If you ever find yourself walking through the ashes of your childhood home, the smoke stinging your eyes, and the memories of your family’s laughter replaced by the haunting remnants of regret, you’ll understand what it means to face true darkness.

In the haze of smoldering destruction and utter confusion, it felt like I was trekking along a path leading straight to the bowels of hell. A world gone mad.

My footsteps echoed through the corridors of the once-glorious mansion, now reduced to a shadow of its past self. Every step on the marble floor mirrored my desperation.

The grand mansion, once the proud heart of the Stormbourne estate, was nothing more than a shell of ruin. The violent ambition of our so-called ally had reduced it to this.

The Lysanders had dared to break our trust and bring fire and destruction to our home. My father would unleash hurricanes and fury to erase them from this land. I could only hope to live long enough to see that day. Their annihilation would be tenfold. Innocent or guilty, not a single Lysander would be spared regret for their impudence. Of this, I was certain. No, I staked my life on it. Though in another few minutes or so, I might not have one.

Either way, the bottom line was that none of those Lysander dogs would be granted mercy. They would face the consequences of not having the guts to confront us on an open battlefield.

I moved through the miscellany of the grand hall. Memories reeled back to the times my family had celebrations here. Rich banquets, lively music, and hearty laughter all seemed far in the past now, buried beneath the grisly reality surrounding me. The walls, once speaking of joyous times, were now marred by filth and blood.

In one corner of the burning hall, the stairway to the mansion’s rooftop came into view. The sounds of battle above were distinctive. The clash of swords and the crackle of magic filled the air. Aiden was up there, fighting that Lance guy for our family’s honor. I had no idea what had become of my eldest brother. I just prayed I could reach him before it was too late, unlike what had happened with Aeryn and Alistair.

And that bitch was probably up there too.

I had to tread lightly. She might have already set an ambush, hiding it behind that sweet, fake smile of hers, waiting for anyone foolish enough to interrupt the fight.

I steeled myself before starting my ascent, but climbing the stairs felt like walking on nails. Every creak and groan of the wooden steps mocked my miserable plight. Halfway up, I had to stop and lean against the wall. The smoke was thicker here, making it hard to breathe. I pulled my sleeve over my nose and mouth, trying to filter out the choking air.

A sudden noise made me whip around. It was just a loose piece of debris tumbling down the stairs with a clatter. Paranoia crept in, twisting every creak and shifting shadow into a hidden threat.

At the top floor of the mansion, the door to the roof stood ajar, its wood splintered from a recent impact. I pushed it open with my shoulder and stepped into the cool night air.

The sight that greeted me was a battleground.

Aiden was locked in a sword fight with someone I recognized immediately. The Arcane Swordsman, Lance White. Sparks flew as their blades clashed, the flashes revealing their grim faces. Aiden fought with everything he had, but exhaustion weighed him down. His movements were slower than usual.

Lance, on the other hand, was relentless. He moved like a predator, every strike precise, his expression cold and focused. He toyed with Aiden, weakening him little by little.

I couldn’t just stand there watching. I had to do something.

I glanced around and saw three Silverlions lying dead.

That cowardly Lysander dog!

I clenched my hand into a fist. No wonder Aiden looked more fatigued than usual. Those soldiers had been sent to wear him down before the real fight even began. Typical. Talk about a fair duel. This was anything but.

Grinwald had once mentioned that a magic swordsman could level up by fighting stronger opponents. I had never asked how many times they had to do that. I was still stuck at the Novice stage myself. I couldn’t even cast a basic spell, let alone take on a magic swordsman.

So how the hell was I supposed to help Aiden win this fight?

“Aiden!” I yelled, but my voice was drowned out by the clash of steel and spells. He didn’t hear me. His attention was locked on his opponent.

I had to do something. But what? Charging in blindly would only get me killed. No, there had to be a better way. A smarter way.

Then Grinwald’s words ran through my head. “Use your surroundings. Think, Alex. Think.”

I scanned the rooftop. A few piles of loose shingles and scattered debris caught my eye. An idea formed. It was risky, but it was all I had.

Before I could act, a voice stopped me.

“Oi, Stormbourne Jester. What do you think you’re doing?”

I turned, and there she was.

Catherine Lysander. The mastermind behind this whole mess.

Gone was the elegant dress she wore at the lunch reception. It had been tossed aside for something that looked like a swordswoman’s outfit trying to win a costume contest. Pretty kinky, I might say—

Ahem! My eyes lingered a bit too long. But, thanks to sheer force of will, I managed to tear my gaze away from her.

Believe me, you’d do the same if you were in my shoes. Her outfit was scandalous, but it was exactly what I’d want my future girlfriend to wear on our first date.

She had her long silver hair tied up in a high ponytail. A tight, black leather corset hugged her torso, showing off her hourglass figure. Silver embroidery on the corset shimmered brilliantly in the firelight. She chose matching leather pants that clung to her legs, accentuating every curve. Knee-high boots with silver buckles completed the look of one hell of a sexy bitch.

“You like what you see, Jester?” A smirk played on her crimson lips. In her hand, she held a rapier, its blade glinting menacingly.

“Arghhh!” I yelled, caught in an ambush by that bitchy smile of hers.

My very girlish yelp made Aiden and Lance stop mid-battle.

“Alex, you’re still alive?” Aiden exclaimed, his voice strained. “What are you doing here? You need to run!”

That three times today someone had assumed I wouldn’t survive this madness. Did I have a sign on my forehead telling the Lysanders to target me first?

