19 Chapter 19: The Ghostblade Part 2

In the middle of the night, a lonely shadow moved between the towering pines of the Belilla forest, the pale moon barely lighting a path amidst the greedy shadows of the branches.

Roderick, wearing a dark hooded cloak, silently moved forward, his target in sight, a lonely forest manor facing a pond.

The building was two floors tall, with thick stone walls and a fortified guarded entrance. The banner of a noble family, depicting a black viper on a green background, hung on either side of the entrance, warning interlopers of the master of the house.

Ledir Waserschein, also called the Buried Viper, was especially known to Roderick as the man who caused Milovich and Ilira's death.

Some time ago, military command had shared intel of his location with Roderick, and like a fish to bait, he jumped at the opportunity to get what he wanted – revenge.

He dismissed his team and took advantage of the latest offensive to penetrate deep behind enemy lines, sure that Ledir would never expect him coming and thus would be lightly defended in his private estate.

As Roderick stared at the two guards standing around the entrance, casually chatting without a care in the world, he knew the intel was true, and the target was ready on the chopping block.

The first two guards on duty never saw the attack coming. With a flick of Roderick's wrist, the two swords, Ilira and Milovich, shot forward like bullets, impaling the guards against the castle walls. After a short struggle where one of the two managed to scream, their weapons clattered to the ground, the only sound in the eerie silence that followed.

Sera had done a wonderful job adding a few extra enchantments to the already prodigious works of art that were the two swords. Roderick could control the weapons as if they were an extra set of limbs.

Startled by the noise, four more guards emerged, cautiously scanning their surroundings. Their faces were etched with fear and confusion as they saw the two dead bodies, still impaled, but no trace of their aggressors. Their leader, a grizzled veteran with a scar across his cheek, barked orders at his men, urging them to search for the attacker.

"Keep your eyes peeled, and your swords ready," he growled, his voice gravelly with years of shouting commands. "There's a viper in our midst, and we'll not let it slither away."

The veteran commander kneeled down, inspecting the wet mud around the entrance. "There are no footprints," he muttered, looking around and above him, trying to figure the situation out.

Just as they turned their backs to continue searching for the perpetrator, the swords sprang to life, striking two more guards from behind in a swift, lethal assault, penetrating armor, flesh, and bones with the ease of hot knives through butter. The leader's eyes widened in horror as he watched his men fall, his grip on his weapon tightening with grim determination.

"Sh*t!"

The remaining guard, pushed by whatever deity he didn't know, lunged forward with a war cry, striking at the bloodied metal slowly emerging from his previous comrade.

Unsurprisingly, as the two weapons clanged, nothing further happened, and in a swift movement, Ilira retaliated, cutting through the hasty guard the man put up and then bisecting his waist.

Realizing the futility of resistance, the veteran guard attempted to flee back into the castle. As he crossed the threshold, he managed to choke out an alarmed, "Alarm!" then as he looked at the ghostly sword, he came up with a sudden, albeit wrong, realization. "Invisible attacker!

invisi– GHA!" His warning ended abruptly, as Milovich cut him down.

The two swords then hid under the man, snuggling in his dying arms.

Roderick waited in the bushes, patiently stalking his prey.

A minute later, the inner doors of the manor exploded forward with a torrent of flames. A dozen magicians advanced in a single line, unleashing a fiery onslaught that resembled the breath of a dragon. Their robes billowed around them as they moved, the intricate patterns of their garments glowing with a sinister radiance. They took no chances, caring little for the fallen guards as they focused on eliminating any potential threats.

From the last cry of the veteran, they had made the fatal mistake of considering the enemy as invisible, and what better way to neutralize an enemy you can't see?

Destroy everything in range.

The corpse of the veteran charred quickly, along with the carpets and small furniture in the entrance hall. Soon, the magicians strode over the two swords lying on the ground, their attention centered on finding human adversaries. This would prove to be their last error.

In an instant, the swords erupted into a whirlwind of death. They sliced through the legs of the unsuspecting magicians before bisecting their screaming victims. Those on the periphery of the attack attempted to retaliate with their own arcane fire, but the magical slaying formations etched into the swords effortlessly dispelled their assaults, rendering the magicians powerless, some even falling to friendly fire.

Roderick controlled the swords from a distance, the flickering flames reflecting in his eyes. Through his connection, he could partially feel some of the heat as he brutally willed the swords to give no quarter.

In a handful of seconds, the fire magicians broke ranks and fled for their lives. Roderick could have spent a few extra minutes giving chase, but his prey lay further in. Paying no heed to the terrified magicians, he left his hiding spot and entered the manor.

This small act of mercy would later earn Roderick his nickname, as the mages would tell of the two ghost-swords that had massacred the garrison of the manor. This harrowing account would forever be associated with Roderick, earning him the fearsome title of the "Ghostblade."

With the magicians defeated, Roderick continued his relentless pursuit of the manor master. He moved swiftly and silently through the dark corridors, dispatching guards with ruthless efficiency as he drew ever closer to his target. The enchanted swords, Ilira and Milovich, guided him like vengeful spirits, their edges glinting in the dim light.

Finally, Roderick stood before the door that led to the castle master's chamber. His heart pounded in his chest, a mix of anticipation and fury coursing through his veins. He knew that beyond the door awaited the man responsible for the tragic deaths of Ilira and Milovich – and the moment of reckoning was at hand.

With a wave, the two swords cut the hinges of the door, causing it to powerlessly fall down with a thud and raise a plume of dust.

Roderick stormed into the castle master's chamber, the enchanted swords poised for the final strike. He was met with an unexpected sight: the castle master, his face drained of color, stood protectively in front of his wife and children, who huddled together in fear. The room, once filled with the sounds of merriment and laughter, now echoed with the cries of the terrified family.

Lord Ledir was dressed in lavish purple robes with precious golden detailing and medals on his chest. His slick black hair had been gathered in a ponytail behind his head, thus fully revealing the terrified expression on his face.

The Lord gave one look at Roderick, then at the two swords and fell to his knees, raising a surprised gasp from his protectees, some of whom started crying.

"Please," the castle master implored, his voice quivering with desperation. "I know I have done terrible things, and I know I cannot undo the pain I have caused. But I beg you, spare my family. They are innocent in all this."

The crafty man Roderick had imagined was nowhere to be seen, replaced by a worried family man trying to save his children.

The castle master's eyes bore into Roderick's, searching for any hint of compassion. "I am prepared to accept my fate, but please, I implore you, let my family live. They have no part in this darkness. I will do anything, give you anything you desire. Just spare them."

Roderick hesitated, the swords trembling in the air. The scene before him tugged at the remnants of his humanity, forcing him to confront the consequences of his vengeance. The faces of Ilira and Milovich flashed through his mind, their memories urging him to seek justice for their untimely demise.

As he turned away, he willed the swords to shoot forward. He immediately left the room, amidst the desperate cries of the man's family, huddling around the dying man.

Roderick would not take their lives, innocent of the man's crimes, and in a moment of lucidity, he wondered whether one day the man's children would come to visit him to enact justice just as he had done today.

The taste of the eagerly awaited vengeance turned sour with every step he took.