《The lone crusader》


 Chapter 1: Trauma

    Leon Rosemary: The Crusader''s Burden


    <h2>Chapter 1: Trauma</h2>


    The tavern in Rome was alive with chatter and laughter, but for Leon Rosemary, the cacophony might as well have been silence. The nineteen-year-old crusader sat alone at a corner table, his slender frame hunched over a cup of red wine that he''d barely touched. At 5''9" with a lean build of 150 pounds, he appeared ordinary enough¡ªbrown hair slightly overgrown from his time in the field, green eyes that once sparkled with youth now dimmed by experiences no adolescent should endure.


    Three years had passed since the Second Crusade. The year 1150 marked what should have been a new beginning, but for Leon, time had frozen on the battlefield.


    He stared into the crimson liquid, watching it swirl gently as he rotated the cup. The color was too familiar, too reminiscent of¡ª


    Blink.


    His hands were covered in blood.


    Blink.


    The tavern disappeared. The wooden table beneath his fingers transformed into scorched earth. The ambient chatter morphed into desperate screams and war cries. The Siege of Damascus surrounded him once more.


    A Seljuk warrior charged past, scimitar raised high. Before Leon could shout a warning, the blade connected with a fellow crusader''s neck. The separation was clean¡ªalmost artistic in its efficiency. Leon watched in horror as his comrade''s head slid from its perch atop broad shoulders, eyes still blinking in confusion as it tumbled to the ground. The body remained standing for two more heartbeats before collapsing in a heap of twitching limbs and spurting arteries.


    The air thickened with the metallic stench of blood and the acrid bite of fear. More Seljuk warriors converged, their blades catching the merciless desert sun. Another crusader fell, his intestines spilling forth like glistening gray-blue serpents as a curved blade opened his abdomen from navel to sternum. The man desperately tried to hold his innards in place, his scream a guttural, primal thing.


    Something changed in Leon. A familiar sensation¡ªpower surging through his veins like liquid fire. His vision sharpened, the edges of the world becoming crystal clear. Sounds separated and clarified. Time seemed to slow.


    His hand moved to the hilt of his longsword, drawing it with a whisper of steel on leather. The weight felt right. Natural. An extension of his arm.


    "Ignite," he whispered, lunging forward and driving the blade deep into a Seljuk warrior''s chest.


    The effect was instantaneous. The man''s eyes widened in shock before his entire torso exploded outward in a shower of gore and flame. Ribs became shrapnel, puncturing his comrades who stood too close. Organs vaporized. Blood sprayed in a fine, hot mist that covered Leon''s face and armor.


    Leon smiled, a terrible thing devoid of joy¡ªonly savage satisfaction as the screams reached his ears.


    He pirouetted through the carnage, each swing of his sword ending in another explosion of viscera and bone. A head detonated like overripe fruit. A torso caved inward before blasting outward. Limbs separated and burned simultaneously.


    "Ignite!"


    "IGNITE!"


    His voice grew louder with each kill, each blast of magic through his blessed blade, until¡ª


    Blink.


    "¡ªeon? Leon? You alright? You''ve been staring into that cup of wine for almost ten minutes now."


    Sarah''s voice cut through the memory like a knife through silk. Leon jerked upright, nearly spilling the untouched wine. Sarah stood before him, hands on her hips, her expression a mixture of concern and exasperation. As leader of their adventuring guild, she''d developed a maternal instinct toward all her members¡ªparticularly Leon, whose thousand-yard stare had become increasingly common.


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    "O-oh yeah, I''m fine," Leon murmured, his voice hoarse as if he''d been screaming. "Just daydreaming, that''s all."


    "Daydreaming, huh?" A tall, lanky figure draped himself over the chair opposite Leon. Kennedy, the guild''s mage, ran a hand through his perpetually disheveled hair and grinned lazily. "Must''ve been some dream to keep you that entranced. Was she pretty at least?"


    His attempt at levity fell flat as Leon''s expression remained distant.


    "Kennedy, you absolute buffoon!" A sharp voice cut through the awkward silence. Queen, the defender of their party, stood behind Kennedy with her arms crossed over her ornate breastplate. Despite her diminutive stature, she commanded attention with her regal bearing and razor-sharp tongue. "Can''t you see he''s troubled? Not everything is about your base fantasies."


