As they marched through Nyridia's grand streets, the city seemed to hold its breath. The soldiers of the Scarlet Veil moved in perfect unison, their red and white armor glinting in the late morning sun, casting sharp, blinding flashes from polished metal. Each step struck the stone with a resounding echo, the relentless rhythm carrying through the avenues like a harbinger of judgment and bloodshed, a grim promise of the reckoning yet to come.

The citizens watched from the sidelines, caught between fear and fascination, faces pale and eyes wide. This was no ordinary march. Every person who dared linger understood—this was an execution in all but name. The Scarlet Veil had been crossed, and its response was as unforgiving as the steel gleaming in its soldiers' hands.

Families paused, breathless, shielding their eyes from the glare. Whispers spread like wildfire through the crowd, and faces appeared in windows only to retreat just as quickly, shutters snapping closed, children hurried inside. The bravest remained, gripping doorframes and clasping hands, watching the march with bated breath. They didn't need words to understand: no one challenged the Scarlet Veil and survived unscathed.

Liliana led with her head held high, her eyes fixed ahead, unyielding. She moved like a queen of death, untouched and unafraid, each step a silent declaration of the impending slaughter. Her father's command had anchored something cold and unbreakable within her, a flame that burned with single-minded purpose.

Behind her, Rika walked with easy confidence, her warhammer resting on her shoulder.

Kale followed in their wake, his expression grim, the cursed weight of Lifedrinker heavy on his back, whispering to him, testing his resolve.

"Yes… revel in their blood. You know they deserve it. Feel them tremble. Make them pay…"

He gritted his teeth, pushing the voice down, but the weight of the cursed blade grew heavier with each step. Its dark hunger curled around his thoughts, feeding on the tension, the anticipation in the air.

Rika caught his eye. "Steady your nerves, Kale," she said, her voice low. "There's no room for doubt here."

Kale forced a nod, his shoulders stiffening as he looked to the windows above. Faces pressed to the glass, pale and taut, watching in silence as the Scarlet Veil cut its way through the streets. The crowd on the street gave way without a word, retreating to the edges like waves pulling back from a reef. No one spoke. No one dared.

At the head of the column, Liliana moved like judgment given form. Her chin high, her steps steady, she didn't spare the crowd a glance. She didn't have to. The promise was in her stride: blood would be paid, and the debt would be collected in full.

This wasn't a procession. This was a warning carved into the marrow of the city, a blade pressed to the throat of anyone watching. The boots of the Keepers struck like a metronome of inevitability, ringing out across the avenues in grim rhythm. Every step said the same thing: you brought this on yourselves.

Kale's gaze drifted to the faces in the windows, their wide eyes frozen between dread and disbelief. They weren't looking at protectors. They were looking at the end. They were looking at consequences dressed in scarlet and steel.

The silence wasn't forced. It wasn't eerie. It was earned. The kind of silence that lingers after the last scream dies out. House Bloodthorn had chosen to defy the Scarlet Veil, and the Veil didn't forgive. No prayers would save them now. No bargains. This was retribution, and it didn't negotiate.

Kale's fingers brushed the hilt of his sword, but it wasn't comfort he sought. His grip was as cold as the promise he was walking into. Whatever lay ahead, it wasn't just a battle. It was the settling of accounts. Judgment wasn't loud or theatrical—it was slow and steady, with the crushing inevitability of a storm rolling in.

And when the storm passed, nothing would be left standing.

***

As they neared the Bloodthorn estate—a sprawling compound encircled by high, imposing walls—the group slowed. Liliana raised a hand, and the formation came to a halt, the rhythmic march giving way to a charged silence. She stood at the front of the group, her expression hard as she turned to address the Keepers.

"House Bloodthorn dared to strike at the Scarlet Veil. They thought themselves clever. Untouchable, even. But they've misjudged us. Today, we're here to show them just how wrong they were."

"This isn't just punishment. This is a reckoning. We're not here to make a statement—there will be no one left to hear it." Her gaze swept over them, hard as steel. "We leave no survivors. No walls standing. No memory that isn't drenched in blood."

"Let them know we are the Scarlet Veil. The last sight House Bloodthorn will ever see. And when we're done, all they'll leave behind is silence. We are the Scarlet Veil, and today, House Bloodthorn ceases to be."

