ARC FINALE: HARD WORK DOESNT ALWAYS PAY OFF.

[this chapter should be read with caution, its not for the faint of heart and I'm sorry, Even though Hadrian made workshops, developed muskets and done lots of things to improve the dukedom, hard work just does not always pay off.]

Hadrian froze as the sounds reached him—low, guttural grunts mixed with vile laughter and the unmistakable cries of his sisters. His heart stopped, the blood draining from his face as his mind processed the horrifying noise.

The orcs' voices were grotesquely jovial, their tones filled with mocking satisfaction. Words he couldn't fully make out were mixed with the sound of flesh slapping against flesh.

Then came the screams—high-pitched, desperate, and filled with agony.

Hadrian's knees buckled slightly, his hand shooting out to brace himself against the wall. His vision blurred as the weight of the sound crushed down on him. No. No, no, no.

It's them. It has to be them.

His breath came in ragged gasps, his grip on his sword faltering for the first time. The screams pierced through him like knives, each one twisting deeper. His mind raced with images he didn't want to believe—Sophia and Cassandra, helpless, crying out for a brother who wasn't there.

I should have been faster. I should have been stronger. They trusted me. They trusted me to protect them, and now...

The sound of an orc laughing snapped him back. His vision sharpened, the fire in his chest igniting into a rage that burned away the paralysis.

Hadrian straightened, his hands trembling as he tightened his grip on the hilt of his sword. He turned to his men, their faces pale and horrified.

"Stay close," he said, his voice low but shaking with fury. "Kill every single one of them."

The shattered remains of the double doors led into what had once been the grand hall of the keep, a room designed to inspire loyalty and awe. Now, it was desecrated—a grotesque mockery of its former glory. Torches burned unevenly on the walls, their light casting erratic shadows across the bloodstained stone.

Hadrian stepped inside, his boots crunching on shattered glass. His sword was drawn, his breath shallow as he scanned the room. The first thing he saw was his father, bound and gagged, slumped in the corner of the hall. Blood dripped from a deep gash on his temple, his eyes glassy and filled with impotent rage.

Then Hadrian's gaze fell on the center of the room, and the world seemed to stop.

Sophia and Cassandra lay sprawled on the ground, their dresses torn and soaked in blood. Two hulking orcs loomed over them, their crude hands gripping the girls' fragile frames as they violated them without mercy. The orcs' guttural grunts of pleasure and the sickening slap of flesh against flesh filled the room, a grotesque rhythm that made Hadrian's stomach churn.

Sophia's face was pale, her blue eyes wide with terror as she weakly raised a hand toward Hadrian. Blood dripped from her lips as she tried to speak, but no words came—only a ragged, desperate gasp.

Cassandra's small body twitched with every movement of the creature above her. Her golden hair, once so full of life, was matted with blood. Her sobs were faint, almost inaudible, as her strength ebbed away.

Hadrian froze, his sword trembling in his grip. His breath hitched as the scene before him burned itself into his mind, each detail searing like fire.

This can't be real. This isn't real.

His chest tightened, the air leaving his lungs in a strangled gasp. The screams he had heard on the way up, the cries for help he hadn't reached in time—they were his sisters. His family.

"I... I should have..." His voice cracked, the words choking in his throat. The weight of his failure crashed down on him, threatening to crush him entirely.

Then one of the orcs laughed—a deep, mocking sound that shattered the paralysis gripping Hadrian.

His vision blurred, red flooding the edges of his sight. His pulse roared in his ears, drowning out everything but the sound of his own ragged breathing. His grip on the sword tightened until his knuckles went white.

With a scream that tore through the air like a storm, Hadrian raised his musket and fired.

The shot cracked across the hall, the bullet slamming into the head of the orc over Sophia. The creature's skull exploded in a spray of blood and bone, its massive body crumpling to the ground.

The second orc turned, its grotesque face twisted in surprise, but Hadrian was already on it.

He drove his sword into its side, the blade sinking deep into the creature's ribs. The orc roared in pain, staggering backward, but Hadrian didn't stop. He ripped the blade free and lunged again, this time striking its shoulder.

The orc fell to one knee, and Hadrian dropped his sword, his fists clenching. He lunged forward, grabbing the orc by its filthy hair, and slammed its head into the bloodstained floor.

"Bastard!" Hadrian roared, his voice raw with fury. He slammed the orc's head again, the sickening crunch of bone reverberating through the hall. "You think you can touch them?!"

