"Who is that? And why is he relevant now?"
Benjamin demands, his confusion boiling over into anger. His very being quivers, a storm of emotion threatening to spill.
"I… I don't know," Miseria responds, her eyes distant. Why did I say that? she wonders. Who is Apophis?
"What's happening?" Mathew asks, his voice cracking into the confusion like a rock tossed into deep water.
The bystanders look on in stunned awe, murmuring and chattering. For what a sight it was — the greatest knight of Oralia, Miseria, facing down Grelaville's rising star… Benjamin.
"I'm sorry, Benjamin," Miseria says softly, her staff beginning to hum with power. "But for now… it's in both our best interests if you're detained."
From the earth, chains erupt — ancient, otherworldly. Magic unlike anything Benjamin has ever felt.
"This magic…!" Mathew breathes, stepping back instinctively as if swallowed by a primal fear.
Children cry out deep in the crowd. Grown men and women shudder.
"Primordial magic… on Benjamin?" Mathew thinks in disbelief, shocked by Miseria's brutal resolve.
But as the chains shoot toward Benjamin, he moves — not dodging, but flowing. He slips through them with impossible precision.
Miseria gasps.
His movements are alien — even to him. He's no knight. He knows this. And yet…
"Huh?" Benjamin pants, confused. His body had moved on its own.
Mathew stares, slack-jawed. But his awe is shattered as another figure appears before him — silent, lethal:
Lilith.
Second Grand Holy Knight. Cold as stone, sharp as her blade.
"What have you done, Benjamin?" she asks, slowly unsheathing her greatsword. "This mystique of yours…"
"What is the meaning of this!?" Benjamin roars, his voice cracking. "Why are you attacking me? What are you talking about!?" He clutches his head, grasping at his hair, his voice breaking into desperation.
Lilith answers plainly:
"As it stands, you are considered a threat to the Kingdom of the highest degree."
She steps forward, sword in hand.
"Whatever you've done — whoever you've sacrificed — is irrelevant."
"Wait! Stop!" Mathew yells, but too late.
Lilith pounces, her greatsword swinging downward — a blow meant to kill.
But Benjamin — the student, the boy — evades it. Narrowly.
The crowd gasps. Some cheer in shocked defiance.
Lilith blinks.
"Boy…" she breathes.
Without hesitation, Miseria shoves Benjamin back with a blast of wind. He crashes into a nearby merchant stand, splintering wood and canvas. Her face says what words do not: She saw him as a real threat. To Lilith.
Benjamin groans.
"How… did I dodge that?" he mutters, heart pounding, breath unsteady.
Rain begins to pour. Heavy. Cold.
The crowd begins to scatter.
Benjamin staggers to his feet, drenched.
"What's happening to me…?" he thinks, the words of Naviam echoing in his mind like a ghost.
Lilith and Miseria prepare for another attack.
Then, a single figure steps in front of Benjamin — silent, firm.
A voice rings out:
"Stand down, Holy Knights."
Rain fell suddenly and hard—without warning.
A heavy downpour crashed against the stone square, drenching cloaks, armor, and skin in seconds. The crowd, already uneasy, scattered in a frenzy, fleeing into alleyways and under awnings like insects fleeing a flood.
A man in a dark robe stepped out from behind one of the retreating clusters, ignoring the storm entirely. He moved with eerie calm, positioning himself between Benjamin, Lilith, and Miseria.
"You are not to kill Benjamin Claire. These are the king's orders," the man said, his voice somehow cutting cleanly through the rain's roar.
Lilith narrowed her eyes. Water streaked down her face like it was weeping for her. "And just who the hell are you to get in our way?"
"That isn't relevant right now," the man replied. "All that matters is that you stand down. The king is coming."
Miseria's brows furrowed. Rain clung to her lashes, but she didn't blink. "Wait—coming here? What the hell is going on?"
"I don't have time to explain."
He took a step forward.
Miseria's hand twitched toward her side. "Then don't move."
But he kept walking, and from beneath his robe, he drew a twisted, ceremonial dagger—its strange red tint gleaming wet under the gray sky.
Miseria froze. A sacrificial blade? Why would he have that?
The man lunged—but stopped abruptly. His limbs locked in mid-motion, bound by a force unseen.
"What did you—?!" he growled, eyes wide.
"Just a full-body bind," Miseria said, trying to keep her voice even. "You shouldn't have made a move."
Before the man could respond, Lilith stepped in. "Enough."
Her punch landed like a hammer.
He went flying into a rain-slicked stone wall, his body cracking against it, blood splattering through the downpour. He slumped to the ground, broken.
Only the rain remained. The square was empty now—silent but for the constant downpour.
Lilith turned to Benjamin, water dripping from her hair and jawline. Her eyes were colder than steel.
"You're next."
Mathew stumbled between them, soaked and shaking but defiant.
"You're not going to kill him!" he yelled. "I don't care what he's done—he's my friend!"
Lilith said nothing. Her foot shot out, catching Mathew in the chest and launching him back. He slammed into the same wall, crumpling beside the robed man with a pained grunt.
Benjamin dropped to his knees, fingers clawing at the wet cobblestone. The rain mixed with tears on his face.
"Please… don't kill me," he whispered. "I don't… I don't understand what's happening…"
Miseria stepped forward—but hesitated. The look on his face. The timing. The rain.
Something was wrong.
Lilith raised her sword. "There's nothing for you to understand. You won't be alive to dwell on it."
The blade came down.
No. I can't move. She's too fast…
I'm sorry… I'm sorry, Mathew…
Then—
"Lilith, stop at once!"
The voice thundered through the storm, silencing even the rain.
Lilith halted mid-swing. The tip of her blade hovered inches from Benjamin's skull.
"Yes, my Lord," she said, lowering the weapon with precision.
Miseria turned slowly, heart pounding. Her breath caught.
From the edge of the square, where the rain seemed to slow for just a moment, the king stepped forward. His presence pushed back the storm around him as though it obeyed.
Cloaked in black, eyes gleaming, he walked slowly through the empty plaza. The rain seemed quieter with every step he took.
"This boy," he said, his voice low and strange, "is quite special."
Benjamin looked up at him, soaked and broken, eyes wide with confusion.
Miseria stared at the king, uncertain—no longer angry, just lost. "What… is going on?"
The king stopped just beside Lilith. His gaze never left Benjamin.
"Get up, Benjamin Claire," he said softly. "You've forgotten who you are… but I haven't."