Legacy of a Benevolent Lord
Chapter 52: Ambush from Both Sides...

Chapter 52: Ambush from Both Sides...

KACHAK!

The energy barrier resisted for a fleeting heartbeat, then shattered like brittle glass, shards of light dissolving into the dark.

Riven’s fist drove forward, unstoppable, sinking into Dreadmark’s chest with a sickening crunch.

The general’s ribs buckled inward, the impact reverberating through his frame like the strike of a Warhammer.

His eyes widened, a flash of shock betraying centuries of battle-hardened instincts.

In a desperate twist, Dreadmark shifted his weight, muscles straining as he angled his body to shield his heart.

The fist tore into his lungs instead, a calculated sacrifice born of experience. His breath hitched, blood welling in his throat as the force of Riven’s blow surged through him.

BANGG!

Puff Kwaaackk!

Dreadmark flew backward, his body a broken marionette hurled through the air.

Blood sprayed from his lips in crimson arcs, splattering the cracked pavement below.

The energy from the young boy, far more potent than the intelligence reports had warned, scorched through his lungs like wildfire.

What the hell is this? His mind reeled, grappling with the impossible.

His mission was to execute a rising Ashvale star, a newly minted Innate. But this was no fledgling.

This is a fucking monster. Fuck you, Crowmantle! He screamed inwardly, cursing the bastard who’d sent him on this suicide mission for meager pay.

The Fist Intent ravaged his lungs; the searing, alien force clawed at his insides, shredding tissue with every passing second.

His vision blurred, his mind spinning at hyperspeed as he calculated his odds. Survival demanded sacrifice.

With a guttural roar, Dreadmark let go of his physical resistance, channeling every ounce of his energy to suppress the invasive Intent tearing through his body.

The kinetic force of Riven’s blow carried him, unchecked, across the street.

His body slammed into the ground, bouncing once, twice, three times, each impact sending shockwaves through the pavement, carving circular dents like craters in the earth.

Civilians ran around in circles like headless chickens, their screams piercing the day. However, most here in these mountains were martial artists themselves and escaped with only bruises and scrapes.

His final collision was catastrophic, his body crashing into a stone building with a thunderous boom.

The wall buckled, dust and debris exploding outward, cloaking the street in a grey, dusty haze.

Dreadmark lay half-buried in the rubble, his chest heaving, blood trickling from his lips as he ferociously bit the corner of his tongue to stay conscious.

The pain was a living thing, gnawing at him, but his eyes burned with maniacal defiance. He was still breathing.

Riven stood at the epicenter of the chaos, his golden aura flickering like a flame in the wind.

His breath came steady, but his mind spun with urgency. He needed to end this man’s life and get to Selene.

Something about this ambush doesn’t feel right; that was what instinct was telling him.

His boots crunched against the shattered cobblestones as he surged toward the collapsed building, his eyes locked on the rubble where Dreadmark lay. With each step, his muscles tensed, ready to deliver the final blow.

Just then!!!

Alarms screamed in his mind, a primal warning that stopped him cold.

Selene. NO, something was wrong. Another ambush.

His blood ran cold, his heart beat thundering in his ears. Without a second glance at Dreadmark, dead or alive, it didn’t fucking matter, he spun on his heel and exploded into motion.

BOOM!

The ground beneath him erupted in a shockwave, a circular ripple of force that cracked the pavement as he blurred toward the inn.

The city streaked past, with his heart getting increasingly agitated.

He closed the distance in moments, his eyes falling on a scene that set his blood ablaze.

The street before the inn was a battlefield, littered with shattered stone and the glint of steel.

Twelve swordsmen, cloaked in dark robes, moved with lethal precision, their blades flashing under the bright shine of the morning sun.

Five of them radiated a faint shimmer of heaven and earth manifestation, their swings conjuring gusts of energy that tore at the air.

Innate Ascendants! Formidable and deadly.

Selene stood at the heart of the fray, her sword a blur of icy light, each clash sending shards of frost scattering like diamonds.

The guards fought valiantly against the lesser swordsmen, their blades ringing with desperate defiance, but Selene was the eye of the storm, her movements fluid yet fierce, a dance of ice and iron.

Rage intensified within Riven’s chest, akin to a molten tide that threatened to engulf him.

How dare they!

His vision tunneled, the world narrowing to the audacity of these rats who dared threaten his woman.

"You fucking RATS!" he roared, his voice a thunderclap that shook the street.

BOOM!

He accelerated, the air itself screaming as he became a golden streak, hurtling toward a swordsman creeping behind Selene, his blade raised for a cowardly strike.

The man’s eyes widened, catching the glint of Riven’s approach; a golden horror zooming in like a meteor. He twisted, raising his sword to meet the onslaught, but he’d misjudged the sheer force behind it.

Riven’s fist, like a blazing comet, met the sword with a deafening crack.

The blade snapped like dry kindling, shards spiraling outwards. The fist continued unyieldingly, slamming into the swordsman’s chest.

The man bent like a prawn, flung backward like a rag doll, crashing into a stone wall with a bone-shattering crunch.

He slid down, limp as a pancake, blood seeping from his mouth, at least five ribs pulverized.

