Rebirth of the Villain

The training yard echoed with the clash of steel and the grunts of exertion as Arthur faced off against six of his elite guards simultaneously. Sweat gleamed on his bare torso despite the cool morning air, his muscles rippling with each precise movement. The guards—all battle-hardened veterans—circled him warily, searching for an opening that wouldn't come.

"Again," Arthur commanded, rolling his shoulders. "And this time, don't hold back."

The guards exchanged glances before attacking as one, their coordinated assault a testament to Hawklight's rigorous training. Arthur moved with unnatural grace, his sword a silver blur as he parried the first three strikes. When the fourth guard lunged from behind, Arthur seemed to sense it without looking—stepping aside at the last moment and using his attacker's momentum to send him crashing into another guard.

[SYSTEM NOTIFICATION: VOID ENHANCEMENT ACTIVE]

The notification flickered at the edge of Arthur's vision, confirming what he already felt—the void energy was responding to his physical exertion, enhancing his reflexes and strength. He hadn't consciously activated it, which was concerning, but the advantage was undeniable.

As the remaining guards pressed their attack, Arthur shifted his stance, adopting a low, predatory posture he'd observed during Nara's fight with a palace guard at Gizmo's gathering. The beast clan technique felt natural to his body, allowing him to spring forward with explosive power, disarming two guards in a single flowing movement.

For a brief moment, those watching from the sidelines could have sworn shadows clung to Arthur's limbs, extending his reach and speed. Several female servants who had paused their morning duties to watch the display exchanged meaningful glances, their attraction to their king's display of power obvious in their flushed cheeks and quickened breathing.

Arthur finished the bout by sweeping the legs of his final opponent, his practice sword stopping just short of the man's throat. "Better," he acknowledged, helping the guard to his feet. "But still too predictable."

As the guards bowed and retreated to the sidelines, Arthur felt a familiar hunger stirring—not the void's appetite for power, but his own Incubus nature responding to the admiring gazes of the female servants. He could smell their desire from across the yard, a heady mixture that would have been easy to indulge.

Instead, he turned his attention back to his training. The dungeon awaited, and Gizmo's test would require more than just physical prowess. He needed to understand the limits of his void abilities, to control them rather than be controlled.

"Again," he called, raising his sword. "This time, all of you at once."

---

Arthur was halfway through his second bout when he sensed it—a subtle wrongness in the air, a shift in the shadows at the edge of the training yard. His void-enhanced senses screamed a warning seconds before the first crossbow bolt whistled past his ear.

"Assassins!" one of the guards shouted, but Arthur was already moving.

Five figures in black leapt from the surrounding rooftops, their faces covered, their weapons gleaming with an oily substance that could only be poison. Not common thugs, then—professional killers.

Arthur's guards moved to intercept, but they were too slow. The first assassin reached Arthur with inhuman speed, a curved blade slashing toward his throat. Arthur parried with his practice sword, the wooden blade splintering under the force of the blow.

[SYSTEM NOTIFICATION: DANGER DETECTED]

[VOID DEFENSE ACTIVATED]

Shadows rippled across Arthur's skin as he dodged the second assassin's attack, the void responding to his need. He grabbed a fallen guard's sword, the steel singing as he swept it in a wide arc that forced his attackers back.

"Protect the king!" someone shouted from across the yard, but Arthur had no intention of retreating.

The third assassin threw something at his feet—a small orb that burst into a cloud of glittering powder. The moment it touched his skin, Arthur felt his void abilities dampen, the shadows retreating beneath his skin.

"Magic suppression dust," the assassin hissed, voice muffled behind his mask. "You're just a man now, demon king."

Arthur smiled coldly. "That's where you're wrong."

Even without his void enhancement, Arthur was a formidable fighter. He'd been trained since childhood in the royal combat arts, and his time as king had only honed those skills. He lunged forward, his sword finding a gap in the assassin's armor with surgical precision. The man fell with a gurgle, blood spurting from his punctured throat.

The remaining assassins attacked as one, their blades a whirlwind of deadly steel. Arthur ducked under the first strike, using a nearby water barrel as a shield against the second. When the third assassin lunged, Arthur grabbed a handful of sand from the training yard floor and flung it into his attacker's eyes.

The blinded assassin stumbled, and Arthur wasted no time—driving his sword through the man's chest before kicking the body into the path of the fourth attacker. As that assassin stumbled, Arthur seized a fallen dagger and threw it with deadly accuracy, the blade burying itself in the killer's eye socket.

