Chapter 50 : The song of betrayal

Arthur considered. He'd been considering it for a long time now. Who was the spy? Someone had transferred him here, but for what reason? It wasn't Officer Reftia—her bewilderment had been too raw, too genuine to be an act.

'It has to be someone within Fort Lanai.'

That thought sat heavy in his chest, an uncomfortable weight he couldn't shake. But he couldn't afford hesitation. 'It means I have to speak directly to General Thanason, disguised as Commander Ravix.

There's no other way.'

He had a plan now. A dangerous, reckless plan. Lord Leon had inadvertently shown him the key to his own downfall: the communicator in his office, a device capable of establishing direct communication with any Commander or General. All Arthur needed to do was break in, establish contact with Ravix, and provide the general direction they had traveled. He had been blindfolded for part of the journey, but he was certain they had continued straight. If scouts were sent ahead, they would find the teleporter eventually.

It had to be done. There was no other choice. And yet, the thought of it gnawed at him.

He wasn't close with many people here, but those he was... He could already picture their faces when they realized what he truly was. A spy. A traitor. Their enemy.

Arthur stood. He would do it tonight, fearing he'd lose his nerve otherwise.

'Ahh fuck man, I ain't built to be a spy.'

The door burst open with a palpable energy. "Hey, Art! Why aren't we training?"

Arthur looked up to find Ace grinning at him, eager as ever. Ever since Arthur had beaten him, the bastard had turned into a training maniac.

"Not today, Ace."

Ace tilted his head. "But everyone's waiting for you downstairs."

Arthur sighed. "Why don't you lead today's session?"

"Me?"

"Yes, you. You've trained with me the longest—you know the drills."

Ace hesitated, then brightened. "Hah. Alright then, it'll be nice to boss those guys around for a change. I can make them work for hours." He laughed thinking about it.

"I'll see you tomorrow?"

Arthur forced a smile. "Yeah, I'll be there tomorrow." 'If I'm not caught and executed before then.'

Ace left, and moments later, Officer Reftia walked in, exhaustion clear on her face. She barely glanced at him as she collapsed onto her bed.

"Going to sleep early? Good. Sleep's important for children like you."

Arthur scoffed. "I'm barely a child anymore, Reftia."

She smirked into her pillow. "How old are you, then?"

He smiled faintly. "Old enough to know that if I asked you the same, you'd throw a fit."

She snorted. "Twenty-three."

He blinked. "Twenty-three?"

"Yeah."

"You're twenty-three?"

"Yes."

"…You?"

"What the fuck is that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing… just… are you sure you're not twenty-three hundred years old?"

She laughed, the sound unguarded, genuine. "For you, I guess anyone must seem ancient. So, how old are you really?"

He hesitated. These moments of honesty with her—and with the others—felt like wounds. Every time he revealed a piece of himself, it hurt, knowing he was just setting them up for betrayal.

"…Fifteen."

Silence stretched between them, thick with something unspoken.

"Fifteen," she murmured. "Still a child, huh?"

There was something strange in her voice—was that amusement? A smile? He couldn't tell. He frowned, suddenly irritated. 'Is she laughing at me? Sadistic prick.'

Of course, he wasn't about to say that out loud. He wasn't in the mood to get thrown out a window tonight.

He stood. "I'm going for a walk. Want to come?" He already knew that she'd say no before she spoke.

"Hah, you wish." She rolled onto her side, dismissing him with a lazy wave.

He lingered a moment longer, then turned to leave.

'One day soon, I will have to kill her.'

He forced himself to remember that, over and over again. He was not allowed to forget.

One day, he would have to watch the light fade from her eyes—by his own hand.

He stepped into the night, moving toward Lord Leon's office.

'Mask of shadow.'

 ..............

Reftia waited until Arthur's footsteps faded before turning onto her back. A quiet hum escaped her lips—a song from a land long turned to dust and immortalised in a song that many sung, never knowing its true origin.

Avalon.

The name itself felt like a relic, eroded by time, existing now only in whispers and echoes, carried by the descendants of the few who had survived that day. The day Avalon fell. The day a Reaper was born.

