Chapter 121: Not From Fleur De Lys.

Ezra tensed the moment he heard it.

“…Dark Ones?” he muttered under his breath, his eyes flicking toward Lior.

Lior was already watching them, small hands gripping the blanket, his earlier fear not fully gone.

“Yes!” Fizzy grabbed Ezra’s arm, pulling him forward. His voice shook. “They need you. Prince Helios took most of the knights; there’s less than ten of us here. There’s… there’s a lot of them!”

Ezra’s jaw tightened.

’Fuck.’

It came at the worst time.

Fizzy’s grip tightened. “I’ll look after Lior. They need you!”

Ezra exhaled sharply through his nose, then turned to Lior.

“I have to go,” he said. “There are Dark Ones outside. You know what those are, right?”

Lior nodded quickly, though his hands trembled slightly. “Y-Yes…”

“Fizzy will take care of you. They need my help. Okay, Lior?”

He wanted to reach for him. To hold him again. But Fizzy was there, and this wasn’t the time.

Lior looked down for a second, then back up. “Have lots of luck,” he said, lifting his small hands and pushing them forward, like he was sending it to him.

Ezra huffed a quiet breath, something soft flickering in his chest despite everything. “Be safe.”

He turned to Fizzy.

“I taught you how to fight Dark Ones. You carry a sword for a reason. Stay here, but if any of them get past us and come here, you fight. You got it?”

Fizzy straightened immediately and saluted. “Yes, Captain.”

“Good.”

Ezra glanced at Lior one last time.

Then he turned and stepped out.

His chest felt heavy as he walked.

It was as if he had rocks inside his chest.

’Something’s wrong.’

But he didn’t get the chance to dwell on it.

The moment he reached the clearing, he saw it.

The chaos..

Dark Ones were everywhere.

A little too many.

They moved fast, bodies twisted and jerking, mouths open in those broken, choking sounds.

’There’s at least twenty.’

No, maybe more.

Knights were already engaged. Wulfric and the others were holding the line, blades clashing, bodies straining as they tried to keep them from breaking through.

Ezra unsheathed his sword in one smooth motion and stepped forward without hesitation.

“Excuse me,” he muttered under his breath.

“It’s Captain Ezra!”

“He’s here!”

’Hold the applause.’

He didn’t look at them. His focus locked onto the nearest Dark One rushing toward him.

He moved swiftly and almost effortlessly.

His arm came down—

And then he stopped.

Mid-swing.

Just for a second.

His eyes narrowed.

’Their clothes…’

The Dark One lunged closer, its limbs twitching unnaturally.

’They’re not…’

Not from Fleur De Lys.

The ones from Fleur De Lys had worn distinct clothing. Patterns, fabrics, small details that marked where they came from.

These—

These were different.

“Captain, watch out—!”

Ezra snapped out of it and brought his blade down.

The sword cut clean through the Dark One’s neck.

“Argh—!” it gurgled as it dropped.

Ezra stepped back slightly, his grip tightening on the hilt as he scanned the rest of them.

More were coming.

From deeper in the forest.

“Where did they come from…” he murmured under his breath.

His eyes flicked toward the treeline.

It was darker now; no moonlight shone inside the woods.

It’s as if the Dark Ones were just spawning.

“There’s no nearby village anymore,” he said, more to himself than anyone else. “These aren’t ours. So where…”

His words trailed off.

More shapes moved in the distance.

And they were getting closer.

Ezra moved again. ’Less thinking, more killing.’ He can think again once there are fewer Dark Ones.

His blade cut through the first Dark One cleanly, the second right behind it falling just as fast.

One swing. Two bodies.

He didn’t stop.

Another lunged at him, jaws snapping, limbs twisting at the wrong angles. Ezra stepped in, not back, and drove his sword through its throat before ripping it out and turning.

Blood splattered across his sleeve. He didn’t notice.

’Too slow.’

He adjusted.

The next strike was faster.

Two more dropped.

’None of them are the docile ones.’

Around him, the other knights faltered for a second. He could feel it—the shift.

The brief hesitation as they watched him move.

“Captain…” someone muttered under their breath.

“Focus!” Ezra snapped, not even looking at them as he cut another one down.

Steel met flesh again.

Again.

Again.

But something felt wrong.

The numbers weren’t going down.

Every time one fell, another took its place.

Ezra stepped back half a pace, his eyes scanning quickly.

’There’s more.’

Not just more.

It felt endless.

A Dark One came at him from the side. He blocked, twisted, and took its head in one motion.

Behind him, another knight stumbled. “Shit–”

Before it could grab him, Ezra moved, cutting it down before it could touch the man.

“Watch your footing,” Ezra said shortly, already turning away.

Then—

A familiar presence stepped into the fray.

Aamon.

His blade moved with practiced ease, cutting through two Dark Ones before they could even react. He stepped beside Ezra without a word at first, their movements syncing without effort.

“Where are they coming from?” Aamon asked, his voice steady despite the chaos around them.

Ezra didn’t look at him. He kept moving, cutting another one down.

“That’s what I’m trying to figure out,” he replied.

Aamon’s gaze flicked over the bodies as he fought. “They’re not from Fleur De Lys.”

’He noticed it too.’

“I know.” Ezra’s tone was tight.

Another one came. He stepped in and cut it down.

And another.

And another.

They didn’t stop.

Ezra’s breathing grew heavier, not from exhaustion, but from something else. Something was creeping in at the back of his mind.

’This isn’t right.’

He glanced toward the treeline again.

More shapes.

More movement.

What started as twenty had doubled. Maybe tripled. And they were still coming.

“Captain Aamon,” Ezra said, more sharply now. “They’re not thinning out.”

“I can see that.”

Aamon cut one down beside him, his expression hardening. “We can’t hold this if it keeps increasing. But we can’t call the princes or the knights dealing with the horde from Fleur De Lys.”

Ezra’s jaw clenched.

’Think.’

He forced himself to look around, really look this time.

The knights were holding, but barely. Some were already slowing. Their swings less precise. Their footing is less stable.

If this kept going—

Ezra’s grip tightened on his sword.

’Where is the source?’

His eyes scanned again.

The forest.

The movement.

The pattern—

And then something clicked.

Ezra stilled for half a second.

’Wait…’

His gaze sharpened.

He looked over the field. The knights. The Dark Ones. The gaps.

Then—

He realized something else.

Something just as wrong.

Ezra’s brows furrowed.

’Where is he?’

He turned slightly, eyes searching through the chaos.

No silver hair.

No golden eyes.

No annoying presence.

Kaelis wasn’t there.

“Where’s Prince Kaelis?” Ezra calls out to whoever is willing to answer.

“He went to check on the Fleur De Lys survivor!” Wulfric answered after he killed one Dark One.

Oh.

Oh, that meant…

’Does he think the Cultists are the cause of this?’

Are they after Ricardo?

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