Chapter Fifteen: Hatred

Only after being taken out of the Phillips Manor did Andy realize that even more city guards were waiting outside. Teams of them, torches ablaze, had surrounded the entire estate, sealing it off completely.

“So this is Andy Charles?” A square-faced, middle-aged knight strode toward the tall, thin knight, his gaze sweeping up and down Andy as he spoke with gentle authority.

“Yes, Sir Macon,” replied the tall knight. Then, with a flattering tone, he added, “You even brought young Macon along for this operation. For someone so young to have already broken through to the Knight’s Realm, you must be proud to have such a worthy successor.”

Sir Macon merely smiled, but the young man beside him, about Andy’s age, blushed slightly, bowed politely to the tall knight, and thanked him.

“Search him,” Sir Macon ordered without further pleasantries, gesturing at Andy.

Two soldiers obeyed, approaching Andy cautiously to frisk him.

“Hurry up!” barked Sir Macon sternly. At his command, the soldiers’ actions grew rough and careless.

“What do you think you’re doing? I’m holding things for Mentor Stein! If you break anything, none of you could ever afford to compensate for it!” Andy shouted.

But no one paid him any heed. Soon, a neatly wrapped package was found in his inner pocket. Sir Macon took it, opening it carefully. Inside was a precisely folded letter and a medallion engraved with flames—Mentor Stein’s recommendation letter for the Royal Capital’s Grim Academy, and the Flame Medallion he had given Andy.

Under Andy’s furious glare, Sir Macon barely glanced at the letter before tearing it to shreds. He then inspected the Flame Medallion with great care, and, satisfied, put it away.

“You bastard! Do you know what you just tore up? Ugh—” Andy roared, but the tall knight punched him in the stomach before he could finish. Pain exploded through his organs, nearly making him vomit.

“Untie his hands,” Sir Macon ordered coldly, fixing Andy with an icy stare. “Andy Charles, I knew your father, Sir Charles. He was a brave knight. I believe you, as his descendant, deserve a death worthy of your lineage.”

“Why?” Andy raised his head, meeting Sir Macon’s eyes.

“No reason. Weakness is a sin.”

“Aren’t you afraid of Stein the Sorcerer’s wrath?”

“Such matters are for the great and powerful to consider. A knight need only follow the path of his sword. Guards, give him a sword. Let’s hope he still has the courage to fight.”

Andy took the sword with trembling hands, unable to believe how swiftly the situation had turned dire. Yesterday he'd already sensed hostility from the city lord's manor, and throughout the coming-of-age ceremony, he’d been vigilant for any sign of intrigue. He’d thought the protection of Sorcerer Stein would at least keep outright conflict at bay, but now he faced their open, overwhelming assault.

Seeing Andy’s state, young Macon’s eyes flashed with disdain. He stepped forward and said, “Father, allow me. Dying in a duel with the youngest knight in Collin County will not shame the Charles name.”

Sir Macon nodded and stepped aside.

Young Macon, barely containing his excitement, did his best to maintain a knight’s composure. Like a schoolboy reciting a lesson, he declared, “Andy Charles, I, Robert Macon, now challenge you to a fair duel.”

He drew his sword. “Please…”

Andy raised his sword slowly.

Suddenly, Sir Macon turned his head toward the manor behind them, followed by the tall knight, then Robert and Andy. From the heart of Phillips Manor, flames erupted, spreading rapidly in the wind.

“This is bad!” Andy’s face changed dramatically. Ignoring Robert Macon, he turned and sprinted toward the burning manor.

“Trying to run, you coward? What do you take the sacred duel for?” Robert shouted, chasing after Andy at full speed.

Andy ignored him, casting a spell of Fleetfoot on himself, and his pace quickened, putting more distance between himself and Robert as they both dashed into the manor.

Watching this, Sir Macon shook his head with a faint smile. “Foolish. I offered you an honorable death, but you spurned it and chose to flee. Then you shall die like a filthy clown.” He waved his hand toward the manor and addressed the fully armed soldiers around him. “Level this estate!”

“Yes, sir!” the soldiers chorused, the sound of weapons drawn ringing out in unison.

By the time Andy reached the main hall, the flames had already spread within. The place was a scene of carnage—corpses strewn everywhere. Andy’s mind went blank with shock. He plunged madly into the inferno, choking on the thick, suffocating smoke as he searched desperately.

The more he searched, the colder and more furious he became. There he found the Phillips couple, still locked in each other’s embrace, impaled together by a single spear.

Also in the hall was Elena, the apprentice sorceress, and other guests who had come for Andy’s coming-of-age ceremony—men and women, young and old, all lying in pools of blood. The stench of it was so overwhelming that not even the smoke could mask its reek.

Still Andy searched. He had not yet found Old Brown, or Catherine, or Bill and Jera. Remembering Bill’s strength as a high-level apprentice, he clung to the faintest thread of hope.

