Vol 2 Chapter 67: Rise of the Living Fortress
Blood Rose Princess Just Wants to Live in Peace with Her Little Daughter by
Eldoria
The Battle of the Past: Commander Feroux vs. Shadowmist Elites — Erna and Rima
Thick grey mist spread through the night air. Its cold breath brushed against the orange hair of a woman standing on the southwest side of the collapsed city gate. Her red eyes widened as she witnessed an old knight cleaving apart the sleeping fog—mist that could put anyone unconscious the moment they let their guard down.
The old knight supported a blood-soaked female knight with his left arm while gripping a sword in his right. His blade glowed a bright, vivid blue.
And before that old knight, more than a dozen assassinmists stood with knives in hand, ready to attack.
But when the old knight’s gaze fell upon them, their hands trembled ever so slightly.
Rima—the commander of the Shadowmist elites—bit her lip, then shouted:
“ALL ASSASSINMISTS… FALL BACK!”
Rima knew… the old knight had risen from the trauma of his past. Feroux, the Hero of Bloody-Dust, had returned.
The assassins exchanged quick glances before stomping their feet and retreating as fast as they could, melting back into the night fog.
But Commander Feroux swung his sword forward.
“Swoosh—Doom!”
His slash unleashed a shockwave that flung dust, rubble, and mist in all directions.
“Aaarrghh—!”
Two assassinmists at the very front failed to retreat in time. They were hurled onto the hard road. Blood burst from their mouths as they instantly lost consciousness.
Rima watched the devastating slash without blinking. Her orange hair fluttered violently in the wind. She clenched her teeth.
“Damn it! That old knight awakened from his past!”
Beside her, Erna stood calmly with her arms crossed. She observed Feroux from afar, but her gaze grew as cold as the night air.
“Feroux—” she whispered.
When the wind finally settled, it revealed a battlefield in ruins. Bodies of dark-clad women lay scattered across the ground.
Their faces were hidden behind black masks, but their eyes were closed. Their breaths were shallow—like thin threads between life and death.
Some had slashes and holes in their shoulders. Others had wounds on their thighs. They all lay collapsed, drenched in blood.
They were the assassinmists defeated earlier by Lieutenant Myra, Clara, and Lady Serena before Feroux awakened.
Commander Feroux looked for a moment. His eyes dimmed. His lips pressed shut, as if sealing away regrets he had never atoned for.
“If only I hadn’t hesitated back in Bloody-Dust… perhaps this tragedy wouldn’t have happened,” he murmured, turning his face away.
Commander Feroux sheathed his sword. Then he lifted the dying Lieutenant Myra with both arms. He stared at the face of the female knight—pale, eyes closed, breath ragged and broken.
“You’ve done well, Lieutenant Myra,” he whispered.
Commander Feroux stepped back slowly. He stopped in front of Detective Clara, who was being supported by Lady Serena. Blood dripped from the corner of the conscience detective’s eye. She looked no better than the dying lieutenant.
The old knight fell silent for a moment before speaking.
“Miss Clara… forgive me for making you wait. This old knight refuses to turn away from his past ever again.”
Clara didn’t answer immediately. She smiled faintly.
“I’m glad… you finally raised your sword, Commander,” she said sincerely.
Commander Feroux gave a faint smile, then turned to Lady Serena.
Her face was gentle, but her clothes were soaked in blood. The senior advisor continued fighting to protect Clara despite not being a warrior.
“Lady Serena… you’ve done well too,” Feroux praised.
Lady Serena smiled and replied, “Thank you, Commander Feroux.”
“Lady Serena… I must trouble you. Please take Lieutenant Myra to Doctor Reisa.” Feroux glanced briefly at Clara. “Can you manage?”
Clara released her grip.
“Lady Serena… I’ll be fine. Please take care of Lieutenant Myra.”
Clara smiled. Her green eyes flickered, losing clarity. She closed her eyes for a moment.
When she opened them, her gaze was dim. She deactivated her unique skill, [
Eyes of Judgement: Truth or Lie], the cursed ability that had nearly blinded her.
Lady Serena reached out and lifted Lieutenant Myra in a princess carry. She nodded softly.
“Leave it to me, Commander Feroux… Miss Clara,” she said as she walked toward the carriage.
Clara watched Lady Serena’s back as she entered the carriage. Then she turned to Commander Feroux.
The old knight stood tall. His dark eyes were fixed on the southwest, where Rima and her forces were reforming their formation. He watched them like an old lion.
Clara paused before speaking.
“Now… what will you… do… Commander Feroux?” she asked through heavy breaths.
Commander Feroux stepped forward three paces, then planted his feet firmly.