“I came to help!” I replied determinedly.

Lance chuckled. “Two against one? I like those odds.” He lifted his sword again, ready to resume his assault.

“It’s okay, Lance,” Catherine giggled. “I can take care of this one. He’s just a novice. Can’t even wield magic.”

The way she said it made my blood boil, like the hot tomato soup Mathilda had made the other day.

“As you wish, milady,” Lance nodded, then went right back to battling Aiden.

I turned to Catherine. “How did you know I was a novice? You’ve never seen me duel before.”

“Aiden told me,” she replied, dimples forming in her cheeks.

Damn it. Why do people close to me love revealing my weaknesses behind my back?

“What are you waiting for, Jester?” Catherine twirled her rapier with a practiced flourish. “Let’s dance.”

Damn it again! That was supposed to be my line. My good luck charm before a fight.

“Wait!” I raised a hand. “I’d love to tear you apart, but I’m not the type of guy who hits a lady. No matter how ‘bitchy’ she is. So drop your sword and surrender. Or else,” I paused for effect, “I’ll spank your ass so hard you won’t be able to sit down and crap for weeks.”

“Really?” Catherine let out a villainous laugh. “That’s considerate of you to spank me.” Her playful smirk twisted into a ghastly scowl, the kind that would make any poor bastard think twice before asking her out on a date. “Do I look weak to you, Jester?”

She flicked her rapier toward a small tree in the rooftop’s garden. In an instant, three ice shafts formed at its tip. With a casual swipe, they shot forward, boring small holes into the bark.

I swallowed hard. “Y—You’re a magic swordsman?”

“That’s right. Adept level.” Her eyes gleamed with amusement. “And don’t bother surrendering. I take no prisoners. Unless you’re willing to lick my feet. Then I might consider showing a little mercy.”

“Well, I’d love to do that.” I almost said it out loud. But revenge came first. I needed a plan, fast.

“Wait, milady,” I said, my tone suddenly polite. “Maybe I misjudged you. But isn’t it a bit overkill to fight with magic?” I took a small step back.

A slow, chilling smile curled her lips. “So what do you suggest?”

“Let’s duel without magic.”

She tapped a finger on her lips, her gaze mocking.

I pursed my lips tightly. Those smug eyes… I’d love to gouge them out and send them back to her father in a doggy bag.

“Well?” I pressed.

“Agree,” she finally said. “And it’s not because I pity you or anything. It’s because you’re the most handsome Stormbourne I’ve ever met.” She laughed again, that irritating, taunting laugh.

“You swear on your Duke father’s head that you won’t use magic?” I squinted at her.

“Yes,” she said with a simper. “I swear on your Marquis father’s head that I won’t use magic.”

I smiled widely. “Okay then,” I said with relief before snapping, “Hey! You’re supposed to swear on your father’s head!”

“Yeah, yeah, it’s the same thing.” She waved dismissively. “So, what are you waiting for? Let’s dance.”

Damn it! I missed my cue again!

Before she could strike first, I lunged toward a nearby pile of debris and kicked it with all my might. Loose shingles and rubble shot into the air, creating a cloud of dust.

Catherine cursed, momentarily blinded. I darted toward her, aiming to disarm her, but she was fast. She swung her rapier, and I barely dodged. The blade sliced through the air, missing me by inches.

That was close. I retreated a few steps.

“You’ll have to do better than that,” she hissed.

This wasn’t going to be easy. I needed to win without killing her, to turn her into a hostage and force Lance to surrender.

But even without magic, Catherine was not an easy bitch to handle. Every move she made came from an experienced swordswoman. And me? I was barely keeping up. My novice status was glaringly obvious. Sweat dripped down my brow, and my sword felt heavier with each parry. If the fight dragged on, I’d lose. I needed an advantage, and I needed it fast.

Think, dude. Think. I urged myself.

Then it came to me.

When Catherine rushed forward to close the distance, I pointed over her shoulder. “Look, a cat!”

She skidded to a halt, eyes darting around. “Where?”

I stepped forward and kicked her between the legs.

Catherine let out a sharp scream, doubling over.

“Take that, you bitch!” I spat, punting her rapier away as it clattered to the ground.

She lifted a hand. “Wait!”

“What?” I glared at her.

A slow sneer crept onto her lips. “You forgot I don’t have nuts, you idiot.”

Before I could react, she drove her fist straight into my groin.

A white-hot explosion of pain shot through my body. I bent over with a strangled gasp as my sword slipped from my grasp.

Catherine quickly booted my weapon away.

As my legs started to wobble, struggling to stay upright, the two of us glanced at our weapons lying on the ground. Then our eyes met.

Despite the pain, we lunged toward our weapons at the same time. But my movements were sluggish, making me stumble awkwardly—

A sharp pain suddenly tore through me.

I staggered, my breath catching.

Slowly, I looked down.

There was Catherine’s rapier sticking out of my chest.

A hollow gasp escaped my lips. My vision blurred. The world around me darkened. Somewhere in the distance, Aiden was shouting my name.

Sorry, dude. You’re on your own now.

My breaths grew shallower. Memories flickered through my mind. Dreams unfulfilled. Places I’d never see. My last thought lingered like a whisper in the wind. “I wish I were strong enough to stop this nightmare from ever happening.”

Then there was only darkness.

So here I am, telling you about my last moments.

Amusing, isn’t it? One second you’re fighting for your life, the next, your mind drags up everything you’ll never do. I never thought it would end like this. But I guess no one ever does. Life has a way of surprising you. Right up until the end.