The Last Knight

Chapter 4: ”Stay There!”

Explosion can be heard from a distance. The Zartorious Scouts and their army was surprised as they all turned around to see fire in the far distance.

"The Lieutenant and his knights are in danger..." The woman from the Zartorious Scouts thought as she pulled out her dagger and was about to advance when suddenly, the giant Knight gripped her shoulder.

"What do you think your doing? That's the Lieutenant they are dealing. If that's just the civilians trying to figure out a path, they won't live to see another day from the Lieutenant. Let him have his fun. We are looking for Dread of the Durkenheim." He said in a menacing tone as if it was a threat.

"Sure... You said so," she said with a smile as she sheated back her dagger and proceed to move on with the army as she started to feel something wasn't right, making her look back again on the flames in the far distance before proceeding once again.

On the other side, a fight had already begun.

Dread slid down a collapsing roof, boots grinding against shattered tiles as his blade crashed against an axe. The impact rang sharp and heavy.

He grunted as the force drove him downward, the structure beneath him splintering apart while he traded blow after blow with the Lieutenant. Steel clashed in relentless succession, no pauses, no hesitation, until a sudden kick slammed into Dread’s shoulder, launching him off balance and sending him crashing hard against a wall.

“Show me what you’ve got!” the Lieutenant roared, hurling his axe straight at him.

Dread’s eyes widened. He dashed to the right just in time, the spinning weapon tore through the wall behind him in an explosive burst of debris. Before the dust could settle, the Lieutenant was already there, surging forward, wrenching the axe free in one motion and swinging it in a brutal arc toward where Dread had moved.

The blade struck his arm plate, screeching as it slid across the metal. Sparks spat into the air. For a split second, Dread felt the force bite through, but the armor held. Barely.

He staggered back, step by step, keeping distance, until his gaze flickered past the chaos.

In the distance, the Captain was locked in battle against Yara the Cutter… and struggling.

"Don't we have any aid? Is he really the only one this village got? Well, I'm not really expecting something big and I'm not planning to rely on but did our nation outside friendlies have grown weak?" Dread thought as he got pinned down to the ground, laying down as the Lieutenant Axe blade was almost at his neck.

"You dare... Lower your ground against me!?" The Lieutenant exclaimed furiously as he pushed his axe down almost cutting him but Dread, managed to dashed his feet and kicked the Lieutenant off of him.

"I'm not underestimating you. I'm evaluating the situation I'm in and I'm thanking of the advantage I currently have with this firework factory that I already blew up along with your knights," Dread replied as before the Lieutenant could respond, Dread flipped backward, driving his blade into the ground. The moment it struck, he tore it sideways. A violent shockwave ripped forward.

Debris, splintered wood, and fractured stone surged with the s***h, tearing across the battlefield and striking the Lieutenant. The force carved into him, drawing blood as he staggered under the impact.

"You can't win against someone who has been trained for war and has survived hundreds of it and see his fellow friends and comrades die in battle." He theatened while pulling up his blade and raising it despite its state of nearly breaking apart.

"You... You're the Lieutenant. Scared, have become pathetic over the years. I've read you archives through our intelligence network. That seems to be the reason why all of you are hunting me since I'm a walking history. What an honor to be hunted by the world, Lieutenant. Tell me Lieutenant, can you achieve a feat such as me?" Dread asked in a calm menacing tone as everything change, the wind, their surroundings as if it was the world itself that was scared of him. The Lieutenant was having goosebumps as he hold himself together.

"You will fall... Dread. Zartorious will not be with you. You are indeed a walking history but soon without no one to prove it, your are nothing but Dread the Knight. Nothing but mere Last Knight!" The Lieutenant threated as he move into a stance.

The Lieutenant positioned his axe to his right, both hands gripping it tightly behind his shoulder. His stance lowered, muscles tensing as if preparing to unleash his final strike.

Dread, on the other hand, calmly raised what remained of his blade before him. Then... In the blink of an eye, they switched places. The battlefield fell silent.

