The Lord of Veins | Shadow Slave

Her beauty was unlike most. It wasn't delicate or conventionally soft; it had a distinct edge to it. Tall, with dirty blonde hair that cascaded past her shoulders. It wasn't just her appearance—it was the feeling she radiated, something that made it impossible to look away. A Knight of the Cathedral.

Even with all eyes on her, she directed her gaze toward Esmeray. 

"Boys will always get you into trouble," the woman said with a soft smile.

Esmeray found herself speechless. Despite the woman's back being turned, she could almost feel the warmth of her smile, something that contrasted to Dex's cold, yet reliable nature.

Esmeray opened her mouth to respond, but once the Knight suddenly activated her aspect. The very air around her seemed to bend away.

Esmeray's own aspect was tied to Clairvoyance, allowing her brief insight into the true being of others, but this woman was something different.

While Dex was a mystery, completely impenetrable by her own abilities, this Knight was direct, clear and unambiguous.

Esmeray saw it all. Her name, her true name, her aspect, even the finest details of her attributes—everything was laid bare before her. It was strange, this level of insight felt too intimate, as though she had known the Knight for far longer than just this singular moment. And that alone was enough to spark Esmeray's interest.

Then, the men stepped forward, their faces filled with anger. "Cathedral scum, get out of our way!" The man with a busted nose then spoke up. "Your freak of a buddy started this by attacking our friend over some girl!"

The knight's eyes narrowed. "Maybe your buddy should keep his hands to himself then?"

The men's fury flared, and casting their voices aside, they answered with their blades, lunging at her. But the knight's movements were fluid. Her swordsmanship was flawless, almost unreal. She deflected and parried with ease, each movement calculated and swift, as if she had been through this countless times before.

Esmeray watched, entranced. Where Dex would have left them with injuries too severe, the knight moved with a specific purpose. She didn't strike to maim or kill; each attack was to subdue. 

One by one, the men fell to the floor, unconscious, their weapons discarded on the ground beside them.

Esmeray couldn't tear her eyes away. She had always found combat crude, fit for barbarians and brutes, but this was different. The knight had moved with such artistry that even she couldn't deny it. Swordsmanship wasn't just a tool for her, it was a passion. And for the first time, Esmeray understood the allure of the sword.

Meanwhile, Dex winced, blinking against the searing pain in his retinas as it gradually subsided. His vision returned slowly, and by the time it cleared, the fight was already over. Three men lay sprawled out on the tavern floor.

In front of him stood a woman clad in lightweight armor, calmly sheathing her blade. She turned toward Dex, offering a faint smile and extended a hand.

"Not my first time saving someone," she said lightly. 

Dex, however, wasn't in the mood. He swatted her hand away and pushed himself to his feet.

Esmeray stepped forward, coming to stand beside the knight, whom she now knew as Hera. Her gaze shifted to Dex, "Dex, I had it under control. If they dared to lay a hand on me further, all I'd have had to do is scream. They would have been thrown out in seconds." 

Dex's jaw clenched, as he nodded. "I'll remember that next time," He spat, his voice filled with bitter anger. "I'm tired of saving your ass anyway."

Hera shook her head gently, placing a hand on Dex's shoulder. "I'd like to thank you, Dex." Hera said softly, in place for Esmeray.

Dex's gaze snapped to Hera, his irritation increasing. The way she casually wielded his name, her hand on him. "Yeah, whatever…" he muttered, brushing her hand off.

His eyes drifted around the tavern, taking in the aftermath. A table left overturned, chairs lay scattered, and a few trembling customers began setting things back in order. They righted the table, repositioned the chairs. Yet their faces remained the same even after the fight. They were afraid. 

It made Dex's stomach churn. These were supposed to be people of extraordinary potential, how could such cowards survive the First Nightmare?!

"Can we get the hell out of here?" Dex asked, his voice issuing more of an order instead of a question.

"Sure," Hera replied, falling into step behind him, as though assuming she was included. 

"I wasn't talking to you," Dex stated firmly.

Her smirk returned again, followed by persistence. "All right, hothead," she said, her tone teasing but firm. "I'm going to escort you out so you don't get followed." 

"We don't need a—"

"Okay," Esmeray interjected quickly, cutting Dex off before the argument could escalate. 

Dex shot her a sharp glance, but he didn't argue. Instead, he turned and made his way to the tavern door.

The three of them stepped out into the cool night air. The village beyond the tavern was alive with energy, its streets filled with people going about their daily tasks. Lanterns hung from posts, their warm light casting a golden glow over the shoveled cobblestone roads. The sounds of laughter, chatter, and there was even a melody from a street performer. 

Unbeknownst to the people there and to Dex himself, the village was nestled farthest away from the actual 'Fractured Peaks.' The village's population was substantial, likely numbering in the hundreds, perhaps nearing a thousand.

Dex arrived at this village just a week ago, and every single day it amazes him how people were content with this way of life. When he had first arrived, he was driven by the hope that Zerin might have remained or passed through. The people had offered nothing useful, not even a glimmer of recognition at his name. 

Even Esmeray's aspect, with its unique connection to clairvoyance, had proven fruitless. "I can't get a read on him," she had told Dex more than once, her voice tinged with frustration, perhaps even worry. 

