The Blade's second chance

Chapter 3: A wish in the dark



The Siege of the Imperial Palace

The imperial palace loomed ahead, its spires cutting into the night sky like jagged teeth. Cayena's steps were unyielding, her spear dragging slightly against the stone as she approached the gates.

Two guards stood at attention, their eyes narrowing as they recognized her. Halt! You—"

She didn't let them finish. With a single sweeping motion, her spear cut through the air, its blade slicing through their armor like paper. They fell without a sound.

Inside, chaos erupted. Guards swarmed to intercept her, their shouts echoing through the grand halls. But Cayena was the empire's greatest sword master, and even with a spear, her mastery was unmatched.

She spun her weapon with deadly precision, its edge a blur of steel and blood. Soldiers fell around her in droves, their weapons clanging uselessly against her unrelenting assault. A eunch lunged at her, but she sidestepped, driving her spear through his chest and wrenching it free with a flick of her wrist.

More guards poured in. Cayena leapt onto a marble banister, vaulting over them with graceful agility, her spear cutting a deadly arc through the air. She landed, twisting her weapon to deflect a strike before countering with a blow that shattered her opponent's sword.

"Is this all you have?" she snarled, her voice echoing through the halls. "Is this what you send to protect your king?"

Her path was painted red, but her focus never wavered. The throne room was just ahead.

The sky above the imperial palace churned with storm clouds, thick and black as if mourning the carnage about to unfold. Lightning split the heavens, illuminating the palace gates slick with fresh blood. It wasn't rain that fell tonight; it was crimson, dripping from Cayena's spear as she walked with measured steps toward the throne room.

The once-pristine marble halls were painted red. The lifeless bodies of guards littered the floors, their armor dented and broken. The blood pooled and flowed like rivers, cascading down the grand staircases. The scent of iron was suffocating, mingling with the echoes of dying screams.

Cayena pushed open the great doors leading into the main hall, her spear dragging behind her, streaking blood across the gleaming floor. A group of elite guards waited for her there, swords drawn, faces steeled with determination.

"You will go no further!" their commander roared, raising his massive blade.

Cayena didn't respond. Her only answer was the gleam of her eyes, colder than steel and sharper than any weapon.

The first guard charged, and she moved like a shadow. Her spear arced upward, impaling him through the chest. She spun, wrenching the weapon free in a spray of crimson, her movements graceful yet brutal.

Another guard lunged, and she sidestepped, catching his sword mid-swing with the shaft of her spear. In one fluid motion, she twisted, disarming him, and drove the spearhead through his throat.

"Stand together!" the commander bellowed, but his men faltered, fear flickering in their eyes as Cayena advanced, her weapon a blur of death.

Her spear whirled in an elegant yet deadly dance, cutting through their ranks. Blood spattered across the high walls, mixing with the rain that now poured from shattered windows and open doors, soaking everything in a macabre deluge. The palace itself seemed to weep for the dead.

Cayena's chest heaved as the last of the guards fell. Her armor was drenched, her hands slick with the blood of dozens. She stepped over the fallen, her focus unwavering as she approached the final door.

The Throne Room

The throne room was eerily silent, the storm outside muffled by its thick walls. Cayena pushed the heavy doors open, the sound of creaking wood echoing ominously.

His Majesty sat on his golden throne, a cruel smile playing on his lips. He wore a robe of crimson, though tonight it seemed more fitting for the rivers of blood that ran through his palace.

"Well," he drawled, his voice smooth and mocking. "The empire's greatest warrior has finally arrived. Tell me, Cayena, how does it feel to drown the palace in the blood of your own people?"

"Do you think I enjoyed killing your family? It wasn't personal. But the Graymore Dukedom was a threat to the throne. You had power—too much of it. And power, unchecked, is dangerous. I did what any ruler would."

Cayena's grip on her spear tightened, her knuckles white. "Save your words," she spat. "They won't save you from me."

The king leaned forward, his eyes gleaming with dark amusement. "Oh, I'm not worried about me," he said.

From the shadows behind the throne, a figure emerged—a man shrouded in black robes, his face obscured by a hood. The air grew colder, heavier, as if the room itself recoiled from his presence.

"I wondered when you'd come," the cloaked figure said, his voice low and calm. He drew a blade that gleamed unnaturally, its edge seeming to shimmer with an otherworldly light. "Let's see if the empire's greatest is as formidable as they say."

The Final Duel

Cayena launched herself forward, her spear thrusting with blinding speed. The cloaked figure deflected it with ease, his blade moving like liquid steel. Their weapons clashed, sparks flying as they exchanged blows with dizzying precision.

She spun, using the momentum to bring the spear's shaft down toward his head. He sidestepped, his counterattack grazing her side, drawing a thin line of blood. Cayena gritted her teeth, ignoring the pain as she pressed her assault.

The throne room echoed with the sound of their battle, the clash of steel and the splatter of blood against marble. Cayena fought with every ounce of strength she had, her movements fluid and deadly. But the figure matched her, his strikes unrelenting and precise.

"You fight well," he said, his voice calm even as their blades locked. "But vengeance blinds you. It makes you weak."

Cayena snarled, shoving him back. "You know nothing of my pain!"

She drove her spear forward, but he caught the shaft with one hand, wrenching it from her grasp. Her weapon clattered to the floor, and before she could recover, his blade slashed across her leg, forcing her to her knees.

Blood dripped from her wounds, pooling around her as she glared up at him. Her strength was fading, her vision blurring, but her defiance burned as brightly as ever.

"Even if I die," she whispered, her voice trembling but resolute, "I'll come back. I'll avenge them."

The figure hesitated for a brief moment, his blade poised above her. But he struck, and Cayena fell.

As her vision blurred and the life drained from her, she made a single wish, her last breath escaping in a soft sob.

"If I could have one more chance... I would protect my loved ones."

A single tear fell from her eye as her world went black.

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