Ezra Echelon Liberation System

Chapter 3: The Conqueror

As the warriors approached, Ezra noticed his family stirring. His siblings looked confused, but his parents had expressions that suggested they had anticipated this moment. Their eyes were filled with bitterness as they turned to Lorrin, who stared back at them with a blank expression.

 

"You... it was you?" Ezra's mother whispered, a mix of defiance and disbelief in her voice.

 

"Be quiet, woman!" Lorrin commanded, and a heavy silence followed.

 

The atmosphere was thick with tension, broken only by the wind rustling the dry grass. Ezra felt the ropes digging into his wrists, binding him to the post. His sisters whimpered softly beside him, and his mother offered them a reassuring smile. Across the field, the executioners advanced, their weapons shining in the fading sunlight.

 

Ezra's heart raced; he knew it was the end.

 

In front of him stood the Archival warriors, a wall of armored men with cold, emotionless faces. At the forefront was a massive figure, the largest of them all, dragging his sword through the dirt as he walked. Behind them, Ezra's teacher stood like a ghost, silent and still, seemingly indifferent to the impending doom of the family he once vowed to protect.

 

Ezra's father knelt in the dirt, head lowered and shoulders tense. For a brief, horrifying moment, Ezra feared his father had already given up.

 

No. Father wouldn't.

 

Then, just as the executioners were about to strike, everything changed.

 

The air buzzed with energy. Ezra's father's shoulders lifted, his breathing slow and deep, as if the world was breathing with him. The ropes that held him snapped, turning to ash. At the same time, the ground trembled beneath him, and a glowing veil—clear yet vibrant with power—surrounded him.

 

"Enough."

 

The word was quiet, yet it hit like a thunderclap, freezing the executioners in their tracks. Ezra's father stood taller, as if reality itself shifted to accommodate him. His presence shimmered with a warm glow, shadows swirling around him like loyal protectors.

 

The giant leader spat and yelled, "Kill him!"

 

The executioners rushed forward, but Ezra's father vanished.

 

For a moment, Ezra thought he was imagining things. Then, he saw it—a blur of movement so quick it left shadows in its wake. His father appeared behind one of the soldiers, his hand reaching out. The man was thrown back, his body bending in an unnatural way from an unseen force. “Veil of shadows!”

 

Ezra gasped as he watched his father dart across the battlefield, evading every spear and sword with an almost magical grace. His movements were smooth, his figure flickering between being there and not. One moment he held a flash of steel; the next, he was gone, leaving his enemies on the ground, grasping at wounds that seemed to come from thin air.

 

An executioner attempted to sneak up on him. His father turned, his eyes faintly glowing, and disappeared mid-step. He reappeared above the man, bringing his sword down in a smooth arc. The soldier's armor shattered like fragile clay as he collapsed, lifeless.

 

"Ethereal Step." Ezra's father landed lightly, his movements so precise they seemed planned. Ezra's amazement grew. He faced many foes, yet none could touch him. Every action was purposeful. Each strike was lethal. He melted into shadows, reappearing where the enemy was most vulnerable.

 

The leader of the Archival snarled, driving his massive sword into the ground. "Surround him! Now!"

 

The warriors formed a tight circle, their shields locked together. Arrows whizzed through the air, all aimed at Ezra's father.

 

Ezra flinched, but his father was already in motion. His hand extended, and the air around him distorted—shimmering waves of energy sprang to life. The arrows hit the barrier and splintered into pieces. This was the age of dissonance, a defensive technique that created a protective shield.

 

The leader growled and charged forward, his large frame crashing through his own men like a battering ram; his sword swung with immense force, aiming to slice Ezra's father in half.

 

"Phantom Drift." The ground erupted as the blade struck, but Ezra's father was gone. He had leaped high into the air, his body weightless. The shadows beneath him turned to mist as he hovered above the battlefield, the sun highlighting his silhouette sharply. The leader roared, frustration boiling over. "Coward! Come down and fight me!"

