Chapter 5: Dishonorable Betrayal

Mela sought refuge in a secluded cave by the River Grimveil, the river's icy waters mirroring her somber resolve. Healing from her brutal fight with Adrian, she spent her days hunting and fishing.

Her spiked mace was always within arm's reach. The moon's cold light reflected off her fierce blue eyes, As a storm battered the landscape, Mela ventured into the torrential rain. Hours battling the elements led her to an abandoned homestead with a small shed. Inside, a flickering candle provided brief comfort amidst the storm's fury. As dawn approached, she prepared herself for the day ahead.

The sound of distant hoofbeats shattered the post-storm silence. Mela's senses sharpened as the shed's door burst open, revealing a Knight of the Old Order. Mela's mace cleaved through his helmet in a single, swift strike, sending him crashing to the ground. Rising from the carnage, she heard more men approaching.

Charging out, Mela's spiked mace caught the morning sun, its gleam a harbinger of death. The Old Order knights recoiled in shock as she met them. Every swing of her mace met flesh and bone with sickening crunches. The rain had ceased, leaving only the acrid scent of blood. Knights fell one by one, and a quick-thinking knight fled on horseback, spreading tales of survival. As elite knights arrived, their faces hardened. Mela, having only killed some of the soldiers, finished the last few with merciless strikes.

Among the arriving elite was Sir Kaius, brandishing twin axes with a furious glare. As soon as he dismounted, Sir Kaius shouted, "I, Sir Kaius, and Sir Maziel have been sent from the Kingdom of Valoria to end your bloody rampage!"

Sir Kaius charged forward with reckless aggression, swinging his axes wildly. Mela met his attack. In a fast and brutal exchange, she parried his strikes and delivered a crushing blow, sending his head flying from his shoulders. The head landed at Maziel's feet.

Maziel watched in cold silence as the remaining soldiers on horses behind him fled in terror. He kicked Kaius's head aside with a look of disgust, shaking his head in disappointment. His thoughts churned with bitterness and resentment towards the Order and the corruption that had tainted it.

"The Kingdom of Valoria, with its lofty claims of honor and virtue, had become a cesspool of deceit. The Great Torian Empire, with its Emperor Torian and Queen Tora, only perpetuated the corruption, allowing it to fester and spread." Maziel's internal monologue swirled with thoughts of escape. "I need to get out of this empire. Torian and his grand façade are just as corrupt as the Order. This whole empire is a joke."

He looked up with a grin, capturing his arrogance. "Weakness is a liability."

Mela's eyes narrowed as she responded coldly, "You look weak."

A long silence followed as Maziel's eyes slowly widened. Me? Weak?

A slow, savage snarl formed on his lips, his eyes narrowing as fury took root in his chest. "How dare you, bitch! You will beg for your life when I'm done with you!"

He immediately took a stance, lunging at her.

Mela met his strike with a wild laugh, her mace clashing against his sword. They circled each other, eyes locked in a deadly dance. Mela reached for the hidden steel needles tucked in her hair and, with a blur of motion, pierced Maziel's face, causing him to stagger back. In a desperate move, he threw a metal sphere that burst into acrid smoke, obscuring the battlefield.

The smoke choked Mela's vision, but she cleared a path with her mace, searching for Maziel through the haze. She found him emerging from the smoke, his damaged armor revealing his vulnerable state. Maziel aimed his sword at her heart. Mela dodged his attack, swinging her mace and crushing his cheekbone. Maziel crashed to the ground, blood spilling from his shattered face as he writhed in agony.

Mela poised her mace above him, her eyes gleaming with cruel satisfaction as she prepared to deliver the final blow.

"Weakness is a liability," she taunted, echoing his earlier words.

Maziel's eyes, filled with a mixture of terror and shattered pride, locked onto Mela's. For a moment, he seemed to glimpse the weight of his own failures and the corruption he had once defended.

In his final moments, he whispered, "Curse you, Sir Castor!!"

A vivid flashback consumed Maziel's mind. He saw himself within the grand halls of the Knights of the Old Order headquarters, near the King's palace and stables in the heart of Valoria.

Sir Castor's voice echoed harshly through the corridors, cold and unforgiving. "Maziel, you're to leave immediately. You've already embarrassed yourself enough with your incompetence. Find the Bloodhound and drag her back here, no matter what it takes. Take Kaius with you—since it's become painfully clear you lack the skill to complete even the simplest of tasks on your own. Perhaps watching someone who actually upholds the values of the Order will teach you something. You've been a disappointment so far, Maziel. The council does not tolerate failure, nor do I. We are knights, held to the highest standard, and any dishonor reflects poorly on us all. You know what happens to those who falter in their duties—don't make me remind you."

Castor's eyes gleamed with disdain as he added, "The Bloodhound is a threat to our very way of life. Do not fail us again, or it will be the end of your standing in this Order."

Maziel's pride was wounded, his face reddening with humiliation. Sir Castor spoke of the Order's honor with such conviction, yet he was blind to the corruption festering beneath its surface. Castor, ever the staunch defender of the council's ideals, refused to see the rot growing among its ranks. Maziel had witnessed it first hand—knights who whispered in shadows, deals struck behind closed doors, bribes passed in silence. They were supposed to be paragons of virtue, yet they had become pawns in a kingdom drowning in deceit.

And Castor? He remained oblivious, convinced of his righteousness. His ignorance, more than anything, fueled Maziel's quiet rage. The man spoke of standards, yet refused to acknowledge the growing decay that had turned the Old Order into something unrecognizable.

As Maziel returned to the present battle with Mela, He was trembling and tried to utter one last curse at Castor, but Mela's mace came down with a final, crushing blow, obliterating his skull in a grisly fountain of gore.

Mela stood amidst the carnage, a hollow sadness settling over her. Her triumph was fleeting, overshadowed by the weight of the brutality she had wrought. She sighed deeply, with a heavy heart, she wiped her mace clean and began to leave the scene.

As Mela departed through the forest, her bloody steps left a grim trail behind her. The path she

tread was marked by the remnants of her, each step silent to the violence she had endured and inflicted. In the quiet aftermath, the forest absorbed the echoes of the battle, and Mela's presence faded into the shadows of the trees.