《Advent of Calamity》 The Frog was Really a Dragon Chapter 1 ¨C The Frog was Really a Dragon The enemy¡¯s sword came striking down like a flash of lightning. The target, a man in his mid twenties with medium length blonde hair, green eyes, and an above average face, saw the strike for what it was ¨C a feint. The real strike would come from the left. Anticipating the flow, the man waited until the last possible moment, when his opponent had no choice but to commit, before deftly blocking the strike. *CLANG* The sound was quickly followed by the gurgling of a woman who had her neck sliced through. Bewildered, the attacker dropped their sword and reached for their neck with both hands. Trying to stop the blood from gushing outwards like a fountain to no avail, the attacker fell to their knees, their eyes staring up at the man¡¯s back disbelief. That¡¯s right. After blocking the attack, the green-eyed man followed through with a twist and turn, rising his sword in the process, and bringing it down and across his opponent¡¯s exposed neck. Without even looking at his opponent, the man let out a long sigh before sheathing his sword in its scabbard and walking off the stage. The once boisterous Colosseum had gone dead silent. No surprise, the man thought to himself, seeing as how their beloved champion and youngest sword master, Nyx ¡°The Sundering Blade¡± Carrian defeated by some no name opponent. At only 21 years old, Nyx was the Alliance¡¯s youngest sword master by a mile. Her accomplishments and talents were such that people in the Alliance and elsewhere believed it was only a matter of time before she would eventually rise to the level of ¡°Sword God.¡± Nearly a century had passed since the Alliance could lay claim to a Sword God. Compare this with the Empire and Theocracy, who had four such individuals between them (with the Empire claiming three of the four). Of course, where the Alliance lacked, it made up for with its three Arch Mages to the Empires one and the Theocracy¡¯s zero. Thus a balance was struck. But we digress. Suffice it to say, Nyx was someone of intense interest to the higher ups within the Alliance. For her to die in such a manner, during what was to be a public execution of an alleged traitor, left every one speechless. The situation was borderline comical. Minutes passed after the green-eyed man left the field that the announcer regained his bearings. ¡°L-ladies and Gentleman! In the upset of the century, Nyx, the Sundering Blade, Carrian, has been defeated by Oliver Greene, retired sword instructor from the ¡­. uh, right, the Ashton Sword & Spear Department!¡± The announcer continued on, but the crowd of spectators did not hear a word. Nearly every person present were die hard fans of Nyx Carrian and have come far and wide to support their idol and to celebrate her return to the Alliance¡¯s capital, Belgrade. The match was only supposed to be the beginning of the day of revelry. No on excepted Nyx to lose. Yet, contrary to their expectations, it was Nyx who was slain and left dead. The silence finally broke when someone let out an agonized scream. ¡°AAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!¡± While the masses were coming to terms with what happened, Oliver, the no-named, alleged traitor of an ex-sword instructor, had already made it back to his cell. Sitting down on his ¡°bed¡±, Oliver waited for the warden to come and officially sign his release. That was the deal, after all. By ancient decree, made at the founding of the Alliance, every prisoner, no matter their crime, may request what has come to be known as a ¡°Freedom Duel¡±. As the name so eloquently and succinctly suggests, if a prison won his or her Freedom Duel, they would be set free, all their charges dropped, and given a small fortune for their troubles. At first hearing, such a deal sounded to good to be true. And for the vast majority of prisoners, it was too good to be true, as there has been only two successful duels in the Alliance¡¯s 500 years. It was illusory at best. Why? Well, because the balance was heavily skewed toward the Alliance. The wardens and jailers knew what it meant to pardon a criminal and thus would make absolutely sure that any prisoner who requested such a duel be given the worst treatment possible in the lead up. And, to make their victory even more of a certainty, they would match the prisoner against someone who was at least one level above them in terms of skills. For example, if the prisoner was a sword initiate, the lowest level, their opponent, at a minimum, would be a sword novice, a high classed one at that. It was thus that