Chapter 84 - Dreadborne Harbinger (Patreon)

The renewed silence that followed the Lord Sentinel’s question was suffocating. His crimson-streaked mask bore down on Klarion with an intensity that made his chest feel tight, each breath a struggle. Beside him, Hatsune had just forced herself back up to one knee, her body tense, muscles coiled as though ready to flee despite her expression being one of mixed fear and determination. Neither of them dared to move under the weight of the Lord Sentinel’s glare.

Klarion swallowed hard, his mouth dry. “I don’t know,” he managed, finally. “She showed up just a few minutes ago... like this.” He gestured to J-65’s broken body on the floor, blood still gradually pooling around her. “She could barely breathe. She told me to break her necklace... then passed out.”

At his words, another Sentinel that Klarion had previously not noticed came rushing over to J-65’s side from where they had been sheltering behind the imposing bulk of the Lord Sentinel. Bearing a green mask instead of the plain white one of the others, Klarion immediately realized that this one was specialized as some sort of healer, as they began inspecting J-65’s wounds as soon as they were at her side. A flash of greenish light from the healer’s hands illuminated J-65’s body, revealing that the dark bruises marring her skin were worse than Klarion had been able to see and that the cuts were still sluggishly oozing blood despite the pressure they had been applying with the now-ruined kitchen towels. Despite their proximity, the Sentinel healer’s green mask did not shift from its downward tilt in response to Klarion’s scrutiny, their hands now moving with precise care, weaving tendrils of green energy that seeped into J-65’s wounds. This was a professional focused on their patient and their patient alone.

A flex of something in the air, something menacing, caused both Klarion and Hatsune to flinch and return their attention to the armored figure that had led the charge into Blacksword Manor. The Lord Sentinel’s posture had not relaxed, even with the healer under his command moving to treat J-65. He stood there, a menacing figure against the broken doorway, framed by the shattered wood and moonlight. 

“She spoke to you?” His voice was dangerously low, a soft growl that made the hair on Klarion’s arms stand on end.

“No,” Klarion answered, keeping his tone as steady as he could. “She only said... she said that I need to break the chain.” He looked pointedly at the Sentinels, then back at the towering figure before him. “I’m guessing that the light it released was meant to summon help?”

The Lord Sentinel said nothing in response to Klarion’s question, but a faint tension coiled in his shoulders, a tightening of his stance. He turned to the healer. “Will she live?”

The healer’s hands glowed brighter, the green energy flowing smoothly as J-65’s breathing began to steady, the rise and fall of her chest becoming more even. “She will live,” the healer confirmed in a feminine voice slightly muffled by the green mask. “But she needs rest. Days of it. These wounds run deep... not just physically.” There was a pointed edge to that last remark, and the healer’s gaze shifted to the blood that had begun to pool on the floor since Klarion and Hatsune had brought her inside.

J-65’s mask shifted as she more fully regained consciousness. The mask shifted to the right, orienting on Klarion for some reason, which was followed by a sharp breath as pain visibly surged through her body. The healer placed a hand on her shoulder, whispering a word of calming magic. The mask darted around as the pain apparently faded, panic seeming to emanate from the renewed tenseness of her body until her mask locked on the Lord Sentinel. For a brief, fleeting moment, her body curled in a deeper fear before she mastered herself, a Sentinel’s posture falling back into place despite her grave injuries.

The Lord Sentinel loomed over her. “J-65,” he intoned, his voice flat and cold. “Explain yourself.”

J-65 audibly swallowed, her throat working against the pain. “I... I went to Scion Chadwick Copperhand’s residence,” she began, her voice hoarse from lingering pain. “I suspected... I suspected him of orchestrating an attempt on Scion Klarion Blacksword’s life.” Her mask twisted back to Klarion, and for a heartbeat, she seemed to be staring at him before her masked face returned to the Lord Sentinel. “I went to find proof.”

The Lord Sentinel’s form seemed to grow even more imposing. “You broke into a noble’s residence,” he stated, no inflection in his voice. “Alone. Without authorization. Without notifying the Sentinels. You acted as a rogue.”

J-65’s neck muscles flexed, as Klarion imagined her jaw tightened, but she did not deny it.

“Yes.”

“And what did you find?” the Lord Sentinel demanded.

“A list,” J-65 whispered, body again contorting in pain as she tried to shift her position on the floor. “A list of names... first-year scions who agreed to work together... to kill Scion Blacksword.” She shuddered, the memory of her discovery twisting with the phantom echoes of Chadwick’s laughter. “I was... caught. Scion Copperhand... he...” Her voice faltered, the words trembling before becoming emotionless. “He tortured me.”