    Kennedy raised his hands in surrender. "Just trying to lighten the mood, Your Highness."


    "Well, try harder." Queen flipped one of her golden ringlets over her shoulder before taking a seat beside Leon. Though her words were harsh, she slid a fresh cup of water toward him with surprising gentleness.


    "Is it... is it the war again?" A younger, hesitant voice joined their circle as Adriana approached the table. Unlike the others, her armor was simpler¡ªthe standard issue of a knight-in-training. Her posture mimicked the perfect stance taught in the academy, though occasionally she would shift unconsciously, still growing accustomed to the weight of steel upon her frame. She looked at Leon with a mixture of awe and concern. "I''ve read about the Siege of Damascus in my studies, but the texts never... they never really tell what it was truly like."


    Leon glanced up at the young knight-in-training. There was something refreshing about her earnestness¡ªher eyes hadn''t yet seen the horrors his had. Part of him wanted to shield her from ever knowing, while another part knew that ignorance was its own danger.


    "The texts can''t capture it," he said simply. "And pray you never have to find out firsthand."


    Adriana nodded solemnly, taking the seat on his other side with the careful precision of someone still mindful of every movement. "My instructors say that understanding the past makes for better knights of the future. That''s why I joined this guild instead of staying in the academy¡ªto learn from experienced warriors like you."


    "Experienced is one word for it," Leon muttered.


    "Damaged is another," Kennedy chimed in with unusual seriousness. "No offense, Leon."


    "None taken."


    Leon looked up at his comrades¡ªthese people who had become his family after the war. After joining the adventurer''s guild, he''d found purpose in their simpler missions: clearing goblin caves, slaying troublesome slimes, protecting merchants from bandits. B-rank missions or lower, nothing that would trigger the darkness inside him.


    "It''s fine," he insisted, though the slight tremor in his hands betrayed him. "The past is the past."


    "But it shapes who we become," Adriana said, her tone containing the rehearsed quality of someone quoting a mentor. Then, more naturally: "At least, that''s what Master Reinhardt always tells us at the academy."


    "Oh, spare us the knightly platitudes," Queen rolled her eyes, though her concern was evident beneath the prickly exterior. "What he needs is action, not philosophy. When is our next mission, Sarah? Something to keep his mind occupied."


    Sarah consulted a small parchment she pulled from her pouch. "There''s a request to investigate strange noises from an abandoned mine north of here. Could be nothing, could be something. B-rank at most."


    "Perfect!" Kennedy stretched his long limbs. "Just dangerous enough to be interesting, but not enough to get us killed. I''ve been working on a new frost spell I''m dying to try out."


    "You''ll get us all frozen if your control is anything like last time," Queen scoffed.


    "That was ONE time¡ª"


    "Enough, you two," Sarah interrupted before their bickering could escalate. She turned to Leon. "What do you say? Up for some monster hunting tomorrow?"


    "Will it be... very dangerous?" Adriana asked, excitement and nervousness warring in her voice. "My instructors said I should observe more before engaging, but I''ve been practicing with the sword every morning and¡ª"


    "You''ll be fine, rookie," Kennedy patted her shoulder. "Stick close to Leon. He''s got enough combat experience for all of us."


    Leon looked around at his companions: Kennedy''s easygoing smile, Queen''s impatient but caring scowl, Adriana''s eager and untested enthusiasm, and Sarah''s leadership that held them all together. For a moment, the weight on his shoulders felt lighter.


    "Yeah," he managed a small smile that didn''t quite reach his eyes. "I could use the distraction."


    He raised the wine to his lips and drank deeply, hoping the alcohol would dull the edges of his memories. The real battle wasn''t against goblins or slimes¡ªit was against the demons in his mind, the trauma etched into his soul from the bloodiest war humanity had ever faced.


    Leon found himself grateful for the noise as the tavern grew louder with the evening crowd. It was harder for ghosts to whisper when the living spoke so loudly.


    After a few drinks they decided to head out for there mission a cave has had strange noises coming out of it

 Chapter 2: The Road of Blood

    The party made their way out of the tavern, the cool evening air a welcome respite from the stuffiness inside. Leon''s mind had settled somewhat, though the occasional phantom scent of blood would drift through his nostrils, reminding him that peace was always temporary.


