164 Oath of a Broken Knight

The moment Abner finished reading the parchments, he criticized them with a grim line on his lips. “This information is nonsense. If there is anything meaningful here, it’s only that we know nothing.” He tapped the paper with restrained irritation. “How is someone disliking cucumbers relevant? And half of this contradicts itself.”

Guesswork gasped dramatically. “My heart… my poor, overworked heart. To be doubted after all my service. It’s unthinkable.” He bowed in an exaggerated manner. “If no one appreciates my brilliance, then I shall take my brilliance elsewhere.”

His highness waved him away. “Go. Rest your mind. Or whatever part of you does the… guessing.”

Guesswork slipped out of the tent, humming to himself.

Hall crossed his arms. “We should deal with the two of them now. They’re variables we don’t need. Especially not for your great plan.”

The prince nodded slowly. “Agreed. Abner. Hall. Handle it.”

Abner thumped his fist against his chest. “I shall fulfill your wishes without fail, your highness.”

They were dismissed, and the two walked into the cold night.

The nobles slept soundly in their tents. Only footsoldiers on patrol, a few watchful mercenaries, and the distant shuffle of armor broke the silence. The camp felt brittle, as if the wrong noise would shatter its calm.

Hall hefted his halberd onto his shoulder. “Lead the way. And this man… Nick. How skilled is he? His name is unusual.”

“It is a big world,” Abner answered. “Perhaps ‘Nich’ or ‘Nikh’ would be closer. The combination of ‘c’ and ‘k’ invites poor symmetry and bad omens.”

Hall hummed in agreement.

Abner prided himself on being well-read for a warrior. He could usually guess origins by names alone. Renry’s vowels marked her as someone from the eastern cities. Ernesto’s cadence belonged to the southern coasts. Amelia sounded like a woman of the northwestern passes. So when the pair introduced themselves as wanderers from the northern tundras, nothing about their names seemed suspicious.

At least, not until Guesswork’s ludicrous parchments forced doubt into his thoughts.

“We’re here,” Abner said at last, gesturing toward a tent at the camp’s edge. “They should be asleep.”

Hall crouched slightly. “I’ll use lightfoot. With my gift, I can kill either of them with a graze. But I want certainty first. Use clairvoyance. Tell me how they react. No need for risks.”

“I must warn you that he notices when I use it. He’ll know we’re coming. We need to get closer.”

“A wise suggestion.”

Abner opened his mouth to say something else, but what came out wasn’t his words. While it was the same voice, they were not his own words or intent. It was such a strange thing, yet he had no power to stop it.

“In fact, we should walk right in and stab them in their sleep. I slipped a potion into their drinks. They should be sleeping like sheep right now.”

His face went pale.

His jaw kept moving without his command.

Hall didn’t notice.

But Abner did.

Terror flooded him. He tried to step back, to shout, but his limbs moved on their own. He screamed inside, but his body betrayed him like a puppet dragged on invisible strings.

The two of them entered the tent.

The moment they stepped inside, I released my control over Abner’s body and let him collapse like a broken marionette. His breath hitched as the weight of his own mind slammed back into him.

Hall didn’t even notice. He was still scanning the shadows, halberd raised, searching for threats that had already surpassed him.

I stepped behind him silently and tapped him on the spine.

He didn’t even turn before I phased him through the earth.

His scream never reached the surface. However, his body did, six feet under!

Abner stared at me from where he knelt, throat tight, eyes wide with a kind of fear most warriors never lived long enough to feel.

I crouched beside him.

“Boo.”

My breath came harsh and uneven. The technique I’d just used wasn’t something my current power level was supposed to handle. Melding intangibility with empathic disruption and patching the gaps with telepathy allowed me to use ‘Possession’ despite the lack of potency. The strain clawed at my stomach. I forced the nausea down and fixed my eyes on Abner.

His terror hit me first. Gradually, it flattened into something cold and measured as he tried to regain control. His pupils flicked between me and where Hall had vanished. The tremor returned to his hands as the truth sank in.

“W-What manner of power is that?” Abner asked, voice thin.

Of course, he wouldn’t know. This world’s understanding of powers was embarrassingly primitive. They elevated techniques like basic sword styles, reinforced reflexes, and ritualistic training as if they were the pinnacle of development. Meanwhile, back home, capes evolved techniques through interdisciplinary science, Enhancer physiology research, and applied superhuman biology. Even pure martial arts became obsolete once systematic Enhancer conditioning and firearms swept the field.

Compared to that, Abner’s methodical stance work felt like watching a caveman reinvent the spear.

He bolted for the exit.

Amelia was already there.

