Betrayal and Destiny

Third Person POV:

Selene stood near the entrance, her gaze cold and unwavering as the chaotic battle unfolded before her.

"Ryker! Break that damn door!" Edric's voice cut through the noise like a whip.

Beside her, Ryker grunted in acknowledgment, raising his sword. The door, which had seemed indestructible at first, groaned under his relentless strikes. Cracks spiderwebbed across its surface, dust and splinters falling with each swing.

Elise knelt nearby, her face pale but determined, channeling her remaining strength to heal Evan. Her wounds from the earlier attack were nearly closed as the divine mana keep healing her body.

Selene's gaze drifted down to the amulet resting in her palm. The cool metal hummed faintly, as though responding to her touch. She finally had it. The key to awakening her full power — Soul Bind.

Her mind wandered back to the endless nights of research, buried in forgotten tomes and ancient texts. Each page spoke of the amulet's ability to amplify her abilities beyond mortal limits. It was said to enhance the very essence of a soul, granting control over even the most stubborn mana. She had scoured the empire for any trace of it, using every ounce of influence her family name provided.

Nothing.

Then came Nathan.

The useless, good-for-nothing fool who suddenly — and casually — revealed the amulet's location deep within Eldermoon Forest. It made no sense. How could he know?

She didn't believe him. Not at first. But when she investigated, the truth emerged. The Valteris family—who had a unique way of finding relics

—really was searching for it.

Still, it didn't add up. A rival family's most guarded secret, falling into the hands of a pathetic wastrel like Nathan? His excuse was laughable. A brothel. As if a place of flesh and drink held such priceless secrets.

Her suspicion only grew. He had changed. His movements, his demeanor — everything about him felt... off. He no longer carried himself like the lazy, pathetic noble she once thought. His speech, his eyes — sharper. Calculated. She began tracking him, using a ghost puppet to observe from the shadows.

For a week, she watched.

His actions were erratic, unpredictable. He moved like a man who knew too much, yet fumbled like someone who had never held such knowledge before. His behavior mirrored the old Nathan at times, but the moments in between? He felt like a stranger in familiar skin.

The idea struck her, cold and unwelcome: Soul displacement.

Legends spoke of ancient beings capable of stealing souls and wearing bodies like clothes. Could he be one of them? It would explain the shift — the knowledge, the confidence. Yet his power remained pathetic. A contradiction.

She had to know. An unknown like him was a danger too great to ignore.

When he collapsed from the ghostfang's venom, she didn't hesitate. She checked his soul, ready to end him if it wasn't truly Nathan. A foreign soul, no matter how clever, would be a threat to her rise.

But what she found shocked her.

It was Nathan. His soul was the same — if not stronger than before. Unnaturally so.

The revelation brought her no comfort. If anything, her unease deepened. Strength without reason was a dangerous thing. And there was another problem — her mother.

Selene knew well enough that her mother's protection of Nathan had nothing to do with affection. It was politics, plain and simple. Nathan's mother, Brielle, came from a hidden family — one rumored to have ties reaching into the royal court itself. A family that supposedly didn't exist.

Her father had warned her mother about this before leaving for the demonic region under the emperor's command.

Selene's grip tightened around the amulet. Its refined mana had already strengthened most of her power.

She scanned the bloodied room, bodies strewn like broken dolls. Her brows furrowed. Nathan was gone. He had fought the giant statue with his powerless body, which she didn't even think coming, yet somehow vanished.

Her gaze shifted to the ghost puppet beside her. No longer fragile wraiths, they now stood clad in knightly armor, their spectral forms brimming with power.

She pushed them forward and turned back to where she had last seen Nathan—only to notice something off.

The healer they had hired was walking near the wall discreetly.

A crack in the wall. He looked around and went inside. Gone.

She tried to push the ghost through the wall, but it was no use—something was blocking it.

Her mind raced. Why? He should have been healing the knights—there were too many injured to ignore. Yet he slipped away.

A cold realization settled in her gut. She had been too focused on Nathan. She had failed to notice the real threat.

