Reborn To Change My Fate-Chapter 252 - Two Hundred And Fifty One

Derek met him. Their swords clashed with a sound like a thunderclap. Sparks flew, illuminating their faces. Malakai was strong, brutal in his attacks, swinging the greatsword like a hammer but Derek was faster.

Malakai swung high, aiming for Derek’s neck. Derek ducked, the heavy blade whistling over his head. Derek slashed low, his sword biting into the gap in Malakai’s leg armor.

Malakai grunted but didn’t stop. "You were sold, Thompson!" Malakai taunted, pressing his advantage. "Sold cheap by your own people!"

Derek was momentarily distracted and Malakai’s sword slashed his back in one strike.

Derek groaned in pain, his blood dripping, staining the white soft snow.

"Then I will make them pay," Derek said. "But first, you!"

Malakai roared and lunged. It was a clumsy move, born of overconfidence. He raised his arms high for a killing blow, exposing his chest.

Derek saw the opening.

He drove his shoulder into Malakai’s chest, knocking the giant man off balance. Malakai stumbled back, his sword swing going wide.

Derek spun. The momentum carried his blade around in a deadly arc.

Shing.

His sword cut through the air. It struck Malakai’s neck, right where the helmet met the breastplate.

The blade sliced through steel and bone.

Malakai’s head separated from his shoulders. It flew through the air, the helmet spinning, and landed in the snow with a dull thud. His massive body stood for a second, then collapsed like a puppet with cut strings.

Blood sprayed onto the white ground.

The battlefield went silent for a heartbeat. The Mercian soldiers stared at the headless body of their invincible commander.

Derek reached down. He grabbed Malakai’s helmet by the plume. He lifted the severed head high into the air, blood dripping down his arm.

"Your commander is dead!" Derek roared, his voice terrifying. "Surrender or die!"

The sight broke them. The Mercian morale shattered. They were leaderless. They were terrified of the demon in black armor.

"Retreat!" one of them screamed.

The Mercian line broke. They dropped their weapons. They turned and fled into the woods, scattering like rats.

"Push them!" Ian shouted, rallying the Thompson men. "Drive them back! Burn everything!"

The Thompson soldiers cheered. They surged forward, chasing the enemy away. They threw more torches. The supply depot turned into an inferno. The food, the winter clothes, the tents—all of it went up in smoke.

They had won. Against all odds, they had turned a trap into a victory.

Derek stood panting, his chest heaving. He dropped the head. He wiped the blood from his eyes.

He walked to the edge of the clearing, away from the heat of the fire. He needed air. He needed to catch his breath.

He stood near a steep cliff that dropped off into the frozen river valley below. The view was stark and beautiful in the moonlight.

He smiled. It was a tired, relieved smile. He had survived though seriously injured. The war was effectively over without supplies. He could go home. He could see Marissa.

He reached into his pocket, his fingers brushing the silver locket.

Thwip.

The sound was soft. Almost lost in the crackle of the fire behind him.

Derek felt a sudden, sharp impact in his chest. It felt like a punch, heavy and breathless.

He stumbled. He looked down.

An arrow was sticking out of his chest.

It was black, fletched with crow feathers. It had pierced his armor, finding the weak point right over his heart.

He looked up. He scanned the tree line.

He saw a figure in the shadows. It wasn’t a Mercian soldier. It was a man dressed in black, holding a bow. An assassin.

The assassin lowered the bow. He nodded once, a silent salute to a job done. Then he vanished into the forest.

Derek staggered. The world tilted. He suddenly started feeling strange. He heard voices, Ian’s voice specifically, shouting " YOUR GRACE!!!!"

" The arrow was poisoned." Derek murmured to himself. He used all of his strength to pull out the arrow causing his foot slipped on the icy edge of the cliff.

He fell.

He tumbled backward, over the edge.

The wind rushed past his ears. He hit the rocky slope below, rolling, sliding. The snow cushioned his fall, but the impact worsened the injury at his back . He came to a stop on a narrow ledge, halfway down the cliff face.

He lay there, staring up at the night sky. The snow was falling again, soft white flakes landing on his face, melting on his warm skin.

He tried to breathe. It hurt. A burning, searing pain spread from his chest. The poison had gone deep.

He moved to his pocket with a trembling hand. He fumbled with the buttons of his coat, his fingers numb.

He pulled out the silver locket.

The latch was broken from the fall. The locket hung open on its chain.

He looked at the picture inside. The glass was cracked, a spiderweb of fractures over the miniature painting.

But he could still see her face. Marissa. Smiling in the garden. Wearing the wreath. Looking at him with love.

His vision blurred. The edges of the world were turning grey. The cold was seeping into his bones.

"Marissa," he whispered. His voice was low, a rasp of air and blood.

He brought the locket to his lips. He kissed the cold, broken glass.

A tear escaped from his eye. It was hot, tracing a path through the dirt and blood on his cheek.

"I’m sorry," he murmured to the picture. "I’m sorry I didn’t keep my promise."

He thought of her waiting for him. He thought of the life they were supposed to have.

His hand relaxed. The locket slipped from his fingers. It fell onto the snow beside him, the silver gleaming in the moonlight.

His chest stopped heaving. His eyes slowly lost their light. Now deadweight, his body rolled and fell into the River, breaking the ice and falling in deep.

~ ••••• ~

Miles away, in the master bedroom of the Thompson estate, the fire had died down to embers but the room was still warm.

Marissa was sleeping. She was curled up in Derek’s bed, wearing one of his white shirts. She wore it because It smelled of him. She wanted to keep that scent close .

Suddenly, she gasped. 𝓯𝓻𝓮𝙚𝙬𝓮𝙗𝒏𝙤𝒗𝙚𝙡.𝒄𝒐𝓶

Her eyes snapped open. She sat up violently, as if someone had shouted her name in her ear.

She clutched her chest. Her heart was hammering against her ribs, a frantic, painful rhythm.

She felt a sharp pain, right over her heart. It was a piercing sensation, a sudden coldness that spread through her body.

She looked around the dark room. It was empty. It was silent.

But she felt it. A terrible dread. A feeling that something vital had just broken.

She was sweating. Her hair was drenched, clinging to her face in wet strands. She was shivering, but she felt hot.

She clutched the fabric of Derek’s shirt tight in her fists, twisting the linen until her knuckles were white.

"Derek," she said.

Her voice was a low whisper, trembling in the darkness.

She pulled her knees to her chest, rocking back and forth, staring into the dark, waiting for a dawn that suddenly felt very far away.