Chapter 28 - Inciting Incident

  Everything had gone wrong.

  Ryn tore through the burning halls of the palace, Lilia slung over his back, Ariel clinging to his hand as she struggled to keep pace. Smoke stung his lungs, firelight bleeding across the marble walls in frantic flashes.

  The screams had been the first sign.

  The second was the storm of arrows.

  The instant they fell, Ryn had pulled Ariel close, blade flashing as he cut down the shafts that streaked toward her. He couldn’t even see where they had came from, but he didn’t have the luxury of searching.

  One arrow slipped through.

  It struck Lilia’s shoulder.

  She cried out, crumpling to the ground. Ariel froze, horror locking her in place. There was no time.

  Ryn lunged forward, scooping Lilia up and slinging her over his shoulder without breaking stride. His free hand clamped around Ariel’s, dragging her into motion. Together, they plunged through the choking smoke, the relentless roar of gunpowder shaking the walls as flames swallowed the palace.

  Hall after hall blurred past in flames until they burst into the ballroom.

  Ryn didn’t hesitate, he kicked the great doors wide, the crash echoing through the inferno.

  The sight inside froze them.

  A fallen banner trailed across the floor, half-burned and soaked in crimson. A nobles shoe lay abandoned near the wreckage, the other nowhere to be found. The sound of crackling fire mixed with distant, raw screams, each one more wrenching than the last. For a moment, they simply stared, hearts pounding, unable to believe the scene before them.

  Bodies littered the marble, charred and bleeding, spears and arrows jutting from where they’d fallen. Banners of Solvara lay torn and trampled, mingled with the dark insignias of Varghelm. The air stank of blood, fire, and ruin.

  The royalty of both nations…gone.

  For a heartbeat, the fire went silent. All Ryn could hear was the blood in his own ears.

  “No…” Ariel whispered, her voice trembling, as though the single word could undo the vision before her eyes. As though denial could make it vanish.

  ‘What’s going on? The walls—I need to make it to the walls.’

  Ryn spun sharply, ready to move, but something tugged at his cape. He looked down.

  A Varghelm noble lay sprawled on the blood-slick floor, his fingers clawing weakly at the fabric. His lips trembled, each word bubbling through blood.

  “W…why…?”

  Ryn froze.

  “Why would you kill us?” the noble rasped. His eyes, wide and glassy, locked onto Ryn’s. “We…we only wanted peace…”

  The grip on his cape slackened. The young man collapsed, his voice cut short, leaving only the hiss of fire and the screams beyond the walls.

  The weight of Lilia pressed heavy on Ryn’s back, her body limp, her blood soaking into his armor. She was slipping, he could feel it with every uneven step.

  He didn’t dare look at Ariel. He couldn’t.

  They ran.

  At last, the gates loomed ahead, and Ryn forced them through.

  He staggered to a halt. Behind him, Ariel let out a broken whimper.

  Solvara was gone.

  Flames devoured homes and halls alike,The scarred moon hung above the inferno,The night was a furnace. Corpses littered the cobbled streets. The living fled in every direction, their screams carried on waves of smoke. A child wailed over a still body. A man was crushed beneath a falling beam. A guard vanished, dragged screaming into the shadows.

  And then Ryn saw them.

  Cracks, jagged fissures tearing through the air as though the world itself had split apart. From those wounds, figures spilled out. Armored men, one after another, their banners foreign, half-remembered from whispers and Ariel’s lessons.

  Not one banner. Hundreds.

  The whole world had come for Solvara.

  The realization landed heavy in his chest, colder than the smoke stinging his throat. Solvara hadn’t been outmatched by one enemy. It had been abandoned by the world.

  The street seemed to collapse under the weight of their numbers. Ryn’s stomach twisted at the sight, an endless wave of soldiers pouring from the jagged rifts, their armor glinting in the firelight. He could hear the clash of steel, the shouts of those already trapped, but it all felt distant, muffled, as if he were submerged under water. The enormity of it pressed down on him, suffocating.

  Ariels lips parted, the word breaking out in a whisper, barely there.

  “Why…”

  No anger. No demand. Just a single syllable, fragile and hollow, carried off by the crackle of fire.

  Ryn had no answer.

  The enemy carved through anything that still moved, blades flashing, arrows loosed into the burning streets. And with every crack that split open, more poured through.

  Ryn felt Ariel’s hand tighten around his. His jaw locked, teeth grinding as the truth pressed down on him.

  He turned away. He ran. Through fire, through smoke, through the sounds of slaughter. He couldn’t look anymore. He couldn’t let it in.

  He had one task.

  Protect the princess.

  Everything else, everything burning, everything dying, he forced out of his mind.

  He slipped from alley to alley, keeping low, avoiding the gaze of the invading armies. Familiar sights burned around him — the business district consumed in fire, Lilia’s favorite flower shop reduced to ash. He couldn’t see it from here, but he knew Frill’s bakery was gone too. His chest tightened.

