My Crybaby Father is the Kingdom's Worst Villain
Chapter 43: Tormar.

Chapter 43: Tormar.

Elena pursed her lips before speaking. "I will accompany my lady."

"So will I," Stephan said firmly. "I won’t let anything happen to her."

"Same here, Sir Aurelio. I swear on my life," Elena added, her voice unwavering.

Luzia looked at the two and smiled. They have both proven to be truly my allies.

She turned to Aurelio, determination shining in her eyes. "As you can see, I will not be going alone, Sir Aurelio."

Aurelio’s expression remained impassive. "It is not enough. Elena is just a maid, and Stephan is the only knight."

Luzia clenched her fists. I can’t reveal that Elena is an assassin! Then how do I convince him?

Before she could speak, Aurelio let out a sigh. "I will come with you, my lady."

The room fell silent.

"What?" Beatriz gaped at him, mirroring everyone’s shock.

Aurelio simply crossed his arms. "I was a knight before becoming a butler."

"If that is the case, I will come along as well," Beatriz declared.

Aurelio turned to her with a raised brow. "Then who will take care of the estate while I’m gone?"

Beatriz huffed, folding her arms. "And what exactly do you expect me to do? Sit here and twiddle my thumbs while you all march into danger?"

"You would be leaving the estate vulnerable," Aurelio countered. "Someone must stay behind to ensure its security. If we all go, we may return to nothing but ashes."

Beatriz scowled but didn’t argue further. She turned to Luzia. "You had better bring his lordship back alive—and yourself too."

Aurelio smirked, "I plan to."

Aurelio sighed, running a hand down his face. "Very well. We leave at first light."

"That’s too late," Luzia said, her tone sharp. "We leave tonight."

Aurelio hesitated, but the look in her eyes left no room for argument. He let out a resigned breath. "Then we must prepare immediately."

Elena nodded. "I’ll gather supplies."

"I’ll get the horses ready," Stephan added.

Aurelio turned to Beatriz. "Keep things in order here. If anything happens in our absence, send word immediately."

Beatriz lifted her chin. "You didn’t even need to ask."

Luzia exhaled slowly, the weight of her decision settling on her shoulders. She had no idea what awaited her in Tormar, but she knew one thing for certain—she wouldn’t let her father die.

No matter what it took.

The night air was crisp as the small group made their final preparations. The estate’s torches flickered against the darkness, casting long shadows as the tension thickened.

Luzia tightened the straps of her cloak, glancing at Aurelio, who stood by the horses, inspecting their saddles. He was always thorough, always prepared—but tonight, there was an unspoken urgency in his movements.

Elena emerged from the storeroom with a satchel slung over her shoulder as she whispered to Luzia. "I’ve packed rations, bandages, and extra daggers," she said, placing the bag on one of the horses. "It should be enough for the journey."

Stephan adjusted his sword belt. "The horses are well-rested. If we push through the night, we’ll reach Tormar before dawn."

Luzia nodded. Time was their enemy.

Aurelio mounted his horse, his sharp gaze sweeping over the group. "Stick together. No unnecessary risks."

Luzia climbed onto her horse, gripping the reins tightly. "Let’s go."

With that, they set off into the night, the pounding of hooves echoing through the silent countryside.

---

Hours passed in tense silence. The closer they got to Tormar, the more the air thickened with the scent of smoke and something fouler—blood.

Luzia’s stomach twisted as she caught sight of the first signs of destruction. The village outskirts were littered with broken carts, abandoned belongings, and deep claw marks gouged into the earth.

Stephan reined in his horse. "We’re not too late... are we?" he murmured.

"No," Luzia said firmly, scanning the area. "We don’t know that yet."

Aurelio pointed ahead. "Look."

A faint glow flickered from the village center—firelight.

Luzia’s pulse quickened. "Someone is still alive."

Aurelio’s expression hardened. "Then we move. Quietly."

Aurelio and Stephan dismounted, they crept forward, weapons drawn. The village was in ruins. Houses had been torn apart, blood staining the cobblestone streets. But amidst the carnage, Stephan spotted movement near the church.

Survivors.

Before he could speak, a low, guttural growl rumbled through the air.

Luzia cursed under her breath. "They’re still here."

From the shadows, eyes gleamed in the firelight. Long, sinewy bodies slithered out from behind the wreckage, their black fur bristling, teeth dripping with fresh blood.

Maisbeasts.

