Borderline Sacrifice

Lightning still crawled across the stone floor. The scorch marks looked like black wounds, chewing into the shattered fragments of steel.

No one in the corridor dared to breathe.

Naphthia stood at the center of the burn pattern, sparks dancing at her fingertips. Her eyes were cold—winter-lake cold. She turned her face slightly and dropped the sentence like a royal seal.

“Aaron. Come with me. Not under arrest—by invitation.”

I took one step.

Applause rose from the shadows.

Slow. Measured. Like someone reminding the room: this isn’t the palace. This is holy ground. A princess can flip the table—but someone will always try to set the pieces back.

Sain stepped out from the side aisle, his silver epaulettes immaculate, almost offensively so.

He offered Naphthia a bow so perfect it couldn’t be criticized.

“Your Highness’s presence has spared the Temple its dignity,” Sain said, voice refined. “However—if this is handled poorly, it may damage relations between the Crown and the Temple.”

Naphthia didn’t even lift a brow. “Are you instructing me on how to handle it?”

“I wouldn’t presume.” Sain kept smiling. “I’m simply here to clean up the aftermath. If the Hero is taken by the Crown tonight, what will the world think? They’ll say the Temple oppressed the Hero, and the Crown had to intervene and seize him. Public faith will split. The border will shake. The monsters will smell weakness.”

Every word sounded like policy. In truth, he was offering her a rope—one meant to bind her own hands.

Leo, Hiber, and their crowd latched onto it immediately, heads bowed in eager agreement.

“The Deputy Commander speaks wisely.”

“The Kingdom cannot afford chaos.”

“A Hero requires oversight and proper guidance.”

Naphthia’s gaze swept over them like she was looking at a pile of talking trash. “Funny. When you were trying to cut his limbs off, you weren’t thinking about public faith.”

Sain sighed, the picture of reason. “Exactly why I stepped in. Your Highness—grant me the chance to end this in a way that keeps everyone’s face intact.”

He turned to me, his tone softening by a fraction, as if he were doing me a favor.

“Aaron refuses the Sacred Covenant out of fear and distrust. The Temple can make an exception—no immediate signature, no forced ceremony. Publicly, we can say ‘the Hero still requires tempering,’ and avoid casting doubt on the oracle.”

“But—” His voice pivoted. Velvet on the outside, a blade underneath. “The Hero must prove he is not a false Hero. Otherwise, he will forever live in the shadow of Your Highness’s protection. The moment he steps beyond your sight, public opinion will tear him apart.”

Naphthia finally looked at him directly. “So. Your proposal?”

Sain lifted a hand, presenting an answer he’d written long before this moment.

“Form a ‘Guardian Squad,’ jointly assigned by the Knights and the Temple. The Hero joins them. At dawn, they depart for the border to complete a low-risk monster purge. A victory will silence the doubts—and show the realm that the Crown, the Temple, and the Knights stand shoulder to shoulder.”

Then he added the finishing stroke—handing the knife to the princess, wrapped in courtesy.

“Your Highness may approve it personally. Then the Hero is not being taken away—he is being entrusted to the front by the Crown. Your authority will only rise.”

The corridor went quiet again.

This was Sain at his most dangerous. He wasn’t crashing into the princess head-on. He was using the princess’s name to ship me to the border.

A thin crackle jumped from Naphthia’s fingertips.

She looked at me as if asking: Do you want me to tear this apart right here?

I didn’t ask for help.

I simply met Sain’s eyes, steady and flat.

Last time, he nailed me to the altar because everyone believed he was “protecting the greater good.”

This time, he intended to wrap me in the same skin.

Naphthia smiled—sharp and shallow. “Low-risk? You’re certain?”

Sain didn’t hesitate. “On my honor as Deputy Commander. A routine border sweep.”

Naphthia nodded as though convinced. “Fine. Approved.”

Leo’s mouth curled up instantly. Hiber’s eyes lit.

They thought she’d chosen their side.

Then Naphthia’s tone shifted—like a lightning blade stamping wax.

“But I’m adding one clause. Every action taken on this mission is to be recorded and filed under the Crown. Command authority belongs to the Knights—so does responsibility for life and death. If anyone dares call it ‘guardianship’ while administering private punishment, I will personally nail him to a military cross.”

Her gaze pinned Leo in place. “Am I understood?”

Leo swallowed hard. “...Understood, Your Highness.”

Sain remained calm, still wearing the same gentle smile. “Wise as ever, Your Highness. Then everything is secure.”

He hadn’t lost.

He didn’t need an uncontrolled slaughter. He needed a legal way to move me out of the capital.

And what the princess wanted was a leash around the Knights’ necks—try anything, and the Crown will execute the bill.

Naphthia turned to leave, her cloak brushing the scorched stone.