victory, for the prisoner, was nigh inconceivable. Oliver was afforded no exception. The moment he requested the duel, he was forced to go days without food or water and was assigned to work nearly back-to-back shifts in the mines. This treatment went on for the two weeks. It could¡¯ve easily lasted longer, but the prisoner had to be given at least a modicum of a fighting chance ¨C at least some hope that they could win. If their fighting spirit was completely zapped by the time of the duel, or if they were in such a condition that they couldn¡¯t even hold a weapon, well, where would be the fun in that? By the end of it all, Oliver was, nutrition wise, a shell of the man he once was. And, of course, he was made to fight an opponent nearly twice his level. Originally, said opponent was supposed to be Hector Dovetail, a sword expert who was half a step away from the coveted title of sword master. In other words, a sword expert at the 9th class. At the last minute, however, the powers that be decided that his opponent would be none other than Nyx. The change made headlines throughout the Alliance. Oliver had no idea of knowing, but the reason for the change-up was because Nyx, the Alliance¡¯s pride and joy, had recently returned to the capital, Belgrade, after a year of traveling and every one wanted to celebrate her return. And what better way to celebrate than a public execution of a traitor? Plus, Nyx would be able to showcase some of the skills she acquired during her travels. It was a win-win. No one could have expected what happened next. ¡°Damn. I really didn¡¯t want to have to kill her,¡± Oliver said to himself with his head hung low. This book is hosted on another platform. Read the official version and support the author''s work. As someone who grew up and lived in the Alliance, Oliver knew of Nyx¡¯s fame and, like every one else, was hopeful that she would one day rise to the level of a Sword God. Hell, he even rooted for the girl who was five years his junior. Yet, there was nothing he could do. His freedom was on the line, and the only way to win the duel was to kill your opponent. There was no surrender or victory by no contest. It was either him or her and he had to pick himself. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, Ms. Carrian.¡± . . . . It took nearly two hours before someone appeared before his cell. ¡°Hey, you piece of shit. Get up. The warden wants to speak with you.¡± Oliver looked up from between his knees. Recognizing the small bald headed man standing on the other side of the bars, Oliver gave a small smile and stood up, dusting off his clothes, or, what was left of his clothes anyways. ¡°Mick. It¡¯s nice to see you again,¡± Oliver began. ¡°Shut it Greene. You cost me a fortune today with that little stunt of yours,¡± the small man, Mick, said with his arms crossed. Smiling, Oliver responded, ¡°Mick. I told you to bet on me, how is it my fault you lost?¡± ¡°Because! Who in their right mind would believe your prattle when your opponent was THE Nyx? If anything, I doubled down after hearing you talk. Ugh! Why did I do that?!¡± Its true. Who would have believed him? No sane person, definitely. He only told Mick because, despite his dirty mouth, Mick was someone who at least treated him like a human being. Mick angerly rubbed the sides of his bald head. Oliver said nothing, only smiling at the bald headed man. He was pretty sure that habit of Mick¡¯s was the reason why, despite being only in his early 30s, the man was completely bald. ¡°So you were saying, the warden wants to see me?¡± ¡°Huh? Oh. Yea. Follow me.¡± Still grumbling, Mick opened the cell and started walking away, not even bothering to see if Oliver was following. Normally, Mick would not have trusted his back to a prisoner, but he had gotten to know Oliver over the past year and, truth be told, after what happened in the Colosseum, he knew that if Oliver wanted him, or anyone in the prison for that matter, dead, then there was noting he could do to stop him. The two walked in silence through the prison, passing by various cells and the common area. No one, not even the guards, uttered a sound as Oliver walked by. Eventually, the two came across a large oak door. The plaque on the side read, ¡°Warden¡¯s Office, Angela Cresse.¡± Mick knocked on the door. ¡°Warden, I brought the prisoner as you requested.¡± A voice responded from behind the door, ¡°Good. Let him in and return to your post.¡± ¡°Yes Ma¡¯am.¡± Opening the door, Mick showed Oliver inside before giving the warden a salute and closing the door. Looking around, Oliver could not help but be amazed at the size and grandeur of the office. ¡®The capital sure is different . . . .