The Keepers murmured in agreement, their grips tightening on their weapons, eyes sharp with cold, unyielding purpose. Kale's fists clenched at his sides, feeling the silent pressure to fall in line, to suppress the protests of his conscience.

Liliana's gaze flicked to him, a flicker of sympathy in her eyes before her expression hardened again. "Are you ready, Kale?"

He took a steadying breath. "Ready as I'll ever be," he replied, his voice firm, though his internal conflict gnawed at him.

Liliana stepped forward, her hand rising as strands of blood began to weave and writhe around her fingers. The air seemed to tremble as the blood coiled tighter, pulsing in rhythm with her heartbeat. She thrust her hand toward the iron gates, and the blood surged forward in a violent torrent, expanding midair into a twisting, screaming mass of force. It struck the gates with a thunderous crash, the metal groaning under the impact before shattering apart, fragments of iron hurtling into the courtyard beyond.

As the shattered remnants of the gate thundered to the ground, the Keepers poured into the Bloodthorn estate, a tide of scarlet and white sweeping through the courtyard like an unstoppable flood. What was once a place of quiet grandeur now rang with the chaotic symphony of war—boots pounding against stone, blades clashing, and the desperate shouts of defenders overwhelmed by the storm crashing upon them.

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Liliana led the charge, her expression carved from cold fury. The blood that flowed around her hands rippled and lashed out like living tendrils, cutting through the first wave of soldiers with surgical precision. Kale and Rika flanked her, weapons drawn and ready, their movements fluid and practiced as they dismantled anyone foolish enough to stand in their path.

Bloodthorn soldiers scrambled to mount a defense, but their resistance was futile. The Keepers moved with brutal efficiency, their formations tight and their blows decisive.

Each strike from Rika's warhammer sent shockwaves through the air, bodies and shields alike crumpling under her strength. Kale's blades sliced with lethal accuracy, weaving through the chaos like extensions of his will.

Kale felt Lifedrinker pressing against him, its whispers like venom in his ears, growing louder with every step deeper into enemy territory.

"Yes… let me drink. Show them fear. Drown them in despair. Let me make you unstoppable."

He clenched his jaw, forcing the voice down as a soldier lunged at him. He sidestepped the attack and countered with a swift strike, cutting the man down in one clean motion. "Not today," he muttered under his breath, silencing both his foe and the blade's insistent voice.

Liliana advanced ahead of him, her blood magic carving a path of devastation. Crimson tendrils lashed out, ripping through armor and flesh, her every motion cold and deliberate. Her focus never wavered, her gaze fixed on the manor looming in the distance—Bloodhaven, the heart of House Bloodthorn, and the end of their mission.

Rika was a storm unto herself. Her warhammer rose and fell with devastating force, armor crumpled like paper, and the screams of her enemies filled the courtyard. She let out a laugh, her warhammer smashing through another soldier with a satisfying crunch. "Oh, this is my kind of party!" she shouted to Kale over the clash of steel, her grin wide and wild. "Who wants the next dance?"

"Glad you're enjoying yourself," Kale called back as he parried another blow.

Together, they pushed forward, carving a path of destruction through the estate. The Bloodthorn soldiers fell back, their defense crumbling under the Scarlet Veil's assault as the Keepers cut through them with ease, their movements seamless, the precision of their strikes honed by years of training. It was a massacre, an unstoppable wave that swept through the estate, leaving barely a casualty among their ranks.

Liliana, Kale, and Rika led the vanguard, moving as a deadly unit. A handful of Keepers flanked them, sweeping aside stragglers with cold efficiency. When they reached the grand entrance of the manor, the heavy doors were no match for Liliana's blood magic, the wood and iron splintering apart under her fury.

The trio split off, leading their forces through the manor. Each room, each hallway, was methodically scoured, resistance crushed before it had a chance to form. The Bloodthorn defenders were unprepared for the ferocity of the assault—many fell before they could even draw their weapons. Others begged or fled, only to meet the same fate as those who stood and fought.

Kale moved through the chaos, his blades finding their mark again and again. The ease with which the Bloodthorn soldiers fell to him was unsettling. He saw their fear, the realization in their eyes as they faced the inevitability of their end.

