Chapter 65: A Knight's Oath

Chapter 65: A Knight's Oath

Darius's gauntlet blocked the tip of the burning rapier. His muscles strained, driven backward as mini explosions erupted from his hand, each burst sending ripples of force through his arm. Tilling the ground beneath his boots, his stance barely held against the relentless pressure driving him back.

"Where'd you get that armor?!" Thrusting his arm forward, the tip of Marcus's sword flicked, catapulting Darius off his feet. 

 His body twisted midair, grappling with the force as he landed, struggling to maintain his footing. Darius's mind reeled—Marcus was both stronger and faster!

As he regained his balance, he saw Marcus thrust again. The distance seemed deceptive, but Darius was prepared. "Mystic Water Mirror!" 

 The rapier's blade seemed to slow, then suddenly exploded into a flurry of phantom strikes, hurtling towards Darius at breakneck speed.

 A massive water mirror materialized in front of Darius. The surface shimmered like glass, catching the rapid stabs and reflecting them back. 

Marcus's eyes widened in shock, "water mana?" Despite his surprise, his reflexes remained sharp. With a sharp motion, he swept his rapier in wide arcs, effortlessly deflecting the rebounded strikes.

"You can wield two elements." Marcus's voice mixed astonishment with a growing curiosity. "Now I have to know, who are you? Are you just going to remain silent until I kill you?"

 Darius took a deep breath to center himself, his mind spinning with strategies as he spoke, aiming to buy time. "This no longer seems to be about your son. Why are you so intent on killing me?"

 Marcus dropped into a low crouch, positioning his rapier defensively. "Whether you answer or not doesn't truly matter. You chose the wrong city thief. You should have stayed in the south."

'The south?! Does he really recognize this armor?' Darius's focus wavered, grappling with the implications.

Marcus, seizing the moment, blurred forward in a fiery rush that closed the distance in a heartbeat. His blade, a streak of flame, thrust toward Darius's throat. His instincts sharp, he leaned back and lashed out with a kick aimed at Marcus's chin, only to meet the solid block of the sword's hilt.

The battlefield became a blur of motion and light. Marcus unleashed a barrage of flame-tinged strikes, each blow more ferocious than the last. Darius, dancing back with his Ethereal Steps, countered the fiery onslaught with the fluidity of water. His Mystic Water Mirror shimmered into existence, a floating shield that reflected the fiery rapier's stabs, its surface rippling with each contact.

Across from him, Marcus's eyes narrowed, a mix of suspicion and grudging respect forming as he fought. The man before him moved with a prowess that did not reflect his apparent tier; no mere Tier 3 knight should possess such speed and strength.

 His attacks slowly shifted, from lethal strikes to more probing, testing maneuvers, as if trying to unravel the mystery of his opponent.

As the battle wore on, a dance of fire and water, Sir Marcus Kinneman pushed Darius to the limits of his current abilities. 

As he deflected another stab with the palm of his gauntlet, readying to deploy his Breath of the Frost Serpent, Marcus's voice cut through the battle, its tone suspicious. "Are you, Darius?"

 The question pierced his concentration, jolting him momentarily. In that brief lapse, Marcus blinked forward, his figure a blur and stomped his blazing sabaton into the ground, the earth exploding under the impact. "Dodge this."

As the ground exploded before Darius, rocks and debris shot up like missiles. "Shit!" Weaving frantically to dodge. Debris battered him relentlessly, each hit shredding his illusion. With a final harsh strike, the guise of elderly Xue Feng vanished, revealing Darius's true, youthful appearance, his eyes fierce and undaunted as he faced Marcus through the settling dust.

 Darius steadied himself, his mind whirling with multiple scenarios, as he secretly channeled lightning mana, priming his Echoing Thunder Palm. 

 Catching sight of Darius's true form, Marcus suddenly erupted into loud, uncontrollable laughter. His helmet dissolved in a blaze, revealing a face creased with joy and the beginning of tears. "The Valdenes are still alive," he said, almost to himself as he continued to laugh.

 Caught off guard yet still defensive, Darius intensified his concentration on his mana. As Marcus's laughter began to fade, Darius demanded, "How did you know?"

 Marcus released his rapier in a wisp of flames, his breath ragged as he struggled to contain his emotions. "Your armor... and that brooch. That's the Brooch of the Star-Baron."

 Darius's pulse quickened, his confusion mounting with each passing second. "Just because I possess the brooch doesn't prove anything. Who are you, really?" His hand remained poised, charged with lightning mana, ready to strike without warning.

 Marcus's chuckle emerged deeply from beneath his thick mustache, a knowing smile playing on his lips. "I'm quite familiar with that item. A primordial artifact belonging to the Valdenes, it's capabilities and limitations are well-known to me." His smile slowly faded, replaced by a somber tone. "And I'm aware of what befell your family."

 Darius's killing intent surged, his gaze darkening, "Choose your next words carefully."

 Feeling the oppressive aura, Marcus instinctively took a step back, 'For this young man to emit such a murderous aura... How much has he endured?' 

Sadness and pity colored his gaze as he faced Darius. "I initially thought you were just a thief who had plundered the Valdenes after their demise. That armor alone was enough to suspect as much. But seeing the brooch, it became clear there was a deeper connection, although I still believed you to be a thief. But then..."

Marcus paused, his expression shifting as if tuning into a distant sound. After a brief silence, "One moment." Before Darius could respond, Marcus's aura flared, focusing into his feet, and in an instant, he vanished.

 Shock flashed across Darius's face, quickly followed by a flicker of indignation. 'He was holding back? How fast is he?!' The realization that Marcus could have ended him at any moment stung his pride. Caught in a surge of frustration fueled by his own limitations, Darius canceled his Echoing Thunder Palm.