¡¯ Still, nothing could have compared to the bomb-shell beauty who sat behind the imposing desk in the middle of the grand space. The warden, Angela Cresse, had long platinum hair that flowed like the river. The color beautifully complimented her tan skin and golden eyes that shown like the dawn sun. Oliver could not help but stare at the warden. He had seen her before, of course, but never this close. ¡®My god. She¡¯s beautiful.¡¯ Shaking himself out of his stupor, Oliver composed himself and spoke up, ¡°Warden.¡± The warden looked up from her desk, her golden eyes, accentuated by long platinum lashes, bearing into Oliver. *Gulp* ¡°Oliver Greene. 26 years old. Male. Son of Thomas and Mary Greene. Both deceased. Raised by your paternal grandfather, Eugene Greene, headmaster of the Ashton Academy, a small school in the a village that shares its name, Ashton.¡± Oliver said nothing. ¡°You were brought in as a sword instructor for the Academy at the age of 24 and at the level of a sword intermediary, 5th class. You taught at the Academy for a year before you were caught and charged with treason for aiding and abetting the escape of the fugitive Alan Wakeforest.¡± ¡°Did I leave anything out?¡± The warden, Angela, asked when she finished. ¡°No. But I would like to say, again, that when I helped Alan, he was Alan Wakeforest, the Hero, and my long-time friend. I did not know that the Alliance had named him a fugitive.¡± Leaning forward and resting her chin on the bridge made by her interlocked fingers, Angela asked, seriously, ¡°So you¡¯ve said. Then let me ask you, Mr. Greene, if you knew Mr. Wakeforest was a wanted man, would you have turned him in immediately?¡± ¡°Of course not,¡± Oliver responded without missing a beat. ¡°I just wanted the record to be clear that I did not know he was a fugitive.¡± Angela gave a small smile and Oliver¡¯s heart literally skipped a beat. ¡°Hmm. Noted.¡± ¡°But that isn¡¯t what I called you in for ¨C tell me, what are you hiding?¡± ¡°Wha¡ª¡± ¡°Mr. Greene, let¡¯s skip with the back and forth. You know what I want, and I will have you tell me. Now.¡± All of a sudden, the pressure in the office got twice as heavy. ¡®Heh. She¡¯s my ideal type.¡¯ ¡°When you put it that way, Warden, I guess I have no choice but to come clean.¡± Without realizing it, Angela¡¯s body began to tense up. ¡°Your report is mostly correct. Where you messed up, besides the whole aiding and abetting a fugitive part, is my level.¡± Oliver gave a smile that sent a shiver down Angela¡¯s spine. ¡°I¡¯m not a sword intermediary, 5th class. For the longest time, I didn¡¯t know my exact level either. It¡¯s hard to compare when everyone in your village is, at best, at the level of sword intermediary, 1st class.¡± Oliver continued, ¡°After today¡¯s battle, I am certain ¡­ that I am half a step from Sword God.¡± Well, his sword skills were, at least. His aura was another matter. Oliver¡¯s realization was quick. He went into the Freedom Duel not knowing his true level, but after a few exchanges with Nyx, a bona-fide sword master, he instinctively knew ¨C he was far, far beyond sword intermediary. The situation was like that of a frog in a well. But where the metaphor was meant to teach of a vast world beyond one¡¯s home, the opposite was true for Oliver. Once outside, Oliver got a good look at himself and realized that he was no frog ¨C he was a dragon. The moment he finished his sentence, Angela disappeared from behind her desk, only to reappear in front of Oliver, her sword primed and ready to skewer his body. ¡®As expected.¡¯ Oliver knew something like this was going to happen. Confronting the attack head on, Oliver stepped into Angela¡¯s range and, just as she was about to thrust her sword forward, he twisted his body and attempted to tackle her onto the ground. Surprised but unperturbed, Angela quickly gathered her aura before releasing it outwards like an explosion. The shockwave struck Oliver and sent crashing into the far side of the office. *THUD!* *Gasp!* Collapsed on the ground, Oliver gasped for air as the impact had, quite literally, knocked the breath out him. Angela, now standing where Oliver once stood, stared at the wreck of a man sprawled on the ground. ¡°Hmmm.¡± *cough, cough* ¡°You say you¡¯re half a step from Sword God, but your performance says otherwise.¡± A half-step Sword God would¡¯ve easily won that exchange. That wasn¡¯t to say Angela was weak, on the contrary, she was one of the few 4rd class sword masters in the Alliance. ¡°Ha. What. Ha. Did. Ha. You. Think was going to happen?