The Extra Who Stole the Hero's System-Chapter 28: A Promise - 4

Evelina knelt on the cold stone floor of the training hall, the Knight’s Trial Elixir clutched in her hand, tears streaming down her face. Her raw scream of frustration had torn, echoing in the vast, empty space of the hall.

Evelina, still lost in the painful labyrinth of her past, saw herself as a child again, in the sun-dappled gardens of the Sapphire manor. The rescued puppy, Evedee, a small bundle of white fur, jumped around her feet, its tail wagging. It was a game of catch, simple and joyous.

Evelina would throw a tree branch, and the puppy, a blur of white, would quickly sprint to retrieve it, its tiny legs churning. After a series of successful catches, Evelina, with a child’s playful mischievousness, decided to make the next throw a little more challenging. She wound up and hurled the stick deep into the forest that bordered the manor grounds.

She waited. And waited. Minutes stretched into an deepening silence. The puppy didn’t come back. Evelina’s heart began to pound, a cold fear tightening in her stomach.

Where was Evedee? Was he hurt? Was he lost? Worry for the puppy’s safety quickly overshadowed her initial playful intent. She knew the forest was thick, full of thorny bushes and possible wild animals. Her fear of insects, of spiders and beetles and crawling things, prevented her from searching for the puppy.

She contemplated calling for a guard, for a maid, for Prudee. But a stronger, burgeoning sense of responsibility, ignited within her. This was her puppy, rescued by her knight. She had to go. Taking a deep, shaky breath, she decided to overcome her fear of bugs. Slowly, tentatively, she began to crawl beneath the thick, low-hanging branches of the bushes, inching her way into the forest.

Meanwhile, across the manor, in his own room, Prudee Sapphire lay on his bed, body facing the ceiling, a history book resting on his chest. His gaze was distant, unfocused. He read aloud, his voice flat with disinterest, a passage from the text: "Calvados was essential to the victory of the allied forces in the southern campaign, leveraging its unique mountainous terrain to funnel the Tumedian cavalry into the waiting..." He snapped the book shut with a sigh of exasperation. "Boring," he muttered, tossing the tome onto his bedside table.

History—lessons about war and politics and long-dead strategists. He gazed at the simple, blunted metal sword that rested in the corner of his room, a gift from a visiting blacksmith. His eyes lit up. He quickly grabbed it, leaping from his bed, swinging the thing left, right, center, mimicking the movements of the knights he read about in adventure stories.

After a few minutes, his enthusiasm waned. He got bored. He wanted to play. He wanted action. He wanted Evelina. He decided to check on her in her room, eager to play Knights and Queen. But her room was empty. He checked other familiar places in the manor – the grand hall, the library, even the bustling kitchen, asking various maids and guards if they had seen his sister. One of the stable guards finally told him he had last seen young Lady Evelina in the garden behind the manor, playing with the new puppy.

Prudee quickly made his way to the back garden, his small sword clutched in his hand. But the garden was empty. His heart gave a slight anxious flutter. He scanned the lawns, then the edge of the forest. He saw faint footsteps, fresh ones – small paw prints next to the distinctive, dainty marks of a child’s shoe. Evelina and Evedee had been here recently. Perhaps they had just moved to the front garden, for a change of scenery, he thought.

As he turned to head towards the front, his gaze caught on something. A small, familiar scrap of fabric snagged on one of the thorny bush branches leading into the forest. He picked it up. It was a piece of Evelina’s gown, the very blue fabric she had been wearing that morning.

He saw further footsteps, clear and undeniable, leading deeper into the dense forest, past the point where the garden ended and the wild forest began. He knew Evelina’s fear of insects, her absolute refusal to enter into the bushes. For her to have gone in, it must have been an urgent matter, something she couldn’t ignore. Evedee. It had to be for the puppy.

Without a moment’s hesitation, Prudee pushed aside the thorny branches and began to follow the trail. The deeper he went, the thicker the forest became. Then, he heard it. Screams. Faint at first, muffled by the foliage, then growing clearer, cutting through the silence of the forest. It was Evelina’s screams. And he heard another voice, a low, gruff voice, unmistakably that of a man, an adult, telling her to "keep her voice down."

A surge of protective fury, sharp and cold, washed over Prudee. He ran, pushing through the tangled vines, ignoring the scratches on his skin. He finally burst into a small clearing, his breath ragged.