“Leave it to me, Miss Clara. This time… allow this old knight to become your living fortress.”
Clara smiled and said, “I… entrust it… to you… Commander,” she whispered, clutching her bandaged shoulder.
…
Erna watched Feroux from afar. She saw the old knight walking slowly. She fell silent.
“Rima… the old knight has finally awakened. What will you do?”
Rima didn’t answer immediately. Her eyes sharpened toward the old knight. He walked with dim dark eyes—an image that dragged her into an old memory.
“Deston! You’ve gone too far!” Feroux shouted sharply. “You killed civilians! You’re… monsters!”
Rima blinked and said, “That old knight only reacts once everything is already too late.” She sighed. “We’ll fight him.”
A cruel smile curved on Erna’s lips.
“But he’s already a sword master. Can you defeat him?!”
Rima shook her head. “No, Erna. I can’t defeat him. But—”
She glanced back. Dozens of archermists gripped their bows tightly. She looked forward. A dozen assassins had returned to stand with blades raised.
“With this force… we have nothing to fear. Besides, we still have our grey plan,” Rima said with a thin smile.
“Erna… this time, I’ll trouble you.”
Erna didn’t answer immediately. She closed her eyes for a moment. She remembered that day… when she stood in front of Feroux to protect him from the leader she admires now—
Black Mist—who was about to strike the old knight.
She opened her eyes and looked at the grey sky. The night was dark, just like her past—ripped away from her father by knights… while Feroux remained silent.
Erna’s eyes turned icy. She glared at Feroux, now only fifty feet away.
“Leave him to me, Rima. I’ll make that old knight understand what ‘separation’ truly means,” she said sharply.
Rima smirked faintly. “Don’t get too excited, Erna. We still have a mission to complete.”
Her gaze shifted toward Clara, who stood staggering in the distance.
“That detective has reached her limit. We’ll capture her alive… and deliver her to Her Majesty.”
The two of them fell silent for a moment. They stared at the old knight.
...
For a moment, time seemed to stop.
Commander Feroux and the Shadowmist stared at each other under the moonlight. Erna broke the silence.
“You still have the nerve to fight me?” she said coldly.
Feroux lowered his head. His fists clenched at his sides.
“I… I am indeed a sinner. But I cannot allow you to harm my comrades any further,” he said, voice filled with regret.
“What good is your regret?” Erna gritted her teeth. “Say that to the old village women you used as target practice!”
Feroux froze for a moment, then said, “I was wrong. What do you want from me?”
“Get out of my sight! Your very existence disgusts me,” Erna snapped.
“I will remain here… at least until my comrades leave this city safely,” Feroux said firmly.
“That’s enough, Erna.” Rima raised her hand. “We will remove him!”
Dozens of archermists aimed at Feroux simultaneously.
“
Fire!”
Bowstrings snapped. Dozens of arrows shot forward at once.
Feroux gripped the hilt of his sword. Then he drew it in a flash. The blade burst with a bright blue aura. And then—
“Crriing! Swoosh—Doom!”
The shockwave shattered dozens of arrows. Splinters of wood and metal blasted backwards, slamming into the damp earth.
One wooden shard grazed Rima’s cheek. Blood trickled from the cut.
But Rima’s gaze remained sharp. She stared at the old knight without blinking.
“A sword master is really troublesome,” she muttered calmly, then called out to her partner. “Erna—”
“Leave it to me!”
Erna stomped the ground hard enough to crack it. Then she vanished from sight, dissolving into the darkness.
Feroux’s eyes widened. Erna reappeared right in front of him—so fast he couldn’t react in time.
“Boom!”
A heavy punch slammed into his iron armour. Feroux was thrown back five feet. He touched his chest and felt it—his armour had cracked.
Feroux looked up and saw Erna launching another punch. Her fist was wrapped in grey mist mana, like a clump of storm clouds.
“This punch… is for you who closed your eyes!” she roared.
Erna struck him over and over, relentlessly. Meanwhile, Feroux reflexively defended himself. He swung the dull side of his blade to block each blow.
Feroux parried every strike—dull blade to the right, left, left, right, again and again—each punch forcing his feet backwards.
“Crack!”
Erna delivered her thirtieth blow in rapid succession. The tip of the sword blade is cracked.
“Erna—jump!” Rima ordered.
Erna instinctively leapt ten feet upward, spun to the left, and landed firmly.
Then—
“Wushh! Wuusshh!”
Two seconds later, more than a dozen arrows flew forward.
Feroux swung his sword at lightning speed.
“Ting! Ting!” Steel struck arrowheads. Sparks scattered across the night air.
Feroux kept deflecting, arrow after arrow. One… five… nine… eleven… one arrow grazed his arm.