She dropped her hood without hesitation. Bone flowed under skin; fur rippled across her arms; her eyes sharpened into amber slits. A full Tigress shift. No need for restraint now, not with everyone else asleep and my telepathy suppressing the noise.

Abner froze as she caught him by the collar and slammed him into a support post. Her null claws clicked against his armor, reminding him how easily she could tear through it.

“Don’t move,” she warned in a low growl.

“Tell him what you saw,” I said to Amelia.

While I ‘dueled’ Abner, Amelia had slipped into the mountains to gather intel. A mercenary only knew what he needed to swing a weapon, but we weren’t mercenaries. Not truly. The expedition felt wrong from the beginning. Too many injured scouts whose minds were tampered with. Too many missing details. Too many whispers, but not enough facts.

My telepathy could skim surface thoughts, but not much else. There was too much noise and dampening. Amelia, on the other hand, had spent six months relearning her gift in this world’s environment. Tigress granted superhearing; in a place like this, it was the perfect espionage tool.

We knew the expedition was fishy.

We didn’t expect it to be an outright trap.

Amelia shoved Abner down and spoke clearly.

“I scouted ahead,” she said. “Past the gorge. Past the cliffs. Past the trails, those fake ‘scouts’ claimed the dragon attacked. And what I found…” She pulled Abner’s face up by the hair. “Was an army.”

Abner’s breath hitched.

“A well-hidden force,” Amelia continued. “Organized. Full plate. Shields. Standardized weapons. Every single soldier wore the same armor you do. It’s the Royal Knights.”

Abner’s face went pale.

“Along with them,” Amelia added, “was a rather cooperative red dragon.”

Abner thrashed the moment Amelia finished speaking. His eyes widened with wild panic, and he jerked like a man trying to tear free of his own skin.

“Lies! All of it! Lies!” he shouted. “You’re trying to deceive me and turn me against—”

Amelia’s hand clamped around his jaw so fast his teeth clacked. Her claws pricked the corners of his lips.

“Shout again,” she warned, voice low and steady, “and I’ll rip your tongue out.”

Abner froze. His chest rose and fell in sharp jerks as Amelia forced his head back. Fear tangled with confusion in his eyes. I lowered myself until I was crouched before him, elbows resting on my knees.

“Think,” I said. “Just think for a second. Do you really believe it wasn’t a coincidence that you abandoned your post in the Royal Knights the moment the prince called for you? Or that you never questioned why we waited so long for this expedition? Why were only small scouting parties sent, barely enough to gather real intel, unless the purpose was to buy time? Time for the Royal Knights ahead of us to prepare their little ambush.”

He turned rigid.

I tilted my head. “You’re loyal. I get that. But don’t mistake loyalty for clarity.”

The truth was simpler than he wanted to admit. Prince Grant had plans, and Abner was just another pawn placed where he’d be most loyal and least aware.

“I hate one thing above anything else,” I muttered, placing my hand on his forehead. “It’s when someone messes with my mind.”

The prince’s gift had the stink of psychic influence. It was highly likely it was hypnosis focused on subtle manipulation and selective memory tampering. It reminded me of the Royal line back home, and Crow, who specialized in emotional distortion and fabricated recollection. They were experts in psychic gaslighting and reality benders through suggestion instead of muscle. I despised every one of them.

“Let me enlighten you,” I said.

I pushed deeper.

The psychic pressure spread through my fingers, and Abner’s eyes fluttered before his mind cracked open.

Memories surged, except they weren’t real memories. They were painted-over versions of the truth, polished until they gleamed with false warmth. I saw him at a table with his family. A smiling wife. A giggling daughter. A life full of quiet, soft edges.

But then the edges sharpened!

The scene ripped apart.

Abner stood over two bodies, his wife and daughter, blood spattered up his forearm. His sword dripped crimson. His face was frozen in horror, but the memory-imprint forced a smile on his lips.

He didn’t remember any of it.

His own hands had killed them.

As for the prince? He had hidden it from him with a surgeon’s precision.

Abner collapsed inward. His shoulders trembled. His gaze fixed on his fingers as if they were knives he’d never seen before.

“No…” he whispered. “T-There’s so much blood…”

Amelia loosened her grip, letting him sag. He didn’t run. He didn’t speak again. He just stared.

I rose, feeling the dull throb behind my eyes. Even weakened, psychic excavation hurt like hell. But I couldn’t afford hesitation.

“With our current strength,” I said quietly, “killing the prince by ourselves isn’t possible.”

Amelia listened without interrupting, her tail curling behind her in agitation.

“The man doesn’t sleep,” I went on. “Ever. He’s like me, nocturnal. His guard is constantly raised. No real downtime. No mental dip. And we have no idea what his full Gift actually is.”

