Abaddon

Chapter 12 : Orders

“Where is Uriel?” I barked.

My fists clenched tight, knuckles whitening, veins straining beneath my skin. My eyes locked on the two knights standing before me. They hadn’t moved since their sudden attack. Just stood there—silent, still, like statues carved from iron, their red eyes glowing faintly, burning like embers in the dim light.

“Where is she?” I demanded again, my voice cutting through the heavy air.

This time, they turned their heads toward each other in eerie unison, as if a single thought passed between them. Then, just as suddenly, their gazes snapped back to me.

“The commander must not be disturbed. Her orders,” they said together, voices flat, cold, empty.

The sound crawled across my skin. Their tone wasn’t human. Their stillness wasn’t natural. It was as if something else moved them, like puppets bound to invisible strings. Controlled. I could feel it in my gut. But I didn’t have time to figure out how or why. The only thing that mattered was Uriel.

Then, without warning, one of them moved.

The knight shot forward like a thunderbolt. His armored feet slammed into the ground with such force that cracks split through the stone floor, dust and fragments flying into the air. In one swift motion, he swung his spear, the air around it warping from the force of the strike.

“Howling Blade!” he roared.

The spear tore through the air, dragging a violent gust of wind with it. The strike ripped everything apart in its path, shredding the space between us. The very air screamed as it rushed toward me, carrying the weight of death.

But my body had already acted before my mind caught up. I dropped low, instincts flaring. My muscles coiled and released, rolling hard across the ground. Dirt and shards of stone exploded against my skin as I slid clear. The gust roared past me, slamming into the wall with a deafening crash, stone splitting under the impact.

I forced myself upright, chest heaving, heart pounding against my ribs like a drum. My eyes narrowed. They weren’t going to let me pass.

I set my stance, feet digging into the dirt, my weight balanced low. Blood rushed hot through my veins, boiling, burning, demanding release. My muscles trembled—not with fear, but with anticipation.

Boom.

The air cracked as I launched forward, the ground breaking beneath me. In the blink of an eye, I was upon him. My fist cocked back, every fiber of muscle straining to its limit. Then it connected.

The knight’s spear caught my strike, but it didn’t hold. The metal frame shattered on impact, fragments scattering like glass in every direction. My punch didn’t stop—it tore through the weapon and slammed straight into his chest plate. The steel dented inward with a sickening crunch, and the force hurled him backward. His body smashed into the wall, stone exploding under the collision.

I froze, chest rising and falling in ragged bursts. Something was wrong. My body—no, my blood—it wasn’t normal. It felt like fire. A raw, searing heat surged inside me, sharp, overwhelming, terrifying.

“What’s this?” I muttered, staring at my trembling hands.

“Power,” Reaper’s voice whispered within me. Dark. Calm. Certain.

I didn’t have time to question it. The second knight lunged. His movements were swift, sharp, and precise. The spear shot forward, aimed straight for my chest.

Instinct screamed. My body twisted aside, the point slicing past me by a breath. But he didn’t stop. The shaft swung sideways in one fluid motion. The iron bar slammed into my arm with bone-crushing force. Pain lanced through me as the impact lifted me off my feet and flung me backward.

I hit the ground hard, pain searing up my side, but I refused to stay down. Gritting my teeth, I forced my body upright. My boots dug into the dirt, my arm throbbed, but my blood was roaring louder, hotter, demanding I fight.

And then… the words came.

“Order One. Chains of Despair.”

The ground lit up beneath me, crimson light flooding the hall. A massive magic circle burned itself into existence, symbols I didn’t recognize pulsing with energy. Mana flooded the air, heavy, suffocating, pressing down on everything.

From the circle’s center, chains erupted—thick, glowing red, molten heat dripping from them. They lashed out like serpents, wrapping tight around the knight’s body. He fought, struggled, but the chains only tightened. The floor beneath him cracked and splintered as he was slammed down, pinned face-first, bound and helpless.

Boom!

The air behind me split like thunder. I spun, heart in my throat.

The knight I had sent crashing into the wall was already back on his feet. His armor was caved in, blood dripping from his mouth, but his body moved like pain meant nothing. He stopped inches from me, his fist cocked back.

The punch came with terrifying force. The air screamed as his strike tore forward, ripping an entire section of the wall to shreds.

But he didn’t hit me. Somehow, without even thinking, my body was already behind him. My hand pressed against the dented steel of his backplate.

The words spilled from me, unbidden.

“Order Two. Eternal Release.”

The world exploded. A violent shockwave tore through my palm, detonating against his armor. The steel shattered, fragments bursting outward like shrapnel. The blast hurled him across the hall, his body slamming into the floor with bone-rattling force. He slid lifelessly across the stone until he lay still, unconscious before the dust even settled.

I staggered back, chest heaving, lungs burning. Sweat clung to my skin. My hands shook violently as I stared at them. This—this wasn’t possible. This was the first time I had ever used magic.

And I had no idea how I had done it.

Behind me, the chains rattled violently. The second knight struggled, thrashing weakly against their grip. The glow in his red eyes flickered, dimming, faltering.

I turned slowly, each step dragging, exhaustion sinking into my bones. My gaze locked onto him. My expression hardened, sharp as a blade.

“Where is Uriel?” I asked. My voice came out low, cold, cutting.

The knight’s body convulsed. The glow in his eyes sputtered, then vanished completely. His gaze met mine for the first time—not with hostility, but with raw fear. His body trembled, his arms pulling helplessly against the chains.

“I… I don’t know,” he stammered, his voice shaking, thin and broken.

The fear in his eyes told me something vital. They were no longer knights. They were prisoners. Whatever had controlled them had vanished, leaving only broken men in its wake.

I stepped closer, the crimson glow of the chains flickering against my skin. My voice dropped even lower, sharper, colder.

“What do you know then?”