Sixteen… nineteen… then the final arrow struck his blade. It spun off and smashed into a pebble.
Feroux stood tall, gripping his sword with his right hand. Blood dripped from his wounded arm.
“Hah… hah…” Feroux exhaled heavily.
…
“Stab!” a woman’s voice rang out from the mist. Rima issued her order coldly.
But only three seconds later, the silence was shattered again. Four assassins lunged from four directions—left, right, front, back—each thrusting mist-shrouded daggers.
Feroux spun and slashed all four at once.
“Aarrgghhh—!”
The four assassins collapsed, their shoulders sliced open.
Suddenly, Erna appeared behind him and punched him in the back.
Feroux was thrown ten feet forward.
Erna stood with one hand gripping her shoulder. Her left arm hung limp. The mist mana surrounding her fist flickered away, revealing blood.
Blood dripped from her index finger, falling onto the damp earth.
“Hah… hah… did it work?!” Erna gasped.
She saw the old man still facedown, gripping his sword. He moved—planting his blade into the ground, crouching, then rising.
Erna’s eyes twitched as she watched him stand again. Her lips curved downward.
“He really is stubborn… He survived a combined assault from the archers and assassins. The title ‘living fortress’ isn’t just a story,” she spat.
On the other side, Rima stood calm, watching Feroux rise once more. Her gaze grew colder. She tightened her grip on her bow.
Then she called out:
“Erna—fall back!”
Rima pulled three arrows and readied her bow. Her red eyes aimed at the old knight.
"Archermists… fire!”
Dozens of arrows shot forward instantly.
Feroux clenched his teeth. He tightened his grip, channelling blue aura into the blade. Then he swung with all his might.
“Swoosshhh—Doom!”
The shockwave annihilated the arrows. Dust and pebbles exploded into the air, clouding everyone’s vision.
Rima glared into the rising cloud of debris. She still held the three arrows she had drawn.
Then—
Her red eyes widened.
She reflexively leapt back and shouted,
“SHADOWMIST, RETREAT—!”
From within the plume of dust, Feroux burst upward, leaping high into the air toward her. He gripped his sword with both hands. The blade radiated a brilliant blue aura that seemed to split the night.
“[
Blue Rose Sword: One Slash]!” Feroux roared as he brought the sword down.
“Shockwave!”
A shockwave exploded outward, smashing into the earth. The wind was razor-sharp, tearing through everything in its path.
“AAARRRRGGGHHH—!”
Dozens of archermists were thrown back. Their clothes shredded. Skin sliced open. Their hoods tore away, revealing the faces of young girls on the brink of death.
“Ughh—”
A grey-haired girl collapsed on the ground. Her clothes were tattered. Her skin was slashed. Blood dripped from her lips. Her vision blurred before she passed out.
Feroux froze among the dying girls. His hands trembled around his sword.
Those faces… he recognised them. They were survivors of Helmara Village—the ones once oppressed by the Rose Kingdom knights in the Bloody-Dust tragedy.
“T-they—” he whispered. He swallowed hard without realising.
Rima—now standing firmly on her feet—smirked.
“Hero Feroux… how cruel of you. You butcher the very victims you once failed to protect.”
She released a mist-shrouded arrow toward Feroux. It struck his left shoulder.
“Ugh—!”
Feroux winced in pain.
“That is your punishment for failing to protect,” Rima said coldly.
Feroux staggered as he walked through the bodies of the girls. With each step, blood dripped from his shoulder, leaving a trail behind him.
He stopped at the torn earth where his attack had struck. He knelt and drove his sword into the ground.
His head hung low. The smell of blood filled his nose—triggering the nausea he had held back for years.
Then—
“Uueekk—!”
He vomited. Acid splattered onto the ground.
His eyes flickered, memories flooding back—every scream and cry of the women in the Bloody-Dust tragedy.
The desperate screams of the grandmothers executed en masse, the laments of village girls clutching their own bodies, the cries of young daughters sobbing in their mothers’ arms—Feroux remembered all of them. And today… he had become the perpetrator who wounded those very women.
“I…I—” Feroux stammered in crushing frustration.
…
Rima stood before Feroux. She drew back her bowstring.
“Feroux… you truly are a sinner—” she said coldly.
Clara—watching from afar—froze, witnessing Rima take three steps toward Commander Feroux. Her green eyes blurred, but she could feel the despair crushing the old knight.
Rima stopped ten feet from Feroux. She aimed at the old knight’s neck. As she was about to release her string, blood burst into the air.
Followed by the echoing voice of the female detective.
“Stop!”
And that night, blood and trauma washed over the old knight…
out of 10?