    "The cave is just beyond that ridge," Sarah pointed toward the darkening horizon. "Should be an hour''s march at most."


    Queen adjusted her shield, the polished metal catching the last rays of sunlight. "I still say this is beneath our abilities. Investigating strange noises? We''re adventurers, not curious children."


    "A job is a job," Kennedy replied, twirling his staff idly. "Besides, easy coin means easy living."


    The forest path narrowed as they ventured deeper, trees crowding closer on either side. Leon found himself scanning the shadows between trunks, old habits refusing to die. In the war, ambushes came from the stillest places. The most silent corners.


    The cave entrance yawned before them like a wound in the earth¡ªdark, jagged, and damp with unseen moisture. Sarah raised her torch, casting flickering light across the stone.


    "Stay alert," she whispered. "Those ''strange noises'' could be anything from bats to a bear."


    They entered the cavern in formation¡ªQueen at the front with her shield raised, Sarah and Leon flanking, Kennedy providing magical light from behind, and Adriana observing their tactics with studious attention. The young knight''s hand hovered constantly over her sword hilt, eager to prove herself.


    They hadn''t ventured far when the scuffling sounds became apparent. Small, numerous feet shifting against stone. The unmistakable guttural chattering of goblin speech.


    "Goblins ahead," Leon warned, his voice a practiced whisper. "I count... seven, maybe eight."


    Sarah nodded. "Standard approach. Queen draws attention, Kennedy provides support, Leon and I flank. Adriana¡ª"


    "Watch and learn," the young knight finished, poorly concealing her disappointment.


    The skirmish erupted with Queen''s battle cry as she charged forward, shield becoming a battering ram that sent two goblins sprawling. Kennedy''s fingers traced glowing sigils in the air, summoning a barrage of purple energy bolts that struck with precision.


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    Leon moved with practiced efficiency, his blade finding the gap between a goblin''s crude armor plates. The creature''s squeal died as quickly as it began. Another lunged at him with a rusted dagger, which Leon parried before severing the creature''s arm at the elbow. Dark blood spurted across the cave floor as the goblin howled, clutching its stump. Leon ended its suffering with a swift thrust through its throat.


    Within minutes, the skirmish concluded. Eight goblin corpses littered the cavern floor, their blood forming small, dark pools on the stone.


    "That was so easy," Queen complained, wiping her blade clean. "Barely worth the effort."


    Kennedy knelt, cutting an ear from each corpse with methodical precision. "Easy or not, these fetch a silver piece each at the adventurer''s guild. Proof of extermination."


    "Don''t get ahead of yourself, Queen," Kennedy added, securing the grisly trophies in a leather pouch. "You''re such a brat."


    "At least I did something," Queen retorted, glancing pointedly at Adriana, who stood at the edge of the carnage, her sword still clean. "Unlike our observer."


    Adriana''s cheeks flushed with embarrassment. "I was... assessing the situation."


    "Yeah, that was so easy!" she added with forced enthusiasm, trying to mask her discomfort at being singled out.


    "Pfft, like you did anything," Queen scoffed. "All you did was sit back and watch."


    Kennedy''s eyes narrowed. "Says the defender. All you do is defend."


    "That''s literally my job, you magical scarecrow!"


    "Calm down, both of you," Sarah interjected, her voice firm but weary. "They were just goblins. Save your energy for real threats."


    The group exited the cave, the mission completed with minimal effort. The forest had grown darker during their time underground, the path now illuminated solely by their torches and Kennedy''s magical light.


    "We need to get back and claim the quest before night falls," Sarah announced, quickening her pace. "The guild master hates processing payments after hours."


    They followed the winding dirt road back toward town, bickering good-naturedly about who had displayed the most skill during the brief encounter. Leon remained quiet, content to let the familiar voices wash over him. Simple missions like these were a balm¡ªjust dangerous enough to require focus, but not enough to awaken what slumbered within him.


    The road curved sharply around a dense copse of trees. As they rounded the bend, shadows detached themselves from the greater darkness. Six figures materialized across the path, blocking their way.


    "Hand us your money!" The first bandit bellowed, brandishing a rusted sword.


