“Alright then, let’s go,” Taylor said, but at that moment, he had already pulled a dagger from his pocket and discreetly tucked it inside the long sleeve of his shirt. He raised his hands in a gesture of surrender, signaling to the soldiers that he was ready for them to take him in.
As the soldiers approached, Taylor turned to look at Jones, who stared at him, utterly surprised. The captain looked confused, clearly struggling to understand Taylor’s actions. Just moments ago, Taylor had insisted they would fight against the soldiers, yet here he was, seemingly surrendering. Jones's bewilderment was evident; he raised his hands too, unsure of what to do, until Taylor turned back and flashed him a reassuring smile.
“Get ready for what’s about to happen. Prepare yourself immediately,” he whispered urgently. It seemed as though the captain didn’t fully grasp Taylor’s message at first. He gazed back at him, frustration etched on his face, but then something clicked. Realizing what Taylor meant, he quickly steeled himself for the imminent chaos.
Just as the soldiers drew closer, stretching their arms out to apprehend him, Taylor feigned dropping the dagger from his hand. In a swift motion, he caught it with his left hand and, with a fierce determination, launched himself at the nearest soldier.
“Yee!” The soldier screamed, his mouth agape in shock, only to be silenced by a powerful kick to the head from Taylor, sending him crashing to the ground in a heap.
“Get him!” the opposing captain shouted, and in an instant, the rest of the soldiers surged toward Taylor. The atmosphere turned tense as swords clashed, creating a cacophony of metal ringing against metal. The battle had begun, and Taylor stood ready to fight for his life.
Taylor's men fought valiantly, managing to defeat the opposing soldiers without losing a single one of their own. Now, all that remained was the opposing captain, standing alone amidst the chaos.
The captain could see clearly that he was outnumbered. Instead of turning and fleeing, he stood his ground, though he had never intended to fight himself. He had merely sent his men into battle, and now, as they lay defeated on the ground, he reluctantly drew his sword, knowing he had no choice.
Captain Jones stepped forward, ready to confront the captain, but Taylor quickly intervened, grabbing Jones and pulling him back. “Let me handle this,” he said, stepping forward to face the captain one-on-one. They expected the captain to charge at Taylor, but instead, they were taken aback to see him visibly trembling, his hands shaking so badly that he struggled to grip his sword.
The captain's body shook with fear, his heart racing in his chest. Deep down, he understood that this was likely his final moment. He felt utterly alone, knowing no one would come to save him. He was outmatched, lacking the skills necessary to fight his way out of this predicament, even if he chose to run.
Jones observed the captain’s fearful demeanor, a mix of amusement and irritation crossing his face. He couldn’t comprehend why this man, so clearly lacking in strength, was the one left to face Taylor. It was apparent that the captain was appointed by the king to lead, not because of his prowess, but simply due to circumstance. Taylor, who was supposed to be the captain, was absent, and Jones himself had been tied to Taylor's side, unable to serve the king.
As Taylor and the rest of his team watched, the captain’s sword slipped from his trembling grasp and clattered to the ground. He attempted to retrieve it, but as he bent down, he couldn’t shake the feeling that Taylor might reach him before he could stand again. The fear of what was to come hung heavy in the air, leaving everyone in a tense silence.
“Please… p-p-please, don’t kill me!” the captain suddenly cried, his voice trembling with desperation. The unexpected plea left everyone in shock. Just moments ago, he acted he was strong, and now he was on his knees, begging for his life. Before anyone could fully comprehend the situation, he had surrendered completely.
Taylor smiled, a chuckle escaping his lips as he approached the captain. He picked up the sword that had fallen from the captain’s grasp, examining it closely and admiring its intricate design.
“You know you’re not strong enough to wield this sword or carry the title of captain,” Taylor said, his tone both curious and condescending. “Why did you take that position? Did the king promise you some money to secure your so-called safety?”
The captain, still shaking uncontrollably, nodded fervently. In that moment, he felt utterly powerless, envisioning himself as a dead man even while he was still alive. His heart raced, and he could feel it pounding in his chest, as if it might leap out of his mouth.
“Y-y-yes!” the captain stammered, his fear rendering him almost incoherent. He trembled so violently that it affected his speech, turning him into an unexpected stutterer, a stark contrast to his earlier bravado.
Desperate to gather his thoughts, he swallowed hard and took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. “Yes! The king paid me some money, and I still have it at home. I’m so sorry! I can give it all back to you. I did everything because I needed to support my family! If you want it, I can fetch it for you—just please spare my life! I’m begging you!”
The captain's voice was filled with urgency, and his heart raced faster with each word. The sincerity of his plea hung in the air, a striking reminder of the thin line between power and vulnerability.
"Really?" Taylor said, his voice calm yet laced with an underlying tension. “The problem is, I already have more than enough money. I don’t need yours. Do you understand that? I was even considering leaving you behind, but your words… they keep me anchored here.” He gently traced the sharp edge of the world around him, a clear indication that he was determined to follow through with his plans, and nothing would stand in his way.
“No! No! Please! You have to trust me! I swear, I will never tell the king anything about you. I promise! I won't tell him your whereabouts” The captain's voice trembled with desperation, each word tumbling out in a frantic plea. “I won’t say a thing! Please, just don’t kill me! I have a wife and kids who depend on me. I’m begging you!” His eyes widened with fear, the weight of his responsibility pressing heavily on his heart.
“Oh, come on! Just like you promised me you wouldn’t talk to him about any of this because I threatened your life, you’re going to make him the same promise, right? If he threatens you, you’ll tell him where we are?” Taylor’s voice was firm, filled with a mix of frustration and disbelief. “So forgive me if I don’t trust you!” Before the captain could even respond, Taylor’s resolve solidified into action; with a swift motion, he plunged a dagger into his foe, ending his life in an instant.
“Now, let’s get out of here—this minute!” Taylor shouted, urgency lacing his tone. The rest of his team rallied to his side, ready to follow his lead.
“Jones! You will head directly to our quarter and check if King Karl has already stormed in with his armies. If he has, then forget about our plans; we need to regroup. But if he hasn’t, gather the others and bring them along—we’re leaving this kingdom right away!” Taylor ordered, his determination unyielding. Jones nodded, understanding the gravity of the situation.
Taylor was acutely aware of his own power in this moment. He commanded a skilled army, and his wealth in silver and gold made him formidable. He didn’t need to run errands or take unnecessary risks for much more; he had enough resources to stand alone and secure his future.
 
                             • New Day •
It was a new day, and the time for the arena fight was drawing near. Karl felt a deep sense of unease gnawing at him. He longed to see his son, to speak with him one last time, but the laws governing the fights were strict: they were not allowed to meet until the battle was over. Despite this, Karl had sent urgent warnings to his son, urging him to stay away from the arena today. Yet he feared that his son might not heed his words, and the thought of him facing danger filled Karl with dread.
He felt utterly betrayed. Taylor had taken the God Killer sword—a weapon of immense power—and given it to Mara, despite the considerable payment Karl had made to secure Taylor’s allegiance. It was a move that left him feeling vulnerable and exposed.
Karl wished desperately that he could cancel the fight altogether, but the reality was grim. The fight must go on; it was a matter of honor and tradition. If he were to cancel it, he would face the wrath of the people.
Just then, the ominous sound of the fighting bell rang out through the air, echoing in his ears like a death knell. The time for battle had come, and with it, a wave of anxiety washed over him.