Before she disappeared, she gave me one sentence.

“Don’t die. If you die, this approval becomes their blade.”

I nodded once. “I won’t.”

Her footsteps faded around the corner.

Sain’s gaze slid back onto me—like a door closing softly.

“Depart at dawn,” he announced. “Leo and Hiber will accompany. Saintess Leia will serve as support and witness.”

Leia stepped out by the side door, eyes red—but her saintly composure still intact.

She looked at me with something between disappointment and exhaustion. “Aaron. If you’d cooperated sooner, it wouldn’t have come to this.”

I gave her a single line. “This step was written by you.”

Her lips trembled. In the end, she turned away.

—

That night, in a temporary camp at the Knights’ yard.

I leaned against a stone wall with my eyes closed. Footsteps stopped in front of me.

Sain came alone.

Moonlight carved his profile into something too perfect, like a statue made for worship.

“Aaron,” he said lightly. “You were very hard in front of the princess today. That won’t benefit you.”

I didn’t open my eyes. “Did you come to teach me how to kneel?”

Sain chuckled. “I came to offer you the clear road. Without my protection, you’ll die horribly at the border. Leo and the others are young—heavy-handed.”

“Protection?” I opened my eyes, calm as still water. “Your ‘protection’ is you being afraid I’ll die in the capital and stain your family’s face. Send me to the border, and my death becomes ‘heroism.’ My corpse gets washed clean with holy water.”

Sain’s smile froze—just for a breath.

In that thin pause, the warmth in his eyes split open, showing the cold steel underneath.

“You’re overthinking.” His voice stayed gentle, but the heat was gone. “You should learn gratitude.”

My voice dropped colder. “You should learn that when you can’t control someone, you don’t get to pretend you’re their savior.”

Sain fell silent, then pressed the emotion back under the mask.

“Don’t play tough tomorrow. Survive, and you’ll have the right to talk to me.”

He turned and left, steps unhurried—his killing intent clearer than ever.

—

Borderlands. Dusk.

Gray-white fog smothered the cliffside woods. Wet cold slipped into the seams of armor. The so-called “low-risk purge site” had no birdsong—only rot and the taste of blood in the air.

Leo held the map like a real commander. “By procedure, the Hero scouts in front. We support from the rear.”

Hiber tossed a supply bag to my feet with a lazy kick. “Your share.”

Inside: half a moldy loaf and a single canteen of cloudy water.

I didn’t move.

Leo extended his hand. “Hand over your weapon. In case you lose control and hurt your ‘teammates.’”

I passed him the standard issue sword.

Leo took it and tossed it to a guard behind him like it was trash.

Then he pulled out a rusted iron blade, its edge chipped all to hell, and threw it into my arms.

“Here,” he grinned. “Country boy gets a country blade. Front line. Scout. If you step on a trap and die, saves us the trouble.”

Behind them, the nobles laughed like they were on a picnic.

Leia held her staff. Her lips moved like she wanted to speak—then she looked away.

Her silence made the humiliation official.

I gripped the broken sword. A chip bit into my finger. A thin line of blood welled—then dried in the cold wind.

I walked into the fog.

One step. Two. The snap of dead branches vanished into the white. Their laughter drifted away behind me, muffled, distant—like it was wrapped in thick cloth.

Then—

A roar came from within the fog.

Low. Viscous. Sweet with frenzy. Not a sound any “low-risk” creature could make.

I stopped. My eyes locked on the tree trunk ahead—on the ring of scorched symbols burned into the bark.

A berserk brand.

Sain’s “compromise” had finally bared its teeth.

The next second, something slammed through the fog.

An aberrant beast crashed out of the brush, hide like stone plating, eyes burning red, saliva dripping with rot. It moved as if pulled by an order, ignoring the supposed defensive line—locking straight onto me at the very front.

Foul wind hit my face.

That gaping maw aimed for my throat.

Behind me, Leo and Hiber took a synchronized half-step back, their gloating laughter pressed low.

“Watch,” Leo murmured. “The Hero’s first battle.”

Hiber snorted. “Rip him apart. Clean and easy.”

Leia finally gasped, voice breaking. “Aaron—!”

The beast’s shadow fell over me like a collapsing wall.

I didn’t retreat.

I lowered my head, tightening my grip on the broken iron. Every muscle in my body drew taut in a way that defied common sense. My joints gave a faint, brittle crack.

In my eyes, the killing intent from the altar of the Demon King’s castle ignited again—pure, ruthless, absolute.

The broken blade hummed in my hand with a harsh, metal shriek—like a weapon forced awake.

Fangs were inches away.

I raised the sword. My voice was calm. Cruel.

“You want to watch me get sacrificed?” I said. “Then watch carefully—who the sacrifice really is.”

In the next heartbeat, the swordlight detonated.