Chapter 83 - Dreadborne Harbinger (Patreon)

Klarion stirred from sleep, his mind struggling to pull itself from the depths of unconsciousness. His body felt heavy, limbs sluggish as if weighed down by invisible chains. The world was a haze of shadows, shapes shifting in the dim light of the room. The fire had likely been reduced to embers some time ago. 

His head throbbed, senses still dulled by sleep. He was just starting to drift back into sleep’s warm embrace when a voice pulled him back. Close. Urgent.

“Klarion. Wake up.”

His eyes snapped open to find Hatsune leaning over him, her face mere inches away from his own. Her silver-grey hair framed her sharp, worried features, long ears twitching toward the door as she listened to something beyond his hearing. She was already dressed in her armor, it fitting snugly over her form. Even in the dim light, he could tell that her green eyes were sharp, alert, and focused. Whatever woke her wasn’t a bad dream.

“Hatsune?” he mumbled, still hoarse with sleep. “What’s… what’s going on?”

Her nose twitched. “Someone’s banging on the front door.”

The fog of sleep lifted a little more, replaced by a creeping sense of unease. It wasn’t just the words she spoke, but the tension in her voice, the way her fingers rested on the hilt of her sword. She was ready for trouble.

Klarion closed his eyes, and tried to listen for whatever it was that had woken the Leporine. For a long moment, he didn’t hear anything. Then just the barest bit of sound. Straining his hearing as far as he could, he could just make out a rhythmic thudding echoing through Blacksword Manor. The longer he listened, the more it seemed like each impact vibrated through the stone walls, heavy enough that Klarion was surprised that he himself hadn’t been jerked from sleep. 

Someone was at the front door. No, someone was beating on the front door.

Klarion’s instincts flared, his mind finally catching up to the urgency of the situation. He tried to push himself up, but his body protested, heavy and unwilling from a lack of sleep. “What time is it?”

“Middle of the night, perhaps a bit later,” Hatsune answered. “No one would come here at this hour unless it was important. Or dangerous.” She looked to the door of the room, her ears still straining to catch any noise, before turning back to him. “The banging hasn’t stopped. It’s been rhythmic since I woke you, like someone’s using all their strength. Might be trouble.”

That got him moving. The haze of sleep vanished as he swung his legs over the side of the bed, planting his feet on the cold floor. He ignored the bright blush on Hatsune’s face, and the way her eyes darted across his body as he bent over to pull on his uniform. Once dressed, he stepped around the Leporine to take the greatsword Rolfun had given him from its spot next to the dresser. His hand closed around the hilt, the familiar weight a comfort.

He looked for Hatsune, finding her already moving toward the door, the hilt of her sword gripped tightly in her hands, ready to be drawn at a moment’s notice. She looked back at him, her expression firm. “I’ll go first.”

He wanted to protest, to remind her that he was the one who should be leading the way, but the look in her eyes stopped him. She was his bodyguard, sworn to protect him. He couldn’t take that from her.

“Alright,” he agreed, nodding. “But stay close.”

Hatune’s ears flicked, and a small, determined smile appeared on her lips. “Always.”

Together, they moved swiftly and silently through the dark halls of Blacksword Manor. The rhythmic thudding grew louder with each step, reverberating through the walls. Klarion’s grip tightened on his sword, his heart pounding in his chest. Who would be banging on the front door of Blacksword Manor in the dead of night? And with such force?

Before he could ponder it further, they had arrived at the foyer, and Hatsune moved toward the door, her movements graceful and silent. Klarion followed close behind, his senses on high alert. The front door loomed before them, its thick wood trembling with each impact.

Hatsune hesitated, drawing her sword, ready for whoever, whatever was on the other side.

She glanced back at him, her eyes steely despite her concern. “Are you ready?” she mouthed.

Klarion readied his greatsword, then nodded. 

The next thud was louder, more desperate. Whoever was on the other side was running out of strength.

Hatsune took a breath, then yanked the door open, her sword rising in the air as she did so.

A figure collapsed inward, falling face-first onto the floor of the foyer. Hatsune jumped back with a startled yelp, and Klarion’s eyes widened as he recognized the bloodied armor and white mask.