¡± Oliver said, through labored breath. ¡°I haven¡¯t eaten in days, I¡¯ve barely slept 10 hours over the last three days, I¡¯m wearing an aura dampener, and I just finished a duel with Nyx, the fucking Sundering Blade, Carrian.¡± ¡°What did you think was going to happen?!¡± If it wasn¡¯t apparent already, Oliver was quite pissed. Taken aback by the sudden curses, Angela could do nothing but give a few coughs. Everything Oliver said was the undeniable truth. Actually, if she thought about it, the fact that he managed to read her attack and even prepared a counter, albeit lackluster and ineffective, spoke to his skills. ¡°True. I apologize.¡± ¡°But you must understand, to hear someone, a prisoner charged with treason no less, to say nothing of your age, proclaim that they were half a step from Sword God, I had to verify the authenticity of your words myself.¡± Finally catching his breath and calming his beating heart, Oliver managed to stand back up again. His body ached all over. ¡®Fuck. I¡¯m pretty sure I broke a rib.¡¯ Taking a deep breath, ¡°Yea. I get it. But you could¡¯ve at least given me a sword or something if you wanted to test me.¡± Angela nodded. Again, true. ¡°Listen, Ms. Warden, I don¡¯t really care if you believe me or not. I just want to get out of here, have my named cleared, and return to my grandfather.¡± He had won the Freedom Duel after all. And all he wanted was to return to his normal everyday life. ¡°Ah, yes. That was one of the things I wanted to talk you about as well.¡± Angela said as she walked back to her desk. Oliver did not like where this was going. Something felt ¡­ off. And he was right. ¡°Technically, you did not win the duel. Ms. Carrian is alive,¡± Angela said, with a slight smile. . . . . . . . Oliver didn¡¯t know what to say. On the one hand, he felt instant relief at the fact that he hadn¡¯t taken the life of a young girl 5 years his junior. But, on the other ¡­ the rules of the Freedom Duel were quite strict, the prisoner had to kill their opponent. Period. The same was true for the other side ¨C they had to kill the prisoner. The fact that he and Nyx were still alive meant, at the very least, that the duel was still ongoing, if only postponed. He should¡¯ve known, though. There was no way the Alliance would have let someone of Nyx¡¯s potential die such a meaningless death. They would¡¯ve done everything they could to revive her, and quite honestly, such a feat would not have been all that hard given the fact that they were in the capital, where all the top physicians, healers, and one of the Alliance¡¯s three Arch Mages resided. ¡®Shit. Maybe I shouldn¡¯t have held back.¡¯ Though he thought that, in reality, Oliver had given it his all. Like he said earlier, he was in no condition to fight ¨C what he managed in the colosseum was a miracle. . . . . . . . At the same time, other thoughts rushed through his mind. Would he have to fight again? Most likely, and given what happened today, there was a good chance that the Alliance would pit him against an even tougher opponent. Right. For all of Nyx¡¯s accomplishments, she was still only a sword master 1st class. The Alliance had other, more accomplished and experienced sword masters at their disposal, like those at the 5th and 6th. Of course, for someone like Oliver, there was little difference between the 1st and 5th class. In fact, he could secure an easy victory against even a 7th class, provided that he was in top, no, even mediocre, shape. But, he doubted the Alliance would grant him such a reprieve ¨C if anything, he could expect double the torture he underwent these past few weeks. No way they would let him win his freedom. As the reality of his situation began to set in, Oliver could only utter a curse, ¡°Oh, fuck me.¡± Mm Whatcha Say? Chapter 2 ¨C Mm Whatcha Say? Nyx woke up to the sound of sobbing. As she opened her eyes, she was met with the view of an unfamiliar ceiling. For one thing, it was much, much higher and more ornate than that of her family¡¯s estate, to say nothing of the tavern ceilings that she had become accustomed to in her year of travels. Straining to turn her head towards the crying, Nyx realized that it was incredibly difficult and painful. Much more than it should ever be. Panic began to set in her muddled mind before her memories burst forth. ¡®Right.¡¯ She lost. She lost against a prisoner. ¡®How embarrassing.