For a brief moment, even the wind seemed to whisper through the ruined streets. A crack echoed softly. Dread’s blade began to break apart.

Fragments of steel slid from the weapon one by one before falling to the ground. At the same time, a shallow cut slowly opened across Dread’s neck, thin blood trailing down his skin. He pressed his hand against it, exhaling quietly as he turned toward the Lieutenant.

“Rest in dirt, scum,” Dread said coldly. “Pay for your crimes and your slavery in hell.”

His eyes narrowed.

“May the name of Zartorious punish you for every sin you’ve committed.” The Lieutenant’s eyes widened. Then his axe shattered.

A second later, his body split in half.

Blood scattered across the ruined street as the Lieutenant collapsed lifelessly to the ground, ending the battle once and for all.

“That’s one down…” Dread thought. His gaze lowered toward his weapon. Only the hilt and sheath remained.

“It seems… maybe the Captain was right.”

For the first time, uncertainty crossed his face.

“I have to return… if I want to escape this curse.” His grip tightened around the broken hilt.

“This is the first village.” Every village he had entered eventually met ruin. Death followed him like a shadow carved into fate itself, and now, for the first time, he truly feared it.

“I won’t let it happen again.” His expression hardened.

“I won’t allow the next village I seek aid from to suffer the same fate.” A quiet breath escaped him.

“I must return… even if it means abandoning my code.” The thought alone disgusted him.

“To survive… I’ll become what I swore not to be... An assassin. A man who struck from darkness rather than honor.” he thought.

“But if survival demands it… then I’ll do what must be done.” Dread slowly turned. And froze. Standing atop the roof of a shattered house was the Captain.

One blade rested across his shoulder while the other hung downward, its tip dripping blood beside the severed head of an enemy knight clenched in his grasp.

His glowing eyes locked onto Dread through the smoke and fire of the battlefield.

“You done?” the Captain asked, his voice low and menacing. “I’ll give you thanks for killing the Lieutenant and his knights… but don’t think for a second that makes us even.”

With a sharp swing of his bloodied blade, crimson splashed violently across the nearby wall.

“By the way,” he continued, “that Cutter escaped. Though I did destroy her pride before she ran.” He rested one of his blades against his shoulder.

“Her escape will probably alert the Zartorious scouts. Strange, though… they didn’t interfere with the battle at all.”

“They won’t,” Dread replied calmly. “Those scouts trusted the Lieutenant with everything. In their eyes, anyone who stood before him was already dead.” His gaze darkened.

“But this time… it was me.” He slowly slid the remains of his broken sword back into its sheath despite the missing blade.

“The Lieutenant spent his entire life proving nothing… except how good he was at creating problems.” The Captain stared at the ruined sheath for a moment before speaking again.

“I only have one spare blade left at home. Come on.” He began sheathing his dual swords.

“I already dealt with the remaining knights.”

Without another word, he turned and walked down the ruined path. Dread followed behind. After several moments of silence, Dread finally spoke.

“I’m sorry… about Lethrax.” His expression tightened.

“Even if he died, it wasn’t meaningless. Everything happened according to the plan. The explosives were planted perfectly in that section, and you stopping them there was—”

“It was Lethrax, Dread.”

The Captain’s voice cut through him immediately.

“He led them there.” His tone was cold. Certain.

“I came to check if the plan had failed… if they somehow discovered us. But it was the opposite.” The Captain’s eyes lowered slightly as they continued walking through the darkened streets.

“Lethrax guided them directly into position.” A brief silence followed.

“And it cost him his life.” Dread remained quiet.

“You detonating every stash of white phosphorus we had was enough,” the Captain continued. “What’s done is done.” His jaw tightened.

“His mistake… was leaving his post.”

Dread exhaled slowly in frustration but said nothing more. An hour later, the two finally arrived at the edge of the village where an old blacksmith’s forge stood hidden between narrow stone structures.

During the journey, they carefully erased every trail they left behind, footprints, blood, signs of movement, ensuring no one could follow them.

The Captain stepped toward the forge’s heavy iron door and sighed quietly. Then he knocked. Once. Twice. Three times.