Hatsune’s eyes widened in horror, her ears flattening against her head. Klarion felt a cold fury surge through him, his fists clenching so tightly his nails bit into his palms. The image of Chadwick’s smug face flashed in his mind.

The Lord Sentinel’s posture remained rigid. “And after your escape, why did you come here?”

J-65’s tilted at an angle, and Klarion could almost imagine her brow furrowing. She looked then looked down, her posture screaming a mixture of confusion and shame. “I... I don’t know.” Her voice was barely a whisper. “I just... ended up here.”

“That’s not an answer,” the Lord Sentinel snapped, his words cutting like a blade. “Why did you not seek out a fellow Sentinel? Why did you bring this disgrace to the Sentinels’ name?”

“I...” J-65 struggled, pain causing her form to shudder. “I don’t know.”

“Then I will give you the answer,” the Lord Sentinel declared, his voice echoing through the foyer. “You compromised yourself. You formed a bond with a noble outside of your duty. You became weak.”

All at once, the feeling given off by the imposing Lord Sentinel ceased to press againt Klarion. He surged to his feet, fists shaking. “Weak?” he shouted as all logic fled. “She’s lying there half-dead because she was trying to protect me! She was tortured—beaten within an inch of her life—and you call her weak?”

The Lord Sentinel’s head snapped toward him, the crimson-streaked mask turning to face Klarion fully. The oppressive aura flared again, pressing down on the room like a tidal wave, and it was all Klarion could do to remain standing defiant. “You misunderstand, scion of Blacksword,” he growled. “She is weak because she broke the rules. Because she allowed sentiment to override duty. A Sentinel is the shield of the Imperial Academy, unyielding and impartial. She failed.”

“And you failed her!” Klarion shouted back, his anger boiling over despite the terrifying man standing opposite him. “Aren’t Sentinels supposed to protect each other? Where were you when she needed you?”

The room fell deathly silent. The air grew colder, and the other Sentinels stiffened, their hands again twitching toward their weapons. Hatsune’s fingers tightened around her own blade, her eyes flicking nervously between Klarion and the Lord Sentinel.

The Lord Sentinel’s shoulders tensed, the mask tilting slightly. “You know nothing, child,” he said, his voice a low, dangerous rumble. “You know nothing of what it means to be a Sentinel.”

Klarion blinked, and the world seemed to shudder.

One moment, he was standing defiant before the Lord Sentinel as J-65 struggled with the pain she still felt from where she lay on the floor. The next, the Lord Sentinel was there, a dark armored form looming over them all, his presence so sudden and absolute that Klarion’s heart nearly stopped.

He hadn’t heard anything. Not a footstep, not a rustle of fabric, not even the faintest whisper of air being displaced. The man was simply… there.

Klarion staggered back, his instincts screaming danger even as his mind struggled to catch up. How? How had someone that big, that heavy in full armor, moved so swiftly, so silently? The man’s black armor gleamed in the faint light, the wickedly serrated greatsword remained strapped across his back, its weight seemingly nothing to him.

The crimson-lined white mask turned towards him, empty eye slits locking onto Klarion with a cold, piercing gaze. Though Klarion couldn’t see the man’s eyes, he felt the weight of that stare, the pressure of a predator sizing up its prey.

Klarion’s hand tightened around the hilt of his greatsword. He didn’t remember interposing it between them, but it was in his grasp, his knuckles white as he fought the urge to raise it. Would it even matter? Would he even have time to swing before that blade on the Lord Sentinel’s back cleaved him in two?

His chest tightened, his breath coming in short, sharp gasps. He had never felt so powerless. Not even when he’d been in the Dungeon, facing down that Boss in a fight he should not have survived.

No. This was different.

In such close proximity, even without whatever it had been he had been doing that affected the room with his power, the Lord Sentinel’s presence was overwhelming, suffocating. The air around him felt heavier, charged with what Klarion guesed to be an aura so potent it made his knees threaten to buckle. It was as if the room itself was bending under the weight of his power.

Klarion’s heart pounded, each beat a reminder of his own fragility. One blink. That was all it had taken for this man to close the distance, to appear out of nowhere. One blink, and he could be dead without even realizing it.

A cold, bitter realization settled in Klarion’s chest. He was weak.

He was nothing compared to this man.

The gap between them was so vast that it was almost laughable. No, it was terrifying. Klarion’s fingers trembled around his sword’s hilt as he looked at the Lord Sentinel, truly seeing him for the first time. This was the power of a man who ruled over the Sentinels, the enforcers of law and order in the Imperial Academy. This was what true strength looked like.

And Klarion was nowhere near it.