They made their choice, he told himself, forcing his hand to steady. This is war. They would do the same to us, given the chance.

In the next room, an older guard stood alone, afraid, his hands trembling on the hilt of his sword. Kale hesitated, a flicker of doubt crossing his mind before he pushed forward, blade meeting flesh. The man crumpled, his weapon clattering to the ground, and Kale could barely bring himself to look at the body.

He exhaled sharply, shoving down the growing discomfort. Keep moving, he reminded himself. This is survival. We need the Scarlet Veil against Xeroth.

Liliana's voice rang out from the hall, steady as she commanded the Keepers forward. She showed no hesitation, no flicker of uncertainty as she drove through the manor. For her, this was justice, retribution. For Kale, it felt like something else—a line he couldn't cross without leaving something behind. But he kept going, pressing down the rising unease, knowing he had to see this through.

The Keepers continued to surge through the manor, merciless in their task, leaving only silence in their wake.

Kale moved down the corridor, his sword heavy, his steps feeling like they dragged through mud as he passed door after door, each one a glimpse into bloodshed. He tried not to look too closely, but the silence that followed each room left a hollow ache in his chest. Then, he passed a room and froze—a Keeper stood over a small child, no more than six or seven, curled against the wall, eyes wide with terror. The Keeper's sword was raised, ready to strike.

But the lord said the children would be spared, Kale thought, his pulse pounding in his ears. Had he lied?

Before he knew it, he was moving. "Stop!" he shouted, grabbing the Keeper's arm just as he started to bring the blade down. Kale's voice came out rough, almost desperate. "What are you doing? We're not here to kill children."

The Keeper met his gaze, cold and unyielding. "Stand down, bladeweaver, orders are clear."

Kale's grip tightened, fury simmering beneath the surface. "This isn't what we were told," he bit out, his voice hoarse with barely controlled anger.

Their struggle gave the child the chance to break free, stumbling past them in a desperate attempt to flee. Kale's heart lifted for a split second, watching the child's escape—until he saw Liliana step into the hallway, her face a mask of iron resolve.

With a swift motion, crimson tendrils of blood whipped from her hands, snaking around the child and lifting them off the ground. The child struggled, eyes wide with terror, looking frantically between Liliana and Kale.

"Liliana!" Kale's voice broke, raw and pleading. "Please… don't do this."

She hesitated as her gaze met his. In her eyes, he saw a flash of doubt, a moment of humanity piercing through the cold shell. Her grip on the tendrils wavered, and slowly, she lowered her hand, releasing the child to the floor.

The child stumbled, then turned to Kale, tears streaming down their face. "Thank you, mister," they whispered, voice trembling, before running down the corridor.

Kale exhaled, a knot in his chest easing—until a flash of movement shattered it. Another Keeper stepped into view, his blade already descending. Kale barely had time to cry out as the child collapsed, their life snuffed out in a single, brutal strike. The Keeper moved on without so much as a backward glance, his face void of emotion.

Kale stood frozen, staring at the small, crumpled figure. The weight of it crashed down on him like a wave, heavy and suffocating, pressing against his chest until it felt like he couldn't breathe. The walls of the manor seemed to close in, dark and claustrophobic. His chest tightened, each shallow breath like a knife against his ribs. This wasn't justice. This was a slaughter that tore at something deep within him, leaving a hollow ache he could hardly bear.

He looked at Liliana, his despair raw and naked in his eyes. "Why?" he whispered. "Why are we doing this?"

For a moment, her face softened, a flicker of pain breaking through her steely mask. But she didn't answer. The silence between them was heavier than any words could be, an understanding as bitter as it was final.

It was a silence that carried a truth neither of them wanted to face. Whatever this was, it wasn't what they had told themselves it would be. And yet, there was no turning back. The path they were on was soaked in blood, and it demanded they keep walking.

Kale turned away, something vital inside him fracturing, pieces of himself slipping through his grasp, irretrievable. The Keeper moved past him, expression blank and unfeeling, and Kale felt a hollow dread creep through him, the realization settling like lead in his chest—he didn't know how much more of this he could bear.

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