THE GENERAL'S DISGRACED HEIR

45  Chapter 45: THREE FINGERS

Orkler was a whirlwind of fury, his massive form charging at David like a runaway battering ram. His fist, the size of a melon, arced through the air, aimed squarely at David's jaw with bone-shattering intent. David, his cosmic eyes blazing with icy focus, inhaled a sharp breath. He couldn't meet this head-on – Orkler's raw power would turn him into a crumpled ragdoll.

But beneath the swirling vortex of his eyes, a predator's instinct bloomed. Years of honed combat honed his reflexes to a razor's edge. He saw the subtle tremor in Orkler's muscles, the almost imperceptible telegraph of the blow.

David gambled. With a split-second decision, David anticipated Orkler's jab before it could land. With the audacity of a hummingbird facing a bull, he struck with lethal force, driving his fist into Orkler's meaty bicep while simultaneously redirecting the Minotaur's forearm with the back of his other hand.

This was no mere block – it was the redirection of a juggernaut. The Minotaur, for a split second, stumbled, thrown off balance by the unexpected manoeuvre. His bellow of surprise echoed through the courtyard, a testament to the audacity of David's attack.

But Orkler was a creature of brute force, his rage a furnace stoked by the unexpected resistance. The imbalance was fleeting. With a thunderous roar that shook the very foundation of the manor, he unleashed another bone-crushing punch with his free hand. The very air crackled with raw power as it met David's counter, a clash of strength against technique. The impact echoed like a war drum, a prelude to the brutal symphony of combat that was about to unfold.

"Impossible!" Mace boomed, his voice dripping with disbelief as he witnessed David's unwavering defiance against Orkler's onslaught. The Minotaur's blows rained down, each one a thunderclap meant to shatter mountains, yet David remained miraculously untouched.

Stripe's voice, sharp and urgent, sliced through Mace's shock. "Wide-area magic, Mace! We need something to cover the whole battlefield!"

Seizing the opening, Stripe became a ghost amidst the carnage. A blur of focused movement, he circled the epicenter of destruction – David and Orkler locked in a ferocious dance of power. With a swift dive, he took to the air, his hawk-like gaze fixed on his target's exposed back. In one fluid motion, Stripe released his arrow. It whistled through the air, slicing towards David with deadly precision.

But David, his senses heightened by the Celestial Wheel, was a whirlwind within the storm. He felt the shift in the air, the whisper of death even amidst Orkler's bellowing rage. Utilizing the momentum from his last daring manoeuvre, David twisted with impossible speed. His leg whipped out, a steel trap aimed at the incoming projectile. With a resounding clang, the arrow met his foot, deflected by a powerful kick that sent it spinning harmlessly into the night.

The force of the spin propelled him into the air, a fleeting moment of defiance. where he effortlessly rotated before landing gracefully on the ground. His eyes, blazing with a newfound confidence, met Orkler's with a steely glint. The Minotaur, momentarily stunned by the audacity of the manoeuvre, bellowed in frustration. David, however, was far from done. His breath caught in a steady rhythm, his mind already calculating his next move – a predator toying with a confused beast, and the battle was far from over.

A strangled curse ripped from Stripe's throat. "What the actual Abyss?" Disbelief curdled in his gut with every passing moment. This spectacle defied everything he knew. And the most unsettling fact – David, the supposed mortal, the supposed mana-less anomaly, was holding his own. Was Stripe losing his mind?

Frustrated, Orkler roared in fury, "Die, insect!" He lunged at David, his fingers clumped together and his hands raised high, ready to deliver a devastating blow designed to avoid David's counters. But unbeknownst to the Minotaur, light motes had gathered in David's hands, coalescing into cold, silver twin blades.

With a movement as fluid as quicksilver, David rolled beneath the Minotaur's thunderous legs, his silver blades flashing with lethal intent as they raked across Orkler's calves. Stripe, his hawk-like gaze never leaving David, saw the flicker of opportunity and loosed an arrow. This time, David made no move to deflect it. The arrow found its mark, burying itself deep in his shoulder, a burst of black, shadowy energy erupting from his hand. David had played his move.

Ignoring the searing pain, David used his momentum to sweep Orkler's already injured leg, sending the Minotaur off balance with a surprised bellow. With breathtaking agility, David did the unthinkable – he scrambled onto the Minotaur's back, his silver blade glinting in the moonlight. A brutal swing found its mark, connecting with Orkler's skull with a sickening crack.

