Rise of the Broken Warrior

Chapter 8

The space rift sealed shut, leaving the wide stone platform in cold, unbroken silence.

Hundreds of clan leaders, wealthy merchants, and sect masters remained pressed flat against the rock. No one dared lift a head beneath the crushing weight that filled the air around Lucas.

Beside him, Clara’s bruised little fingers held tight to his torn sleeve. Her thin body shook so hard her teeth rattled.

"Brother Lucas..." she sobbed, tears washing clean paths through the dirt and dried blood on her cheeks. "Is it real? Am I not going to die today?"

Lucas dropped to one knee. The cold anger in his face melted the moment he looked into her red, swollen eyes.

He slipped off his worn cloak and wrapped it around her frail shoulders, pulling it snug to keep out the mountain wind.

"The nightmare is over, Clara," Lucas whispered softly. "I am here. Nobody will ever put chains on you again."

Clara buried her face into his chest, weeping as months of dark, starved fear finally broke into ragged sobs.

Across the quiet yard, a heavy man in silk robes tried to sneak toward the side stairs on his tiptoes.

It was Elder Darius, the head money-keeper of House Morana. He held a heavy iron chest stuffed with stolen gold coins tight against his belly.

Sweat poured down his neck. His shifty eyes darted toward the mountain path, praying the young man on the stage would not see him.

"Darius," Lucas said.

The voice was quiet, but it hit Darius like a hammer, freezing the blood in his veins.

The heavy box slipped from his wet fingers, hitting the stone steps and spilling gold coins across the dirt.

Darius dropped straight to his fat knees, slapping his own cheeks again and again until red marks showed across his skin.

"Lord Lucas!" Darius wailed, tears and snot running into his beard as he crawled forward on his belly. "Pity this old dog! Morana and Valen put a blade to my neck! I was forced!"

Lucas did not raise his voice or rush. He stood up and walked down the steps, his boots making a steady, quiet sound against the rock.

"You were forced?" Lucas asked, looking down without an ounce of pity.

"Yes, my lord! I swear on my ancestors!" Darius cried out, banging his head on the floor. "I secretly left extra bread in her cell! Every day I prayed for your return to save her!"

Clara peeked out from under the wool cloak, her small voice shaking with fresh pain.

"You lie," she whispered. "You stood outside the iron bars and laughed when Lady Morana poured salt into my whip cuts. You told her I was just a farm animal waiting for the knife."

Darius turned pale as wet paper, his tongue sticking to the roof of his mouth as Lucas’s shadow fell over him.

"I gave your house my own life for three years," Lucas said, his voice turning cold as ice. "You took my master's kindness, and you paid him back with poison and chains."

"Spare me! Take the gold! Take everything!" Darius screamed, wetting his silk trousers as he banged his forehead against the stone until the skin broke.

Lucas did not draw a sword. He did not even lift a fist.

He simply turned away and walked toward the center of the high stone floor, where the tall stone pillar of House Morana stood.

The green stone was carved with snakes and eagles, pulsing with a deep, warm glow.

Everyone in the city knew this stone pillar was the sacred root of the family's sudden wealth and fame.

For three years, while the clan laughed at the quiet live-in son-in-law who swept their floors, Lucas had crept out here every midnight to press his hand against the rock, pouring his own dragon breath into the mountain soil.

His secret sacrifice had fed the dry ground, sprouting the rarest spirit plants and making Morana's family the richest medicine sellers in the province.

"You called me a useless dog who ate your leftover rice," Lucas said softly, laying his bare hand on the smooth green stone.

"Lord Lucas... what are you doing?!" Darius shrieked from the ground, his eyes wide with horror. "Do not touch our ancestral stone!"

Lucas gave a thin, cold smile. "I am only taking back what belongs to me."

Lucas dug his fingers into the solid rock, pulling hard as his inner core stirred to life.

A dark golden flash burst from his hand as he ripped every trace of his blessing out of the stone pillar.

A deep, hollow groan rolled through the belly of the mountain, shaking the stone floor like an earthquake.

The glowing green pillar faded to dull grey, lines of deep cracks spreading across its face before the entire stone collapsed into a heap of dead white dust.

Far down in the valley below, an unnatural wind swept across the mountain fields.

Hundreds of acres of prized herbs shriveled in seconds, curling into black ash that blew away in the breeze.

The sweet smell of medicine that had hung over the city for three years vanished, replaced by the bitter smell of dry dirt.

A quiet chime rang in Lucas’s mind.

[Karmic Blessing Revoked. Stolen prosperity reclaimed from the ungrateful.]

[+10 Karma Points Acquired.]

[Current Balance: 10 Points.]

Darius grabbed his hair, staring at the dust heap as his mind broke.

"The fields... the springs... it is all dead!" Darius wailed, pulling out clumps of his own hair. "Our family is ruined! We owe a fortune to the capital! We have nothing left!"

Lucas walked past the weeping man without looking back.

"Live," Lucas said, his words landing like heavy stones. "Live, and watch your proud family beg for stale crusts in the mud."

Around the edges of the courtyard, the watching merchants and elders broke into cold sweats, looking at each other in horror.

"It was him..." an old merchant whispered, his knees trembling. "House Morana never had heaven's favor. The boy they kicked around was feeding them the entire time."

"And they threw him off the cliff," another breathed in terror. "They threw away a living god for fool's gold."

Clara walked close beside Lucas, holding his fingers tightly as if she feared he might vanish into thin air.

"Brother Lucas," she asked quietly, looking down the winding mountain path. "Will the lords from the capital come after us now?"

Lucas stopped and wiped a dried tear from her bruised cheek with his sleeve.

His eyes were calm and clear, steady as a mountain.

“Let them try," Lucas replied softly, gazing down the dark winding path toward the bustling city below. "Every step they take toward us is just another step into their own open graves."