Through an extreme force of will, Klarion released his grip on the hilt of his greatsword in the presence of a monster that could destroy him utterly in a single breath.

Dismissing Klarion, the Lord Sentinel returned his attention to J-65. Reaching down, his gauntlet-clad fingers closed around the edge of J-65’s white mask. J-65 and every other Sentinel in the room tensed as the Lord Sentinel’s grip tightened.

“No…” J-65 breathed, her body trembling. “Please… no…”

The Lord Sentinel did not respond, did not even hesitate at J-65’s pleading.

He pulled the mask from her face.

Klarion’s breath caught in his throat as he stared down at the J-65 and, for a heartbeat, forgot how to breathe, his pulse roaring in his ears.

With no mask covering her face, her skin was revealed to be dark as midnight, the deep onyx hue gleaming faintly even beneath the grime and blood that marred its surface. Yet, as the dim light of the foyer flickered across her body, a mesmerizing phenomenon made itself known.  He had noticed the moving pinpricks of light before, but across her face and neck, they had grown in size to tiny, ethereal glimmers visibly moving beneath her skin, like stars twinkling in the night sky. It was subtle—almost illusory—but unmistakable. A celestial dance of light and shadow, and he was struck by the otherworldly beauty.

He was vaguely aware of Hatsune leaning closer, her eyes wide with awe, her voice a hushed whisper. “A Star Elf... I’ve never seen one before.”

Klarion’s mind reeled, struggling to reconcile the image of the cold, unyielding Sentinel who had escorted him to his Ceremony of Induction with the woman before him. Gone was the imposing figure in flawless white armor and featureless mask. In its place was someone fragile and real.

Looking beyond the stars moving across her skin revealed her face to be delicate, with high cheekbones and full lips that now lay slack, her breath shallow and uneven. Her long, white hair, once tightly bound under her helmet, cascaded freely around her, a shimmering waterfall that starkly contrasted against her dark skin. Even disheveled and tangled with blood, it was breathtaking.

But it was the scars that held Klarion’s attention.

The ones around her neck were thicker than the ones that had been revealed while they had worked to remove her armor to stem the bleeding of her wounds. Where the latter had been thin and faded, these were thick and jagged still. Old wounds that had healed poorly, the worse of which was a vicious scar that carved a line from the side of her neck down her collarbone to disappear under the armor at her shoulder.

He couldn’t look away, captivated by the ethereal glow beneath her skin. The celestial shimmer danced along the lines of her scars, illuminating them like constellations against the night sky. It was hauntingly beautiful, a contrast so striking it felt almost cruel.

She was breathtaking.

Like everyone else in the foyer, Klarion’s attention was pulled back to the Lord Sentinel as he raised the mask high into the air. The motion was slow, deliberate, as if to ensure that every eye was fixed on the pale, featureless surface. Klarion’s heart thudded heavily in his chest, a cold sense of foreboding settling in his stomach.

The air around the mask shimmered, tendrils of magic swirling in ghostly spirals as it left J-65’s skin the higher the Lord Sentinel raised it in the air. Klarion could almost feel the power radiating from it now, a pulse of energy that seemed to vibrate through the air of Blacksword Manor. The Lord Sentinel held the mask aloft, its white surface catching the dim light, and for a brief, fragile moment, it seemed almost beautiful.

Then, with deliberate force, he snapped it in half.

The sound was sharp, final. The mask shattered, crumbling into dust that scattered across the floor, its magic unraveling in a burst of energy. A faint, mournful wail echoed as the magic dispersed, a haunting sound that sent a chill down Klarion’s spine. It was as if the mask itself was crying out, a last, anguished whisper of the identity it had once held.

But it was nothing compared to the cry that was ripped from J-65 at his feet.

J-65’s body seized, her back arching violently as a scream tore from her throat. It was raw, filled with agony and loss, the sound echoing off the stone walls. Klarion’s blood ran cold, his feet frozen to the floor as he watched her convulse, powerless to do anything but bear witness. A burning red light flared at her neck, searing into her skin. Klarion’s eyes widened, his stomach lurching as the jagged brand took form—a broken mask.

Her body convulsed, and then the air around her shimmered.

A crackle of crimson energy raced across her armor, lines of light spiderwebbing over the once-imposing black plates. The Sentinel armor groaned, splintered, and began to disintegrate. The red light intensified, engulfing her entire body in a shimmering aura that burned away the armor piece by piece.

Klarion’s eyes widened as the metal plates turned to dust, swirling around her before dissipating into nothingness. The gauntlets that had once held such power faded from her fingers, the chestplate shattered, and the greaves crumbled. Even her boots dissolved, leaving her lying on the cold stone floor in the torn, bloodied undersuit and wrappings that had previously been partially exposed by Klarion and Hatsune.