The scene that greeted him froze him to the spot. Evedee lay on the forest floor, whimpering faintly, agonizingly, a dark stain spreading on its white fur. And Evelina. Evelina was being held, her mouth covered by the rough hand of a grown man, her eyes wide with terror, tears streaming down her face. Three men. They were all there. One was seated casually on a moss-covered rock, flanked by the other two. They wore crude, dark red hats and simple, blood-red tunics over practical leather trousers, a contrast to the natural greens and browns of the forest. All three were armed with, long swords.

Prudee, with his small, blunted metal sword still clutched in his trembling hand, felt an overwhelming wave of fear. He was just a child. They were grown men, armed, dangerous. His legs gave out, and he fell to his butt, pointing his useless sword at the man in the middle, tears streaming down his own face, utterly terrified.

But as his gaze locked onto Evelina’s terrified, tear-streaked face. He quickly remembered his promises. His words echoed in deep in his mind: "To my last breath, my lady, I will forever protect you." He was her knight. He had to be her knight.

With a surge of newfound courage, fueled by love and desperation, he managed to scramble back to his feet. His head was lowered, his small body trembling, but his stance, though shaky, was resolute.

"Let her go," he stammered, his voice soft, barely audible.

The man on the left, a burly brute with a scarred face, laughed. "Couldn’t make out what you said, boi."

Prudee gripped his little sword. He drew another ragged breath, and then, with the last vestiges of his childish courage, he rushed at them, a small, charging figure against three hardened men. "LET HER GO!" he screamed, his voice no longer stammering, but high and desperate.

In an instant, the man in the middle, Commander Mudrel, as he was later known, rose from the rock with unnerving speed. His sword, a long, brutal blade, cleared its scabbard with a chilling swing. He swung it in a swift, practiced arc. What followed was the sickening sound of flesh tearing, of blood gushing from a streamlined artery. Prudee’s charge halted abruptly. His eyes, wide with disbelief and pain, fixed on Evelina for one last, fleeting moment. Then, his small body collapsed, lifeless.

The man casually swung his sword again, this time to wash the stain of blood from it. He then turned his cold, dead eyes to Evelina, who was still being held, paralyzed with terror. "It was like that Ostinan men took my brother from me," he growled, his voice a low, chilling rasp. "Right in my face."

Evelina’s tears gushed, her face completely wet, her body wracked with silent sobs. The sight of Prudee, lifeless on the ground, shattered her. With a surge of desperate strength, she bit the hand of the man covering her mouth, drawing a grunt of pain. The man recoiled, and Evelina, finally free, stumbled forward, falling to her knees beside Prudee’s lifeless head. She cradled him, held him close, her agonizing screams tearing through the forest. "Prudee! Prudee, no! You promised! You promised! You can’t... you can’t leave me! You can’t fulfill your promise if you’re not alive!"

Her desperate cries, carried through the forest, alerting the Sapphire guards, who were already in search of her, their patrol having noted her extended absence. The faint, rhythmic thud of their approaching footsteps reached the three men.

"Commander Mudrel!" one of the men called out, his voice urgent. "It’s time to go! We have sent a message!"

With that, the three men dispersed, fleeing into the dense foliage as quickly, leaving behind only the agonizing cries of a heartbroken child and the lifeless body of a once brave heroic boy. Moments later, the first of the Sapphire guards burst into the clearing, their faces grim, some immediately chase after the three men.

The vivid, agonizing memory ripped Evelina back to the present, to the cold, silent training hall. She was still on her knees, the Knight’s Trial Elixir clutched so tightly in her hand. Tears, fresh and hot, streamed down her face. Prudee. His smile. His promise. The blood. Mudrel. The agony of that day, buried deep within her.

She looked at the elixir, then down at her trembling hands. Why did she seek strength? Why did she train so relentlessly? The innocent, noble reasons she had always told herself suddenly felt like a hollow lie.

"For long I have told myself the reason I seek strength, the reason for my training, were to get strong and enter the Academy," she whispered, her voice choked with tears, filled with a chilling, newfound clarity. "That was just a lie." Her eyes, once brimming with grief, now hardened with a cold, terrifying resolve. "I seek nothing but revenge. Revenge against those who took Prudee away from me. Revenge against Mudrel."