CHAPTER 552: THE CRY THAT REACHED HEAVEN

Damon’s body collapsed to the ground after receiving multiple strikes.

Brone’s ferocious attacks were so rapid and came from unpredictable sides that he couldn’t anticipate, leaving him sprawling on the snow.

The icy ground bit into his skin through the cracks in his armour. The air was thick with the smell of sweat, metal, and the sharp tang of blood.

The knight pushed himself up again, boots slipping slightly as he regained his footing.

It hadn’t been half an hour, yet the continuous, rapid assaults had already worn him down. His arm shook as he lifted his broken sword; blood dripped from a cut above his eye, streaming down his cheek.

His breath came out ragged, white mist rising and vanishing in the freezing air. His once-shining armour was dented and partly broken, and his shoulders shook as he gathered the last of his strength to stand against the Bargesian leader.

Brone stood a few steps away, his monstrous, blackened limb twitching and pulsing. His lips curled into a smirk as he watched the battered knight struggle to steady himself.

"Just as I thought," the Bargesian leader mocked, his voice dripping with derision. "Brute force is enough to bring down a weakling like you."

Damon wiped the blood from his lips with the back of his glove. Despite the tremor in his body, he raised his chin and glared at Brone.

"A knight of Gerhard... doesn’t fall that easily," he said in his shaken breath.

The Bargesian leader let out a short, cruel laugh.

"We’ll see about that!"

He lunged forward, his monstrous arm slicing through the air with a thunderous roar.

Damon blocked the attack with his sword, but the half-blade skidded aside, its edge screeching uselessly against Brone’s hardened skin before the knight was hurled backwards.

His boots carved deep tracks in the snow as he struggled to keep his stance, but the force was too much for him to endure.

’Thud!’

The knight’s back hit the ground hard, much harder than his previous fall, causing the stop rib of his back armour to snap and his pauldron to break.

Brone’s strength was overwhelming; the sheer impact sent pain shooting through Damon’s shoulder blade, spreading down his spine.

Before he could recover, the Bargesian leader was upon him again. A heavy blow landed across Damon’s side, slamming hard into his ribs. Something inside the knight had just cracked.

"Urgh!" Damon gasped, a strangled cry escaping his throat as blood spilt from his mouth.

"Sir McQuinn!" Anna cried out from the top of her lungs, struggling against Derek’s grip. Her tears fell freely, her voice filled with anguish. "Please, stop this! You’ll kill him!"

Helen whimpered beside her, on the ground.

"Sir McQuinn... Sir McQuinn!"

Her lips quivered as she called out the knight’s name with pain in her heart. Her eyes pleaded for mercy.

"Please! Let him go!" she begged as she held Derek’s feet.

The mage’s boot slammed into Helen’s small frame, sending her sprawling onto the snow as Anna screamed helplessly.

A thin smile twisted his lips, his eyes gleaming with dark excitement as he continued to grip the princess’s bound arms.

"How fascinating to see your precious knight crushed by the very power that came from you," he taunted. "And to think this is only the beginning... My, my! We have so much more to uncover once we draw out the rest of your blood."

Horror flashed in Anna’s eyes. Now she understood—this was why they had been so determined to capture her.

"No! If you do that... my child..." Anna’s voice broke, trembling with terror.

The mage slightly turned his head, his cruel smirk widening into a broader grin.

"Don’t worry," he said with chilling calm. "We’ll keep you alive while you continue to benefit us, and once your baby is born, that child, too, will serve as our feeder. We’ll make sure to use every drop to its fullest."

Anna’s blood ran cold. Her entire body went rigid as the words sank in.

"No... no, please..." Her voice fell into a whisper, hoarse with dread.

Every instinct screamed to fight, to protect the life within her, but without Kyren’s mana, Anna couldn’t summon even the faintest spark of her strength.

Her limbs felt hollow, and her courage drained to a sliver. With the grand duke so far away, only a miracle could save them now.

Brone kept raining blows on the fallen knight, driving cold snow and dirt into Damon’s hair and body along with the assaults.

Every impact felt like a hammer, pounding to the shoulders, ribs, side and all vulnerable parts, sapping the knight’s strength until his limbs twitched more than they moved.