    "Yeah, give us everything you have," another added, stepping forward with a crude club studded with metal spikes.


    The bandits wore dark clothing, their faces obscured by black turbans and masks that left only their eyes visible. Their weapons gleamed dully in the torchlight¡ªa mismatched collection of blades and cudgels, likely stolen from previous victims.


    Leon froze. The black turbans. The foreign eyes peering through cloth masks. The world around him began to blur at the edges.


    No. Not here. Not now.


    But it was too late. The dam had broken.

 Chapter 2.5: Liams Blood

    <h2>Chapter 2.5: Liam''s Blood</h2>


    Liam and Leon had been inseparable since age four. Two orphans huddled together in the cold stone halls of Rome''s Church of Saint Agnes, finding in each other the family they''d both lost. While other children cowered during thunderstorms, Leon and Liam would sneak to the bell tower, watching lightning split the sky as they whispered dreams of glory.


    "We''ll be knights one day," Liam would say, his bright blue eyes reflecting the storm''s fury. "The greatest knights in all of Christendom."


    At twelve, they began training with wooden swords in the church courtyard, mimicking the moves they''d seen real knights perform during festivals. By sixteen, both had become squires, their childhood dreams crystallizing into achievable goals.


    When the Pope''s call for the Second Crusade echoed through Europe, Liam had grabbed Leon''s shoulders, his eyes wild with excitement.


    "This is it," he''d whispered. "Our chance for glory."


    Now, four days from Damascus, Leon trudged through foreign soil, armor chafing against his sweat-soaked tunic. Their company of forty men moved through a narrow valley, dense forest pressing in on either side. Conversation had died hours ago, replaced by the rhythmic sound of armored footfalls and labored breathing.


    Commander Bartholomew raised his hand, signaling a halt. "We''ll rest here. Water your horses and yourselves, but stay alert. We''re in enemy territory now."


    Leon sank to the ground beside Liam, gratefully accepting the waterskin his friend offered. "My feet have blisters on their blisters," he complained, pulling off a boot to examine the damage.


    Liam chuckled. "Should''ve worn two pairs of socks like I told you. The old knights'' trick."


    "Next time I''ll¡ª"


    Commander Bartholomew''s voice cut through the air like a whip. "SILENCE!"


    The company froze. Leon felt it then¡ªthe unnatural quiet. No birds sang. No insects chirped. Even the wind seemed to hold its breath.


    The commander''s eyes widened in realization. "GET DOWN!"


    The first arrow struck Bartholomew''s second-in-command, Sir Reginald, directly in the center of his tunic''s red cross. The shaft punched through chainmail with terrible efficiency, the tip emerging from his back in a spray of crimson. Reginald remained standing for three heartbeats, staring in disbelief at the wooden shaft protruding from his chest before his legs folded beneath him.


    The forest erupted. Arrows sliced through the air from all directions, finding targets with unerring precision. A young crusader to Leon''s left took an arrow through his eye socket, the back of his skull exploding outward in a shower of bone and brain matter. Another fell with three shafts clustered in his throat, blood bubbling from his lips as he drowned in his own fluids.


    "DOWN!" Liam screamed, tackling Leon to the earth as an arrow whizzed through the space his head had occupied moments before.


    Commander Bartholomew bellowed orders, trying to organize a defense, but an arrow caught him beneath the chin, punching upward through his mouth and into his brain. He dropped like a stone, eyes still wide with command.


    From the forest emerged shadows¡ªdozens of Seljuk warriors, their curved blades already wet with anticipation. They fell upon the surviving crusaders with methodical savagery.


    A bearded Seljuk cleaved a crusader from shoulder to sternum, the man''s ribcage parting with a wet crack as his heart was exposed to open air for the brief moment before death claimed him. Another warrior hamstrung a fleeing knight, sending him tumbling to the ground before methodically removing his limbs¡ªfirst hands, then forearms, then upper arms, the knight''s screams diminishing with each cut as shock and blood loss overtook him.


    Leon and Liam crawled backward on their bellies, seeking cover behind a fallen log. They were the only survivors now, watching in horror as their compatriots were butchered one by one.