His fists rained down on the orc's face, each blow fueled by rage and grief. The creature's snarls turned to gurgles as its skull caved under the relentless assault. Blood splattered across Hadrian's arms and face, but he didn't stop.

Even after the orc's body went limp, Hadrian continued to strike, his hands bruised and bloodied.

"Hadrian," one of his men called softly, his voice shaking. "Sir... it's done."

But Hadrian didn't hear him. He knelt over the orc's lifeless body, his chest heaving as his bloodied hands hung at his sides.

A faint, choking sound pulled Hadrian back. He turned sharply to see Sophia reaching for him, her bloodied hand trembling as it hovered in the air.

Hadrian scrambled to her side, his hands shaking as he cradled her head. "Sophia, I'm here," he said, his voice breaking. "I'm here. You're safe now."

Her lips moved, but no sound came. Her pale blue eyes locked onto his for a brief moment before the light in them flickered and faded.

"No," Hadrian whispered, his voice trembling. "No, no, no! Don't leave me!"

Behind him, Cassandra let out a weak whimper. Hadrian turned, crawling to her side. Her golden curls were matted with blood, her breathing shallow and uneven.

"Cassandra," Hadrian choked out, his hands trembling as he brushed the hair from her face. "Stay with me. Please. I'll fix this. I'll make this right."

Her lips twitched in a faint smile, and she mouthed something—too soft for him to hear. Then her body went still.

Hadrian's breath came in short gasps as he knelt between his sisters' lifeless bodies. Tears streamed down his bloodied face, mixing with the gore on his skin.

A sharp, guttural laugh snapped him back to reality. He turned sharply to see the orc leader standing over his father, a massive blade resting against the Duke's neck.

"You're too late," the orc sneered. With a single, brutal motion, the blade sliced through the Duke's throat, severing his head.

Hadrian screamed, the sound raw and primal as it echoed through the desecrated hall.

Hadrian knelt in the blood-soaked ruins of the throne room, his sisters' lifeless bodies sprawled on the ground beside him. The room swirled in chaos—firelight flickering against the walls, smoke curling through the air, and the guttural laughter of the orc leader echoing like a death knell.

The orc stood tall and defiant, his massive blade slick with the blood of Hadrian's father. The Duke's severed head rolled to the ground, his eyes still open in an expression of rage and grief. The orc grinned, his tusks gleaming as he pointed his blade at Hadrian.

"You fought well, little human," the orc said, his voice a deep, mocking rumble. "But you failed. Your family is dead. Your city will fall. And you... you'll die on your knees, just like them."

Hadrian's chest heaved as he stared at the orc, his vision blurring with tears and rage. His breath came in short, ragged gasps, the world narrowing until all that remained was the creature in front of him.

Something deep within him stirred—a spark that ignited into a roaring inferno. The system flared to life in his mind, the words flashing before his eyes like a command from the divine.

Spell Activated: Orc Physicality (Level 1)Mana Cost: 10Effect: Physical strength and durability enhanced to rival an orc for 1 minute.

A surge of raw power coursed through Hadrian's veins, electrifying every muscle and nerve. His limbs felt lighter, his vision sharpened, and his mind focused with an intensity he had never known. He rose slowly, his bloodied hands clenching into fists as he stared down the orc leader.

The orc's grin faltered slightly as Hadrian took a step forward, the air around him seeming to hum with energy.

The orc roared and charged, his massive blade arcing through the air in a brutal swing meant to cleave Hadrian in two. But Hadrian moved with inhuman speed, sidestepping the strike effortlessly. The blade slammed into the floor, cracking the stone, but Hadrian was already closing the distance.

Before the orc could recover, Hadrian's fist connected with his jaw, the force of the blow sending the creature stumbling back. The sound of bone cracking echoed through the hall as the orc snarled in pain.

"You think you're strong?" Hadrian hissed, his voice low and seething. "You don't know strength."

The orc swung again, but Hadrian caught the blade with his enhanced strength, his fingers gripping the metal as if it were nothing. With a roar, he wrenched the weapon free from the orc's grasp and tossed it aside, the heavy blade clattering uselessly to the ground.

The orc lunged with his fists, but Hadrian's movements were faster—almost a blur. He ducked beneath the swing and drove his elbow into the creature's ribs, the impact sending the orc staggering.

Hadrian didn't stop. He slammed his knee into the orc's stomach, doubling the creature over, and then brought his fists down onto its back, forcing it to the ground.