"RETREEEAATTT!" bellowed one of the Innate Ascendants, his voice cutting through the chaos. R

iven’s eyes locked on him... the leader, no doubt, his posture radiating authority despite the panic in his tone.

The swordsmen, recognizing their chance to take Selene hostage had slipped away, faltered, their formation instantly shifting to one of withdrawal.

Riven spun, his gaze zeroing in on a nearby swordsman, his instincts screaming for blood.

Selene, meanwhile, stood radiant amidst the fray, a blissful smile curving her lips as she watched Riven charge to her side.

He came for me~~, she thought, her heart soaring on cloud nine.

She’d expected him to finish Dreadmark first, but his choice to abandon the general for her ignited a warmth that rivaled the sun.

Whrrrrr.

With renowned vigor, her hand rose, summoning an ice spear that spun like a drill, its surface gleaming with frost as it rotated around its axis.

With a flick of her wrist, she launched it towards the weaker Innate Swordsmen, its trajectory a straight line of death.

The man swung his energy-infused sword, deflecting the spear with a burst of sparks, but his triumph was short-lived. Riven was already there, a golden specter on his right, his fist arcing toward the man’s temple with merciless precision.

"NO! NO, NO!" the swordsman screamed, his voice raw with terror. "Brothers, hel-"

His plea died in his throat.

Weren’t they brothers? Hadn’t they sworn a blood pact to advance and retreat together?

Yet now, as death loomed over him, their retreating figures blurred in his vision, abandoning him to his fate.

The other swordsmen froze, some turning back, their loyalty warring with their orders.

"DON’T!" the leader shouted, his voice a whip-crack of command. "Follow the mission!"

"But our fifth brother-" one protested, his words cut off as Riven’s fist connected.

The swordsman’s head exploded into a gruesome spray of blood and bone, his body collapsing like a puppet with severed strings.

The leader’s jaw clenched, his eyes burning with helpless fury as he watched his brother die.

Orders were fucking orders, but the weight of loss gnawed at him. T

Hey, weren’t the free warriors they once were, unbound by the wind and stars? They were now cogs in a machine, and he hated it.

"Fucking listen! Retreat!" he bellowed, his voice cracking with desperation.

"Where the fuck do you think you’re going?" Riven’s voice was a low growl, dripping with menace as he wiped the blood from his knuckles, his eyes blazing with unspent rage.

He charged, leaping across rooftops, his boots cracking tiles with each bound.

The leader’s heart sank. No! We can’t outrun these monsters!

"USE THE TALISMANS!" he shouted, fumbling in his robes for a glowing talisman.

His men followed suit, slapping the shimmering seals onto their chests. The air crackled with strange energy, a hum that set Riven’s teeth on edge.

He narrowed his eyes, pushing his speed to the limit.

He was close-so close he could almost feel the motherfucker’s skull cracking under his fist. One meter away, and-

The leader’s body flickered, then vanished, swallowed by a pulse of light. Riven skidded to a halt, his scowl deepening, rage surging like a tide.

Fucking cowards!!!!

Bang.

To his left, an explosion of ice erupted, frost spiraling into the air like a winter storm. Selene landed beside him, her breath visible in the cold, her eyes searching his.

"They... disappeared?" she asked, her voice soft but laced with unease.

Riven’s chest heaved, his rage a smoldering ember. Letting out a breath, Selene slowly placed a hand on his chest.

He let out a slow breath, forcing the fire within him to cool. "Hmm... they slapped something on themselves and disappeared," he said, his tone dripping menacing irritation.

Selene frowned, her mind racing.

Talismans were known to her, but this power... to vanish without a trace?

It was beyond her knowledge, and that gap startled her.

She was the scholar between them, the one who pieced together the martial world’s secrets so Riven could act.

This ignorance was a wound, a failure she couldn’t stomach.

I need information, she thought, her mind spiraling. The imperial libraries, or maybe the beggar’s sect. I need to be quick. This is getting bad. Riven’s rivals are growing bolder.

A warm hand closed around hers, anchoring her. Riven’s voice cut through her thoughts, soothing as a summer breeze. "Don’t think too much, love. We’ll figure it out. We’re new to this martial world, and we spent a year clashing with a bunch of fucking pirates by the lake. We’ll learn."

She looked up, meeting his reassuring smile, and her anxiety melted.

That smile... it promised everything would be alright, just as he always found a way to break the norms and carve a path forward.

Her heart steadied. Right. He always finds a way.

Riven tugged her arm, and they leapt across the rooftops, their movements fluid as they landed on the inn’s balcony.

Three guards stood vigilant, encircling Azira, their lord and lady’s cherished maid. Her eyes lit up with relief as she spotted them, her small frame trembling with emotion.

"Your Highness! Sister!" she cried, running toward them, her voice a bright chime in the tense air.

Riven’s stern expression softened as he ruffled her hair, his touch gentle despite the blood still staining his knuckles. "We’re back," he said, his voice warm, almost fatherly, a stark contrast to the violence he’d just unleashed.

Selene watched from the side, her heart swelling at his tenderness.

He’d had no father to model such care, yet here he was, a pillar for Azira.

It made her love him more fiercely.

"Lord. Selene." A soft voice drifted from the doorway, trembling with distress. Nysalea clutched the window frame, her eyes wide with guilt. "Were... were they looking for me?"

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