The Promised Blade ✧ Min Yoongi

𝐅 𝐎 𝐑 𝐓 𝐘 - 𝐓 𝐇 𝐑 𝐄 𝐄

CHAPTER 42 | AWAKENING
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YOU—THREE DAYS LATER. . .

The world around me burns. The walls of Sephtis, ancient and once thought impenetrable, have been breached by an onslaught of chaos incarnate. A cacophony of haunting howls splits the air—wolves, monstrous and ravenous, pour in through the broken gates like a river of fangs and fury. The ground trembles beneath the thunderous stomps of giants, each step echoing like a war drum in my bones. Overhead, shrieking vampires descend like shadows with claws, bloodlust gleaming in their eyes. Others—shapeless horrors, beings from beyond the veil of reason—join the invasion, forming a nightmare alliance.

Flames consume the city like a ravenous beast. They leap from structure to structure, painting the sky in orange despair and filling the air with acrid smoke. Screams—raw, human, and animal alike—rise in waves, bouncing off scorched stone walls. Through the haze, I see families fleeing, dragging children, clutching wounds, stumbling barefoot across cobblestones slick with blood and soot. Guided by these cries, I press forward, slipping through the throng, my mind a tightly wound coil of tension. Each breath I draw is hot and thick with ash. My body moves instinctively—trained, honed—a weapon forged in necessity. I sidestep falling debris, push past the disoriented, dodge the slash of a stray sword. There is no room for hesitation.

The foyer—once a grand reception hall—now resembles a battlefield. Smoke curls from the ceiling beams, and shattered stained glass lies like gemstones scattered across the ground. I slow, surveying the chaos as I glide into the space. Hunters, clad in mismatched armor, rush forward. I meet them with silent precision. Steel flashes—my blade, an extension of my will—cuts through the noise and bodies alike. Each motion is efficient, devoid of hesitation, a dance of lethal intent. Blood spatters across my clothes, but I hardly feel it. My mind remains focused: escape is impossible unless Keres acts.

The main doors—massive, obsidian, reinforced—remain sealed like the mouth of a tomb. Our only hope lies in Keres' mastery of shadow magic. She alone can weave a path through that darkness, but time is against us. Outside, Lycus fights like a cornered animal, his claws ripping into hunter after hunter, but even he is beginning to falter. There are too many. Jin kneels amid the dying, his hands aglow with healing magic, uncaring of bloodlines or allegiances. Every second he spends stabilizing a life is another we gain to regroup. But it won't last.

Around us, the city deteriorates. Citizens act out of fear, desperation, and instinct. Some, fueled by courage or madness, overturn heavy tables, building makeshift barricades or clearing paths for others to escape. Others kick down doors, breaking into homes not for safety but for weapons. Whether for defense or opportunistic looting, it matters little now—Sephtis is a battlefield, and morality is a casualty.

My eyes lock on the sealed gate—the fortress of Sephtis lies beyond it, and with it, the potential to turn the tide. If we do not gain access soon, our entire effort crumbles. The weight of that truth presses against my chest. A fortress means reinforcements. It means strategy. It means hope.

Markus, Lycus, Crow, Jungkook, and Jimin are somewhere deeper inside, engaged in a mission that may already be lost: freeing Namjoon from the dungeons. Without the gate, they're trapped. And if they fall, we lose more than just a comrade—we lose a commander, a rallying point. The heart of our resistance.

I grit my teeth and ready my sword, posture lowering as I prepare to carve through the next wave. The crowd behind me scatters as a blur of motion streaks past—elven riders, ethereal and fierce, mounted on shimmering white horses. Their long spears gleam, thrusting forward in elegant arcs, striking enemies with deadly precision. The ground quakes again—not from giants this time, but from something far more majestic.