[BL] Accidentally Becoming the Healer of the Deranged Archduke

Xion sat astride his horse, dressed in silver armor that shone under the first rays of sunlight.

He carried the weight of command on his shoulders, though without Berry and Oswin by his side, the soldiers might have questioned his authority.

He had no alternative.

The people demanded to see their lord standing tall, to act as a shield against the storm, clamoring outside the walls of their city.

The guards would refuse to risk their lives for someone who hid behind the walls of the infirmary.

Xion raised his hand. Instantly, a man struck the gongs with all his strength. The heavy thuds rolled through the crowd, rattling inside their chests and quickening hearts.

"I don't care what family you belong to!" Xion's voice rang across the field where hundreds of soldiers stood straight.

"I don't care what blood runs in your veins! This is our land. It belongs to us! No one takes it. No one makes our families cry. And those who try…" He paused, letting the words hang like a blade in the air. "...will be dead before sunrise."

A ripple ran through the troops.

Faces that had been tense, uncertain, now burned with resolve.

After all, no matter who it was, family was their priority. And Xion had deliberately used that term to induce a strong reaction from them.

It didn't let him down.

Shields lifted in the air. Swords were raised high. Helmets gleamed in the sunlight as if reflecting the fire in their hearts.

One by one, they fell into step behind their lord, the rhythmic beat of the gongs guiding their march.

With a satisfied smile, Xion nudged his horse forward.

The soldiers surged after him, a living wave of silver and steel.

With every pounding step, every clank of armor, they became more than soldiers.

They became the embodiment of all civilians' resolve to win, ready to carve their claim into the land with blood and fire.

This was exactly what Xion needed.

A hot-headed fighter was more dangerous than anything.

Xion didn't dwell on how easily he had manipulated these people to his will.

He clutched the reins, urging the horse to rush forward while keeping his back straight.

The moment the gates opened, Xion was slammed with the sight of snow mangled with flesh and blood.

He had wondered why Silas hadn't sent the Death Walkers at night. Now he understood it clearly.

Just like humans or animals, they attacked to fill their stomachs and then rested in their 'nests', possibly a pile of bones and flesh.

The orcs he encountered in the Ferni were the same.

However, unlike orcs, these Death Walkers had a certain trigger, something that made them aware of their 'food'.

Not once had they eaten the royal soldiers.

The moment Xion appeared, silence blanketed the battlefield.

On one side were thousands of soldiers, gathered from various cities at Silas's urgent call.

Xion stood with mere hundreds. And yet, they didn't dare to approach.

All of a sudden, the blood drained from the enemy general's face. He had seen Xion killing Caspian and his army in a matter of seconds.

Although he was terrified, others who had only arrived late at night were thrilled.

The divine healer had a bounty on his head. Whoever captured Xion would get a hefty reward from his majesty, Silas.

"Surrender to His Majesty, and your life will be spared!" Someone shouted.

After all, the disparity in strength was far too obvious.

Xion didn't reply. His gaze took in every face, including almost half of his army standing there with murky yellow eyes.

The families inside the city were still waiting for them to return after the victory.

Xion's early arrival had already reached Silas.

The young king was willing to leave his tent of beauties and march into the battlefield.

Just as the general ceased calling for surrender, Silas reached the front.

His golden eyes gleamed with unsatisfied hunger. Greed, lust, hunger for power, Xion could see them all.

Nonetheless, Xion found it almost amusing how drained Silas looked. For his bright golden eyes, his greying hair strangely matched his madness.

"So, you are finally here, little Xion," Silas said, voice slithering. "I should have killed you in my castle. Should have ripped that delicate heart out and fed it to Darius."

"You despise Darius?" Xion tilted his head. With a mocking smile, he said, "Why? Don't tell me you still want to force yourself on Lady Rubina Claude."

That name was enough. Silas's smug smile vanished, replaced by a glare of pure hatred.

"Attack," he barked. "Anyone who brings me Xion alive will be rewarded."

His words fell like a needle into a silent lake. Ripples raced across the field as horses surged forward from both sides.

Xion was quick to dodge the attack. With a flick of his hand, five soldiers lost their heads.

A thin, almost invisible thread of mana gleamed between his fingers, slicing through anyone foolish enough to come close.

Oswin tried to stay back, but merely shot him a glance, and the old governor rushed into the battlefield.

If Xion wanted bodyguards, he wouldn't have come to the battlefield himself.

With Allen staying back to take care of the injured and dealing with the rest of the official matters, there was no one who dared to persuade him.

As the enemies approached, Xion's forces executed the plan, encircling them and driving them closer to him.

When the murky-eyed beasts and humans figured it out, it was already too late.

Xion raised both of his hands and then clenched his fists. The mana that he had been sneakily wrapping around their necks tightened at the same time.

Heads fell, blood gurgling from their bodies, splashing onto others.

Horrified screams rang out.

To Governor Oswin and Berry, who had struggled to control so many with so few, the scene sounded like a song of heaven.

Huge grins appeared on their faces as they charged forward.

Scare the enemy, then use the chaos to kill more.

It was such a simple yet brilliant plan.

This was their win.

Silas's golden eyes burned with rage.

His hands were swinging wildly, slashing indiscriminately. Soldiers around him fell, some of his own men, and still he roared, thirsting for Xion's blood.

Without caring how his own people looked at him with horrified eyes, he went into a rampage. His only want was to tear Xion apart, drink him dry, and claim the glory for himself.

He did not care that Michael had demanded the healer be kept alive. He was the king; his will was law.

"Kill them all!" he yelled. A frantic grin split his face in two. Silas looked less like a man and more like a feral beast.

Despite the carnage and the fear, they rushed forward. If they managed to bring Xion down, it would end the war, and they could have the glorious prize.

But if they didn't, their king would kill them first for being weak.

No matter what, dying by the blade was much better than being beaten to death.

After all, they were human, and they wanted to die as one.

They rushed forward, blades low, striking in sneaky arcs and feints, desperate to catch him off guard.

Then, they noticed how Xion's movements were slower, or how the guards around him were more alert.

It seemed the divine healer wasn't all that high up on the pedestal.

However, they also weren't stupid enough to just fall into Xion's clutches like those idiots who had lost their minds, quite literally.

Berry handled the left side while Oswin and others were quick to defend the other.

Xion weaved through them.

He dodged the attacks as if they were far too slow in his eyes, and each rolling head added to their frustration, their terror.

The ground was littered with the fallen, the wounded, and the shattered remnants of their plans.

This was the battlefield as Xion intended.

Chaos, fear, and control.

His mana had thinned. The pills Allen had stuffed into his hands were working like a wonder.

Killing one by one actually took more toll on him than he liked.

It was annoying. His weakness was becoming glaringly obvious with every enemy inching closer, trying to sneak yet another attack.

Luckily, he had played with Noxian and had learned how to defend himself. Attacking with the sword like Berry or Oswin was not his forte, so he didn't pretend either.

What was the point of carrying useless metallic weight?

His white mana, nearly invisible to the naked eye, circled him in two circles. Trapping the enemies and killing them before they could touch him.

But now he needed a little rest.

Just a bit more, and he should be able to handle another big wave.

He would let them approach, let them make their mistakes, and then—he would strike again, with a force that left only screams and silence in its wake.

Silas wanted blood, and he would gift him exactly that.