 

Ezra's father complied. He descended from the sky like a meteor, his sword glowing with vibrant energy. As he landed, shockwaves radiated outward. Archival soldiers were knocked off their feet, their armor cracking under the impact.

 

The leader staggered back, struggling to maintain his balance as the ground trembled beneath him.

 

Ezra's father rose, dust covering him, his sword dimly glowing with residual energy. He pointed the blade at the towering man. "You should have kept your distance."

 

The leader growled and charged again, swinging his sword wildly in large arcs. Ezra's father met him head-on, their swords clashing and sending sparks flying. The force of their strikes shook the entire area where Ezra was bound, causing the posts to rattle.

 

As Ezra watched the battle, he felt Lorrin hit him in the neck with a fist surrounded by a shimmering aura. He felt a bit uneasy and dizzy, but his vision soon cleared. He quickly realized that Lorrin was doing the same to his siblings.

 

Ezra wanted to shout, but he found he couldn't. Something was blocking his voice. His father was too focused on the giant man to notice what was happening.

 

The fight between his father and the massive leader raged on. It was a fierce battle: raw power against skill. The leader's strikes were fierce, each capable of shattering stone. But Ezra's father moved like water, dodging and countering, always anticipating the next move. His actions were more precise now, his attacks intentional. He slipped between the leader's blows, vanishing into shadows one moment and reappearing from unexpected angles.

 

The leader shouted fiercely, swinging his huge sword with all his strength. Ezra's father dodged just in time, moving like a blur, and struck with incredible speed. His sword plunged deep into the leader's side.

 

The giant dropped to one knee, blood gushing from the wound. His face contorted in agony and shock. "What… are you?"

 

Ezra's father stayed silent. He raised his sword, its edge shining brightly. The sun reflected off the blade, creating a beam of light across the battlefield.

 

Then Ezra's teacher moved forward.

 

Just as the blow was about to land, a cold, commanding voice interrupted, "Enough."

 

Ezra's father halted, his sword pausing just inches from the leader's neck. He looked at the teacher, who stood calmly at the edge of the chaos.

 

Ezra felt a knot in his stomach. Something was off.

 

The teacher raised a hand, his fingers curling slightly. Ezra's mother, still tied to the post, gasped silently. A faint, deadly energy shimmered around her throat, invisible yet threatening.

 

"Yield," the teacher said gently. "Or they die."

 

Ezra's father grinned. “My wife would willingly sacrifice herself for our children,” he replied, twisting the sword, ready to finish the job.

 

“The Conqueror, it seems you are not just for show. I've already tainted all your children with dark energies. Even if you kill me, you won't save any of them, at least not before they perish in the next ten minutes,” Lorrin said with a smirk.

 

Ezra's father's face changed from anger to fear. The atmosphere around him grew quiet as he lowered his sword.

 

"No," Ezra breathed. "Father, please!"

 

But his father had already knelt, his head down. He lifted it and shouted loudly, “You owe me a favor, Lorrin the Traitor!” 

 

Lorrin looked at him. “What do you want?” 

 

“Promise me that at least one of my children will survive! Seal this with the oath of the Four council!” 

 

Lorrin stepped closer, his gaze cold. “Your wish will be fulfilled,” he replied. “In fact, I will go so far as to ensure your only son lives!”

 

Then his father smiled. “I curse you today, Lorrin the Traitor, Horak the Titan,” he said, turning to the giant and Ezra's teacher. “The heavens will shatter, and your days will be stained red. When that time comes, neither the sun will shine for you nor the moon light your nights. On that cold day, when my child seeks revenge for the evil you have done today, you will weep rivers of blood!”

 

The teacher remained expressionless. "You fought bravely, Conqueror. But even the strongest must kneel eventually."

 

Ezra screamed as the teacher's hand formed a fist. His mother's body slumped. The executioners moved forward, raising their swords. Their blades sparkled in the light as they swung down toward his father's head.