The last assassin hesitated, clearly reassessing his chances. Arthur didn't give him time to retreat. He charged forward, feinting left before spinning right, his sword cleaving through the assassin's attempt at a parry and separating his head from his shoulders in one clean stroke.

As the body crumpled, Arthur noticed something glinting on the assassin's severed hand—a signet ring bearing Lord Fatel's family crest, poorly disguised with black paint that had chipped away during the fight.

Arthur knelt beside the dying assassin who'd taken the dagger to the eye, grabbing him by the throat. "Who sent you?" he demanded, though he already knew the answer.

The assassin coughed blood. "The... true king will... cleanse this land..."

"Cassius," Arthur growled. "Working with Fatel."

The assassin's remaining eye widened in surprise before glazing over in death.

Arthur stood, surveying the carnage around him. Five dead assassins, two injured guards, and a training yard splattered with blood. As the magic suppression dust wore off, he felt his void abilities returning, shadows once again responding to his emotions.

Commander Hawklight burst into the yard, sword drawn, only to stop short at the sight of Arthur standing alone amidst the bodies, barely breathing hard.

"My lord," Hawklight said, taking in the scene with a professional eye. "Are you injured?"

Arthur wiped blood from his sword. "No. But I believe we've found Lord Fatel's true allegiance."

He tossed the signet ring to Hawklight, who examined it with a grim expression. "Could be Lord Fatel," the commander agreed. "Though this seems... convenient."

"Too convenient," Arthur agreed, his eyes narrowing. "Almost as if someone wanted me to find this evidence."

"What are your orders, my lord? Shall I arrest Lord Fatel immediately?"

Arthur considered for a moment, his strategic mind working through the implications. "No. That's exactly what they expect. This is a distraction, Hawklight—meant to pull my attention away from the dungeon."

"Then what will you do?"

Arthur's expression hardened. "Something unexpected."

---

"My lord, it's not necessary for you to go personally," Hawklight insisted as Arthur prepared his horse the next morning. "At least take a guard detail."

"Why?" Arthur demanded, his voice sharp with barely contained anger. "So I can be surrounded by potential traitors? So our enemies can track my every movement?"

Hawklight flinched slightly at Arthur's tone but held his ground. "My lord, with respect, this is exactly what they want—to isolate you from your protection."

"This is a total distraction," Arthur replied, his voice calmer now. "They want me focused on court intrigue and assassination plots while the real threat grows. The dungeon is Gizmo's test, and I need to understand what we're facing."

Hawklight looked like he wanted to argue further but finally nodded. "At least take this," he said, offering a small communication crystal. "If you need assistance, it will alert me immediately."

Arthur accepted the crystal, tucking it into his belt pouch. "I'll return by nightfall. Have Beatrice prepare the ritual components we discussed. And double the guard on the queens."

With that, he mounted his horse and rode out through the castle's side gate, avoiding the main thoroughfare where he would be easily recognized. The forest to the east of Lyranth was largely unexplored—perfect for what he needed today.

[SYSTEM NOTIFICATION: VOID EVOLUTION STABLE]

[DUNGEON PROXIMITY DETECTED: EAST, 20 MILES]

Even at this distance, Arthur could feel the dungeon's pull—a subtle tug on his void energy, like a lodestone calling to iron. He deliberately rode in a different direction, heading northeast toward an area marked on the royal maps simply as "Old Growth."

The forest thickened around him as he rode deeper, ancient trees blocking out much of the morning sun. Arthur followed game trails, his enhanced senses alert for any sign of danger or pursuit. After an hour's ride, he dismounted, tethering his horse to a sturdy branch before continuing on foot.

The sounds of the forest—birds calling, small animals rustling in the underbrush—gradually faded as he walked, replaced by an expectant silence. The trees here were massive, their trunks wider than three men standing arm to arm, their canopies forming a cathedral-like dome overhead.

Arthur was so focused on his surroundings that he almost missed the subtle shift in the air—the whisper of steel being drawn from leather. He spun, hand dropping to his own sword, only to find himself facing the point of a blade held by a grim-faced man in forest leathers.

"Who are you?" the man demanded, his sword unwavering. "These woods are under royal protection."

Before Arthur could respond, a second man crashed through the underbrush, his eyes widening in shock as he recognized the intruder.

"Are you crazy?" the second man hissed, slapping his companion's sword arm down. "That's King Arthur!"

The first man paled, immediately dropping to one knee. "My lord! Forgive me—I didn't recognize you without your... I mean, alone in the forest..."