Realm Lord
Chapter 115: The Last Sheepman

Chapter 115: The Last Sheepman

The final battle unfolded with breathtaking speed. Despite being together for only a short time, their teamwork was nothing short of remarkable—each member of the group moving in perfect synchronization with the others, as if they had been fighting as a unit for years. Their individual strengths complemented each other flawlessly, creating a devastating combination that the animated armor could not hope to withstand.

The fight was intense and fast-paced, a whirlwind of steel and shadow, lightning and crushing force that left no room for hesitation or error. Each strike was calculated, each movement purposeful, as they pressed their advantage with relentless determination. The sheepman fought with the mechanical precision of its magical nature, but it was ultimately no match for four living, breathing warriors who fought not just with skill, but with desperation born of their shared desire to escape this cursed place.

The end came swiftly. Aziel, his eyes blazing with that familiar manic intensity, found the perfect opening and seized it without hesitation. His lightning-wreathed spear pierced through the armor’s defenses, skewering the lifeless shell with a satisfying crunch of metal giving way to magical force. The spell circle within shattered instantly, its power dissipating like smoke in the wind.

The animated armor collapsed to the ornate floor with a hollow, echoing clatter that seemed to reverberate through the very bones of the ancient castle. As Aziel withdrew his spear, the weapon dissolving into sparks of electrical energy, the construct’s limbs went completely limp, finally at rest after whatever magic had given it purpose for so long.

Breaths of relief were shared between the members of the group, the sound of their exhausted panting filling the sudden silence that had descended upon the magnificent bedroom. The oppressive weight that had been pressing down on them since they first entered this accursed place seemed to lift slightly, though none of them dared to believe their ordeal was truly over.

Aziel stood over the fallen armor, his chest heaving as he fought to catch his breath. He looked down at their defeated enemy, then raised his eyes to scan the faces of his companions, searching for some confirmation of what he desperately hoped to be true. His voice came out smaller than usual, almost childlike in its uncertainty.

"I-is it over?"

Kay wiped sweat from his brow with the back of his hand, leaving a streak of grime across his weathered features. He leaned heavily on his war hammer, using the massive weapon as a crutch while he recovered from the exertion of battle. Despite his exhaustion, there was a glimmer of hope in his eyes that hadn’t been there before.

"I sure as hell hope so..." he replied, his voice carrying the weight of their shared ordeal. "Let’s go find out."

An awkward giggle escaped Kay’s lips as he turned toward the bedroom’s exit, his steps filled with nervous anticipation. The sound was almost jarring in the solemn atmosphere of the chamber, but it spoke to the barely contained excitement that was building within him. Could they really have done it? Could this nightmare finally be coming to an end?

Thoughts of freedom and success flooded his mind as he approached the door, each step bringing him closer to what he hoped would be confirmation of their victory. The possibility that they might actually walk out of this castle alive seemed almost too good to be true, but the evidence was right there before them—all the guardians were dead, all the obstacles overcome.

But not everyone shared in Kay’s cautious optimism. Lara stood motionless in the center of the room, seemingly oblivious to her companions’ growing excitement. Her attention was fixed entirely on the scattered remains of the armor at her feet, her twin blades still gripped tightly in hands that trembled with an emotion far more complex than simple battle fatigue.

She had gotten her revenge. All the sheepmen were dead, their animated forms reduced to nothing more than scrap metal and fading magic. She had carved through them with her blades, had watched them fall one by one until none remained to threaten anyone ever again. It should have felt satisfying. It should have brought her peace.

But as she stood there staring at the lifeless armor, a terrible realization began to dawn on her. The sheepmen were dead, yes—but so were Jake and Jonas. Her friends, her companions, they were gone forever. No amount of revenge could bring them back. No number of defeated enemies could fill the gaping hole their deaths had torn in her heart.

The first tear fell without warning, a single drop of crystalline sorrow that traced a lonely path down her dirt-stained cheek. Then came another, and another, until a steady stream of grief began to flow from eyes that had held back too much pain for too long. Her spirit, which had been held together by rage and the promise of vengeance, finally began to crumble under the weight of her loss.

Meanwhile, Arthur had become distracted by something he thought he had glimpsed during the heat of battle. While his companions dealt with their own reactions to their apparent victory, he made his way to the back of the room where the two ornate beds stood against the far wall. Now that the fighting was over and he could examine the space more carefully, he could see what had caught his eye during their confrontation with the final guardian.

Standing between the twin beds with heavy eyes and his head hung low in sorrow, Arthur confirmed what he had feared to discover. In each bed lay the eroded and deceased remains of what had once been children. The sight was heartbreaking in its tragic simplicity.

It didn’t take much thinking to discern who these children must have been. The royal family’s twins, probably no older than ten or twelve when death had claimed them. They lay peacefully in their eternal rest, their small forms barely visible beneath covers that had once been rich and luxurious but were now faded and worn by the passage of countless years.

Arthur’s heart ached as he looked between the tragic fate of the two young girls, imagining what their lives might have been like before whatever catastrophe had befallen this place. They should have grown up to rule justly, to live full lives filled with joy and purpose. Instead, they had become victims of forces beyond their control, their potential snuffed out before it could truly blossom.

As he stood there in respectful silence, something on the nightstand between the two beds caught his attention. It was a book—thin and severely aged, its cover coated with a thick layer of dust that spoke of decades of neglect. But despite its worn condition, he could still make out the image that adorned its front cover: a picture of a white sheep and a black sheep, their forms intertwined in what might have been either play or conflict.

Arthur’s curiosity was piqued despite the somber circumstances.

He was reaching out to pick up the mysterious tome, letting his curiosity override his natural caution, when suddenly a yell echoed across the room from the direction of the door where Kay had been standing.

"Guys!"

The urgency in Kay’s voice sent a chill down Arthur’s spine. He spun his head around quickly, as did Lara, both of them instantly alert despite their respective preoccupations. What they saw made their blood run cold.

Aziel and Kay stood frozen in front of the now-open doorway, their bodies rigid with shock and their faces pale with what could only be described as horror. The door they had expected to lead to freedom, to the outside world and an end to their nightmare, had instead revealed something that filled them with dread.

A cold, creeping sensation of impending doom filled Arthur’s chest, making him tremble as he and Lara began to hurry toward their companions. Each step felt leaden, weighted down by the growing certainty that their ordeal was far from over. The hope that had begun to bloom in their hearts was already withering, replaced by a familiar sense of despair.

When they finally reached the doorway and saw what lay beyond, the implications of their discovery hung over the group like a suffocating shroud. The silence that followed was drowning in its intensity, pressing down on them with the weight of crushed expectations and renewed fear.

It was Lara who finally broke the oppressive quiet, her voice hollow and defeated as she spoke the words that confirmed their worst fears.

"The door to the throne room."