The Outergod's Avatar-Chapter 59: Traitor (3)

Soon the men reached the bottom of the hill where the manor stood. It loomed in the distance like a sleeping beast, its ancient stone walls faintly illuminated by the cold, pale light of the moon.

Raynoel paused, scanning the area with sharp, suspicious eyes. The air was heavy tonight, unnaturally still, and the stars seemed to flicker as if warning them of the night’s coming bloodshed.

"Raynoel, are you sure we should attack tonight?" one of the men asked, breaking the silence. He was bigger than all the rest, towering over them with a muscular build. His face was slender yet brutal, marked with a few old scars that gave him an intimidating presence. This was Gallad, the third captain of the 17th Legion, the fiercest and oldest among their group.

Raynoel turned to him, voice low but unwavering.

"Gallad, we can’t leave unless we complete our mission. The Vau-Leotard bloodline ends tonight," he said grimly, his eyes narrowing with ruthless determination.

Gallad scratched the side of his jaw, his expression dark,

"Understood," he grunted. "Today, we shall liberate our people."

Raynoel gave a sharp nod, "From here on, silence. I know stealth was never your strong suit, but now... we cannot afford mistakes. That child must not see the sun rise."

The men adjusted their weapons and began their march up the hill, sticking close to the trees for cover. Step by step they climbed, boots crunching softly on the gravel road.

They continued walking... and walking... and walking...

Minutes dragged into what felt like hours. Every step forward seemed to bring them no closer to the manor.

Gallad shifted uncomfortably. His thick brows furrowed, and he muttered, "Wait... has this road always been this long?"

The question hung in the air. Raynoel had been thinking the same thing. He stopped, heart pounding.

Something was wrong.

Very wrong.

And then it hit him.

"It’s an illusion! Quick, everyone, find pain!" Raynoel barked, instinct taking over.

Without hesitation, he drew one of his swords and sliced his palm. The sharp sting lanced up his arm, and suddenly the world snapped back into focus.

Around him, the men scrambled, hastily injuring themselves in various ways — a brutal but necessary act to break free from the enchantment.

Raynoel blinked rapidly, his vision clearing.

They were still at the bottom of the hill. Not even a single step had been made.

And in the center of the road ahead, a blade was pinned into the earth, glinting ominously under the moonlight.

It was just as he feared.

The illusion must have begun the moment they laid eyes on the sword.

"Focus on the pain," he commanded sharply. "Don’t lose it. If your mind slips, you’ll be enchanted again."

The men nodded grimly, each one clutching their self-inflicted wounds as an anchor to reality.

It was then that they saw him.

Standing just behind the planted blade, like a shadow of death given form — Flavius Argenthex, the Legion Commander.

His dark steel armor shimmered like black glass under the moonlight, his flowing cloak dancing in the breeze. His face was a mask of utter calm, but from it radiated a suffocating pressure. A seriousness so heavy it made breathing difficult.

Raynoel felt a cold sweat break across his brow.

"So my hunch was right," Flavius said, voice as cold and cutting as winter steel. "You were not acting alone."

Gallad clenched his fist. He muttered out of the corner of his mouth, "It seems like we ended up in the worst situation."

Raynoel gritted his teeth. His mind raced.

’Fuck... Why did it have to be the commander himself?’

He stole a glance at his men, who were visibly shaken.

But he couldn’t let fear take root. Not now.

"There’s no need to be afraid, Gallad," Raynoel said, forcing his voice to steady. "This was unavoidable. In fact..." he smiled grimly, "this fight may actually be in our favor. Seems he came here alone."

Gallad raised a skeptical eyebrow.

"How? This is Flavius Argenthex we’re talking about. Our numbers wouldn’t matter against him."

Raynoel’s lips tightened into a thin line.

"We can still win. Listen carefully — I’ll sneak away and finish the mission. All the rest of you need to do is hold him here long enough. You have Tanya, Vale, and two other captains backing you, when I return I would also join the fight,"

"Isn’t that why we brought extra force?" he added, his eyes gleaming with a desperate hope. "In case something like this happened?"

"Best case scenario my uncle dies today, worst case we complete our mission and escape with our lives, either ways we win,"

Gallad’s heavy gaze lingered on him for a moment before a low chuckle rumbled from his chest.

"If by some miracle we succeed, maybe you’ll be called Legion Commander Raynoel," he joked darkly.

Raynoel smirked faintly.

Gallad stretched out his hand, whispering a quick prayer:

"O goddess of the enchanted night, bless your servant with your moonlight to crush every opposition under your gaze,"

In a shimmer of silver light, a massive war hammer materialized in Gallad’s grasp, its head engraved with ancient runes.

"You better be quick," Gallad said without looking at Raynoel. "If you take too long, there might be nothing left of him for you to kill."

Raynoel nodded, then his body flickered — and he vanished into the night.

Flavius’ voice cut through the darkness like a blade.

"Gallad. What is this?"

His voice held no rage — only a chilling coldness.

Gallad squared his shoulders.

"Flavius, I always knew this day would come," he said.

The commander stepped forward, one hand resting lightly on the hilt of his sword.

"I asked you a question, Gallad. What is this?" he repeated, voice devoid of emotion. "What are you all doing? How did Raynoel turn so many of my men? What could he have offered you, to make you throw away your dignity?"

Gallad smirked bitterly, "This isn’t just Raynoel’s doing. You’re blind, Flavius. That is why you can’t understand,"

"This isn’t Raynoel’s doing? Then tell me who have you traded your loyalty to?"

Flavius’ eyes narrowed to slits.

"To go after the life of a Priest is treason. A crime against our queen. A sin against our goddess."

Gallad’s lip curled into a sneer,

"But he’s not a priest yet, is he? He’s just a boy. This is our only chance to wipe them out, can’t you see that?"

"How dare you," Flavius growled, "speak so lightly of noble blood before me?"

He took another step forward, the ground seeming to tremble with each movement.

"You must have gone mad, Gallad. Truly. I wonder... what darkness has clouded your minds so deeply that you would betray everything you swore to protect?"

He drew his sword slowly from the earth— a long, silver blade with runes engraved on it, that seemed to mirror the moonlight.

"For this betrayal, I shall spare only one life — the one who tells me everything I desire to know," Flavius said, his voice now sharp enough to cut bone.

Gallad gripped his hammer, rolling his shoulders with a loud crack.

"Maybe it’s your mind that has been clouded with darkness, old man. Do you really think you stand a chance against all of us?"

There was a brief silence, filled only by the whisper of the cold wind.

"I always wondered why you believed your strength so superior to mine," Gallad continued, his voice low and rough. "I may have only passed one trial, but I’ve fought in more real battles than you can even dream of."

Flavius raised his blade, pointing it directly at Gallad’s chest.

"Gallad Belavier..." he said quietly, voice dripping with contempt.

"Indeed you have survived far more battles than you deserved. Today... I will end your miserable existence."

His gaze swept over the assembled men, a grim sentence in his eyes.

"And the same goes for all of you. Today, you all shall stand at the other side of my blade."

The moon overhead bore silent witness, and the night trembled, for blood was about to be spilled.