'I'm still too weak!'

Darius's thoughts were suddenly interrupted by a distant, horrified scream. Just then, a fireball in the distance shot into the sky. As Darius watched it, he slowly realized the comet was heading his way as the blazing fire slowly expanded. With a thunderous crash, it landed before him, revealing a smiling Marcus. "An uninvited guest, and more are on their way. I suggest we continue this conversation at my residence."

Touching his brooch, Darius shifted back into the guise of Xue Feng. "I'm sorry, but I don't know you, and I don't trust you. So if you're no longer interested in fighting, I will be leaving. Do not follow me." His words were firm as he turned to leave.

Behind him, Marcus watched Darius's retreating figure with a mix of frustration and eventually, resolve. 

As Darius was walking away, a sudden, inexplicable heaviness settled over him, halting his steps.

Marcus's brow furrowed deeply, the knight slamming his fist against his chest. "I swear a Blood Oath! I will do everything in my power to ensure no harm shall befall Darius Valdene while under my care, and all words spoken shall be truth!" 

Kinneman's words echoed, carrying a strange duality, as if another voice were layered beneath his own.

Darius's mind suddenly recalled some of the ancient tomes he had once studied. Blood Oaths, as he rememebered, were a powerful legacy of the mages. When they eventually created the Manaforged Knights System to win the war, a safeguard was embedded within: the Blood Oath.

These oaths were a form of soul magic, potent and irreversible, designed to ensure absolute fidelity to one's word. Once sworn, if ever broken, the knight who made the oath would suffer an instant and fatal consequence. This dire penalty was the mages' way of ensuring that no knight could ever turn against them as they had turned against the old kings and queens.

 The catch, however, was that such an oath could only be initiated by the knight's free will. This was the small concession made to those who wielded such immense power: the choice to bind themselves to their word, at the cost of their life should they falter.

Turning to face the fire knight, Darius squinted, weighing the situation before finally shaking his head. "I suppose, unless you have a death-wish, I have no reason not to follow. Lead the way."

"Excellent!" Marcus said, his voice carrying a jovial note. "If we encounter anyone along the way, leave the talking to me. People are used to it anyway!" With a hearty laugh, he surged ahead, quickly gaining distance.

Darius hesitated only a moment before hastening after him, his movements swift yet strained. A twinge of wounded pride nagging at him—Marcus was clearly moderating his speed, allowing Darius to keep pace.

Noticing a sudden shift in Kinneman's speed, he easily caught up, "Why are you slowing down?"

Marcus glanced back with a knowing smirk. "Remember, you're supposed to be a iron knight," he reminded, his tone light yet pointed. "Knights of that level aren't exactly known for their speed, and our guests are nearing."

Darius activated his Arcane Gaze, the power sharply extending his view. Far in the distance, he spotted three distinct auras converging toward them. His vision contracted back to normal as he kept pace with Kinneman. "Should we greet them?"

"No, they're just being nosy. No one from Floeur d'Alene would dare openly offend, much less attack me. Well... openly," Kinneman chuckled, his pace quickening. "Just ignore them and try to keep your speed down."

Feeling a little embarrassed, He slowed, letting Marcus pull ahead, adjusting his pace to better fit his disguise.

Darius and Marcus continued their journey back to the city. As they neared the outskirts, Marcus sent a clear message to their pursuers. He amplified his aura, blending it with a hint of his own threatening edge, which was enough to send the inquisitive onlookers retreating.

Once the unwanted guests vanished, they entered the city, effortlessly leaping from rooftop to rooftop. They navigated the skyline towards a large, medieval-style mansion situated near the city's core. The mansion stood out with its imposing stone architecture and high, battlemented roofs, encapsulating the essence of knightly grandeur without excessive decoration.

Upon their arrival, they were met by a few servants and Marcus's son. The young knight, upon seeing Darius, instantly paled, his anxiety palpable. He stuttered a few nervous questions about Darius, his voice tinged with a mix of fear and confusion. Marcus quickly intervened, offering vague reassurances to his son, which seemed to only partially ease the young man's distress.

With the brief and awkward greeting behind them, Marcus led Darius through the mansion, eventually arriving in front of a grand set of large oak doors. "Usually, I don't entertain guests in my private study, but I think it might help with some of your questions."

Confused but intrigued, Darius followed him into the room. The study was exactly what one would expect in the home of a knightly lord, lined with shelves of books, artifacts of war, and symbols of knighthood with a blazing fireplace along the wall. However, as Darius scanned the room, his gaze locked onto a painting. 

It was a large portrait of two men. One, he did not recognize, had blonde hair and striking, handsome features. The other was unmistakably familiar—a figure he saw almost daily within the portraits of his ancestral home. It was Warwick Valdene. Not only was the resemblance uncanny, but the chestplate worn by Warwick in the painting was the same as the one Darius was currently wearing.

 "Why do you have a painting of my ancestor here?" Darius asked, his eyes fixed on the portrait.

"That's my grandfather standing next to Warwick," Kinneman replied, walking toward a chair by the fireplace and gesturing to the seat across from him. "You should sit down, Darius. We have much to discuss." He settled into the chair, his expression turning serious. "But first, tell me, what happened to your father? What occurred four years ago?"

 Darius felt a pang in his chest at the mention of Jarek. Closing his eyes briefly, he exhaled slowly and walked over to the chair opposite Marcus. As he sat down, his gaze drifted to the dancing flames in the fireplace. "I made a lot of bad decisions that got them killed," Darius confessed, his voice low, heavy with regret and pain.