Oi! You deaf, freak?"
The samurai didn't turn.
> "Maybe he pissed himself!" one joked.
Then—silence.
The first knight blinked.
His partner's head... slowly slid off his neck.
> Thump.
The samurai kept walking, blade gleaming red under the moon.
His eyes shimmered crimson.
He reached a small wooden house, cracked and leaning. Without knocking, he stepped inside.
In the shadows stood a man dressed in strange foreign robes. His presence was calm, yet ancient. A thousand thoughts floated behind his stillness.
The Visionary.
> "Are you here to kill me?" he asked.
The samurai didn't answer.
Instead, he leapt.
---
Meanwhile — In a grand palace hall...
A massive roundtable gleamed under golden light.
High-ranking knights, cloaked mages, and oily nobles sat in false concern.
> "Maltoon's been attacked," one muttered.
> "Terrible," another nodded. "But far from our jurisdiction."
Their robes were clean. Their hands, dirtier than blood.
Only Commander Hannan sat tense, his brow furrowed, fist clenched.
> "You cowards," he growled. "Children are burning and you sit here trading words."
He stood. His chair screeched.
> "Fine. I'll go myself."
Fake gasps. Fake sympathy.
Behind closed smiles, some were very happy.
The Black Knights had allies in high places.
---
FLASH.
Inside the house—silence.
The samurai stood behind the Visionary, sword slowly sliding into its sheath. Blood crept across the floor.
The screen went black.
---
But then...
A skeletal hand in green flames reached into the darkness.
The familiar scorched skeleton popped into frame, sitting comfortably on a flaming chair that definitely didn't exist seconds ago.
> "Oh come on, Author," he sighed, wagging his bony finger. "Not this time."
He turned toward you, the reader.
> "You again. You're always here when things go black, huh?"
> "Look, I get it. Cliffhangers are dramatic. Tense. Mysterious. But even I've got standards."
He snapped his fingers, and the scene froze like a paused scroll.
> "See that?" He pointed to the Visionary, unharmed. "No stabby stab."
> "Now look behind him."
A figure shimmered behind the Visionary—a Black Knight, blade raised.
> "Boom. Samurai didn't kill the Visionary. He saved him. Watch this."
The skeleton poked the frozen knight with his finger.
> Pfft — the knight turned to ash.
> "Poof! Gone. Touch of death, baby."
He leaned back, smug.
> "And before you ask—no, that wasn't me. I'm dramatic, not homicidal."
He winked, flame flaring.
> "Anyway. See ya in Chapter 13."
He stood, dusted himself off, and muttered as he walked off-screen:
> "And Author... grow up. These cliffhangers gonna get us all cursed."
He laughed, skeletal and echoing, as the flames closed in.
---
[TO BE CONTINUED]