  The stone burned beneath his armor, smoke clawed at his lungs. Lilia’s weight dragged heavy across his back, her blood soaking through his cloak. Every step rattled his legs, but he forced them forward. He couldn’t stop.

  The next alley was narrow, choked with debris. A cart burned in the center, its wheel shrieking as it collapsed. He shifted Lilia higher on his shoulder, teeth grinding as his muscles screamed.

  Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  Arrows hissed overhead. He ducked, dragging Ariel with him into the shadow of an archway. She clutched his arm, trembling, her breath ragged against his sleeve.

  Shouts rose down the street. Armor clattered. Torches cast jagged shadows against the smoke.

  Ryn pressed Ariel close, crouching low. His heart hammered in his chest. Every sound — the drip of blood, the crack of collapsing beams — felt like a beacon to the enemy.

  He moved again, forcing his body forward. One alley bled into another, smoke thickening until his eyes burned and watered.

  Somewhere nearby, a scream ripped through the haze, cut short by steel.

  Ariel flinched, nails biting into his arm, but he didn’t look. He couldn't falter.

  He continued forward

  Ryn felt it, they were was getting closer to the walls.

  The alley narrowed, debris crackling underfoot. The orange glow of fire painted jagged shadows across the cobble, making every stone look like a lurking threat. Ryn slowed slightly, listening,the distant screams had grown muted, replaced by the faint metallic clink of armor. Something moved ahead. He froze, muscles coiled, senses straining.

  Then a shadow stepped into the street ahead. Broad-shouldered, cape pinned with an unfamiliar sigil, a knight barred their path as if he’d been waiting.

  The weight on Ryn’s back dragged at him. He lowered Lilia carefully onto the cobbles, his movements deliberate despite the rush of worry clawing up his throat. He said calmly to Ariel. “Stay behind me. Hold her. Try to stop the bleeding.”

  The knight stopped, the world narrowing to the flame-lit figure before him. His voice dropped into a slow, chanting rasp, words half-prayer, half-spit.

  “Gold of hair, gold of eye, the false light’s chosen, the rot made visible.”

  Then his tone slid, cruel and wry. “The little idol… right here in the open, surrounded by flames.” He laughed, low and bitter.

  “How fitting.”

  He laughed. Cold and dry.

  “And all I have to do is cut down the boy in front of me,” his gaze slid to Ryn, eyes glinting, “and the way to her opens itself.”

  Ryn didn’t hesitate. There was no time for words that might not land. He snatched a sword from a dead man’s hand and held it between them, palm slick. The blade was unfamiliar.

  “Where are you from?” Ryn demanded, buying seconds. “How did you get past the walls”

  The knight’s tone turned cruel. “Do I owe answers to a Solvaran?” He spat the word like a curse. “You devils brought this upon yourselves.”

  Ryn’s brows drew tight at the word “devils.”

  The knight’s tone sharpened, less like a man speaking and more like a sermon repeated too many times. “This world has rotted under your God. “

  He stepped closer, his cape stirring in the heat of the burning street. His eyes gleamed through the visor. “This world is strangled by your false sun. Every blessing it casts festers into sin, into corruption. We are the knife, boy. We cut away the infected so something pure can grow again”

  The words carried, the knight’s voice was flat, ritualistic, as though repeating someone else’s truth. but behind them was something stranger. Something Ryn couldn’t grasp, no matter how he tried.

  Confusion churned in him, but there was no time to tear sense from madness. Not here. Not now.

  He lunged

  ***

  Ryn had no words for the monster before him. The knight moved with a speed that defied reason, every swing of his blade seemed to tear the air itself aside, as if the world bent to make way for his strikes. Each step carried a terrifying inevitability, his feet driving him forward faster than they had any right to.

  Ryn had faced horrors before, the aberration’s twisted form still haunted his memory, but this was worse. The aberration had been a beast.

  This man was a killer

  Ryn’s lack of armor left him naked before the onslaught. A single strike grazed his arm; fire lanced through his nerves, blood slicking his sleeve.

  He couldn’t trade blows. Not like this. He had to think, had to find a way, and fast.

  Ryn forced his movements into stumbles, feigned desperation in his retreat. He gave ground deliberately, letting the man press harder, grow reckless with confidence. Each step back pulled the knight further from open footing, closer to the uneven stones, the collapsed cart, the embers spilling across the alley.

  The man pressed forward, overconfident, each swing of his blade faster, heavier, forcing Ryn back step by step. Sparks bit at the walls with every strike.

  And then it worked.

  The knight’s heel slammed against a loose, jagged stone. His weight shifted wrong—just for an instant,but it was enough. His balance faltered, his body pitching forward as he stumbled. The wide arc of his sword left his neck exposed.

  Ryn moved without thought. The borrowed blade shot upward in a single, vicious thrust, faster than the enemy could recover.

  However, what should have been impossible happened.

  The man twisted at the last second, Ryn’s perfect counter slicing nothing but air. His own momentum betrayed him, his blade pulling him forward, chest wide open.

  “Cool trick,” the knight sneered.

