I Can Only Help You This Much

The night was heavy and still, the wind carrying the distant rustling of pines as it drifted around the stone hall.

Leo and Selena walked side by side, saying nothing. Overhead, the sky was dark as ink, scattered with sparse stars, as though weighed down by the last remnants of smoke and blood.

Sensing the shift in Leo's mood, Selena asked softly, "You don't seem pleased. What's troubling you?"

Leo stared at the flickering torches in the distance and said in a low voice, "The Grey Iron Pike is no more. I suspect my father will release Derrick soon."

Selena was silent.

"This time, Moontrace caught one of his men and put him in the water cell," Leo muttered, a shadow crossing his gaze. "He won't let that go. He won't forgive you."

Selena didn't answer immediately. She stopped and turned to face him. Her eyes, steady as moonlit lake water, held a quiet but unshakable strength.

"You don't need to worry about me," she said calmly. "I won't let anyone walk over me."

Leo looked at her for a long moment before murmuring, "I know… I just can't help it."

Selena looked down, a faint blush rising on her cheeks. Leo reached out and gently brushed a strand of silver hair from her face...

——

Far across the camp, the celebration bonfire blazed at the central square.

Barrels of liquor were cracked open, strong drink poured into horn cups, and Bloodfang warriors shouted, drummed, and danced wildly around the fire. Kael was out inspecting the defense lines, and Selena, unwilling to witness the bloody offering of enemy prisoners, had drawn Leo away to the creek for a walk.

Meanwhile, deep within the water cell, silence reigned.

Chains hung from the damp stone walls, moss seeped with water, and the air stank of rot and mildew.

Derrick slumped in a corner, his expression shadowed. Hearing the distant sounds of laughter, his eyes darkened. He spat blood to the side.

"Fools. Every last one of them."

"Well now, Your Highness, you certainly look the part," came a stranger's voice, light and mocking.

Derrick snapped his head up. The torches weren't lit, and the figure wore a hooded cloak, his face hidden in the shadows.

"Who are you?" Derrick growled. "What do you want?"

"I came to help," the man chuckled, stepping closer. "Do you hear them? Laughing. Celebrating the fall of Grey Iron Pike. And you—rotting here, their punchline."

"Lies!" Derrick snarled. "My father will release me soon."

"You and I both know what you did," the man said coldly. "Do you really think he'll forgive you—for trying to kill his other son?"

"I'm Bloodfang's strongest warrior!" Derrick snapped. "Leo's a weakling. He's always been beneath me. His survival is nothing but dumb luck. He's nothing."

"But now?" the stranger laughed. "He's a war hero. And you? Just a prisoner. A traitor."

He leaned in, voice dropping to a whisper. "You know who he's going to marry, don't you? Once Moontrace and Bloodfang are bound by blood, nothing will stop him from becoming the next chieftain. And you—will rot here."

Derrick's eyes widened with fury. His hands clenched around the chains.

"Leo…"

His roar echoed through the cell, rattling the chains.

"I can help you," the stranger said smoothly. He knelt and placed two items on the ground.

In the faint light, Derrick's eyes went sharp—the dagger he favored most, and a vial glowing faintly with purplish-blue light.

"You—how did you get this?" Derrick demanded, shocked.

It was his secret weapon—an elixir he had bought for a heavy price on the black market years ago. Just one drop granted him immense strength, and it had been his edge on the battlefield.

"You don't need to know that," the man replied. "I can only help you this much. Whether you want your place back… is up to you."

Then he turned and disappeared into the shadows.

Derrick stared at the vial for several seconds before finally reaching for it. With a grim resolve, he uncorked the bottle and drank every last drop.

A violent tremor surged through his body. Veins bulged, bones creaked, muscles twisted and grew beneath his skin. With a roar, he pulled—shattering the chains binding his wrists.

In the next moment, he burst from the cell like a maddened beast.

——

The celebration was at its height. Firelight danced, laughter soared.

Then—screams.

A shadow streaked through the crowd, blade flashing like lightning.

Cries rang out. Joy turned to panic.

Derrick stormed into the gathering like a feral beast, his body swollen with unnatural power, eyes glowing red. With his dagger, he cut down the guards one by one, blood spraying into the fire, stoking it into a higher blaze.

"Stop him!" someone shouted.

The elders moved in, Orton himself trying to subdue his son.

But the potion had made Derrick into a monster. Even wounded, he fought like a demon. Elders fell one by one. And when Orton finally staggered back, blood pouring from a deep wound, Derrick stood alone amidst the wreckage—breathing hard, body torn, but unbroken.