He stood rooted to the spot, unable to look away from the scene. Her once-imposing form now appeared painfully fragile, her slender limbs marred by bruises and cuts. Where once her armor had concealed her identity, she was now utterly exposed—vulnerable.

J-65’s scream faded to a choked sob, her body collapsing back to the floor. Her eyes were wide and glassy, tears streaming down her cheeks. She shivered, her limbs twitching as the pain overwhelmed her senses. After one final shake, she fell back into unconsciousness.

The Lord Sentinel redirected his mask down at the star elf. “She is no longer a Sentinel,” he declared, his tone cold and unyielding.

The Sentinel healer spoke from where she still knelt beside J-65, hands now glowing a darker green as they returned to hovering over the wounds that had reopened. “You should have waited, Lord,” the healer said, voice low and tense, a note of accusation clear. “The branding... it could have killed her in this state.”

The Lord Sentinel stood impassive, his presence still an oppressive weight in the room. “It had to be done,” he replied, his tone flat. “And it had to happen now and here.”

Klarion tore his gaze from J-65’s face to the crimson-streaked mask of the Lord Sentinel. His anger flared briefly before he showed it back down as far as he could. He still remembered how he had felt when the Lord Sentinel had suddenly appeared next to him. “What’s going on?” he demanded more than asked. “Why did you brand her?”

The Lord Sentinel regarded him, his head tilting ever so slightly. “She is no longer a Sentinel,” he stated, his voice devoid of emotion. “J-65 violated the code. She acted without orders, compromised her duty, and betrayed the neutrality of the Sentinels.” His gaze shifted to J-65, his posture rigid. "What happened at Scion Copperhand's residence left me no choice. J-65 violated Sentinel law by acting without orders, engaging in unauthorized espionage, and compromising the integrity of the order." His voice was devoid of emotion. "As of this moment, she is no longer a Sentinel."

Klarion’s eyes widened. “Cast out?” He looked back down at J-65’s prone form, his chest tightening. “For trying to protect me?”

The Lord Sentinel’s shoulders stiffened. “For breaking the rules,” he corrected. “For acting on her own, without authority. She is no longer one of us.”

“What... what did you do to her?” Klarion’s voice came out harsher than he intended. 

“I branded her, as is my duty.” The Lord Sentinel’s deep voice cut through the air, calm and unyielding. “Because she is no longer a Sentinel.”

“The armor... why did it vanish?” Klarion demanded, his eyes flicking over her unprotected form, completely unaware of how the rest of the Sentinels were shifting at his tone. “Why did it just disintegrate like that?”

The Lord Sentinel’s shoulders straightened, his voice like iron. “The armor is not merely metal and cloth. It is tied to the Sentinel Class itself. When one is branded and banished, the magic that sustains the armor is severed. It returns to the mana from which it was partly forged.”

Klarion’s eyes narrowed as what the Lord Sentinel was saying hit him all at once. “You mean... you didn’t just strip her of her position. You destroyed her Class.”

The Lord Sentinel inclined his head. “Yes. The Brand of the Broken Mask does more than cast her out. It destroyed all Sentinel skills and abilities she had unlocked. Everything she earned from her first day as a Sentinel trainee, be it through training and battle... gone in an instant.”

“But, what will happen to her now?” Klarion asked, staring down at the unconscious star elf.

The Lord Sentinel’s lips thinned. "The brand is a mark of her exile from the Sentinels, but it also serves a practical purpose. Without the protection of the Sentinel order, she must be dealt with according to Imperial law. Which means," the Lord Sentinel continued grimly, "that she will be placed up for auction at the Hall of Bonds."

Klarion’s blood ran cold as he realized what that might mean. “The Hall of Bonds?”

“Yes. As all failed Sentinels are,” The Lord Sentinel nodded, his posture unyielding. “Given her skill set and experience, but her loss of the Sentinel class, she will most likely be offered as a bodyguard."

Klarion’s mind raced. A bodyguard. Auctioned off to the highest bidder. Sold to serve someone who would likely see her as nothing more than a tool, a weapon. She had risked everything to protect him, to uncover the plot against him. And this was her reward? His fists clenched. “You can’t do that,” he said. “She’s not some weapon to be sold off!”

The Lord Sentinel’s head tilted again, his crimson-streaked mask remaining focused on Klarion. “You misunderstand,” he replied, his tone becoming neutral again, though Klarion thought he could detect the barest hint of exasperation. “I am giving you an opportunity.”

Klarion blinked, taken aback. “What?”