Silence. A metallic creak echoed as the door slowly opened. Three armed men stood behind it, gripping their weapons tightly the moment they saw Dread and the Captain standing in the darkness.

“Captain Tyr! You’re alive!?” One of the swordsmiths exclaimed in disbelief the moment the Captain stepped inside. Tyr simply walked forward with a faint smile.

“I see the three of you are still holding the line,” he said warmly. “I knew I could trust you lot.”

Dread entered behind him, his eyes slowly wandering across the forge. Weapons lined the walls from end to end. Swords. Spears. Bows and crossbows.

Flails, shields, even sharpened metal cards carefully arranged on racks. The forge itself burned deep within the room, casting orange light over steel and iron.

“You all made these?” Dread asked, genuinely impressed. “I remember now… Durkenheim once traded with this village for supplies.” A faint smile crossed his face.

“We exchanged resources for your craftsmanship. Excellent work.”

He casually closed the heavy iron door behind him with one hand. The loud metal thud echoed through the room.

The three swordsmiths froze slightly at the sheer ease with which he handled the massive door. One of them awkwardly cleared his throat.

“I’m sorry, Captain Tyr… but a stranger knight isn’t allowed inside the House of Smiths.” Tyr slowly turned toward them.

“That’s Dread,” he said plainly. “The Last Knight of Fallen Durkenheim.” The room instantly fell silent.

“He’s an old friend of mine. He asked for aid… and I answered.” Tyr pointed toward the weapon racks.

“Give him the blade.” The three smiths stiffened. Meanwhile, Dread calmly bowed his head toward them in respect. That alone startled them even more. Their eyes widened.

“You’re… bowing to people like us?” one of the swordsmiths asked in disbelief. “We’re beneath your rank.”

“You’re making me feel guilty, Dread,” Tyr muttered with a tired sigh. “Come on, old friend. Let’s get you armed and clear this mess out.” His expression darkened.

“I don’t want those bastards anywhere near my home longer than necessary.” One of the smiths immediately rushed downstairs toward the basement, nearly tripping in his haste. Dread remained standing quietly before finally speaking.

“I’ll help you kill them, Tyr.” His voice lowered.

“But I can’t guarantee the safety of the Southern soil anymore.”

For the first time, fear touched his expression as he pressed a hand against his face. Tyr slowly sat down on an old couch nearby, exhaustion finally catching up to him. A heavy sigh escaped his lips.

“It’s already too late anyway.” The forge crackled softly in the silence.

“They killed my men before they even confirmed you were truly here.” His eyes hardened.

“In truth… they were never here to investigate.” He looked toward the burning forge.

“They came to enslave us.” A pause.

“Every nation still allied with Durkenheim is being hunted down.” His jaw tightened.

“Except for the traitors who abandoned it.”

The look in his eyes made it clear. He had already accepted the reality before them. Dread lowered his gaze.

“I’m sorry for your loss, Tyr…” His hand clenched.

“I swear, I’ll do everything in my power to—”

The table beside Tyr exploded apart in a single strike.

He had swung his sheath so fast Dread barely saw the movement. Splintered wood scattered across the room as silence immediately consumed the forge once more.

“You lost, Dread.” Tyr’s voice carried no anger now, only exhaustion.

“Even Durkenheim fell… and that defeat will cost countless lives.” He slowly lowered his head.

“Why did you let this happen? No… why did the King allow it?” His grip tightened around the sheath resting on his lap.

“Why did the King of Durkenheim… and his greatest knight, the Dread, fail to stop this?” The forge remained silent except for the crackling fire.

“Even the Lords were slaughtered,” Tyr continued. “And after that came the war.” His eyes narrowed.

“Kingdoms united. Alliances formed. Entire nations moved as one.” He looked directly at Dread.

“Tell me… who else could force the world into that kind of fear… besides Zartorious himself?” A heavy sigh escaped him.

Suddenly, Tyr’s head turned sharply toward the staircase as hurried footsteps thundered upward.

