THE GENERAL'S DISGRACED HEIR

David's hand, a silent executioner, hovered over Eric. A decree of death, unspoken yet undeniable, hung in the air. The shadowy weapon, a specter of doom, responded, its blade a sliver of darkness slicing through the air. "This is your end," David's voice, a chilling whisper, sealed Eric's fate.The shadow, a harbinger of death, moved with terrifying swiftness. Eric's vision, a fading ember, was swallowed by encroaching darkness. 'Is this it?' he thought, fear a cold hand gripping his heart.

'No, please no, not like this,' he tried to scream, but his throat, a choked well of blood, silenced his pleas.Just as the shadow was about to strike, a bolt of fate intervened. A projectile, a harbinger of hope, fell from above, colliding with the shadowy weapon. A deafening explosion, a shockwave that reverberated through the training grounds, kicked up a cloud of dust, obscuring the scene.

****

As two figures descended from the sky, their hearts raced as they realized the urgency of the situation unfolding below. Their orders had been clear: deescalate any confrontation between David and Eric, and, if necessary, protect David from Eric's wrath. However, what they witnessed upon entering the training ground defied all expectations.

A massive, swirling vortex of darkness, conjured by the very person they were meant to protect, loomed over the battlefield. But it wasn't David who seemed to need protection—it was Eric, the one they had assumed would easily overpower his younger brother.

The first figure, a towering man of immense strength, leapt into the air with a powerful push, while his companion used a gust of wind to propel herself alongside him. Their minds raced as they realized the peril Eric was in. "We won't make it in time! Do something!" she shouted, her voice tinged with urgency.

"Don't you dare give me orders, Amilia!" her companion yelled back, though the gravity of the situation forced him to act quickly. He knew she was right; there was no time to waste. With fierce determination, he gripped his colossal weapon, a massive blade that radiated with a violent burst of orange aura, and focused his will. The aura enveloped him, accelerating his descent tenfold as he aimed to intercept the deadly shadows.

As he plummeted toward the swirling darkness, he could feel the oppressive energy emanating from it. The shadows twisted and writhed, cutting through the air with a dangerous intensity, but the man did not falter.

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With a mighty swing, he brought his colossal weapon down upon the vortex, slicing through the shadows with ease. The clash between his blade and the dark energy sent a shockwave rippling through the training ground, pushing him back a few inches.

"Did an Awakened just push me back?" he muttered in surprise, realizing the sheer force behind the shadows. The power David was wielding was unlike anything he had anticipated.

Amilia descended gracefully beside him, her feet barely touching the ground before she rushed toward Eric, who lay battered and broken on the ground. Her heart pounded in her chest as she reached him, his body barely clinging to life. She had never seen Eric in such a state, his once proud and arrogant demeanour reduced to fear and desperation.

Meanwhile, the man stood his ground, his weapon still at the ready. He couldn't shake the feeling of unease that crept over him as he faced David, who remained calm and composed amidst the chaos. The shadows that had once threatened to consume Eric now lingered ominously in the air, as if awaiting David's next command.

"Stay back," the man warned Amilia as she knelt beside Eric. "David's power is far greater than we anticipated. We need to be careful."

1

Amilia nodded, her eyes never leaving Eric's face. She could feel the weight of the situation pressing down on her, the realization that they were dealing with a force far beyond their control. David, the once-overlooked and underestimated son of the De Gor house, had become something far more dangerous than anyone could have imagined.

As the dust settled, the vice-captains struggled to regain their composure, hastily deploying their mana to shield themselves from the lingering shockwaves. Their eyes locked onto the figure that had emerged from the chaos—a towering presence that radiated raw, unyielding power. His very aura was enough to strike fear into the hearts of even the bravest warriors.

The man's crimson hair, wild and untamed, framed a face etched with fierce determination. His eyes, sharp and intense, seemed to pierce through the very souls of those who dared meet his gaze. His muscular frame was clad in intricate black armour, every piece of which was engraved with ancient symbols that hinted at a lineage steeped in power and endless battles. A dark, flowing cape was tied around his waist, trailing behind him like the shadows of his past, whispering tales of countless victories and brutal skirmishes.

In his hands, he wielded a massive double-headed axe, its blades forged from a metal that gleamed with a dark, almost malevolent energy. This was no ordinary weapon; it pulsed with a life of its own, resonating with the fury of its master. His exposed skin bore the marks of countless battles—scars crisscrossed his flesh, while tribal tattoos swirled around his arms, chest, and back, each marking a chapter in the story of a warrior who had faced and survived the most harrowing of conflicts.

The sight of him was almost too much to comprehend. The 4th Platoon's vice-commander, who had prided himself on his unwavering resolve, found his voice trembling as he whispered, "Is... is that Svara, the Hero of the Wastes?"

Before Sendric could even voice his astonishment, his eyes narrowed, and his breath caught in his throat as he recognized Savara's companion. "It can't be... even Lady Amilia, the Rogue Saint, is here!" Sendric exclaimed, grabbing the 4th Platoon vice commander's attention to confirm the sight before them. The vice commander's eyes widened in disbelief as he gazed at the serene figure beside Eric. "Sanitess," he murmured, awe-struck by the presence of Amilia.

Amilia knelt gracefully beside the battered Eric, her presence a stark and ethereal contrast to the fierce warrior that was Svara. Her delicate frame, wrapped in pristine white and gold armour, exuded an aura of quiet, yet undeniable strength. The soft rustle of her flowing cape barely disturbed the still air, as if even the wind dared not disrupt her. The setting sun bathed her in a warm, golden light, reflecting off the intricate designs on her ceremonial staff. She seemed to glow from within, a beacon of hope in the growing shadows.

Her gaze was calm, yet behind those tranquil eyes burned a fire of unwavering conviction. The soft curves of her face, framed by short, chestnut hair, brushed gently against the edges of her golden hat tiara. Her lips moved in a silent prayer, her presence a calming force amidst the turmoil. Though her armour was elegant, it was not merely for show; the golden edges and intricate inlays hinted at a hidden power, a divine protection that could turn the tide of battle.

As she placed a gentle hand on Eric's shoulder, her touch was light, yet it carried the weight of boundless reassurance. It was a promise, a silent vow that no matter how dark the road ahead seemed, they would face it together. At that moment, Amilia was more than just a healer or protector; she was an anchor, a steadfast light in the encroaching darkness. Her voice, soft but filled with authority, whispered an incantation, "[Sovereign, guardian of the will of life and death, grant me your grace—

Greater Healing

]."

As the words left her lips, a golden light enveloped Eric, its warmth seeping into his broken body. His twisted arms began to realign, the bones setting themselves with a series of soft cracks. His lungs, punctured and failing, mended within his chest, and the shattered fragments of his ribcage knitted back together. Eric's breathing steadied, the pained gasps replaced by deep, even breaths.

David watched this display with a mixture of confusion and wariness. Who were these two individuals that now stood like insurmountable mountains before him? His initial confidence wavered slightly as he took in the sight. If these were Eric's secret trump cards, only revealing themselves now, then perhaps his plan was in jeopardy.

Still, David remained calm, taking a deep, measured breath. If Svara and Amilia were Eric's final gambits, then he would need to rethink his approach. But the game was far from over. David had yet to unleash his two greatest skills, powers that could change the course of this encounter. A subtle shift in his aura began to take place, his usual dark blue essence gradually giving way to a glow of golden white in his eyes—a light that hinted at a power even greater than before. David's eyes narrowed in focus, ready to use his skill when the moment called for it, determined to face whatever came next with unyielding resolve.

because they did not want to go all out and hurt David