Bloodbound Oath: Between Realms
Chapter 41: An Unexpected Guest

Chapter 41: An Unexpected Guest

Roland’s single eye followed the severed head of the enemy soldier as it rolled across the ground, his expression unreadable. Then he lifted his gaze to Darnell, whose eyes were as cold as ice. While his own soldiers trembled in fear, retreating dozens of meters, Roland stood unwavering. Despite his wretched state, his aura remained undiminished. He tightened his grip on his burned hand, still clutching his sword, and readied himself for battle. Channeling the last remnants of his strength into his weapon, he wrapped his body in a thin layer of energy - just enough to numb the pain and shield himself.

Without a word, he suddenly lunged at Darnell, swinging his sword with enough force to make the air howl. But his attacks were futile; his physical strength had waned drastically, and his energy reserves were barely enough to keep him standing. Calmly, effortlessly, Darnell deflected the blade with his bare hand before driving a brutal fist into the blind side of Roland’s face. The impact sent Roland stumbling sideways, blood spurting from his mouth. A strange fluid leaked from his ruined eye, further distorting his already ghastly visage. Yet he refused to yield, quickly regaining his balance.

Without hesitation, he attacked again - this time aiming for Darnell’s throat. As before, Darnell blocked with ease, but Roland suddenly released his sword and delivered a sharp uppercut to Darnell’s chin. Caught off guard, Darnell’s eyes widened in shock as he jerked his head back, narrowly avoiding the blow. His face twisted in anger as he swung his own blade, attempting to cleave Roland in half. Roland ducked swiftly, countering with a crushing punch to Darnell’s gut. The strike forced a grunt of pain from Darnell, but he kept his composure and retaliated with a vicious kick to Roland’s ribs.

Roland was sent sprawling, while Darnell took a single step back, suppressing the urge to cough. Despite his grievous injuries, Roland’s blows still carried terrifying force. A few more direct hits, and even Darnell would be in serious trouble.

A heavy silence fell between them for a single, eternal second - before they charged at each other once more. This time, the fight grew even fiercer, the very air seeming to scream in fear at their movements. Though Roland had abandoned his sword, his momentum didn’t waver. He relied on close-quarters combat, dodging Darnell’s strikes and retaliating with precise punches and kicks. Darnell, too, moved with fluid grace, evading Roland’s attacks effortlessly. From a distance, their duel might have looked like a harmless dance - each strike always just missing its mark. But the seasoned soldiers watching knew the truth: every attack was lethal. A single misstep would mean death. And so, with all their hearts, they prayed for their leader’s victory.

Meanwhile, hidden in the shadows, Sollivan observed the battle with cold indifference. He had no doubt Darnell would win - Roland was fighting on sheer willpower alone, his strength all but spent. It wouldn’t be long before his flames of rage flickered out.

Unlike the others, whose fates hinged on the battle in the hall, Sollivan’s mind was already weaving sinister schemes. His goal wasn’t just survival - it was seizing the treasure for himself while eliminating any potential obstacles. Despite how smoothly things had gone so far, unease gnawed at him. Two things troubled him: First, the oathbound Sergius had vanished without a trace. A man of his power wouldn’t die so easily. Second, there was Darnell himself. Their alliance had been hastily formed, built on shaky terms. Though Darnell appeared compliant, Sollivan knew better than to trust a man who hid his fangs while testing the waters.

"Ten minutes, at most. This fight won’t last much longer. We need to hurry."

Sollivan’s whisper was drowned by the clash of steel. He turned slightly, his gaze landing on Noctis, whose arms had morphed into four long, black tendrils, gripping the second barrel of thunderpowder. After feeding Noctis his Primordial Blood multiple times, the creature’s strength had surged - it could now hurl the heavy barrel with little effort.

’This won’t be easy. Noctis’s aim isn’t guaranteed, and we still can’t disable the light formation.’

Their numbers were few, and they had no one else to dismantle the formation. Worse, tampering with it would alert Darnell, who would undoubtedly flee at the first sign of danger.

Pushing aside his doubts, Sollivan steeled himself.

"Prepare to throw the barrel."

He pulled out a matchstick, ready to ignite the fuse.

Noctis took position, awaiting Sollivan’s signal. The latter continued to watch the battle calmly, waiting for the perfect moment to blow them all to oblivion.

Then -

A sudden, inexplicable feeling gripped him. He stopped watching the fight and instead scanned his surroundings, a flicker of unease in his eyes. Before he could process it, Noctis turned its head toward the long tunnel behind them, its thoughts projecting clearly:

"Someone is coming."

Sollivan’s eyes widened.

"You mean a large group?"