“J-65!”

The Sentinel lay motionless on the cold stone floor, her body battered and broken. Blood started to pool beneath her, staining the floor crimson, and her breathing was shallow, ragged. Her armor was cracked in multiple places, the once-pristine black smeared with dirt and blood. Klarion’s heart lurched. He had never seen a Sentinel like this before — defeated, vulnerable.

Without thinking, he dropped to his knees beside her, his hands hovering over the worst of her injuries, struggling to figure out what he could do to stop the bleeding. Fucking hell, what he wouldn’t give to have another of Rolfun’s healing potions on hand. “J-65! Can you hear me?!”

Her masked head moved, ever so slightly. Her voice was weak, barely a whisper of sound. “...break… the… chain…”

Klarion’s eyes snapped to where her trembling hand struggled to reach for her exposed neck. Beneath the mask hung a delicate silver chain around her bruised throat. It glinted in the moonlight, half-hidden under her armor.

Hatsune dropped beside him, her face pale. “Klarion, she’s hurt badly,” she said, honest concern pushing aside whatever feelings she had expressed previously about the Sentinel. “We need to stop the bleeding.”

Klarion didn’t hesitate.“Get some of the towels from the kitchen. They should be clear. Hurry!”

While the Leporine ran to the kitchen, Klarion lifted the Sentinel, armor and all, as if she weighed no more than a small child. He winced as she whimpered in pain. Pausing only to kick the front door closed behind him, he carried her limp body deeper into the foyer. He laid her down on the rug as Hatsune returned with the towels. His bodyguard began examining the Sentinel’s injuries with swift, precise movements.

“She’s barely breathing,” Hatsune said, expression grim. “Whoever did this… they meant to kill her.”

Klarion felt a surge of anger, his hands shaking as he reached for the silver chain around J-65’s injured neck. It was delicate, impossibly thin, and cool to the touch. He didn’t understand what it was or why she wanted him to break it, but the desperation in her voice earlier still echoed in his mind.

He gripped the chain and pulled, snapping it with a sharp jerk.

A burst of light exploded from the broken chain, flooding the room with brilliance. It radiated outward, passing through the walls of Blacksword Manor and into the night beyond. Klarion shielded his eyes, his heart racing, and Hatsune cried out as the light enveloped them.

Then, just as suddenly as it appeared, the light was gone. The snapped chain fell from his hand, turning to dust before it touched the floor.

Silence followed, heavy and suffocating. Klarion looked around, his ears ringing for some reason. Nothing happened. Nothing changed.

“What… was that?” Hatsune whispered, eyes wide with shock.

Klarion shook his head, his heart still pounding in his ears. “I don’t know. But she asked me to break it. I’m guessing we will have some visitors soon.” 

Klarion’s hands trembled as he took a folded towel from Hatsune to press it against a deep wound along J-65’s side, blood soaking through faster than he could contain it. His breathing had become ragged, mirroring hers, though his desperation fueled every movement. This wasn’t working.

“We have to get this off,” Klarion said, fingers fumbling at the clasps of J-65’s breastplate. The leather straps were slick with her blood, making her difficult to grip. Hatsune knelt beside him, her armored gauntlets clinking as she worked on the other side.

“I’ve got it,” she said grimly, loosening the last strap.

 The metal breastplate came away with a heavy clang, revealing J-65’s torso wrapped tightly to prevent her armor from chaffing. No time for modesty with her life on the line, Klarion and Hatsune worked to remove what they could, slowly revealing several weeping wounds. Applying pressure with the towels against the worst of the wounds, Klarion couldn’t help but notice how pinpricks of light seemed to shift under the woman’s dusky skin. Wondering just what kind of race the woman was, he stared closer. Yes, there were, in fact, little lights moving under her skin. It wasn’t an illusion.

That was when he noticed the scars.

Every inch of exposed skin not marred by blood or bruises displayed countless small scars — old wounds crisscrossing her skin like some sort of macabre tapestry.

Scars so much like his own.