He wasn't the smartest, but he wasn't oblivious either. He knew what the absence of any trace of Zerin could imply. Still, he refused to accept such a ridiculous notion. Zerin was alive, he was certain of it.

Dex exhaled deeply, the mist from his breath fanned out before him, dissipating into the warm glow of the lanterns lining the streets. Shops stood close together, their wooden signs swaying gently, while the faint outlines of homes further back were barely visible through a linger white fog. 

"I've heard that the Cathedral is in need of capable people," Esmeray said, her voice soft. She glanced up at Hera, waiting for an answer from the knight.

Hera tilted her head, smiling faintly before returning her gaze to the road ahead. "Sure… if you're capable of wielding a blade," she then added. "But you don't seem like the type."

"But…" Hera trailed off, her gaze flickering toward Dex, studying him with an appraising look. "But he does. We need more people like him."

Esmeray immediately turned to Dex, a look of expectation. 

"Like hell…" Dex muttered underneath his breath. 

He wasn't falling for that look.

Hera's lips curved into a knowing smile as she closed her eyes, as if enjoying his reaction. "And there it is. I knew he wouldn't accept—definitely the self-conscious type," she poked. 

Dex's fists clenched at his sides, his jaw tightening. "What?!

Hera turned slightly, an exaggerated expression of mock sympathy filled her features. "Oh, did I upset you?" 

"I'll kick your ass!" Dex snapped back.

Hera smirked, her confidence unshaken. "Just like how you narrowly got out of that tavern alive?" she countered, the smugness targeting him precisely. 

That smirk—it was the same as Master Cael's. So infuriatingly cocky. The difference, Dex thought, was that she didn't have half the talent or skill to back it up. And he'd love to prove it.

"Let's spar then," Dex said, his voice sharp. "I win, and we get into the Cathedral for free. You win, and I'll join your damn Knights of the Cathedral." 

Hera raised her eyebrow clearly amused. "So cocky, she mused, stepping closer. Her finger stabbed his chest lightly as a taunt. "Perhaps it can be arranged. The name's Hera, you should remember it for when I beat you."

Esmeray stood off to the side, her lips curling into a smile as she watched Dex's unintentional strategic intelligence. Now, it didn't matter the outcome. Both possibilities led them to the same goal—entry into the Cathedral. 

"Well," Esmeray chimed in, her tone a bit eager, "you two seem lively enough. Can we get this spar going soon?" 

Hera's smirk grew wide as she shifted her gaze back to Dex. "It can be done tomorrow," she said confidently. "It'll be a great show for my subordinates." 

Dex scowled, "I didn't agree to being entertainment for you sheltered knights. 

"You'll be joining us soon," Hera's voice dripped with confidence. "It will also pay for her ticket in." She gestured to Esmeray. 

"How about you stop with the empty talk and just arrange this already? I am tired of listening to you." 

Hera chuckled softly, clearly enjoying his frustration. "All right, tough guy. Hang around the tavern tomorrow, same time you got your ass kicked, and I'll be there to pick you up. 

With that, she turned and walked away, her light armor clinking faintly. 

Dex scoffed, shaking his head. "Unbelievable."

"I agree," Esmeray said quietly, her gaze lingering on Hera as she walked away. "She is strong."

Dex turned to her, his annoyance flaring. "Whose side are you on?!"

Esmeray met his eyes, her expression calm but sincere. "You're stronger, I know that for sure."

For a moment, Dex blinked, caught off guard by her words. Quickly he recovered, "Of course I am, name a sleeper that could take out an entire pack of lurkers and an Awakened Devil on their own?" 

She is unique, " Esmeray said thoughtfully, recalling what she had seen prior. "I was able to see everything… her True Name, Aspect and all." 

Dex's smirk widened, and he balled his fist, the familiar surge of competitive energy filling him. "So, you are saying I have the edge?" 

Esmeray raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. "You want to cheat? I thought you were convinced you could beat her." 

Dex clicked his tongue. "Our deal? He pressed, poking at her with his words.

Esmeray folded her arms across her chest, her expression cold. "You said it was useless," she reminded him of his words from before.

"Are you kidding me?" Dex shot back, his voice rising. "Do you want to get into the Cathedral or not?" 

Esmeray's smirk only grew as she leaned back slightly. "Either way, I get in—whether you win or lose. And I know you aren't about to cower from this fight. She's already gotten under your skin, hasn't she?"

Her words jabbed at him, and Dex scowled.

"Just tell me!" Dex demanded.

Esmeray raised her chin, her arms still folded. "Apologize." 

"For what?"

For hurting my feelings," she replied smoothly, but he could tell her expression was serious, despite an unnatural playfulness in her tone.

"You're joking," he said flatly. 

"Nope."

Dex clenched his jaw, taking a deep, steadying breath as he closed his eyes. "Fine," he said reluctantly. "I'm sorry for calling your end of the deal useless." 

For a moment, silence hung between them. Then, a burst of laughter came out catching him off guard.

Dex's eyes snapped open, and he stared at her, his irritation battling against the odd warmth of seeing her so genuinely amused. Her laughter unrestrained, a smile he hasn't seen in a while.

He wanted to be mad—really, he did, But he couldn't.