“I don’t know, Tyr,” Dread answered quietly. “But one thing is certain…” His eyes darkened. “They want to stand above everyone else.”

The smith rushed over, presenting a blade wrapped carefully in cloth. Dread accepted it slowly.

“But if there’s war,” he continued with a faint chuckle, “then prepare for peace.” His fingers wrapped around the hilt.

“And if there’s peace…” The sword slowly slid free.

“Prepare for war.” The blade gleamed beneath the forge fire.

“In the meantime,” Tyr muttered as he stood up, “use that sword.”

He glanced toward Dread briefly.

“Call it gratitude. An early birthday gift. Thanksgiving, whatever you want.” His expression softened slightly.

“It’s forged with Kornium too… but unlike your old blade, this one’s mixed with a rarer steel.” The air suddenly felt heavier.

“Use it wisely.”

“You have my deepest thanks, old friend,” Dread whispered while examining the weapon.

“Lightweight… balanced… seven feet, just like my old one.” A faint smile appeared. “Perfect for my style.”

But as he slowly unsheathed the blade... Tyr’s eyes sharpened. Something outside was wrong. Dread felt it too.

A violent purple aura surged beyond the iron door, rushing toward them at terrifying speed. And whoever carried it… Was not coming peacefully.

“Dread…” Tyr muttered, drawing his dual blades instantly.

“They’re not here for forgiveness.”

The wall behind Tyr exploded inward. A massive muscular man burst through the debris, his armored gauntlet already swinging.

Tyr reacted instantly. His dual blades crossed upward, stopping the gauntlet through sheer force alone as the impact blasted dust across the forge.

At the same moment... Dread spun. His newly drawn blade collided against a dagger aimed straight for his spine. Sparks exploded between steel.

A woman stood before him, an assassin cloaked in dark cloth, somehow holding her ground against the sheer weight of Dread’s strike.

Their weapons trembled violently against each other.

“How long do you think you can hold me?” Dread asked coldly.

The assassin smirked beneath her hood as Dread and Tyr finally stood back-to-back.

Behind them, the swordsmiths fled deeper into the streets for safety.

“We’ll see, Dread the Knight!” the assassin snarled. “Your fall will be entombed!” Her eyes burned with fury.

“Buried alongside your history! Soon, no one will remember you were the last one left!”

Meanwhile, the muscular man suddenly raised a glowing blue lantern.

The ground beneath Tyr and Dread instantly lit up with strange symbols. Dread’s eyes widened.

“Sorcery!?” Without warning, both enemies leapt backward.

The glowing symbols beneath Dread and Tyr flared brighter. Then detonated.

Blue flames erupted upward, obliterating the entire swordsmith forge in a catastrophic explosion. The blast tore through stone, metal, and wood alike.

At the last second, Dread grabbed Tyr from behind and hurled him toward a nearby rooftop.

Tyr crashed against the tiles just as the roof collapsed beneath him.

He grunted painfully as he slammed onto the ground below. Dust and fire filled the air.

Then... HE saw Dread.

Kneeling amidst the burning wreckage.

His blade stabbed into the ground to keep himself standing.

Tyr stared in disbelief. The explosion should have erased him completely. Yet Dread slowly rose to his feet through the flames as though nothing had happened.

“Go!” Dread roared furiously. “Get out of here! I can handle them!” Tyr’s eyes widened.

“How the hell did you survive that…?” Not a wound. Not even a scratch. Questions filled his mind, but none left his mouth. Because nearby, footsteps echoed through the burning streets.

“Stay there, Tyr!” Dread barked sharply.

“You have no idea what you’re dealing with.” His voice carried a dangerous weight as he slowly raised his blade and swung it upward, the steel humming through the air.

“These knights are far stronger than the Lieutenant we fought combined.”

“Who are they?” Tyr snapped back angrily. “And what the hell do you mean by that?” He raised both blades into an X-shaped stance.

“Don’t underestimate me. I can still fight.” Dread’s eyes remained fixed ahead.

“They are the Zartorious Scouts.” Smoke drifted between the ruined streets as two figures slowly emerged from the distance.