Amelia snorted softly. “I told you, his presence felt similar to Continuity.”

“That’s exactly the problem,” I said.

Continuity was not someone anyone wanted similarities to.

Tech would help, but my Researcher capabilities relied on pre-existing knowledge. I needed blueprints and diagrams. Something to rebuild. I couldn’t conjure a firearm from imagination alone, no matter how primitive the technology I styled it after.

I looked down at Abner.

“What do you think?” I asked. “Do you want revenge?”

He looked up at me, eyes hollow.

“So… you’re not merely a god of death,” Abner murmured, “but of vengeance too?”

I grimaced. “Please don’t call me that.”

The last thing I needed was another Guesswork-type lunatic starting a cult over a misunderstanding. Ugh… I was reminded by that Prophet bastard…

Amelia blinked. “Wait… what’s that about a god?”

“Nothing,” I muttered. “Ignore it.”

Abner trembled, but not from fear anymore. Something hardened behind his eyes.

I extended my hand toward him.

“I won’t ask twice,” I told him. “Take it.”

There was more to this than simply saving Abner or recruiting a temporary ally. The thought had been growing in the back of my mind ever since I realized this world produced capes with bizarre, unpolished abilities.

If I could rally a group of them… if I could bring them back to my world…

Wouldn’t that be interesting?

Dangerous, yes. There were diseases, pathogens, and cross-world contamination, but Dr. Time could handle filtration. With enough prep, diagnostics, and quarantine tech, it should be doable. There had to be a reason Amelia and I hadn’t made anyone sick here. That pointed to some kind of natural compatibility… or something stranger.

My thoughts snapped back when Abner reached up and grabbed my hand.

“I… will be your sword,” he whispered.

Before I could respond, he shifted, pushed himself upright on one knee, and bowed. Not a shallow dip. Not a gesture of respect.

He knelt.

He laid his sword flat on his palms, offering it to me as if we were in some medieval drama.

I stared at him, and then I looked at Amelia.

She only shrugged, her feline features fading back as she relaxed. Her voice brushed my mind through a small psychic push from my telepathy, ‘He’s serious. And this is hilarious. Enjoy it.’

Great. Tigress was amused. I was confused.

But Abner wasn’t joking. His mind radiated raw sincerity filled with fear, hope, grief, and the desperate need to anchor himself to something real.

Fine. If he wanted ceremony… I could manage ceremony.

I placed my hand over his blade and let my voice drop into a steady, solemn tone. “If you wish to devote your sword to me… then you must have the resolve to wield it even against gods.”

His breath hitched.

“If you cannot, I won’t hold it against you,” I continued. “Fight at my side tonight. Tomorrow. For the next few days. That alone is enough.”

His eyes trembled. He wrestled with something inside himself with loyalty, guilt, and the shattering of everything he believed.

Finally, he lowered his head.

“I devote myself to your cause,” he said. “My sword, my strength, and my life.”

I exhaled, lifted the sword by the flat of the blade, and tapped it lightly against each of his shoulders. I’d seen enough dramas to know the motions. I had no idea if knighting even existed in this world, but Abner looked like he was witnessing divine revelation.

When I finished, I said, “Rise. From this moment on, you’re a warrior who fights by my side.”

He rose slowly. Not with trembling legs, but with purpose. His aura flared with something fierce and quietly grateful.

“I shall serve you with all my heart, Lord Eclipse,” he declared.

“…Just call me Nick.”

“I refuse.”

I blinked. “What?”

He didn’t even hesitate. “A lord must be addressed with due respect.”

“I’m not a lord.”

“You are now,” he stated, as if that alone rewrote reality.

A headache crept right behind my eyes. Amelia smirked behind him, clearly enjoying this too much.

But the empathic tether between us told me the truth: beneath the theatrics, Abner meant it. The connection felt frighteningly similar to the echo I’d shared with Crow when Onyx died. It was a pulse of another’s will intersecting with mine. It lingered for a heartbeat before fading.

Useful. Very useful. I should try to recreate it later.

But right now, there was work to do.

I stepped back and exhaled. “To begin your revenge, we need to start with conquering the Royal Guards… and slaying the dragon. We have the whole night to make this happen.”

Abner stiffened. “Wouldn’t an assassination be simpler? Strike down the prince and end this?”

Amelia crossed her arms. “The prince isn’t that vulnerable. The three of us aren’t enough to kill him. Not while he’s fully alert.”

Abner’s jaw tightened. “Then what is the plan?”

I smiled.

“I intend to turn the Royal Guard of Almer to our side.”