¡¯ The duel replayed in her head like a moving picture. It was a beautiful day like any other. The crisp, cool fall air wrapped around her like a welcoming hug. She remembered feeling a sense of nostalgia ¨C even though it had only been a year since she left, Nyx missed the capital, her home town, dearly. The quiet of the country side and wilderness, where she spent most of her travels, were nice, of course. A peaceful respite from the obligations that plagued her. But the sound of a boisterous city, especially one on the scale of Belgrade, the Alliance¡¯s capital city, and where nearly 1 million souls called home, too, had its charms. And no where was that sound more prevalent than in the Colosseum. She was there to take part in a Freedom Duel, something her manager (yes, sword masters generally had one or two managers who managed their social obligations ¨C being one of the Alliance¡¯s rising stars came with its pros and cons) had lined up for the day. From her understanding, Freedom Duels were infrequent due to their notoriety. The vast majority of prisoners would rather spend their days working for the prison and praying for a chance at parole than rush to their deaths. So, when one was scheduled there usually is a big turn out. Still, this particular duel broke all previous records ¨C thousands rushed to fill the Colosseum seats and hundreds more were standing around the perimeter, hoping to catch a glimpse. Nyx¡¯s participation and the fact that her opponent was a traitor of the Alliance, someone who was charged with the egregious crime of helping Alan Wakeforest, the hero-turned-fugitive wanted for the crime of colluding with the ¡°Dread¡± and misleading the public. The ¡°Dread¡± described those devil-like monsters that descended from the stars all those years ago and, until very recently, laid havoc across not only the Alliance, but the entire continent. Little is known about the Dread and their motives other than the fact that they numbered in the millions and had a penchant for human flesh and fiery destruction. Countless lives have been lost in the fight against the Dread and scores of cities have fallen to permanent ruin. To keep a long story short, 5 years ago, Alan Wakeforest, a young master mage who excelled in space time magic, and who hailed from the Alliance, and his team of like-minded and equally talented individuals, managed to deal a massive blow against the Dread that saw the monsters retreat back to the stars for the first time since their sudden invasion nearly 60 years prior. It was a victory like no other and the entire continent celebrated their second lease at life. Alan Wakeforest and his team were naturally hailed as heroes. But that all changed nearly one year ago when it was discovered that Alan had been compromised by the Dread early on, had been working with them, and that the supposed victory he achieved was nothing more than a fa?ade. Investigators are still working on finding out why the Dread would wish to fake their defeat. A warrant was issued for his arrest and he fled the capital. His escape from the capital saw the death of hundreds of soldiers. The prisoner who requested the Freedom Duel, and the one that she was to execute, was the person who helped Alan escape the Alliance¡¯s ¡°Inescapable Net,¡± a formation that trapped its intended target within an ever-shrinking radius. When executed correctly, it was impossible to escape. Not without outside help, at least. The Inescapable Net was deployed at the northern reaches of the Alliance, near a small village named Ashton, which incidentally shared a border with the neutral country of Phalia, whose citizenry were made up of werehumans. Just when the Alliance was about to capture him, Alan disappeared without a trace. It is believed that someone deliberately altered the flow of the Inescapable Net, causing a blind spot that Alan took obvious advantage of. That ¡°someone,¡± it was later discovered, was none other than Oliver Greene, an old friend of Alan¡¯s and a sword instructor at the village¡¯s only academy. It shouldn¡¯t come as a surprise that the entire continent hated the Dread and extended that same hate to anyone who was found to be in cahoots with those devils. Suffice it to say, Alan and Oliver were not well liked. Nyx was never into the whole execution business and rarely did she want to involve herself with a criminal. These sentiments rang true even when the prisoner in question was such a traitor. But, her manager had made a compelling argument ¨C the publicity from this one duel would allow her to focus on her training for at least another half year without the interruption of balls, plays, exhibition matches, etc. To Nyx, it was a deal too good to pass up. Thus, she found herself standing across from Oliver Greene. She remembered how scrawny he looked, like he hadn¡¯t eaten