Whenever J-65 had been around him, she had carried herself with an air of untouchable strength, concealed by the cold efficiency of a Sentinel. Yet now, stripped of her armor, she was laid bare to them — another soul shaped by pain and hardship.

Klarion’s chest tightened still further. “She’s been through hell,” he whispered, though whether he was talking about her past or the injuries from tonight, he couldn’t say.

Hatsune’s ears flicked, but she kept her focus on the Sentinel’s wounds. “Focus. We need to stop the bleeding.”

Together, they worked frantically, binding the Sentinel’s weeping wounds with the limited supplies of towels they had. Blood seeped through the makeshift bandages, stubborn and refusing to stop. J-65’s breathing was becoming shallower, and he desperately pressed his fingers against her neck, searching for a pulse. It was faint and getting fainter.

“Come on, don’t give up,” he whispered, almost begged, as he looked down at the Sentinel.

Abruptly, Hatsune tensed by his side, ears fixed back on the front door.

“Klarion! Someone’s com—!!”

The front door of Blacksword Manor exploded inward with the force of a thunderclap. The thick wood shattered, splinters spraying across the foyer as the door was ripped from its hinges. A powerful gust of wind slammed through the hall, sending tapestries fluttering and scattering dust into the air.

Klarion barely had time to register the shock before an overwhelming presence flooded the room. It was as though the air itself bowed beneath the weight of it, the atmosphere crackling with a suffocating pressure that drove him back down to his knees. Hatsune staggered beside him, struggling to remain in a seated position, but she could not withstand the force that pressed down against them. She hit the floor, lying beside J-65.

A figure stepped through the ruined doorway with deliberate, ominous grace. His silhouette was framed by the moonlight spilling in from behind, making him appear almost larger than life. Heavy black armor encased his towering form, each plate gleaming with a faint metallic sheen that caught the dim light. Strapped across his back was a massive, wickedly serrated two-handed sword, its dark blade radiating an aura of dread that made Klarion’s blood run cold.

The man’s face was fully obscured by a white mask streaked with crimson lines, as though painted with blood. The red streaks radiated from the mask’s eye slits and mouth, giving the impression of a silent, screaming visage. An aura of menace clung to him, so potent it felt tangible, like icy fingers wrapping around Klarion’s throat.

The Lord Sentinel.

Klarion’s heart pounded, his every instinct screaming at him to flee, to escape this crushing presence. But his body refused to move, pinned beneath the weight of the man’s power. Hatsune remained collapsed beside him, her breathing labored, eyes wide with fear. Even J-65, battered and broken on the floor, shivered involuntarily.

Before Klarion could muster any words, three shadows moved swiftly past the Lord Sentinel, charging into the foyer. They were Sentinels, their sleek armor dark and featureless, white masks gleaming as they drew weapons in perfect, synchronized motion. Blades flashed, the air humming with deadly intent as they lunged at him and Hatsune with precision and speed beyond human capability.

With a herculean effort, Klarion barely managed to raise his sword before the first strike descended, the force of the blow sending vibrations up his arm. Fear filled him as he saw that Hatsune would not be able to get her own weapon up in time. Her fear-filled eyes found his own as the other Sentinel’s blade came sweeping in.

“STOP.”

The single word echoed through the manor, reverberating off the walls with the weight of authority that could not be denied. It was more than a command; it was a decree.

The three Sentinels froze mid-motion, their attacks halting instantly. Their masked faces snapped toward the Lord Sentinel, who stood in the shattered doorway, his presence dominating the room.

Klarion’s chest heaved as he gasped for breath, the crushing pressure around him easing only slightly. He looked up, eyes wide with involuntary fear, fear he was struggling to push away, as the Lord Sentinel stepped forward. The aura of menace did not waver, the air shimmering with raw power as his gaze swept over the scene, lingering on J-65’s broken form.

The room was deathly silent, no one daring to breathe as the Lord Sentinel’s crimson-streaked mask turned to face him. Even behind that expressionless visage, Klarion could feel the weight of that stare, as if those hidden eyes were peering straight into his soul.

His voice cut through the silence, cold and unforgiving. 

“Explain.”