Blood and Healing: The Warrior King's Saga

The little girl’s hazel-green eyes rolled back, her body convulsing. Her cheeks lost all color as blood dripped from her nose. “Mama… Papa…” she cried, her voice cracking from the pain. “Sweetheart!” Her mother rushed to the sofa, panic creeping into her face. “Her medicine!” her father shouted. The mother froze, eyes wide. “It’s gone… I forgot…” The girl collapsed, foam spilling from her mouth as her body twisted violently. Her mother stood paralyzed in terror. I moved toward them, calm, controlled. I pulled a small black case from my pocket, flicking it open. I inserted the silver needle into the girl’s neck, injecting the antidote with precise force. The mother snapped out of it, rushing at me. “How dare you—?” I met her eyes, cold fury in mine. “Step back, unless you want to watch your daughter die.” Her steps faltered, fear flashing in her eyes. I refocused on the girl. Her skin was turning gray, red lines forming on her neck. I injected more, and after a moment, she jolted awake in my arms, vomiting black blood. The mother rushed to her, eyes wide with shock. The girl was recovering, but her focus never left me. “W-Who are you, really?” she whispered. I kept my mouth tight. I couldn’t reveal my true identity. I was a member of the world’s top special forces team—Black Dragon Legion. I knew exactly what was happening to her daughter. She was infected with a deadly bacterium that had started spreading globally—known as the Death’s Red Flame Disease. Six years ago, I led a secret mission to destroy the lab that created this bacterium, for a very specific, sinister purpose... *** The Abyss Prison—a facility for high-risk criminals, isolated on a small island surrounded by open sea. And here I am. The heavy iron gate creaked open. “You can exit,” one guard said, his voice firm. The ocean’s scent overwhelmed me as waves crashed nearby. What caught my attention, though, was the roar of helicopter blades. Five helicopters, loaded with elite teams, hovered above. My eyes settled on a man in black uniform, adorned with four stars, a gold insignia, and a rank ribbon—Logan Blackwell. At 35, Logan carried authority like a weapon. He approached with precision, saluted, and I mirrored the gesture. Logan’s hand landed heavily on my shoulder. His cold, commanding presence was undeniable—his gaze sharp, with a flicker of regret before he masked it. His voice was low but sincere. "My failure as the leader during that mission cost you six years behind bars. I made you suffer, locked away far longer than you deserved." This was Logan Blackwell, the founder of the Black Dragon Legion Special Forces—a man with unmatched authority, whose reputation preceded him at every turn. He had come here of his own volition, walking into the high-security prison to acknowledge my release—a rare event in itself. Logan didn’t waste his time on anyone unworthy. People said only I met the impossible standard that could bring a man like him here, flanked by such an imposing security escort. A faint grin tugged at the corner of my lips. "Six years," I said, my tone calm but biting. "I made the most of it. No need for apologies. In fact, I should thank you. If it weren’t for you, I’d be rotting on that nameless island by now." Six years ago, I was part of the Black Dragon Legion’s elite special forces, serving under Logan’s command. Tasked with an SSS-level mission—dangerous, top-secret, and critical to global security—we moved with precision. But the unthinkable happened. Sensitive intelligence, including mission details and the identities of operatives, was leaked. The enemy intercepted everything. What followed was c*****e—scores of agents wiped out in a single strike. Thirty of our own fell that day, and even the enemy suffered catastrophic losses. But the real tragedy wasn’t just the lives lost—it was personal. It wasn’t just the operatives of the Black Dragon Legion who were killed. I lost my brothers. Men who had fought by my side, who had my back in the worst of times. People who meant everything to me. That loss unleashed a fury I couldn’t contain. I became a monster—a cold, unfeeling weapon of vengeance. Alone, I stormed the enemy base. Every adversary who dared to cross my path met a brutal end. I spared no one. No mercy. No hesitation. I remember the fear in their eyes, the desperate attempts to fight back. A group of ten tried, but it was futile. When they realized they couldn’t win, they scattered, fleeing toward the border to save their lives. But I had already lost my sanity. I pursued them across the border, cutting down every last one who dared resist. Nearly thirty enemy soldiers fell by my hand that day, each death driving me further into madness, turning me into something unrecognizable—a force of pure destruction. As I prepared to finish off the last two enemies, the foreign army stormed in, halting me in my tracks. I was captured and put on trial by the international court, sentenced to death. Cold and indifferent, I didn’t care about the looming execution. But Logan—my leader, my only advocate—fought for me. He appealed relentlessly, securing my extradition back to our country, where I was retried and sentenced to six years in prison for the killings I carried out in vengeance for my fallen comrades. “They’re both still living their lives undisturbed,” Logan reported, his tone grim. “Not a shred of remorse from either of them. According to intelligence from the relevant departments, they’re likely to resurface. The timing, however, remains unclear.” I didn’t flinch. My gaze stayed cold, detached. “I’m done, Logan,” I said, my voice like steel. “All I want now is peace—nothing more, nothing less. That’s my only goal in what’s left of this life.” I shifted my stance slightly, signaling the end of the discussion. “Besides, the Black Dragon Legion is stronger than ever. The team has grown, evolved. I’m confident they can handle those two—and whatever’s lurking in their shadow—without me.” The finality in my tone left no room for debate. Hearing what Logan had to say, I already knew why he had come to see me. His purpose was clear. But like I said—I’m done with all that. I want a normal life. I caught the flicker of disappointment in his eyes. He exhaled, slow and deep, the weight of it heavy in the air. Logan always said I was the Black Dragon Legion’s fangs—the sharp edge of the team. “You’re the soul of this unit,” he used to say. “Without