The orc tried to rise, but Hadrian grabbed him by the back of the neck and drove his face into the blood-soaked floor. Again. And again. The sickening crunch of bone filled the air as blood splattered across the room.

"This is for my sisters!" Hadrian roared, his voice shaking with rage as he slammed the orc's head down once more.

The orc gurgled, his body twitching weakly, but Hadrian didn't stop. He lifted the creature with both hands, throwing him against the wall with enough force to crack the stone.

"This is for my father!" Hadrian bellowed, charging forward and driving his fist into the orc's face. The creature's tusks snapped, fragments scattering across the floor as its head snapped back.

The orc slumped to the ground, blood pouring from his shattered face. His once-defiant eyes were now filled with fear as he tried to crawl away.

Hadrian grabbed the orc by the throat, lifting him effortlessly. His bloodied face was inches from the orc's as he growled, "And this is for every soul you've taken."

With a final, brutal motion, Hadrian drove his sword through the orc's chest, twisting the blade as the creature let out one last, guttural cry.

The orc's lifeless body crumpled to the ground, and Hadrian stood over it, his chest heaving. His fists were bruised and bloodied, his body trembling from the effort, but the fire in his eyes had not dimmed.

He turned to his men, who stood frozen in place, their faces pale with a mixture of awe and horror. No one spoke as Hadrian's breathing slowed, the weight of what had happened settling over the room.

Hadrian dropped to his knees beside his sisters, his trembling hands brushing their lifeless faces. Tears streamed down his bloodied cheeks as he whispered, "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

The room was silent save for the crackle of fire and the quiet sobs of a broken brother.

The throne room was still, the air heavy with smoke and the acrid stench of blood. The fires that had raged against the walls flickered weakly now, casting faint shadows over the carnage. The bodies of orcs lay in grotesque heaps, their blood pooling on the cracked stone floor.

Hadrian stood at the center of it all, his chest heaving, his sword hanging loosely in his hand. His men lingered at the edges of the room, their faces pale and streaked with grime. They didn't speak. They didn't dare.

"Go," Hadrian said, his voice hoarse and barely above a whisper.

The soldiers hesitated, exchanging uneasy glances.

Hadrian raised his head slightly, his gaze sharp despite the exhaustion weighing on him. "I said, go!"

The men jerked into motion, gathering their weapons and filing out of the throne room. None of them met Hadrian's eyes as they passed. Their steps echoed against the stone, fading into silence as they disappeared down the corridor.

The silence pressed down on Hadrian like a physical weight. He let his sword slip from his grasp, the blade clattering to the ground. His legs buckled, and he dropped to his knees beside his sisters.

Sophia and Cassandra lay close together, their small bodies battered and broken. Blood matted their golden hair, and their pale faces were streaked with tears and anguish.

Hadrian's trembling hands reached out, brushing the bloodied strands from Sophia's face. "I'm sorry," he whispered, his voice breaking. "I'm so sorry."

His hands curled into fists, slamming against the stone. "I should have been here. I should have saved you. You deserved better—so much better."

His gaze shifted to his father's severed head, discarded like refuse in the corner of the room. A fresh wave of anguish tore through him, and a choked sob escaped his lips.

Hadrian rose unsteadily to his feet, the room spinning around him. His vision blurred, and his breath came in short, ragged bursts as he stumbled toward the far corner of the throne room.

His hand found the hilt of a fallen orc's blade, its crude edge still slick with blood. He gripped it tightly, his knuckles white as he lifted it toward his chest. The tip pressed against his skin, the sharp edge biting into his flesh.

For a moment, the world fell silent. The screams, the blood, the guilt—they all faded, leaving only the quiet promise of an end.

But then his gaze fell on his sisters. Sophia's delicate face, Cassandra's faint smile frozen in death. They had died so close to one another, as if seeking comfort even in their final moments.

Hadrian's grip faltered, the blade falling from his hand and clattering to the floor. His legs gave out beneath him, and he crawled back toward them, his movements slow and labored.

He curled himself beside their lifeless forms, his body trembling as he whispered into the silence. "I'm sorry," he murmured, his voice barely audible. "I'm so sorry."

The fires dimmed further, the room growing darker. Hadrian's tears eventually slowed, his body too drained to do anything but lie there. His breathing steadied as sleep overtook him, his mind shutting down under the weight of his despair.

The throne room was silent now, save for the faint crackle of dying flames and the quiet breaths of a broken boy, cradled in the ruins of everything he had fought to protect.