  The words barely landed before the kick did. A brutal strike slammed into Ryn’s chest like a hammer. The world lurched—air ripped from his lungs as he staggered back, doubled over.

  His vision blurred, the taste of iron flooding his mouth. He coughed, then vomited a hot spray of blood onto the cobblestones, knees nearly buckling under him.

  The knight didn’t press immediately. He just watched, blade lowered, like a predator savoring the stumble of its prey.

  Ryn was hopelessly outmatched. Every instinct told him he stood no chance of winning.

  The knight whistled a light tune, as if their clash were nothing more than a passing amusement. His blade hung loose at his side, but his eyes never wavered.

  “Still…” he said, voice calm, almost admiring. “Be proud. For a mundane human, your skill is impressive,frightening even, especially considering how young you look.” His amused tone deepened. “It’s a shame I have to cut it short.”

  Ryn’s jaw clenched, his teeth grinding against the taste of blood. He shifted his grip on the sword, forcing his trembling arms steady.

  Ryn’s gaze flicked to Ariel and Lilia behind him, Ariel trembling, clutching at Lilia’s bloodied shoulder. He exhaled, a sharp, ragged breath. , steadying himself. He couldn’t fall. Not yet.

  The knight lunged first, a blur of steel. Ryn barely twisted aside, the blade ripping sparks off the stone where his neck had been. He slashed upward in answer, wild, raw not clean swordsmanship, just survival.

  The knight countered fast, blade cutting the air like it weighed nothing. Ryn barely twisted aside, but the steel kissed his ribs, hot blood spilling down his side. He gritted his teeth, swung back hard. The man parried easily, laughing, and drove a boot into Ryn’s stomach. He folded with a choked gasp, stumbling but refusing to go down.

  No armor. No protection. Every strike could tear him open.

  Yet.

  He threw himself forward anyway, crashing into the knight’s chest. They slammed together, blades clashing in close quarters, sparks spitting as steel scraped against steel. The knight was stronger—far stronger. His strikes were clean, practiced, meant to kill. Ryn’s were ugly, wild—grappling, slashing, clawing at survival.

  His sword dragged a shallow line across the knight’s bicep, blood beading, but the victory was punished instantly—a mailed fist cracked into his jaw, his vision flashing white. He staggered, spat red, then lunged again, shoving, forcing the man’s blade aside with sheer desperation.

  The knight only smiled.

  Their blades locked, steel grinding, their faces inches apart. Ryn’s arms shook, muscles screaming, his chest slick with his own blood. The knight pressed forward easily, forcing him back step by step, the tip of Ryn’s sword trembling as it slipped closer to his own throat.

  Ryn twisted free at the last instant, ducking low and countering in a desperate slash. The blade missed.

  He struck again,low, high, thrust, swing, each motion fast, frantic, fueled by pain and fury. But the knight met them all, parrying with casual precision, dodging as though he’d seen every strike before, countering with movements sharp as lightning.

  “Still only a mundane human… how terrifying.” Then, with a cold edge, “Maybe it’s better I kill you now. Save us the trouble.”

  Ryn’s blood roared in his ears. Time seemed to stretch thin, every sound distant except the crash of steel. He moved faster now, faster than he thought his body could. His blade snapped forward, deflected, twisted again. He shifted his stance by inches, enough to turn killing strikes aside.

  Iron screamed against iron, their swords meeting again and again in a blur, sparks scattering into the smoke. Each impact rattled his bones, each deflection shaving away at his strength. His arms burned, lungs clawing for air, but still he struck, struck and struck, driven not by technique, but by the raw need to live one more heartbeat.

  The knight never rushed; he measured him like a predator savoring the panic in its prey. Every parry he made felt precise, effortless. Ryn was running out of time, and Lilia was still bleeding.

  Their blades met one last time. The ring of steel tore through the smoke, echoing off the stone. Ryn pushed—he pushed with everything left in his battered body, muscles screaming, vision tunneling. And for a heartbeat, impossibly, he felt it. The knight wavered.

  I’ve got you.

  But like everything else tonight, it broke. Sparks erupted, dancing in the air, blinding, as the man’s sword vanished—gone from his grip. In the same instant, steel flashed from his other hand, impossibly fast.

  Ryn’s eyes widened.

  Ah—

  The knight’s grin widened.

  ? An administration willing to stop at nothing to drive him out

  ? Coworkers so jaded they find hazing the new guy more entertaining than actual teaching

  ? A retention rate that is a body count

  Directive two: "teach them to fight"

  Personal Moral Imperative three: "every student must survive"

  Welcome to Dyntril Academy where survival is graduation.

  ?Found-family elements

  ?School bullying/abuse

  ?Social Stratification / classist society

  ?BATTLE SCHOOL TOURNAMENT!

  ?LitRPG elements, but no stat sheets

  ?Grimbright - Dark world, bright characters

  Monday, Wednesday, Friday

  LitRPGRuling ClassMultiple Lead CharactersStrong LeadActionAdventureFantasyRomanceAttractive LeadDystopiaFemale LeadProgressionGameLitMale LeadSchool Life