Her voice was ice. "Edric, something is wrong. Destroy that statue—NOW"

The command reached Edric through her ghost puppet. His face stiffened—he had never heard such urgency in Selene's voice before—but he nodded..

He had been fighting the statue for some time now, already reading its attack pattern. It was Strong, but predictable.

A downward swing. A vertical slash. Too slow. Too obvious.

He dodged effortlessly, his eyes locked on a small crack in its chest. He could drag the fight out, but a gnawing unease urged him to act.

His mana surged, his heart pounding as he poured everything into his sword. The blade gleamed, sharper than ever, humming with raw power.

With a burst of speed, he lunged—driving his sword straight into the crack.

A deafening crack echoed through the chamber. The statue shattered, its massive form crashing to the ground.

Edric staggered, his breaths ragged. That took too much. He could have won without resorting to this, but there was no time.

Selene's voice came again. "Move. To the crack in the wall."

He gritted his teeth and dragged his exhausted body forward.

The moment he stepped through the darkness, his eyes widened.

Nathan—Stabbed.

By the healer.

One name surged into Edric's mind. Valteris.

They were the only ones who knew about the relic.

But how? Ryker had personally vetted their backgrounds. No loose ends. No flaws.

Yet here he was.

A surge of fury burned through Edric's exhausted body. He lunged, his fist colliding with the healer's face, sending him crashing into the wall.

Weak. His punch was weaker than it should have been.

The healer rose, his hand pressing against his torn skin. Then, to Edric's horror—

He peeled his face off.

"Man… I went through so much trouble to keep this thing attached till now…" His voice was laced with amusement, a slow smirk curling on his true face.

Varric. The second son of Duke Valteris—fighting for his claim as heir.

"You dare infiltrate Stormbane's troops?" Edric's teeth ground together, his grip tightening around his sword.

Varric smirked. "What? I'm just here to take what's rightfully ours. We found the relic first—Stormbane simply sniffed us out and followed."

"Bastard." Edric lunged, swinging his sword, but Varric sidestepped effortlessly.

"Hah! What? Angry because I spoke the truth?"

Edric pressed forward, his strikes growing wilder, but Varric deflected them with ease. Too slow. Too weak. His body was failing him—his strength nearly spent.

"Come on, is this all one of Stormbane's strongest knights can muster?" Varric sneered.

Then—something seized his arms and legs.

Edric's blade slashed across his chest, but Varric twisted back at the last moment. Too shallow.

"It seems you have gained some new tricks, Lady Selene." His smirk remained.

Selene didn't respond. Instead, she sent more ghostly knights at him.

Varric's sword blurred, parrying both Edric's strikes and the incoming spirits. Too fast.

"But still too weak." With a single powerful slash, he tore through Selene's spectral warriors.But—

Slash

Pain flared across his back—a sudden slash. He barely managed to dodge the next strike, sidestepping at the last moment.

"Tch." His tongue clicked in irritation. He had underestimated her. No matter how many times he cut them down, the ghost knights reformed—invincible.

He was at a disadvantage.

He had come for the Deathsong Amulet, but now wasn't the time. Besides—the gem in his pocket pulsed with power, far stronger than the trinket around Selene's neck.

Time to retreat.

In a blink, he darted toward the entrance.

"Edric, don't let him escape!" Selene's voice rang with rare urgency. She didn't know what was hidden in this place, but Varric did. And if he was willing to reveal himself, it had to be something more powerful than the amulet.

Edric gave chase.

Outside the crack, the battlefield was littered with the dead—only a handful of knights still stood.

"Catch him!" Edric roared.

The exhausted knights, their faces set with grim determination, rushed forward.

Varric's sword flashed.

Limbs flew. Blood splattered.

Too fast.

Then—the ground shook.

Varric's footing slipped. His eyes snapped to the side—Ranald. Hands pressed against the earth, magic pulsing beneath his fingers.

Then, in a blur—Garrick.

Teleporting mid-strike.