“Are you looking for this?” A cold voice echoed from the rear of the hall. Following the sound, Andy saw the squat, fat knight emerge from the shadows and toss something round and dark toward him.

Andy caught it instinctively. When he saw what it was, the world spun—Old Brown’s severed head.

“Or perhaps you’re looking for this? She was quite beautiful, wasn’t she? I’ll keep this one as a souvenir.” The fat knight grinned with gleaming teeth, holding up another bloody head, its hair in twin pigtails—Catherine’s. Andy’s eyes almost burst with rage.

Never had Andy felt hatred so deep. It was as though his very blood ignited, boiling furiously within him, surging toward his heart and coalescing into a seed of power.

He had broken through to the rank of Knight.

Andy tore off his cumbersome ceremonial clothes, leaving only his undergarments. With the discarded garments, he gently wrapped Old Brown’s head and placed it in a clean spot. He paid the fat knight no mind, but right in front of him, began practicing his family sword technique, familiarizing himself with the newfound power of his advancement.

Andy’s utter disregard infuriated the fat knight. He tossed aside Catherine’s head, leveled his sword at Andy, and shouted, “Fool! You’ll pay dearly for your—”

“Coward, die!” The fat knight’s tirade was cut short as Robert Macon burst in, and, seeing Andy, rushed at him with a sword glowing faintly with silver light—evidence of his own power seed’s activation.

Sword Technique: Thrust.

This was a move only a knight wielding the power seed could use—its speed and lethality far surpassed ordinary stabs. Like spellcasting, knights needed time for their power seed to recover after an explosive move—this was their “cooldown.” Of course, basic techniques like Thrust had a short cooldown, only about ten seconds, allowing them to be woven fluidly into regular combat.

Clang! Andy parried Robert’s Thrust with a reverse stroke.

Sword Technique: Parry.

He said coldly to Robert, “Give me a minute.”

Robert hesitated, muttering, “Impossible… That brat’s already reached knight rank in just this short time?”

Andy ignored him, turning to charge at the fat knight.

Sword Technique: Rush.

“Looking for death, are you? A mere newly made knight?” the fat knight scoffed, raising his sword.

At first clash, Andy was clearly weaker. Yet hatred drove him to ignore the gap, swinging at the fat knight with reckless abandon.

Sword Technique: Sweep; Sweep.

They mirrored each other’s moves, but while the fat knight was unfazed, Andy’s hands went numb and his right arm throbbed with pain.

A bloodthirsty grin crept onto the fat knight’s face—until, to his horror, Andy unleashed another Sweep immediately after recovering from the last.

“What, you don’t need to recover?” the fat knight shouted, gripping his sword with both hands to block the blow. Even so, the force drove him back a full step.

Andy’s answer was yet another Sweep.

“Damn it!” the fat knight cursed as his sword was knocked flying. He stumbled backward, yelling to Robert, “Get over here and help!”

Robert snapped out of his shock and charged straight at Andy. “Andy Charles, your opponent is me!”

“Out of my way!” Andy whirled around and sent a Sweep at Robert, who blocked with a Parry, only to face another relentless Sweep. Andy found the Sweep to be his most natural and deadly technique.

Then Robert’s sword, too, was sent flying.

Without sparing him a glance, Andy rushed at the fat knight, who had just retrieved his weapon.

What followed was:

Sword Technique: Sweep.
Sword Technique: Sweep.
Sword Technique: Sweep.
Sword Technique: Sweep.
Sword Technique: Sweep.

Consumed by hatred, Andy was oblivious to the fact that his ability to unleash endless Sweeps without pause was the result of his innate soul talent: Infinite Power. His thoughts held only one purpose—to hack the murderer of his loved ones to pieces.

The fat knight struggled to parry, then screamed in terror, and finally fell silent.

His arms were severed, his legs were chopped off, and his head rolled away—yet Andy did not stop, slicing the corpse again and again, expressionless.

Sword Technique: Sweep.
Sword Technique: Sweep.

“Monster…” Robert stared in horror, paralyzed even after the fat knight’s death.

Sword Technique: Sweep.
Sword Technique: Sweep.

Andy’s eyes were utterly vacant—he had become a machine, capable only of unleashing sword techniques.

Sword Technique: Sweep.
Sword Technique: Sweep.

Nothing remained of the fat knight’s body but a heap of flesh and scattered bone, a fan of crimson gore radiating out from Andy.

Clang! Robert’s recovered sword dropped from his trembling hands. He staggered out of the manor, legs weak, shouting in panic, “Gods! A maniac!” Others—soldiers who had butchered the guests—scrambled after him, their shouts chaotic as they fled.

Andy’s gaze locked onto them.

“Murderers.” Expressionless, he raised his sword and gave chase.

Sword Technique: Rush.
Sword Technique: Sweep.

...