Rise of the Broken Warrior

Chapter 3

The golden lanterns of House Morana cast a warm glow over the grand courtyard. Hundreds of wealthy guests sat around long banquet tables covered in roasted meat and sweet fruit. They drank cup after cup of spiced wine, cheering loudly for Lord Valen's newfound might.

A sudden bang startled the laughing crowd as the heavy front gates slowly swung open. A ragged man limped across the polished threshold, leaning on a crooked wooden stick. Mud and dry blood caked his torn clothes, and a foul smell drifted across the tables.

The lively music died in an instant, and several women covered their noses in disgust. Guards reached for the hilts of their swords, glaring at the filthy figure in the dirt. No one could believe that this broken wretch was once the greatest dragon warrior of the realm.

"Clara... where is she?" Lucas choked out, his voice cracking from dry mud and pain. He dragged his feet forward, leaving a dirty smear across the pristine white stones. "Morana, you swore to me that she would be safe if I gave you my core!"

High up on the marble terrace, Lady Morana sat with a crystal glass in her hand. She wore an expensive crimson silk gown that shimmered under the bright lanterns. Her cold eyes locked onto Lucas, and a cruel smirk spread across her painted lips.

Lord Valen stood tall beside her, resting his golden hand on the balcony rail. The warm light of the stolen dragon core pulsed brightly beneath his fine silk shirt. He tossed his head back and let out a long, mocking laugh that echoed across the yard.

"Look at this starved mongrel crawling back through the mud!" Valen shouted to the guests. "He lost his core, yet he still drags his broken bones here to beg for table scraps! A peasant stray will always run back to the master who beat him!"

The entire courtyard erupted into cruel laughter, pointing fingers at Lucas’s shivering frame. Servants sneered, and noble lords shook their heads in pure pity and contempt. They looked at him as if he were nothing more than a dead bug stuck to their boots.

"Give me Clara!" Lucas cried out, his knuckles turning white around his wooden stick. Tears of hot anger stung his eyes as he looked up at the woman he had loved. "I gave you my cultivation, Morana! Keep your promise and bring Master Vane’s daughter out!"

Morana slowly set her wine cup down on the table, her face turning cold and bored. She looked at Lucas as if he were a pile of trash dirtying her beautiful party. Her voice was sharp and clear, carrying effortlessly over the quiet courtyard.

"Be silent, you useless cripple," Morana said, waving her pale hand toward the guards. "My family owes you nothing, and you do not get to bark orders at noble lords. You gave up your core because you were weak and foolish enough to believe my words."

"Should we run him through with our spears, My Lady?" an armored guard asked. The soldier drew his heavy iron blade, eager to cut down the filthy beggar. He stepped toward Lucas, expecting the broken man to run away in terror.

"No, do not dirty the courtyard stones with his foul blood," Morana ordered coldly. "Tie him up and throw him into the outer stables with the pigs and the dung. Let him stay there as a living warning to anyone who thinks they can climb above their station."

Two large enforcers grabbed Lucas by his thin arms and dragged him backward through the yard. His wooden stick snapped under their heavy iron boots, scattering splinters into the mud. Lucas hung his head low, letting his messy black hair hide the cold light in his eyes.

A fat cook rushed out of the kitchen hallway, carrying a bucket of greasy dishwater. He spat a thick glob of yellow saliva directly onto Lucas’s bare chest. "Eat dirt, beggar! You used to walk around like a king, but now you are lower than a stable dog!"

Lucas did not scream, nor did he fight against the rough hands holding him down. He closed his eyes and swallowed the bitter humiliation, burning every mocking face into his mind. When I pull Clara from the dark, I will cut every single one of your filthy tongues out.

The guards threw him violently into a damp wooden stall filled with rotten straw and manure. The heavy iron latch clicked into place, locking him inside the dark, smelly pen. "Enjoy your new palace, dragon hero!" the guards laughed as their heavy footsteps walked away.

Lucas waited until the courtyard went completely silent before pushing himself up from the floor. He sat cross-legged on the straw, letting the cold air clear his mind. Deep inside his chest, the black Stygian Karma Core spun with quiet, deadly force.

He closed his eyes and sent a thread of invisible spiritual energy through the stone ground. His senses traveled past the kitchen, down through the dark rock, straight to the western cliff. Deep beneath the heavy stone foundations, he felt a tiny, weak pulse of warm energy.

Clara is still breathing down there, Lucas thought, his heart clenching with fierce resolve. They have locked her in the dark cellar, but her life force has not faded yet. Hold on just a little longer, little sister, because I will tear these walls down for you.

Hours passed, and the loud celebration in the upper manor finally died down to total silence. A thick, icy fog rolled over the muddy ground, hiding the moon behind heavy grey clouds. The only sound left was the restless snorting of the carriage horses in the next stall.

A quiet creak broke the stillness as the wooden door of the stable swung open. A tall man in dark leather armor stepped into the stall, his face hidden beneath a hood. In his gloved right hand, he held a thin, sharp iron dagger that caught the faint starlight.

It was Captain Bruce, the senior enforcer who had driven the spear through Lucas's chest yesterday. He smiled with wicked cruelty, kicking Lucas’s foot to wake him from the straw. "Wake up, trash. It is time for you to take your final rest."

Lucas opened his eyes slowly, looking up with a dull, frightened expression on his face. He shrank back against the dirty wooden wall, pulling his knees tightly toward his chest. "Captain Bruce? What did I do? Lady Morana said I could live in the stables."

"Lady Morana is too gentle for her own good," Bruce whispered, raising the gleaming dagger high. "Lord Valen wants no loose ends, and your head will earn me five hundred gold coins. Dead men do not tell tales, and they certainly do not ask about little girls."

Bruce stepped forward with explosive speed, driving the sharp blade straight toward Lucas’s exposed throat. He put all his strength into the thrust, eager to feel the hot blood spray across his hands. He expected the blade to sink easily into the beggar’s soft, unprotected flesh.

[Hostile Intent Confirmed: Lethal Tier.]

[Target: Senior Enforcer Bruce.]

[Karmic Reversal Activated!]

The tip of the iron dagger stopped half an inch away from Lucas’s pale skin. An invisible wall of black air rippled, catching the force of the strike like solid steel. A sickening snap echoed through the stall as Bruce’s right wrist shattered into twisted, jagged pieces.

"Aaargh!" Bruce screamed, dropping the blade and stumbling backward into the filthy straw. He cradled his limp, broken hand to his chest, his eyes wide with shock and fury. "What was that? A hidden body talisman? Where did a broken dog like you get a magic charm?!"

Lucas remained silent, watching the struggling captain with cold, completely unblinking eyes. The dull fear on his face vanished, replaced by an icy calm that made Bruce shiver. Lucas slowly rose to his feet, dusting the dry straw from his tattered pants.

"You think a cheap defensive charm can save your miserable life?!" Bruce roared in pure rage. He reached into his belt pouch with his left hand, pulling out a dark purple pill. He shoved the pill into his mouth and swallowed it whole without a second thought.

The pill was a forbidden blood-boiling medicine that burned away a warrior's own life force. Thick black veins bulged across Bruce’s face and neck, turning his skin an ugly dark red. His muscles swelled to twice their normal size, and his aura tripled into a deadly storm.