Chapter 2 : The Night Before the Massacre.
Ethan sat on the edge of his cot, staring at his hands.
The flickering gray aura—his only proof of power in this world—had long since faded, but the disgust in the other soldiers' eyes still lingered.
A whole year to awaken this useless thing.
He had no combat skills, no physical strength, and the weakest aura color possible.
Even if he tried to run, where would he go? The empire executed deserters, and Fort Ironwood was in the middle of nowhere. If he fled blindly, he'd either be hunted down or starve before he found civilization.
That left only two options.
1. Stay and fight, knowing he would die.
2. Find a way to escape without being labeled a deserter.
Neither was appealing, but he already knew his answer.
He wasn't going to die in some forgotten opening scene.
I have three days. I need a plan.
He forced himself to recall everything about Fort Ironwood.
It was an old border fort, poorly maintained, and far from the empire's capital.
Supplies were delivered every two weeks by merchants traveling along the Velmire trade road—a road that led straight to a criminal-run city.
A hidden tunnel existed beneath the fort, used for smuggling before the empire took over.
That was his way out.
If he could sneak out before the battle, he might be able to slip into Velmire, where no one asked questions.
The problem? The entrance to the tunnel was inside the commander's office.
Ethan grimaced. That meant he needed a distraction—something big enough to draw attention away from the fort's keep.
He started considering options when the barracks door slammed open.
A soldier rushed in, panting. "Commander's orders! Everyone to the courtyard, now!"
Ethan frowned. At this hour?
He stood with the others and followed them outside, where torches flickered against the cold night air. Soldiers gathered in tight ranks, confused murmurs filling the space.
Then, Ethan saw her.
A woman stood beside the fort's captain, flanked by two armored guards. Dark hair, piercing violet eyes, and an imperial crest embroidered on her cloak.
Ethan's stomach dropped.
Lysia Verrentis.
The illegitimate daughter of the emperor.
She wasn't supposed to be here.
In the novel, she was a minor character—a political outcast sent away from the capital. She was barely mentioned before being killed offscreen in an unrelated event.
Yet here she was, alive. Standing in the middle of Fort Ironwood, the doomed fort that wasn't even supposed to concern her.
This isn't right.
This was the first major deviation from the novel.
Ethan felt his throat go dry. If Lysia was here, then—
Did that mean the massacre itself was going to be different?
Would it come sooner?
He was running out of time.
Ethan stood rigid in the torchlight, his thoughts racing as Lysia Verrentis stepped forward.
She was supposed to be dead before the story even began. Just a minor footnote in Eclipse of the Eternal Empire—an illegitimate princess sent away from the capital to be forgotten.
But now she was here, in the wrong place, at the worst possible time.
Why?
Her violet eyes swept over the assembled soldiers. There was something cold and calculating in her gaze—not the expression of a helpless noble girl.
The fort commander, a grizzled veteran named Captain Edric, cleared his throat.
"As of today, Lady Verrentis is under Fort Ironwood's protection," he announced. "She will remain here until further notice, under direct imperial orders."
A murmur of confusion spread through the ranks.
Ethan's blood turned to ice.
Direct imperial orders?
No one cared about Lysia in the novel. She had no political weight, no influence. The emperor had never acknowledged her. So why would he send her here?
The timeline was already breaking apart.
And then—
The attack began.
---
It was too early.
The first explosion rocked the fort, sending a shockwave of fire and splintered wood through the walls.
Shouts erupted from the watchtowers. Soldiers scrambled for weapons. Horns blared.
Ethan froze.
It wasn't supposed to happen tonight. The massacre was three days away.
The story is changing.
Another explosion. Screams.
Ethan turned, heart pounding, and saw them.
Dark figures poured through the shattered gate, moving with unnatural speed.
Not just soldiers.
Warbeasts.
Massive, wolf-like creatures with black armor plating their limbs tore into the nearest soldiers. Blood sprayed as one of the beasts ripped a man's throat out.
Ethan staggered back, bile rising in his throat. Warbeasts hadn't been part of the original attack.
Something was very, very wrong.
A soldier bumped into him, running for his life.
Panic set in. Ethan had to move.
The tunnel. The escape route. He had to—
Lysia.
She stood still, watching the battle unfold, her hand clenched around the hilt of a hidden dagger. Her expression was unreadable.
She's going to die here.
She wasn't important to the novel before. She wasn't supposed to be here at all.
Ethan hesitated.
Saving her wasn't part of the plan.
But neither was this attack.
And then—
A warbeast lunged at her.
She turned too late.
Ethan moved without thinking.
Ethan barely had time to think.
The warbeast's claws were already swinging toward Lysia's unprotected side.
She wasn't fast enough.
She wasn't going to dodge.
Move.
His body reacted before his mind did.
Ethan slammed into Lysia's back, shoving her aside just as the warbeast's claws ripped through empty air where she had stood.
The momentum sent them both crashing to the ground.
The beast snarled, black eyes locking onto Ethan.
He scrambled for his sword, barely managing to draw it before—
The warbeast pounced.
It was too fast.
A blur of motion—then a sudden clash of steel.
The warbeast jerked backward, a blade lodged in its throat.
Ethan gasped, realizing the sword wasn't his.
Lysia was already moving, ripping the weapon free in a spray of dark blood.
The warbeast staggered—then collapsed.
Lysia exhaled, turning to him.
"Move again without my permission," she said coldly, "and I'll kill you myself."
Ethan blinked. Not exactly the reaction he expected.
But there was no time to process it.
Because the battle wasn't over.
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