“Evelyn the Assassin…” His gaze shifted.

“And Galahad the Knight.” For the first time, Dread’s expression tightened, not because of Evelyn.

But because of Galahad. More specifically, the lantern hanging from his side. Blue flames burned within the strange object, glowing unnaturally against the darkness.

Yet Dread noticed something important. The flames were calming. Weakening.

“That lantern has a cooldown…” Dread realized silently.

“We need to move,” Tyr muttered, pointing one of his blades toward Galahad. “Draw them away from the village.”

Dread remained still.

“No.” His answer came instantly.

“We’re trapped.”

Tyr frowned.

“What do you mea—” Then he looked upward. His eyes widened in horror. A massive translucent barrier surrounded the battlefield, stretching high into the night sky like a prison forged from light itself.

Only four people remained inside. Them. And the Scouts.

“What the hell is this…?” Tyr whispered in disbelief. “How is this possible?” Before Dread could answer... Evelyn vanished. No footsteps. No sound. Her body dissolved into darkness itself.

“A shadow technique—!” Dread reacted purely on instinct.

He swung downward just in time, his blade colliding against Evelyn’s dagger inches from his throat. Sparks exploded between the, then her dagger shattered instantly under the force.

“We swap!” Dread roared. Tyr reacted immediately, dashing sideways while retreating backward at the same time.

Dread mirrored the movement. And a massive blade suddenly crashed where Tyr had been standing a heartbeat earlier.

Galahad’s gigantic sword collided against Dread’s weapon with monstrous force, the impact tearing apart the ground beneath them and forming a crater across the ruined street.

The shockwave blasted debris outward.

Meanwhile, Tyr appeared behind Evelyn and slashed across her side, but the assassin twisted at the final second, pulling another dagger from behind her back to intercept the strike.

Steel screeched. The attack still cut through, but only shallowly.

“You’ll pay for what you’ve done!” Tyr roared, blood dripping from the edge of his blade. “I’ll make sure of it!”

“Really?” Evelyn smiled beneath the shadows of her hood.

“Then let that be a promise.” Instead of retreating, she surged forward.

Her broken dagger fell from her hand as she swung her remaining blade upward toward Tyr’s throat. Tyr reacted instantly, ducking beneath the strike before twisting upward with a vicious counter aimed directly at her neck, but Evelyn moved unnaturally fast.

She leapt, planting her foot against the tip of Tyr’s blade and using it as leverage to vault backward through the air, narrowly avoiding the counterattack.

Meanwhile... Dread and Galahad continued their monstrous clash.

Their giant blades collided again and again, each impact shaking the ground beneath them like thunder.

Stone cracked apart under their feet.

Then Galahad suddenly stomped the ground.

The shock startled Dread for only a fraction of a second, but that fraction was enough.

Galahad grabbed the glowing lantern hanging from his waist and raised it directly before Dread.

The blue flame inside instantly ignited violently. Dread’s eyes widened. The next second, an overwhelming force exploded outward.

Dread was launched across the battlefield like a ragdoll. He crashed through walls, skidded violently across the ground, shattered against a tree, nearly collided with Tyr before Tyr barely dodged aside, and finally slammed directly into the barrier itself.

The entire shield trembled from the impact.

Blood burst from Dread’s mouth as his body dropped to one knee.

Silence followed. Even Evelyn froze. Her eyes widened in genuine shock despite fighting beside Galahad. Tyr stood motionless, horrified.

He couldn’t comprehend what he had just witnessed. Not strength. Not magic. Something else entirely.

Meanwhile, Galahad calmly walked past Tyr without even acknowledging him. As if Tyr wasn’t worth his attention. Tyr’s body refused to move.

The pressure alone was suffocating.

Far ahead, Dread slowly pushed himself upright, gripping his blade tightly as blood dripped from the side of his mouth.

He wiped it away with the back of his hand. Then his eyes shifted downward once more. Toward the lantern hanging at Galahad’s waist. The blue flames inside were burning brightly again.

“It recharged…” Dread realized.