The Lord Sentinel’s shoulders relaxed just a fraction. “Normally, she would be taken to the Hall of Bonds immediately. But she came here.” His voice was heavy with implication. “She must be removed from the Sentinels. That is what Academy law demands,” the Lord Sentinel said without apology. "But since she came here, acting on your behalf, I wanted to give you the option of claiming the Bond first."

Klarion’s heart skipped a beat. His mind returned to the most valuable item he had received from the Dungeon. Realization dawned on him, his eyes widening. “You’re... you’re saying I can Bond her? Take her as another bodyguard?”

The Lord Sentinel did not answer immediately. Instead, he stepped closer, his armored boots echoing against the stone floor. Though similar in height, the Lord Sentinel still seemed to loom over Klarion, his towering presence casting a long shadow over him. “By all rights, she should go to Auction,” he said repeated slowly, deliberately. “But she came to you. She acted for you. In the eyes of the Sentinels, in my eyes, you have the first right to claim her.”

Klarion looked back down at J-65’s face, at the pain still etched into her delicate features. Her breaths were shallow, her body broken, her fate hanging by a thread. If he didn’t act, she would be auctioned off to some noble house, likely used and discarded like a weapon without will. Worse, what if Chadwick or one of his allies got word of her being auctioned off?

There was no hesitation in his voice when he spoke. "I offer my Mark of Bonds for her."

The Lord Sentinel’s expression didn’t change, his face concealed behind that unnerving mask, but Klarion caught the faintest sense of approval in the man. It was fleeting, like a shadow passing over the moon, but it was there.

He didn’t have time to dwell on it. The Lord Sentinel lifted a gauntleted hand, his armored fingers curling upward, and Klarion’s breath caught in his throat. A Mark of Bonds hovered above the man’s palm, spinning slowly. But this wasn’t just any Mark. Klarion’s eyes widened as he recognized it—the Mark he had discovered deep within the Dungeon. The same one he had earned after defeating the Boss. But how…?

The Lord Sentinel made no move to explain. The Mark of Bonds spun faster, a glow appearing around it, and then it vanished in a burst of light. In its place, a scroll materialized, perfectly rolled and tied with a crimson ribbon that pulsed with magic. The contract floated downward, the ribbon unraveling and the parchment unfurling before Klarion’s chest. It hovered in midair, suspended by invisible forces, the script glowing with golden light, immediately making it clear this was another contract like the one he had signed when Hatsune had joined him. In another shimmer, his name appeared at the bottom, written in delicate, elegant letters.

“Place your hand upon it,” the Lord Sentinel commanded.

Klarion glanced down at J-65, her star-flecked skin still pale, her breathing shallow but steady. Even now, broken and scarred, there was an unmistakable strength to her. She had fought for him, suffered for him. And now, she was being given to him—entrusted to his care. He swallowed hard, his resolve solidifying. This wasn’t just about power or protection. It was about honor, about repaying the debt he owed. About keeping her safe when no one else could.

His hand rose, moving almost on its own, fingers steady as they reached out to the glowing scroll. The air around it was warm, a gentle heat that prickled against his skin. The moment his fingertips brushed the parchment, golden light flared, enveloping the contract in a radiant glow. In a flash, it was gone.

“It is done. J-65 is now your bodyguard,” the Lord Sentinel announced as he turned to leave, his voice cold and final, echoing through the hall. He didn’t look back as he continued, his voice low and edged with warning. “See that you prove worthy of her service.”

As he strode toward the shattered doorway, his three Sentinel escorts followed first. The Sentinel healer moved to leave as well, only pausing to whisper some directions to Hatsune to keep J-65 in bed for a few days to recover, and that no more healing should be applied as it could cause more harm than good.

Before stepping outside, the Lord Sentinel paused, his head tilting back toward Klarion. “You owe me for this, Klarion Blacksword. One service. To be named at a later time.”

Then he was gone, his presence vanishing as abruptly as it had appeared.

Klarion looked down at J-65—no, at the star elf whose name he still did not know who lay before him. She was his now. Bound to him. 

Hatsune moved beside him, her voice soft, tinged with worry. “What do we do now?”

Klarion took a deep breath, letting it out slowly as he tried to let go of the stress of the last few minutes. “You heard the Sentinel healer, we get her somewhere where she can recover.” He looked toward the hallways leading deeper into Blacksword Manor. “There has to be another room with a bed in it.”

Klarion reached down, carefully lifting J-65 into his arms. Her head lolled against his shoulder, her body limp and fragile. He held her as gently as he could, uncaring of the mess J-65’s blood was making across his uniform as he carried her deeper into Blacksword Manor.