"Gotcha, rat!" Stripe crowed, a cruel smile twisting his features as he notched another arrow. But his triumph was short-lived. A jolt of pain shot through his chest, stealing the breath from his lungs. He looked down in disbelief to see a silver dagger embedded in his heart, surrounded by a swirling vortex of black shadows.

David, perched atop the groaning Minotaur, let out a chilling grin. Both Orkler and Stripe crumpled to the ground, defeated. With a cold, emotionless voice that sent shivers down Stripe's fading consciousness, David declared, "Checkmate." The game had changed, and the hunted, now stood as the victor.

Witnessing the gruesome tableau of Stripe and Orkler – his comrades of countless battles – crumple in a heap, Mace roared. Fury, hot and raw, coursed through him. Ignoring the exhaustion gnawing at his core, he channelled the last vestiges of his mana, fueling a desperate gamble. "Bones to dust, steel to bones, -Reminiai-!" he roared, the ancient words crackling with potent magic.

A crimson sigil flared to life above the courtyard, bathing the scene in an ominous glow. David, perched on the fallen Minotaur's back, felt a shiver crawl down his spine. A glance upwards revealed countless spears of crimson energy materializing within the pulsating circle. "This is bad," he muttered, the weight of the situation settling heavily upon him.

With a burst of adrenaline, David launched himself towards Mace, a dark vortex forming in his outstretched hand. His silver blade, reforged from the shadows he'd expelled earlier, materialized back in his grip with a soft hum. The shower of spears rained down, each one a harbinger of annihilation. David, fueled by the Celestial Wheel's guidance, weaved a mesmerizing dance of deflection, his movements a blur of precision. Blades clashed with spears, sparks erupting like miniature dying stars.

"You won't win, mortal!" Mace bellowed, his voice strained yet laced with a fanatical zeal. "Even if I have to drain every drop of my mana, I'll see you dead!" His eyes blazed crimson, mirroring the pulsating sigil above.

The battle was a whirlwind of chaotic beauty. David, though agile and resourceful, couldn't deflect every spear. But that, it seemed, wasn't his primary objective. Pushing his body to its limits, he surged forward, his form a blur against the crimson downpour. In a heart-stopping moment, he found himself mere inches from Mace, his dagger poised at the mage's throat. Yet, against all expectations, David stopped. The spear shower ceased abruptly, the crimson sigil flickering before fading into nothingness.

Mace, drained and defeated, slumped against a nearby wall. David, slashing the blood coating his blades with a chilling deliberation, turned towards the shadows. A hint of a smirk played on his lips as he spoke, his voice laced with a chilling calm, "Took you long enough."

Mace watched in horror as tendrils of pure shadow snaked towards him, slithering across the bloodstained ground like a dark tide. Panic clawed at his throat as the inky tendrils writhed and coiled, constricting around his limbs with an otherworldly strength. "What's happening?!" he shrieked, the raw terror in his voice echoing through the ravaged courtyard.

"Wh-what's this sorcery?!" he roared, his voice a desperate rasp.

A chilling chuckle echoed through the blood-stained courtyard. David, sat on a rock, and watched the scene unfold with a detached amusement. "Seems my loyal servant has finally graced us with her presence," he drawled, the words laced with a hint of dark humour.

Mace's panicked pleas, a desperate chorus of "Stop! Stop!" were swallowed by the night. The shadows, indifferent to his cries, surged forward in a final, horrifying display. They morphed, elongated into grotesque maws lined with razor-sharp teeth. With a sickening snap, the shadows clamped down on Mace, his life extinguished in a single, brutal bite.

David stood up, his movements fluid and predatory. "Luna," he addressed the now-vacant space, his voice laced with a hint of playful annoyance, "what took you so long for the grand finale?"

A swirling vortex of dark energy materialized in response, tendrils of shadow weaving and coalescing into a woman. Her form, a breathtaking blend of human and Fenrir , shimmered with an otherworldly grace. Moonlight seemed to cling to her pale fur-like skin, and her flowing silver hair whispered secrets on the night breeze. Her eyes, pools of liquid moonlight, held a power that both captivated and terrified any who gazed upon them. They were ancient and wise, yet they danced with a mischievous glint that mirrored David's own. Luna, the embodiment of Shadow's wolf and David's now most trusted companion, had arrived.

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