or had a good night sleep in weeks. Which came to no surprise, she thought, as it was common knowledge what the prison did to those who requested such duels. Still, despite his emancipated frame, his pale green eyes were clear and resolute. So much so that she found herself staring into them for longer than she intended. Tearing her eyes away, she focused on the face of the man. He had medium length blonde hair that was tied in a messy bun, sharp features, a well-defined jawline, and full red lips. Honestly, as a woman, she had to admit that he was quite good-looking, or at least he would be if he cleaned up and had a good meal and a better night of sleep. She remembered Oliver unsheathing his sword and getting into position. She remembered that his opening stance was quite good. Solid, like someone who had practiced the move thousands of times before. This also, did not come as a surprise ¨C Oliver¡¯s file had him down as a sword intermediary, 5th class. While his level was not high, it was not low either. She expected this much from him, at the least. When the announcer began the fight, she charged at Oliver with a thrust, using about 10% of her strength. She did not think it would take more than that to take down the man before her. Yet, contrary to her expectations, Oliver easily parried the strike by diverting the momentum and even countered with an elbow strike to her chin. Of course, the attack did not hit as she immediately leaned back and kicked her leading leg forward, the kick landing squarely against Oliver¡¯s side and sending him sliding backwards.A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation. The kick was actually meant to send Oliver flying, but, again, he managed to stop the full momentum of the kick. She remembered thinking that something was off, but continued fighting anyways. The two then exchanged tens of blows, with each exchange leaving her with a feeling of incongruity. The duel progressed for several more moves, but unlike the first couple set of tens, the latter sets saw her on the losing end. That¡¯s right, she, the 21-year-old prodigy sword master who everyone believed would one day attain the title of Sword God, was being pushed back by a sword intermediary 5th class who looked half dead as is. Shocked to her core and blinded by her pride, she decided to end the duel once and for all. Taking a step back, she started channeling her aura. Her next and final attack was going to be different from her previous ones ¨C where her earlier strikes were regular attacks that showcased her mastery of the sword, her next would be backed by her aura and would bring to bare her realization of the ¡°Path.¡± Lightning arcs surged throughout her body before focusing onto the blade of her prized sword, Gallica. While this was happening, the man who had forced her to display such skill looked onward, his pale green eyes fixed on her like she was the only thing in his world. The next moment, she rushed forward in a flash of lightning, her sword raised overhead, intent on cutting down the opponent before her. Only, the downward strike was a feint. The real attack would come from the left, faster than the eye can see. Practically instantaneous, really. ¡®Its over!¡¯ But those eyes never left her. He was too calm. And the next thing she knew, she was on her knees, gasping for breath and clutching at her bleeding neck. When she looked up, those eyes were no longer fixed on her. She could only see the back of his head. She tried to call for him. She tried to get him to turn around. She wanted to know what he saw. She needed to know what he saw, even if it meant her death. But, alas, she could not utter a sound, and before long, the world turned dark. Just as everything was fading, however, her survival instincts kicked in and she gathered all her aura towards the wound across her neck and sealed off all the pressure points, stopping the bleeding immediately. Right as she finished, all consciousness left her body. ¡®How utterly embarrassing.¡¯ Nyx felt miserable. To be forced to use her aura and still lose ¡­. ¡®What did he see¡­?¡¯ While she was in her own world, the crying next to her stopped, replaced by a gasp and followed by an even louder cry. ¡°Nyx! My baby!! You¡¯re awake!¡± *Sob* Nyx recognized the voice right away and before she could do anything, she felt the weight of her mother on top of her. Nyx tried to speak, but nothing came out. Her throat felt like hell. ¡®Ah. Right.¡¯ Oliver had cut her neck. ¡®I can¡¯t believe I survived.¡¯ While her mother was on top of her crying and screaming incoherent words, the sound of a door slamming open rang through the large room. ¡°Nyx! Honey!!