Bloodstained Oath: English

The Journey to the Borderlands

Gray skies loomed low over the plains of Elaria, as if mourning for those trapped beneath their heavy expanse. A cold wind whispered through the air, carrying the scent of damp earth and decaying leaves. In the distance, the dark edge of the forest stood like a gateway to another world—a world steeped in shadows and despair. The Crimson Blades moved silently, their steps cautious against the uneven terrain.

At the front of the group, Raedan slowed his pace, his sharp gaze sweeping the area. He raised a hand, signaling the company to halt. "We'll rest here," he said curtly, his voice nearly swallowed by the rustling wind that slipped through the trees.

Carl, one of the captains, approached with evident displeasure. "Rest? Here?" he asked, his tone laced with disapproval. "We're too exposed. If there's an ambush—"

Raedan's piercing glare cut him off, his eyes brimming with unspoken authority. "I give the orders here, Carl. We stop, and that's final."

Carl scoffed but refrained from further protest. Stepping back, he shot a glance toward Caelum, who sat alone on a fallen tree trunk, sharpening his blade in solitude. There was something in Carl's gaze—a suspicion he barely bothered to hide.

---

That afternoon, the Crimson Blades began to ease their burdens. Torren busied himself building a campfire, while Elira sat beneath a tree, inspecting her arrows one by one with meticulous care, as if performing a sacred ritual. In the distance, Caelum remained seated apart, steadily honing his sword. The scraping of the whetstone against steel created a hauntingly sharp sound.

"Caelum," Elira's soft voice broke the stillness. She approached, carrying a small pouch of rations. "Have you eaten?"

Without looking up, Caelum shook his head.

Elira settled beside him, handing over a piece of bread and dried meat. "You need to eat," she said, her tone gentle but firm. "If you keep this up, you'll run out of strength before the next fight."

After a moment of hesitation, Caelum accepted the food. "Thank you," he murmured.

"I just don't want to lose the one person who makes Carl look foolish," Elira added with a small smile.

For a brief moment, the corners of Caelum's lips twitched upward, but he quickly restrained himself. "How can you always seem so... carefree?" he asked, trying to distract himself from the shadows that clung to his thoughts.

"Because someone has to be," Elira replied without hesitation. "Otherwise, who will keep us all from losing our minds?"

---

As night fell, darkness enveloped the camp. The Crimson Blades gathered around the fire, their faces illuminated by the flickering orange light. Raedan stood at the center of the circle, his voice resonating amidst the quiet of the night.

"The Imperial caravan is near the border," he announced. "They're carrying weapons, supplies, and critical documents. If we can stop them, it will deal a significant blow to Valderion."

Doubt rippled through the group. As always, Carl was the first to voice his skepticism. "And how do we deal with the Black Guard? Regular soldiers are bad enough, but those monsters? They're executioners on the battlefield."

Raedan's gaze turned icy. "We have no choice. We face them, or we tarnish the contract sealed in Eldoria."

A tense silence followed before Daryn, one of their most seasoned fighters, muttered to Caelum, "You've never faced them, have you?"

"No," Caelum replied simply.

Daryn's expression hardened. "They're not ordinary men. If you hesitate, you die. And if you die, we all die."

Those words lingered in Caelum's mind long after the meeting ended. He wasn't afraid of the Black Guard, but he understood they weren't opponents to be underestimated.

---

Late into the night, the camp fell silent. Most of the company had drifted off to sleep, but Caelum remained awake. He sat at the edge of the camp, his eyes fixed on the dying embers of the fire. Memories from his past resurfaced, haunting him like restless ghosts. He saw his mother's face, heard her cries, and remembered the blood that stained the streets of their town.

"Still awake?" Raedan's voice broke through his thoughts.

Caelum looked up. Their leader approached, carrying a small bottle of wine. Without waiting for a response, Raedan sat beside him and uncorked the bottle.

"Listen, Caelum," Raedan began after taking a swig. "I know what you're feeling. Anger, hatred, the desire to tear down the Empire. I've felt it too. But I also know it can be a weakness."

Caelum stared at him, trying to grasp the meaning behind his words. "Hatred is the only reason I'm still alive."

Raedan nodded slowly. "And that's what makes you dangerous. But remember this—hatred is a double-edged sword. If you're not careful, it'll cut deeper into you than your enemies."

Those words struck Caelum like a blow, though he didn't argue. A part of him knew Raedan was right, even if he wasn't ready to admit it.

---

The next morning, the Crimson Blades resumed their journey. A thick mist shrouded the trail ahead, lending the landscape an almost otherworldly quality. Every step felt heavy, as if they were marching toward an inevitable doom.

At the front, Raedan led with unwavering determination. Meanwhile, Caelum walked at the rear, his mind consumed by thoughts of the battle to come. The rising sun cast its light on his resolute face, but beneath his cold gaze, an internal war raged—a battle between vengeance, hope, and the fear of failure.

In that silence, he came to a realization: no matter what lay ahead, he could not turn back. He had chosen his path, and there was no turning back now.