Blood flecked the snow around him; his breath came ragged and shallow.

"Enough toying with the useless knight! Finish him off! We don’t have all day!" Derek barked, impatience sharp in his voice as he watched Brone flaunt his power.

Anna’s heart broke at the order.

"No!" she yelled, her voice raw from crying as she saw Damon about to be driven to death.

"Sir McQuin!!" Helen’s sobs broke through the wind, raw and helpless.

The knight ceased moving, his vision blurred. The world spun around him, but he refused to close his eyes. Despite the pain clouding his senses, he looked at Anna and Helen, seeing only their silhouettes, yet sensing their fear.

The pain of not being able to save them was worse than physical suffering, but he knew he was powerless. Brone’s dark force was beyond his control, despite all his combat training.

The Bargesian leader snarled at his companion, saying, "I’d love to see him suffer more under my fists, but watching him burn would be far more thrilling. I know you told me to use my power sparingly, but I’ve practised it before. The melody of those men’s screams was so intoxicating. Can’t I just quench the thirst?"

Derek huffed, used to Brone’s appetite for spectacle. The man’s hunger for power was insatiable and reckless. Going against him too much would ignite another unneeded altercation. Furthermore, the suggestion would be somewhat useful at this point.

Anna screamed, and a flat, hard slap cut the sound short. She fell to the ground, sliding into a sitting heap beside Helen; the two women curled toward each other, shoulders heaving as tears blurred the world into a smear of white and red.

"Go ahead. We want to erase all the trail for good, anyway," Brone said.

"Please, no! I’m begging you! Spare him!" Anna wailed, clawing at Derek’s pants.

Helen joined her, crying out, but the mage only kicked them both aside like dirt, irked by their futile attempts.

Unmoved by their pleas, Brone flexed his blackened arm. Dark energy crawled beneath his skin, and a pocket of heat swelled in his palm until a molten orb of fire hung there, humming with menace.

"Let’s end this farce for good," he smiled coldly.

Anna and Helen screamed Damon’s name at the same time while Derek watched with an expression that had long since bled all pity away.

Damon lay still as the world narrowed to a hiss and a roar. Hope in his chest had dimmed to a guttering ember. What was left was only resignation to faith.

’God, please help us!’

The fireball had grown large, poised to be unleashed. The knight shut his eyes, prepared to face the end. Death was insignificant compared to the burden of failing those who relied on him.

"Die, you imbecile!" Brone roared, about to fling his force.

Right at that moment...

’Zapp!’

"Argh!!" The Bargesian leader howled in agony as a white arrow, gleaming with divine light, tore through his monstrous limb.

For a heartbeat, everyone froze. Anna and Helen sat dumbfounded by the sudden, unseen strike, while Derek stared wide-eyed at the impossible sight before him. The arrow had pierced what was believed to be impenetrable.

On the ground, Damon stirred. His vision swam, breath ragged as cold air filled his lungs. He’d heard Brone’s roar, seen the flare of a fireball meant to end him with his hazy sight—but no pain followed, only the dull ache of his earlier wounds.

Was this what death felt like?

"F*ck!!" Brone snarled, gripping the arrow buried in his darkened flesh.

Black gore oozed from the wound as he strained, veins bulging with fury and pain. His teeth clenched as a guttural growl ripped from his throat.

Then, through the brief hush of horror that followed, came a distant thunder.

’Droop... Droop... Droop...’

Hoofbeats thrived through the winds.

From afar, dark silhouettes emerged through the pale winter haze. The rhythmic pounding grew louder, rolling across the frozen plain and echoing through the sleeping trees.

Snow burst beneath galloping hooves as the riders charged forth... unyielding and unstoppable.

Anna’s lips parted, her breath trembling with disbelief and relief. The help they had prayed for was finally here—the knights of Gerhard had arrived.

At the heart of the group’s formation was Callis, her silken silver hair flowing in the cold wind. The hem of her white mantle billowed like a banner of purity as she held a luminous white bow that shone with celestial light.

Helen’s tears welled and spilt freely at the sight. Their prayers—hers and the princess’s—had been answered. God had not forsaken them this day.