¡± ¡®Father.¡¯ The person who so unceremoniously entered the room was none other than Nyx¡¯s father, Margrave Bradley Carrian. ¡°Brad! Our baby is okay! Brad! Look, she¡¯s awake!!¡± Nyx¡¯s mother, Susan Carrian, shouted as she pulled away from her daughter to look up at her husband. ¡°My baby!!!¡± Now both parents were hugging Nyx, one on either side. She could feel the wetness from their tears on her clothes. ¡®Uhm. I know I should feel happy, but ¡­ oh well, I guess I did almost die, after all.¡¯ Realizing that her parents needed to express their feelings, Nyx gave them all the time they needed. Nearly 30 minutes of crying later. *Cough cough* ¡°Alright sweetie, let¡¯s give our daughter some space.¡± Nyx¡¯s father, Bradley said, as he pulled away from his vice grip like hug. Following her father¡¯s suggestion, her mother, too, pulled away. ¡°Oh baby. You don¡¯t know how scared we were when we saw you fall down. Your father was so stricken with shock that he literally blacked out!¡± ¡°Hey! I mean ¡­ ahem. It was only out for like a second. Ahem.¡± ¡°Okay, dear. If you say so,¡± Susan said with a small giggle. It looked the two were feeling better now. ¡°Oh, and Sir Reginald said that it would take a few more days before you¡¯re able to speak. Your vocal cords were badly damaged,¡± Susan continued. Sir Leon Reginald was the Alliance¡¯s top physician and healer ¨C as master mage at the 7th class and who specialized in healing magic, Sir Reginald had few peers in the field. If such a man said it would take a couple of days, then a couple of days it will take. Nyx nodded. ¡°He also wanted to thank you for making his job easier ¨C had you not stopped the bleeding in that split second, it would¡¯ve been much harder to treat your wounds.¡± Again, Nyx nodded. ¡°Ugh. Don¡¯t bring that up again, Susan. Its been three days but every time I remember that scene, my blood just boils. I would¡¯ve already wringed that traitorous neck if the Governor and leadership board didn¡¯t stop me,¡± Bradley grumbled, his facial expression darkening. Nyx¡¯s mother immediately grabbed her father¡¯s hand, ¡°Dear, you need to stay clam. Jacob and the rest of them know what their doing. That traitor will get what¡¯s coming to him and our Nyx will be avenged.¡± Hearing her parents, a million thoughts rushed through Nyx¡¯s mind. ¡®Its been three days? I¡¯ve been unconscious for three days?!¡¯ ¡®And what¡¯s this about Oliver? Didn¡¯t he win ¡­ surely he did. No. Wait. I¡¯m still alive.¡¯ The only way to win a Freedom Duel is to kill your opponent/executioner. Nyx did not get to where she was today simply because she was good at swinging a sword. She was smart, unbelievably so, and everything that went through Oliver¡¯s mind when he was speaking with the Warden also played out in hers. ¡®No. I need to know what he saw!¡¯ It was with this desperation that she grabbed her parents¡¯ hands and forced herself to say the next few words, ¡°T¡ªak¡ªe ¡­ m-e ¡­ ss¡ªee ¡­ ggg-g-ov---nor ¡­ nn-ow.¡± Her throat burned with each syllable. It has been three days since the Freedom Duel and contrary to Oliver¡¯s thoughts, he was not rotting in a prison cell. Rather, he was currently living in a pretty nice room right next to the warden¡¯s office. Well, it was more like her assistant¡¯s office, but most of the office supplies and furniture had been either completely removed or pushed to the very corners of the room, to be replaced by one of the softest bed he ever had the pleasure of sleeping on. The prison guards, too, were being super nice to him and would take almost every request he made. He could eat whatever he wanted and even had access to a hot water. Suffice it to say that he no longer looked like your common ghoul. The only one they denied was when he tried asking them to let him leave. His stay was so pleasant, in fact, that it left a pit in his stomach. The kind you get when you just know something bad was coming despite only good things happening around you. Just as he was contemplating his fate, a knock came from the door to his room. *knock knock* Sitting up from his bed, Oliver turned to the door, ¡°Come in.¡± A second later, the door opened to one of the many prison guards. ¡®I think his name was ¡­ Raymond?¡¯ ¡°Pardon the intrusion, sir, but there are people here who want to meet you.¡± Oh yea, the guards have also been calling him ¡°Sir¡± instead of their usual ¡°piece of shit,¡± ¡°dumb fuck,¡± and ¡°traitorous bastard.¡± All said lovingly, of course. The last time he was called a ¡°Sir¡± was more than a year ago and by his students. ¡°Ah. Show them in ¡­?