    "We need to run," Liam whispered, his voice trembling. "On my mark, we break for the¡ª"


    A heavy boot slammed into Liam''s back, pinning him to the ground. A Seljuk warrior towered above them, his face split in a yellowed grin beneath his black turban. Five more warriors emerged from the shadows, surrounding them.


    "The children try to escape," the leader said in heavily accented Latin, his voice carrying the harsh cadence of the desert. He gestured to his men, who seized Leon''s arms, dragging him to his knees.


    The leader¡ªa burly man with a jagged scar bisecting his left eye¡ªhauled Liam up by his hair, pressing him against a tree trunk. Cold steel kissed Liam''s throat as the commander''s curved blade settled against his pulse point.


    "Watch your friend die, crusader," the commander growled, his breath hot and sour in Leon''s face. "Like the pig he is."


    Two warriors held Leon''s arms while a third produced a cruelly serrated dagger. With theatrical slowness, he pressed the blade against Leon''s chest, just below the sternum, and began to push. The knife parted flesh and muscle, sliding between ribs. White-hot agony exploded through Leon''s body as the blade twisted, scraping bone.


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    Darkness crept in from the edges of his vision. As consciousness faded, Leon found himself floating in a void of absolute blackness. Before him, a pair of eyes materialized¡ªcrimson, filled with ancient malevolence, pupils like vertical slits in blood-colored pools.


    KILL THEM, a voice rumbled through his skull, seeming to emanate from everywhere and nowhere. KILL THEM ALL. ACCEPT YOUR BLOODLUST.


    The world snapped back into focus as Leon heard Liam scream. The Seljuk commander had driven his blade through Liam''s forearm, pinning him to the tree like an insect to a collection board. Blood flowed freely down the bark, soaking into the earth below.


    Something inside Leon shattered.


    "NO!" The word tore from his throat, primal and raw. "I WON''T LET YOU DO THIS, GODDAMMIT!"


    His voice rose with each word, transforming from human speech to something bestial. When the commander plunged his knife deeper into Liam''s arm, twisting it with sadistic pleasure, Leon broke.


    The change was instantaneous and horrifying. His eyes flooded with crimson, the green irises drowned in blood as capillaries burst. Veins bulged across his face and neck, throbbing visibly beneath his skin. His muscles tensed and swelled, stretching his tunic tight across his frame. The world around him sharpened to crystalline clarity¡ªevery detail, every movement, every heartbeat of his enemies cataloged and processed with inhuman precision.


    With a roar that seemed torn from the depths of hell itself, Leon surged upward. The warriors holding his arms found their grips suddenly ineffectual as Leon''s strength multiplied tenfold. He seized the ankles of the nearest Seljuk, lifting the man bodily from the ground as if he weighed nothing.


    Leon swung the screaming warrior like a flail, smashing him against the thick trunk of an oak tree. The impact was catastrophic¡ªthe warrior''s upper body exploded in a fountain of gore, his ribcage collapsing inward before viscera sprayed outward. His spine separated at the third vertebra, allowing what remained of his torso to slide wetly down the trunk while his legs remained in Leon''s grasp.


    Leon discarded the twitching limbs and turned to face the remaining warriors. Their eyes widened in primal fear as they beheld him¡ªno longer a boy, but something else entirely. Something monstrous.


    Two warriors charged together, blades extended. Leon caught the first scimitar with his bare hand, the edge slicing deep into his palm but finding unexpected resistance. Blood flowed, but Leon felt nothing beyond cold fury. He wrenched the blade sideways, snapping it at the hilt before driving the jagged remainder through its owner''s eye socket. The warrior collapsed, the broken sword protruding from the back of his skull, brain matter clinging to the metal.


    The second attacker managed a wild slash across Leon''s chest, opening a shallow cut. Leon seized him by the throat, fingers digging into soft flesh until they met around the man''s spine. With a savage twist, he separated the vertebrae, the crack echoing through the forest. He didn''t release his grip, instead crushing the throat in his fist like overripe fruit until his fingers touched through the pulverized flesh.


    A third warrior attempted to flee, dropping his weapon as terror overtook him. Leon was upon him in an instant, driving him to the ground and straddling his back. With methodical brutality, Leon dug his fingers into the man''s mouth, hooking into his upper jaw. He pulled upward with inhuman strength, tearing the entire upper portion of the warrior''s head away from the lower jaw. The scalp, skull plate, and brain lifted free in a single, horrific motion, leaving only the lower mandible attached to the spasming body.