It was a melody of grief, composed by the last remnants of a dying city as they watched their world burn. Brother slaying brother. Fathers killing their sons. Mothers throttling daughters with their own hands. A massacre without mercy.

Only…madness.

The song reflected that horror. A slow, mournful dirge, yet with an eerie folk tune.

 It had been a long time since she had last sung it. The air had not heard the original version of this song for at least a hundred years.

Her voice, soft yet unwavering, carried the old words into the silence:

"Oh Fey brother, a Reaper has come.

The oath she had taken is all but broken.

All is over, doom has won,

Avalon's shroud, amidst a dirge of fallen

Is the crying of daughters, and wailing of sons

Oh Fey brother, run far along,

For a Reaper has come."

Her voice faded out, swallowed by the nothingness of silence.

A faint smile touched her lips.

This was not the version known to the world today. The one she sang had been lost to time, buried beneath the weight of history. A single change—small, yet profound—had twisted the truth. But that in of itself seemed apt.

For madness had taken down Avalon.

And what is madness, but truth being twisted.

She had become he. And Reaper… had become Ripper…..

Reftia laughed at that. As if there ever existed a King of Oaths

 ...........

Arthur moved like a shadow, hugging the walls, his steps featherlight against the cold stone. The Mask of Shadowscloaked him in silence, rendering him invisible to all but one person—Officer Reftia, after all, she had given him it, and could recognise it easily.

Floor by floor, he ascended. No patrols. No distant chatter. Nothing.

His gut twisted. 'Too quiet.' His instincts screamed that something was wrong. But he shoved it down. 'Nerves…hopefully.'

The seventh floor loomed ahead, unguarded, open. That alone should have set alarms blaring in his mind, but he had no time for hesitation.

He slipped into the hallway leading to Lord Leon's office, finding the door locked. Not unexpected. A magic circuit sealed it—intricate, complex, far beyond his skill to crack.

Arthur exhaled, forcing calm. He didn't need finesse. He needed fire.

Summoning his mana, he forged a flame in his palm, pushing more and more power into it until it burned white-hot. He pressed it to the hinges. Metal warped and bubbled, melting like wax. Carefully, he caught the door as it gave way, lowering it to the ground without a sound.

A smirk tugged at his lips. 'Genius.'

Inside, the office was dark. Empty. Exactly as expected.

Lord Leon had retired hours ago, leaving behind a room as unreadable as the man himself. Cruel yet kind. A strategist with a moral code—just not one strong enough to hold him back from doing what had to be done.

'Like a lion indeed.'

Arthur slipped behind the desk, yanking open the drawer where he'd seen Leon store the communicator.

His heartbeat pounded against his ribs. Loud. Too loud.

There it was.

With shaking fingers, he lifted it, pressing the button.

"Lanai… Lanai… Lanai."

A pause. A heartbeat of silence.

Then—

"Received."

The voice was neutral, unreadable. Not good.

Arthur forced his tone steady. "Private line to Commander Ravix."

"What is the code, sir?"

His mind raced. The wrong code meant instant suspicion. He had to choose something that only General Thanason would recognize—but no one else.

"Code Skelter."

Silence. Then—

"Yes?" Thanason.

"Are we on a private line, Commander?" Arthur asked, keeping his voice clipped, professional.

"Yes. Who is this?"

Arthur took a breath. "Gravewalker."

A sharper silence now, charged with unspoken understanding. No time for explanations.

"Sir, listen. William of Orange is here. And someone called Lord Leon. This base—four days southwest by car. There is a teleporter, probably guarded, that will take you there."

A crackle. Then Thanason's voice, low, measured.

"Are you sure?"

Arthur clenched his jaw. "I'd stake my life on it."

"It'll take time."

"That's fine, sir. I need to go."

He disconnected without waiting for an answer, placing the communicator back exactly where he'd found it. No evidence. No trace.

And then—

"What are you doing?"

Arthur's blood ran cold, his heart dropping.

His body reacted before his mind had time to comprehend. He turned around.

A figure leaned against the doorframe, casual, almost lazy. White hair cascaded past her shoulders like rivers of snow.

Reftia.

A slow smile tugged on his lips despite his situation . 'I'm fucked…'