Varric parried—effortless.

"Weaklings," he muttered.

More knights closed in, attacking in tight formation.

Then—an invisible dome snapped into place, blocking every strike.

The mage. Every knight's gaze turned toward him—standing with a smirk, arms casually folded.

Boom!

The dome shattered instantly. Varric's sword, crashed against a sword wreathed in blue flames, sending waves of searing heat through the air.

"Traitor scums..." Ryker muttered—a word he rarely spoke. His gaze flicked sideways. "Dain, handle the mage."

The vice commander beside him nodded—then suddenly, Varric, standing before him, smirked.

Slash.

A sword plunged into the commander's back.

"Dain... why?!" Ryker's voice trembled with disbelief.

"Ryker!!" Edric charged, blade raised.

A sudden wall erupted before him—blocking his path. The mage stood firm, hand raised, magic pulsing at his fingertips.

Varric wasted no time. He sprinted to the door.

With a single powerful swing, he **shattered it—** which was already weakened by Ryker's efforts.

Behind him, the mage and Dain held back Edric and the others, covering his escape.

Edric, breath ragged, staggered to a stop. He was spent.

Grinding his teeth, Edric turned back—rushing to Selene.

She stood motionless beside Nathan, eyes locked on his dying body. His breathing was too shallow, blood pooling beneath him. Her fingers curled into fist. She had failed to recognize the enemy, and now, she faced the consequences.

Edric entered the chamber, ready to speak, but Selene raised a hand—silencing him.

"At least Elise isn't with them. Have her tend to Ryker first," she ordered, then hesitated. "We need to move—now. Get everyone ready. We don't know if they have more troops nearby."

Edric nodded. "What about the young master?" His gaze flicked to Nathan.

Selene fell silent, lost in thought. Nathan's injuries were severe—he wouldn't survive without immediate healing. Elise, their only healer now, had a large mana reserve, but even she had limits.

Even if she saved Nathan, what then? He was an uncertainty. A risk. And if he truly had a powerful family backing him—letting him die would place the blame squarely on Volteris.

Either way, she had gained something.

Selene's voice was ice. "Leave him."

Edric hesitated. "But, young miss—"

She cast Nathan one final glance. Then, without a word, she turned and walked away.

---

Soon, they had recovered enough to move and began their retreat from the cave.

CRACK!

A jagged bolt split the sky, its thunderous roar shaking the ground.

Heavy rain poured down, drenching the battlefield outside. The bodies of the knights Ryker had stationed at the entrance lay motionless—headless. And among their group, one was missing.

Ryker grunted, pressing a hand against his barely healed wound. "It seems there are even more traitors," he said, voice strained with pain.

"We'll deal with that later," Selene replied. "First, we need to get out of here." She turned toward the horses.

The rain soaked her face, cold against her skin. But then—something felt off. A warmth water trickled down from her eyes, different from the rain.

She stopped. Touched her face. Her heartbeat fastened with something—something unexplainable.

"Huh...? What is this...?"

But the thought slipped away as quickly as it had come. Her expression hardened, and she mounted her horse with renewed determination as she faced the eerie forest with lightning glow.

---

In the dimly lit chamber, silence hung thick—oppressive.

Nathan lay motionless, blood pooling around him. His heartbeat was faint. Slowing.

Ba———dump.

Ba———dump.

Ba————dum.

But then—

Whoosh

Suddenly, a surge of purple energy erupted from his body, crackling like an unseen force had been awakened.

And then—a dark blue, eerie energy circle materialized beside him, pulsing with an ominous glow.

Two figures emerged.

Their silhouettes stood against the unnatural light—women, cloaked in power. The once dull chamber now littered with energy.

"Is he the one?" one asked, voice brimming with excitement.

"He sure is." The other, a woman with long violet hair, grinned—a smile both beautiful and dangerous.

"Do you think he passed?" the first figure asked again, studying Nathan's barely clinging form.

The violet-haired woman looked at Nathan's pale face. Her grin widened.

"Barely."