    Blood soaked into the earth, turning the soil to crimson mud beneath Leon''s feet as he whirled to face more attackers. A warrior lunged with a spear, which Leon caught mid-thrust. He yanked the attacker forward, headbutting him with such force that the man''s facial bones collapsed inward, driving fragments of his own skull into his brain.


    The remaining warrior fell to his knees, hands raised in surrender, lips moving in desperate prayer. Leon seized a discarded scimitar, the curved blade fitting strangely in his hand. With a single, fluid motion, he decapitated the pleading man. The head tumbled through the air, eyes still blinking in confusion, mouth still forming words even as it rolled to a stop at the base of a tree.


    Only the commander remained, his blade still pinning Liam to the tree. Horror had replaced cruelty in his expression as he beheld the blood-drenched boy who had single-handedly slaughtered his elite fighters.


    "NO, STOP!" the commander begged, releasing his sword and backing away, hands raised. "STAY BACK! IN THE NAME OF ALLAH, STAY BACK!"


    Leon advanced with deliberate slowness, each step squelching in the blood-soaked earth. His expression was eerily calm, at odds with the crimson veins still bulging across his face and the inhuman light in his eyes.


    "You are not human," the commander whispered, his back pressed against a tree trunk. "What devil walks in your skin?"


    Leon said nothing. In one fluid motion, he seized the commander by the throat, lifting him off his feet. The man clawed desperately at Leon''s arm, fingernails tearing furrows in the skin without effect. With clinical precision, Leon drove his other hand into the commander''s abdomen, fingers piercing through muscle and sinew. He pushed deeper, past the squirming intestines, until he found the man''s spine. Grasping the column of bone, Leon pulled, extracting the vertebrae through the abdominal wound while the commander still lived, still screamed.


    As the light faded from the commander''s eyes, the forest erupted once more. More Seljuk warriors poured from the trees¡ªdozens, then scores. A hundred blades catching the dying light of day.


    Leon turned to face them, a blood-soaked demon in crusader''s garb. He moved among them like a scythe through wheat, each swing of his appropriated blade ending another life in increasingly grotesque ways. He tore limbs from sockets, punched through ribcages to extract still-beating hearts, separated heads with his bare hands when blades proved too slow.


    One warrior found his jaw torn completely free, leaving a horrific cavity where his lower face had been. Another was impaled on his own spear, the shaft driven upward through his groin and emerging from his shoulder. A third had his eyes gouged out before Leon forced his own severed hand down his throat, choking him with his own fingers.


    By the time reinforcements from the main crusader army arrived, drawn by the sounds of slaughter, they found a scene from the darkest circles of hell. One hundred and sixty Seljuk warriors lay dead, their bodies dismembered, disemboweled, decapitated¡ªkilled with a savagery that left even hardened crusaders retching into the underbrush.


    In the center of the carnage stood Leon, drenched head to toe in gore, cradling Liam''s unconscious form in his arms. Tears cut clean tracks through the mask of blood on his face as his eyes, now returned to their normal green, stared vacantly at something only he could see.


    "He needs a physician," Leon said, his voice hoarse and small¡ªa child''s voice once more. "Please... he''s all I have."

 The Road of Blood (Continued)

    <h2>The Road of Blood (Continued)</h2>


    "EVERYONE STAY BACK FROM LEON NOW!" Sarah''s voice cut through the present moment with desperate urgency. She recognized the signs¡ªthe subtle tremor in Leon''s hands, the thousand-yard stare, the way his breathing had changed from regular to ragged in mere seconds.


    "W-what? Why?!" Adriana asked, confusion evident in her young face.


    Kennedy grabbed her arm, yanking her backward with surprising force. "Move!" he hissed, pulling her behind the tree line where Queen and Sarah had already taken cover.


    The transformation was as swift as it was horrifying. Leon''s eyes filled with blood, the green irises vanishing beneath crimson. Veins bulged across his face and neck, pulsing visibly beneath his skin. His posture changed, becoming more predatory, more animal than human.