The revelation stunned him into momentary paralysis, his thoughts scattering. But he quickly regained his composure, swallowing hard to wet his dry throat. With trembling hands and a heart boiling with fury, he stuffed the matches back into his pocket and summoned the Black Book. With Noctis’s help, he stored the thunderpowder barrel inside its dimensional space.

His movements were frantic, his mind clouded with dread.

’My plan - ruined in seconds. And with new enemies arriving, my schemes are worthless.’

Abruptly, his trembling stopped. His body froze as he stared into the dark tunnel with naked fear.

"Devlin? What happened to him?"

Before entering, he’d left Devlin stationed outside. Whoever was coming must have encountered him first. Shifting his senses to Noctis, he stealthily navigated the dimly lit tunnel - its walls illuminated only by scattered lanterns left behind by the workers.

Thanks to Noctis’s heightened hearing, he detected dozens of footsteps, hushed whispers, and the metallic creak of armor and weapons.

"Damn it! Damn it"

Rage and anxiety burned in his chest.

’I thought my plan was flawless. I never expected reinforcements to arrive so quickly. Was it the explosion? But the illusion formation should’ve stopped them! Unless... they’re strong enough to bypass it? Or do they have an Arcane artifact that dispels illusions?’

Questions flooded his mind as he noticed the tunnel’s mist had grown faint.

Then it hit him.

’Did the explosion damage the illusion formation?’

Normally, defensive formations had their core arrays spread across multiple nodes to prevent easy dismantling. If one of those nodes had been near the blast site, the formation’s integrity would’ve been compromised. Given its already weakened state, losing even a single node could halve its effectiveness - or nullify it entirely.

’Damn it!’

He cursed his rotten luck.

A few seconds later, Noctis reached the source of the noise. There, in the tunnel’s gloom, a pure white light flared - an enhanced torch. Behind its bearer marched fifteen soldiers, all from his own empire. And to his utter disbelief, Sollivan recognized the torchbearer: a nineteen-year-old youth with long brown hair reaching his neck, sharp eyes, and pronounced sword-like eyebrows. His face was pale and smooth, save for a small black mole beneath his ear. Though his features were delicate, they carried a masculine sharpness, underscored by a mysterious and powerful aura.

This was Sven Quincy - son of Red Bell City’s mayor.

’What the hell is he doing here?’

Of all people, Sollivan had never imagined him showing up. Sven had no connection to this operation. He’d assumed the newcomers would be Cold Sun Empire stragglers, survivors of the beast tide regrouping after the chaos.

As he struggled to process this, his gaze landed on Devlin. The boy - usually so composed - was now barely recognizable. His face was a mess of bruises and swelling, his body covered in wounds from head to toe. Tears streamed down his cheeks, mingling with blood and snot as he stifled his sobs.

Devlin was just a boy, barely into his teens. No matter how mature he seemed, no one could endure such torture unscathed. Even grown men would break under such treatment - not everyone had Roland’s unyielding will.

A soldier beside Devlin grew irritated by his muffled cries and slapped him hard across the head.

"Shut up, you damn spy!"

Though it was just a slap, the force behind it would’ve concussed an ordinary person. Only Devlin’s Body Strengthening Level 5 spared him worse damage.

Sven, however, didn’t even glance back. His focus remained fixed ahead, his eyes gleaming with an odd, eager light.

Meanwhile, Sollivan’s usual calm returned - but his eyes darkened with lethal intent.

’I didn’t want to resort to this... but our chances of survival just halved.’

The powers of the Shadow weren’t simple. Though Sollivan could share senses through his bond with Noctis, he knew there were other abilities accessible at higher levels of strength. In fact, there was one technique he might be able to use now - within limits. But attempting it could kill him. At best, he and Noctis would survive with fatal injuries.

’No choice. What else can I do? I’m trapped between a rock and a hard place. If I don’t sacrifice something - or endure unbearable agony - I won’t make it out alive.’

Regret crept in, but he refused to let it weaken his resolve.

He commanded Noctis to merge with his chair, then abruptly propelled himself into the vault. Ignoring the stunned stares of the soldiers, he darted behind a stack of crates and hid.

Darnell, mid-combat, faltered in confusion. He disengaged from Roland, leaping back dozens of steps until his back was to the crates, putting distance between them. He didn’t understand why Sollivan had revealed himself so recklessly, but he wasn’t stupid - something was terribly wrong.

Cautiously, he turned toward the vault’s entrance.

And there they were.

A large group of soldiers, led by the mayor’s son, marched inside.

Darnell’s eyes widened in horror. He shot a hateful glare at the crates behind him before steeling himself.

The remaining Cold Sun Empire soldiers, already on edge, clustered together behind their leader - the silent, masked man who hadn’t spoken since the explosion. His cold, calculating gaze swept the room, taking in every detail.