The largest of the creatures let out an ear-splitting screech, its many-jointed legs tensing.

Then, it lunged.

"Elena take Luzia with you and run! Go find his lordship," Aurelio barked. " Stephan and I will handle the maisbeast here..."

Elena didn’t hesitate. She grabbed Luzia’s wrist and pulled her off the main road, weaving through the wreckage of homes and market stalls. Behind them, the beasts’ screeches tore through the night as Aurelio and Stephan engaged in battle. The clash of steel against flesh, the guttural snarls of the creatures—it all mixed into a brutal symphony of survival.

Luzia’s heart pounded. She wanted to stay, to fight—but she lacked the skill. Her father was somewhere in this ruined village, and she had to find him.

"This way," Elena whispered, leading her through the debris-laden streets.

As they neared the church, the firelight flickered brighter, casting long, eerie shadows. The scent of blood thickened in the air, suffocating and metallic. But beyond it, faint and desperate, Luzia heard something—voices. Survivors.

Elena slowed, pressing herself against the crumbling stone wall of a half-destroyed building. She motioned for Luzia to do the same.

"There," she murmured.

Luzia peeked around the corner.

Near the church entrance, a group of villagers huddled together, their faces tight with fear. Some were wounded, others clutching makeshift weapons as if expecting the worst.

Luzia stepped forward carefully, hands raised to show she meant no harm. The survivors flinched, their eyes wide with terror, until they saw she was not another beast.

"We’re here to help," she whispered. "Stay quiet. The creatures are still roaming."

Elena stood beside her, eyes scanning the ruins for any sign of movement.

A frail-looking woman clutched a crying child to her chest. "Who... who are you?"

"I’m Luzia," she said firmly. "I need to find Duke Ramiro. Have you seen him?"

The group exchanged uneasy glances before an older man, his face streaked with ash, stepped forward. "He’s at the border."

Luzia’s stomach clenched. "The border?"

The man swallowed hard. "He and some knights went there to stop the Maisbeasts from breaking through." His voice shook. "It’s suicide. That place is crawling with them."

A sickening dread settled in Luzia’s chest, but she forced it down. There was no time for fear.

Elena tightened her grip on Luzia’s wrist. "We need to go. Now."

Luzia nodded, then turned to the survivors. "Stay hidden. Help will come."

The woman with the child hesitated before reaching out. "Little one... You’re going after him?"

Luzia met her gaze, her voice unwavering. "Yes."

"But it’s dangerous," the woman pleaded.

Luzia looked away, her voice barely above a whisper. "He’s my father... I have to protect him. I won’t forgive myself if I lose him again."

The woman’s eyes widened.

"The duke’s daughter?" the survivors murmured in hushed disbelief. They exchanged stunned glances, some looked at her with awe, others with wary disbelief.

Before the woman could ask anything more, Luzia turned away.

Without another word, she and Elena vanished into the night—heading straight for the border, where death awaited.

The stench of blood and burned flesh lingered in the cold night air. The battlefield was eerily silent now, save for the crackling of dying flames and the labored breathing of the few soldiers still standing.

Ramiro exhaled slowly, his fingers still tingling from the residual energy of his last spell. The ground around him was littered with the charred remains of Maisbeasts, their grotesque bodies twisted and broken. The battle had been won—for now.

Esteban, his steward and longtime confidant, wiped sweat from his brow, his expression grim. "They were stronger than last time," he said, his voice heavy with exhaustion.

"I noticed," Ramiro replied, rolling his shoulders as he surveyed the devastation.

Esteban’s gaze drifted over the fallen soldiers, the lifeless bodies of men who had fought until their last breath. He clenched his jaw. "Most of our soldiers are dead."

Ramiro said nothing for a moment, his golden eyes dark with unspoken thoughts. He could see it, clear as day—the battlefield was nearly empty, only a handful of weary knights remained, barely able to stay on their feet.

"I can see..." he muttered, his voice quieter now.

His hands curled into fists at his sides. They had held the border, finally.

His thoughts drifted to Luzia. At least she was safe, back at the estate. Away from this horror.

At least... she should be.

"Dad!"

Ramiro’s breath hitched.

That voice—impossible.

He turned sharply, his weary eyes widening as he spotted a figure racing toward him through the ruins. Cloaked in the dim firelight, dust clinging to her clothes, determination burning in her gaze—

"Luzia?"

She didn’t stop. She crashed into him, gripping his arms, her face pale with horror.

"Dad—behind you!"