¡± Oliver was still getting used to the change in dynamics. ¡°As you wish,¡± the guard, Raymond, said as he stepped aside to let those behind him into the room. The first to enter was a well-dressed man who appeared to be in 50¡¯s with short hair and a grey beard. He stood a little over 6ft tall and had a slightly bulky build. The wrinkles around his brown eyes spoke of all the things he had experienced in his life. Oliver recognized him immediately ¨C the man was Belgrade¡¯s Governor, Jacob Townsend, a sword master of the 7th class. The second person to enter was another man who looked to be in his 50¡¯s as well, perhaps a little younger. He had less grey amongst his medium length brown hair than did Jacob, and his pale purple eyes were much sharper. He stood a head taller than the Governor and looked quite imposing in his noble garb. He was, by all accounts, a handsome man. Oliver did not recognize the imposing man, but it seemed like he knew him from the way those pale purple eyes radiated killing intent. The last to enter were two women. The first had beautiful auburn hair that was tied in a complicated and ornate looking braid that wrapped around her head. The hairstyle only served to elevate the woman¡¯s regal appearance. The woman looked to be in her early 30¡¯s but was probably in her 40¡¯s as it was apparent that she and the imposing man were husband and wife from their body language and matching clothes. And just like her husband, the woman¡¯s vibrant brown eyes were starring daggers at Oliver like she wanted to rip his throat out. ¡®They¡¯re definitely husband and wife.¡¯ What caught Oliver¡¯s attention the most, however, was the second woman. She was being pushed in a wheelchair and was wrapped in blankets up to her neck. Oliver could not see much under the blankets, of course, but he did see her face, and it was a face he knew quite well. Like the woman pushing her, the girl had long beautiful auburn hair. Unlike the woman, however, her hair was left flowing past her shoulders. She had soft features, a slim jawline, big pale purple eyes that sparkled, full, light pink lips that parted ever so slightly, and delicate white skin. In terms of looks, the girl could definitely give the warden, Angela Creese, the most beautiful woman Oliver had ever seen, a run for her money. Looking at the girl in the wheelchair, who looked like a mix of the imposing man and regal looking woman, Oliver could not help but say her name and title out loud, ¡°Nyx, the Sundering Blade, Carrian ¡­.¡± She was indeed alive and well, just as he heard. Right after he said Nyx¡¯s name out loud, the imposing man, who Oliver could only assume to be Nyx¡¯s father, released a chilling aura that quite literally brought the room¡¯s temperature down several degrees. The woman, who undoubtedly was the man¡¯s wife and Nyx¡¯s mother, also, released a similarly chilling aura. Oliver could tell immediately that the two were sword master and sword expert each and were of considerable strength. ¡°Do not let me hear my daughter¡¯s name come out of your mouth a second time, you traitorous scum, or I will personally string your head onto a pole.¡± The imposing man said through gritted teeth. ¡°Bra¡ª¡± Just as Jacob, the Governor, was about to say something to the man, Oliver saw Nyx push her wheelchair forward, running over her father¡¯s foot with a satisfying crunch. Her father gave a muffled groan and looked at his daughter in shock and disbelief. Nyx glared back at her father, her eyes telling him to stop whatever he was doing. She also turned to look at her mother with the same eyes. The two immediately retracted their aura. ¡®How scary ¡­¡¯ Oliver thought to himself. Only after making sure that her parents would not cause any more trouble, did Nyx push herself forward toward Oliver. It did not take long for the two to be in front of one another. Oliver could do nothing but stare at the woman before him. Nyx, too, only stared at the man before her. This continued for several minutes before Nyx broke eye contact and pulled out a pen and several sheet of papers. The room was silent as Nyx began writing. Looking at the other three visitors, Oliver could see that they, too, were confused and were wondering what Nyx was going to write/say. It didn¡¯t take long to find out. Once she was done writing, Nyx looked back up at Oliver and, nodding her head once, showed him what she had written. On reflex, Oliver read the paper out loud, ¡°Please accept me as your disciple.¡± Several gasps rang through the room. ¡°Hmmmm ¡­. Wait, what?¡± Oliver could not believe what he just read.