The Rules of Blood

Volume Two ; Chapter 110 (326) - Old Friends, New Enemies



Volume Two ; Chapter 110 (326) - Old Friends, New Enemies

What just happened? Blanc asked himself as he watched the golden bracelet crumble beside him on the ground.

His ears rang. His power was barely there. He pushed himself onto his knees and slowly turned to the right.

Barely a second had passed since the barrier shattered.

The attackers were still frozen, uncertain of what to do.

Is Sera okay?

He turned to his left.

Sera stood there in shock, eyes wide, one hand covering her mouth.

Thank the Vita, she is unharmed. But why is she...

His gaze snapped back to the javelin a few feet away. And to what it had pierced.

Lendros was pinned to the ground, the javelin driven through his abdomen and into the earth beneath him. He clutched the shaft desperately, blood spilling from his mouth, terror filling his eyes.

Blanc’s heart slammed against his ribs.

Then screams tore through the air to his right.

“YAAAAAA!”

The battle cries made him turn his head to them.

Velakia and Tahreni charged at their attackers, faces twisted with rage, teeth bared.

They were no longer people. They were wild animals.

“Sera!” Blanc shouted, eyes still fixed on the chaos unfolding. “Look after Lendros. Do not let him die.”

He didn’t wait for an answer.

He forced himself to his feet and slowly unsheathed his sword.

His balance wavered, but he moved toward the enemy regardless.

Seeing Lendros fall had been the catalyst.

“Iskahulului Amar,” Tahreni muttered as she threw the dagger to the ground.

At her words, the marble opened, her weapons answering the call, forming around her fists.

Velakia crouched and freed her second dagger, and the moment Tahreni’s Iron Fists were fully formed, both women surged forward.

There was no plan.

Only desire.

For blood. For revenge.

Velakia moved first, too fast to follow, slipping to the side of one of the bow-wielders and driving her blade between their ribs.

The woman screamed, her bow clattering to the ground as she spun toward her attacker.

But Velakia was already gone.

The second bowman turned to see what was happening, only for a dagger to cleave her bow in half before she could even draw breath.

Velakia froze. The bow-wielder wasn’t a man. She was a woman. Just like the first woman she stabbed.

The second woman threw the broken bow toward Velakia and reached for her sword.

However, before she could do that, a punch slammed into her jaw.

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She crumpled.

As Velakia dismantled the two women, Tahreni leapt into the air and brought her iron-clad fist down onto the shoulder of the javelin thrower.

The impact sent him stumbling forward.

The cloaked man laughed as he caught himself, barely affected.

He drew his sword, turned, and pointed it at her. With a sharp step forward, he thrust for her heart.

Tahreni deflected with her left fist, slipping beneath the blade and striking him hard across the ribs.

He staggered.

She didn’t give him time to recover.

She rushed him instead, intent on crushing him into the ground.

The man kicked her square in the chest.

She flew back six feet, hitting the earth with a heavy thud.

She rolled, already moving to rise... But he was faster.

He charged, blade raised.

She barely had time to brace as he swung his sword horizontally.

She crossed her Iron Fists in defense, trying to minimize the damage.

Clank.

No pain followed.

Someone stood between them.

Blanc.

The same Blanc who knocked the blade of their enemy aside, sending it skidding across the ground, then drove his forehead into the man’s jaw.

The cloaked figure crashed backward.

[Translated from Iskahese]

“Do you need help, Velakia?” Blanc called.

No answer came.

Velakia was fully engaged, forcing the remaining woman onto the defensive, her strikes relentless. The woman could do little more than block or evade.

The other lay on the ground, clutching her side and groaning.

“Tahreni,” Blanc said without looking away. “Deal with the one on the ground.”

“What about you?” she asked, glancing at the man struggling back to his feet.

Blanc’s voice turned cold. “This is my fight. There is only one javelin thrower in the Empire capable of what he did.”

She didn’t understand, but she obeyed, taking a step away.

Then froze.

Slowly, she turned back.

“Lendros?” she asked quietly.

“Still alive,” Blanc replied, eyes never leaving the man before him. “Now go.”

She nodded and ran.

Blanc exhaled slowly.

“Take off the hood.”

The man steadied himself on his sword, straightening, but remained silent.

“Why?” Blanc asked. “Why betray everything you believed in?”

No answer graced Blanc's ears.

“Were we not friends?” Blanc pressed. “Were we not meant to drink together soon?”

The man clenched his jaw beneath the hood. “The worms will drink your blood instead. And do not lecture me about my beliefs, friend.”

Blanc’s grip tightened.

“I was a fool to trust you, Ali.”

He lunged.

Ali parried and tore the hood from his creepy face.

“Since you know,” Ali grinned, his smile wide, “There’s no reason to hold back.”

Steel rang.

Strike; Deflect;

Thrust.

Evade.

Blanc overextended.

Ali moved.

A fist smashed into the side of Blanc’s head. Thud.

Darkness swallowed Blanc for a fraction of a second.

When he came to, the world spun violently. His Marks wouldn’t respond.

“BLANC!” Sera screamed from somewhere distant.

Ali was already advancing.

Blanc rolled aside just as the blade struck where his head had been moments before.

He clawed at the grass, forcing himself upright only for a kick to slam into his abdomen before he could.

“Agh!”

He hit the ground hard, breath torn from his lungs, bile threatening to leave him.

“You’re finished, my friend,” Ali said, licking his lips. “But I’ll give you the death you deserve.”

He stepped down on Blanc’s sword hand.

Pain flared.

The blade was kicked away.

Ali crouched over him.

A punch. Then another. Then another.

Blanc didn’t fight it. He knew he could not. Instead, he stared into Ali’s eyes.

And that only further angered Ali.

“Let’s end this,” Ali muttered, mouth opening unnaturally wide.

Blanc felt as though he were staring into the Silver Gardens’ Gap.

A deep, violent sight.

Drool spilled from Ali’s lips as he leaned closer, jaws poised to snap.

“Goodbye, Blanc.”

“HYAAAH!” A blade plunged into Ali’s shoulder from behind.

“Sister,” Blanc whispered, looking at who had just saved his life.

Sera stood above them, moonlight blazing behind her, her gray eyes locked onto his.


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