you, there’s no deterrence.” “Well, at the very least, you should visit your two masters,” Logan pressed, refusing to give up. “They’ve been asking about you. They really miss having you around, learning from them.” In the Black Dragon Legion, I had two masters. One was the nation's legendary medical saint, a healer whose skill could turn the tide of any mission. The other was a martial arts grandmaster, the pinnacle of combat expertise. Two extraordinary mentors who taught me the skills that defined me—the reason I became known as the Dragon’s Fangs of the Black Dragon Legion, a top-level warrior proficient in both medicine and martial arts." “I’ll visit them when I have free time,” I replied. Logan shook his head, frustration clear from my answer. “One of them is in bad condition. Can you visit them for me? This is an introduction letter for him.” He extended his hand, offering a white envelope. I stared at it a moment too long before taking it, stepping forward without looking back. Once again, I heard Logan exhale deeply. *** It was dark when I finally arrived in my hometown. I got off at the bus station. Someone I knew very well was already sitting at the bus stop. His clothes looked expensive and neat. He stood up and immediately hugged me tightly, tapping my back. "Dylan!" he said. "Finally, you're out!" I smiled and hugged him back, just as tightly. Rowan Hayes, my older brother. The only family I have left. "I told you there's no need to pick me up. You're wasting your time," I said. He playfully punched my chest. He was still the same. Unaffected by everything I’d done, even though everyone talked about me and made me out to be a social outcast. "Is that how you speak to your older brother? You're impossible!" he said, chuckling softly. He still treated me like his little brother. I just smirked a little. There was a deep regret inside me as I saw Rowan. When I was young, I was nothing but trouble—reckless, irresponsible, and always gambling, which led our family into $6 million of debt. We weren’t rich, just middle class. The debt I caused made us lose our home, forcing us to live in our car. With the little money left, we scraped by in a rundown apartment. When my parents went on a business trip, they died in a fatal accident, adding more pain to our lives. My brother worked hard for us, but I was so rebellious that it pushed him to send me to military school. That’s where I learned discipline, and I owe it to Rowan for understanding my needs and helping me change. But the tragedy still haunts me. For all the hardship and disappointment I caused him, I have to pay it back. Yes, I’ll work for him to make up for it. "Come on! Let’s head to the villa, then we’ll hit the bar! I’m not getting drunk again, but we’ll drink to our hearts’ content! You’re definitely craving some female company! You can buy any woman you want!" he said enthusiastically. I just grunted. "Yeah, whatever you want," I said, and he just chuckled. Now we're in his car—an expensive one. After years, I guess my brother finally pulled us out of poverty. 'He’s living so well. I’m proud of him.' That’s all I could say. Now we're at the villa. It’s truly luxurious, with ivory accents dominating the design. When we walked inside, I was shocked to see a beautiful woman with ocean-blue eyes and brunette hair, standing beside a little girl. Gadis kecil berusia 5 tahun. The girl was adorable, sweet, and had hazel eyes—just like Rowan. Her features and demeanor were a mini version of him. Here’s a more concise version of your text, preserving the key details and flow: “Is that his wife and child? He’s married already?” I glanced at Rowan, who seemed just as shocked to see these two women. It made me raise an eyebrow. What’s going on? “Vivienne, I thought you were still on your business trip? You said you'd be back in a week?” Seeing Rowan’s obedient reaction made me wonder if he was the type to be so submissive to his wife. Vivienne? Her name is Vivienne? I stepped forward, eager to break the awkwardness. “Vivienne? Hello! My brother often talks about you!” I said, lying to ease the tension. “Rowan—” Before I could continue, Vivienne interrupted sharply, her cold tone cutting through. “My family doesn’t welcome you here. Get out!” I froze. What? “Vivienne! He’s my brother!” Rowan defended me immediately. Vivienne’s gaze turned to him, her face sour as she stood up. “I don’t care! I won’t let a murderer stay in my house!” she snapped. Rowan’s face turned red, his fists clenched as if ready to strike, but he stayed still. Vivienne noticed his gesture and pointed at him accusingly. “What? Are you angry? Want to hit me? Go ahead, but remember who you are! You’re nothing but a lowlife my family took in, married me, and sold himself to the Steele family just to pay off your $6 million debt! You’re useless! How dare you think you can hit me!” she yelled. What? So Rowan’s good life came at the price of humiliating himself and being treated so poorly—even by his own wife? Rowan was a man with a strong sense of pride. He always taught me never to lower myself in front of anyone, yet now, he was humiliating himself for my sake, because of my mistakes. His jaw clenched, teeth grinding, and he muttered through clenched teeth, “Don’t forget, I’ve been involved in the business your family runs! Even if it’s just a little. Isn’t that enough to cover the $6 million debt?! I worked hard too. I never wanting anything in return, but at least let Dylan stay here for a few days until he finds a place to live.” The argument escalated, growing even hotter. Not wanting to see my brother humiliated any further, I interrupted. “I’ll go. I’m used to living outside without a home in the military. I don’t need a place like this,” I said. Rowan shook his head. "No, Dylan! You stay here! I’ll convince Vivienne to let you stay," he said. Afterward, Rowan tried a gentler approach with Vivienne, but she wasn’t swayed. She shoved his hand away, pushing him aside, and angrily pointed at both of us. “You two! Get out of here right now! You’re a killer!” She pointed at me, then at Rowan. "And you’re useless! An unreliable husband! LEAVE, I CAN’T STAND TO LOOK AT YOU!" she shouted. "Vivienne, I understand your dislike for me! You can insult me, but don’t degrade my brother!" Rowan’s face flushed with anger, but before Vivienne could respond with more fury, the small girl's voice trembled, filled with pain. “Mama... Papa...” To be continued...