    The first bandit didn''t even have time to react. Leon closed the distance between them in a heartbeat, his hands seizing the man''s jaw. With a savage wrench, Leon tore the entire mandible free, cartilage and tendons snapping with wet pops as blood fountained from the gruesome wound. The bandit collapsed, hands clutching the ruin of his face as he drowned in his own blood.


    The second bandit managed half a step backward before Leon''s sword cleaved through him diagonally from shoulder to hip. The two halves of the man separated, intestines spilling onto the dirt road like glistening ropes as he fell in two distinct pieces. Steam rose from the exposed organs in the cool night air.


    "Sweet merciful Christ," Queen whispered, her face ashen.


    The third bandit turned to flee but made it only three steps before Leon caught him by the ankle. Using the man''s body like a makeshift flail, Leon swung him repeatedly against the hard-packed earth of the road. Each impact produced sickening crunches as bones shattered. By the third strike, the bandit''s skull had cracked open like an egg, brain matter and blood smearing across the dirt in a grisly paste.


    The fourth found himself lifted by the throat. Leon''s fingers dug into the soft flesh beneath the bandit''s jaw with brutal force, crushing his windpipe. As the man gasped for air that wouldn''t come, Leon slowly, methodically, pressed his thumbs into the bandit''s eye sockets. The eyes resisted briefly before bursting like overripe grapes, vitreous fluid running down the bandit''s cheeks like obscene tears.


    "IGNITE!" The word tore from Leon''s throat as he drove his sword into the chest of the fifth bandit.


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    The effect was immediate and catastrophic. The bandit''s torso expanded for a fraction of a second before erupting outward in all directions. Ribs became lethal projectiles, punching through nearby trees. Organs vaporized, transformed into a pink mist that filled the air. Blood sprayed outward in a perfect circle, coating everything within ten feet in a fine crimson sheen.


    Behind the tree line, Adriana doubled over, vomiting violently. Kennedy patted her back, his own face pale beneath his tan.


    "It''s okay, Adriana," he said, though his voice betrayed his uncertainty. "He won''t hurt us."


    She retched again, tears streaming down her face. "WHY DID HE DO TH¡ª" Her question dissolved into another bout of sickness.


    Sarah peered around the tree trunk, her expression grim. "Something triggered his anger. The turbans, perhaps. A flashback."


    "Y-yeah," Queen agreed, looking greener than her usual composed self. "But he''s never done something this brutal before. I think I''m going to be sick too."


    Kennedy shook his head. "I''ve been friends with him the longest. The turbans on the bandits'' heads must have triggered an episode."


    He glanced at Adriana, who had sunk to her knees, wiping her mouth with a shaking hand. "He''s called the Jinn of the Crusaders for a reason. He has an ability I call bloodlust. Every time he enters an enraged state, his strength and speed increase dramatically. His urge to kill becomes more violent with his anger."


    Kennedy''s voice dropped to a whisper. "But never has he done something this bad before. I wonder what caused it this time."


    In the road, Leon stood among the carnage he''d created, chest heaving like a bellows. Steam rose visibly from his nose and mouth with each exhalation, as if the heat of his rage had literally boiled his blood. For several long minutes, he remained motionless except for his breathing.


    Then, as suddenly as it had begun, the bloodlust faded. The crimson drained from his eyes. The bulging veins receded beneath his skin. His posture slumped, the inhuman strength evaporating.


    Leon dropped to his knees in the blood-soaked dirt, consciousness fleeing as his body surrendered to exhaustion. He collapsed face-forward into the road, surrounded by the dismembered remains of the bandits he''d slaughtered.


    Kennedy cautiously approached, checking to ensure Leon was truly unconscious before lifting him with surprising gentleness. "He''ll be out for hours," he explained to the others. "It''s always like this after... after an episode."


    They made their way back to town in silence, giving the bloody scene a wide berth. Adriana walked several paces behind the group, her young face haunted by what she''d witnessed. The idealized version of knighthood she''d studied in books had never prepared her for the reality of what battle¡ªtrue battle, not practice skirmishes¡ªcould do to a person''s soul.


    The cheerful banter that had accompanied their journey to the cave was gone, replaced by a heavy silence broken only by the sound of their footfalls and Leon''s occasional whimper as he dreamed of demons only he could see.