“So… the lantern has a cooldown.”

Dread steadied his breathing while keeping his eyes locked on Galahad.

“That thing is absurdly overpowered… yet I’ve never once heard of it.” A dark realization settled in.

“I guess no one survives long enough to tell the story after fighting him.”

Suddenly, Dread coughed violently and vomited blood onto the ground. His body staggered for a moment, but he forced himself to remain standing.

“Is this from the impact…?” He wiped his mouth.

“No… internal bleeding.”

His jaw tightened.

“Goddamnit.”

Even so, he slowly raised his blade once more and fixed his posture as if nothing had happened.

As if he wasn’t already falling apart inside.

Meanwhile, Evelyn stared at the battlefield in growing disbelief.

“What the hell is wrong with these knights?”

Her breathing became uneven.

“Even Dread…” She had expected strength.

But not this.

“I knew he was powerful… but he’s a monster.” Her eyes shifted toward Galahad.

“And that one’s even worse.”

The battlefield around them looked less like a fight and more like a disaster caused by ancient beings.

“What has this world become…?” A cold chill crept down her spine.

“Monsters fighting monsters.”

Her fingers tightened around her blade.

“And whoever survives… becomes history.” Then her attention snapped toward Tyr. She noticed her shadow slowly stretching unnaturally beneath her feet.

Darkness crawled upward along her body while a black mask slowly began enveloping her face.

“You think I’ll let that happen!?” Tyr roared.

Without hesitation, he grabbed a massive boulder nearly his own size and hurled it toward her with brutal force.

Evelyn’s eyes widened. She dashed sharply to the right, but not fast enough. The stone clipped her left arm before crashing through a nearby ruin.

She hissed in pain before glaring back at Tyr.

For a brief moment. They stared at each other silently.

Then both charged forward at the exact same time. Weapons drawn. Muscles tensed. Both aiming to kill. But before either could strike...

A deafening collision silenced the entire battlefield.

The ground shook violently beneath them. Both Tyr and Evelyn froze mid-charge as something massive flew above their heads. Their eyes widened in horror.

Half a house spun through the air before crashing into the distance.

“That’s half a damn house!?” they both thought simultaneously.

Slowly... They turned toward Dread and Galahad. And what they saw shattered all sense of reason.

There was no standoff anymore. No readable exchange of blows. Dread and Galahad were moving so fast their clashes became flashes of steel and bursts of destruction invisible to the naked eye.

The ground beneath them cratered repeatedly as though giant invisible hammers were smashing the earth apart.

“What…” Tyr whispered.

“What the hell…” Evelyn muttered under her breath.

Dread appeared left, then right, then above, then directly before Galahad again. Every collision unleashed another shockwave.

The battlefield was collapsing around them.

“The question now is…” Tyr thought while swallowing hard, “…who actually wins this?” His instincts screamed at him not to interfere.

“Should I even move…?”

The pressure alone made his body tense.

“As if taking one step closer means instant death…”

Then suddenly... the ground split apart beneath everyone.

Even the barrier surrounding them shattered with enormous cracks spreading across its surface.

Galahad stomped downward with terrifying force. The shockwave exploded outward and blasted Dread across the battlefield once again, slamming him violently into a wall.

Dust erupted everywhere. Then, Dread stood back up.

Blood trickled from the side of his forehead while his glowing eyes burned with fury.

“COME ON!” he roared. “IS THAT ALL YOU’VE GOT, YOU MONKEY!?”

The way he stared at Galahad was terrifying. Not like prey facing a predator.

But like a hunter staring down prey that dared resist.

Galahad’s rage finally surfaced. Without a word, he stomped the ground again and launched himself forward like a missile.

Dread dashed toward him at the same instant.

Both swung. Their blades collided, the barrier shattered completely. Fragments of energy scattered across the night sky like broken glass.

But then, Dread’s expression changed.

For the first time... Fear.

“I’m… getting overpowered?!”

Their locked blades trembled violently.

“What the hell is this…?” Dread’s boots began sliding backward across the ground despite all his strength.

“Who… is this man?”