Tirnanog

In the city of Ketergia, the atmosphere within the grand, cold halls of the royal palace was tense. The walls, adorned with gilded banners and cold stone, reflected the true nature of the kingdom's rulers: proud, oppressive, and unyielding. Fort and Rooks stood before Descorda, his eyes cold and calculating. The entire room seemed to radiate with an aura of superiority.

Rooks shifted uncomfortably at his side, his mind still reeling from the battle they had just witnessed. But Fort, for the first time, felt something different. The guilt, the disgust, the realization of the horrors they had participated in it was too much to bear. The weight of their actions pressed down on him like an iron shackle.

Descorda, his long blonde hair flowing behind him like a curtain of silk, raised an eyebrow as he studied the two knights. 

"So, you two were the witness in the recent failure on the surface," he said with a slight smirk. "And you failed miserably, I see."

Fort clenched his fists, but something in him snapped.

 "Failed? We didn't fail," he spat, his voice rising with frustration.

 "What we did... what Ketergia is doing to those people... It's unforgivable. We're just following orders, but we know it's wrong."

Rooks froze, his eyes wide as he looked at Fort. This wasn't the quiet, compliant Fort he knew. He had never seen his comrade so openly defiant before.

Descorda's gaze narrowed.

 "What are you talking about?" His voice was calm, but the icy tone sent a shiver down Fort's spine.

"You—Ketergia—you're treating the people on the surface like nothing more than tools," Fort continued, his voice shaking with a mixture of anger and guilt. 

"You burn their villages, steal their resources, and make them suffer. All for what? For power? For control?"

He paused, his breath ragged. 

"I can't stand by and watch this anymore. We're just pawns in this game, and I can't keep pretending it's justified."

There was a long, tense silence as Descorda's expression darkened. Rooks's heart raced in his chest. He didn't know how Descorda would react, but he knew it wouldn't be good.

Descorda stood up, his eyes locking with Fort's. 

"You dare question Ketergia's authority?" 

His voice dropped to a dangerous whisper, a warning in his tone. 

"This kingdom exists because of power, because of control. And you, a grade 1 knight, have the audacity to question that?"

Before Fort could respond, the door to the chamber creaked open, and in walked a figure dressed in Ketergian Knight armour, his footsteps heavy and deliberate. Delibere, one of the noble royal Knights, entered the room with an air of authority that made the air itself seem to thrum with danger.

Fort's eyes widened at the sight of Delibere. The knight's presence was overwhelming, and the oppressive atmosphere seemed to multiply tenfold.

"Descorda," Delibere said in a voice as cold as ice. 

"I came to check on the two knights... but I see they've forgotten their place."

Delibere's eyes flicked over to Fort, who stood silently, guilt-ridden but unyielding. Fort didn't flinch as Delibere approached him, but the knight's presence was suffocating. 

"You really think you have the right to speak against Ketergia?" 

Delibere asked, his voice dripping with disdain.

Fort's stomach twisted, but he held his ground. 

"Someone has to say it," he muttered. "What we're doing is wrong. These people, they're suffering, and we're just watching it happen. We're not heroes—we're just monsters in armor."

Delibere's eyes flared with fury. Before Fort could react, Delibere's fist shot out, striking him hard in the stomach. The force of the blow knocked the wind out of Fort, and he stumbled backward, gasping for air.

"Lower your voice," Delibere hissed, his voice a low growl. "Do not speak out of turn, especially when The unrivaled heavenly blade Descorda is around. Ketergia is not some weak kingdom where you can voice your meaningless complaints. You are nothing without us, nothing without Ketergia's strength."

Fort collapsed to his knees, clutching his stomach in pain. He could feel the blood rushing to his head, but he refused to let his resolve waver. Despite the pain, despite Delibere's menacing presence, he couldn't stay silent anymore.

Rooks rushed to Fort's side, his eyes wide with concern, but he was also afraid. He had never seen Delibere act like this before, and he didn't know what to expect. Descorda, watching the exchange, remained impassive, as if this was nothing more than a minor inconvenience.

"Do not repeat these words again, Knight" Delibere continued, his voice dripping with scorn. "Your weakness will get you killed. And if you ever speak again in such a manner, I'll make sure your death is slow and painful."

Rooks helped Fort to his feet, still shaking. Fort's eyes were filled with determination, though. His pain was nothing compared to the pain of those on the surface. 

Delibere's eyes narrowed as he studied Fort, his lips curling into a cruel smile. If you continue to speak out against Ketergia, you won't survive long enough to regret it."

With one final, disgusted look, Delibere turned on his heel and walked out of the room, leaving Fort and Rooks in silence. Descorda walks away, looking at the two knights with a calculating expression.

"We'll ask more questions later on, but for now, we need to know who this new threat is," Descorda said coolly. "You two can go."

Fort, still recovering from the blow, met Rooks's eyes. Neither spoke, but in that moment, they both knew things had changed. The walls of Ketergia were closing in on them, and the weight of their own actions was starting to sink in.

The rebellion, once a distant hope, now seemed like the only way forward. But the path would be dangerous, and they were too deep to turn back.

As Descorda's eyes bore into them, they knew one thing for certain: They were no longer just pawns in Ketergia's game. And it was only a matter of time before they would have to choose where their loyalty truly lay.

As Fort and Rooks left the room, the oppressive atmosphere remained, but Descorda and Delibere stood unmoved. The tension between them eased as their attention shifted to a more pressing matter.

Descorda leaned back against his chair, his fingers tapping idly on the armrest. 

"So, what did the others say?"

Delibere crossed his arms, his expression dark. 

"Same thing. A person dressed in black armor with the power of a Grade 3 killed Sarevsael."

Descorda let out a slow sigh, shaking his head. 

"Jeez, it hasn't even been a week, and our new member is already dead."

Delibere clenched his fist. 

"We'll avenge our rookie. That punk thinks he's some hot shot, huh?"

Descorda's gaze sharpened. 

"Did you also attain footage?"

Delibere gave a curt nod. 

"Yeah…"

With a flick of his wrist, a holographic screen emerged, displaying the battle between Youth and Sarevsael. The scene was chaotic, the clashing of blades illuminating the darkened battlefield.

On the screen, Sarevsael roared as chants his special move. 

"Carmina Caelorum… Ultima!"

A blinding golden light erupted, tearing through the battlefield like divine judgment. But as the glow faded, the figure in black armor remained standing.

Delibere's eyes widened. 

"That guy just tanked Sarevsael's strongest attack! No one on the surface should be able to withstand that!"

Descorda exhaled sharply, his eyes narrowing.

 "It seems they're finally awakening their true strength."

Delibere's grip on his sword tightened. 

"Shit. Bastion is not gonna like this."

Descorda's lips curled into a smirk.

 "No, he will not."