followed Promanthae when she was a child. She recalled the path in her memory and followed it and found herself near a small hill, exactly where she had gone when she had followed Promanthae a long time ago.
When she climbed the hill, she could see Promanthae sitting there. Seeing him up close with the intention to kill him, Martia’s heart felt heavy, and the clarity and calmness with which she had come to kill Promanthae was lost.
She just stood there with uneasiness in her heart and continued to look at him.
Promanthae, sensing someone’s presence, stood up to attack.
Martia took off the mask from her face and stood opposite Promanthae and looked at him.
For a moment, Promanthae was taken aback on seeing Martia there. He quickly controlled his emotions and said mockingly, “Are you back at Promapple? Did your Prince not take care of you enough? I got the information that you are living in the king’s castle. How was the luxury?”
He paused for a moment and said in a serious tone, “Before I
could order the assassination of the king and take Promapple where it belongs, my own people started rebelling against me and made that plan useless. How can I fight both, Martia—my own people and the rest of Absyleous?”
Martia asked, “Why do you only think about fighting? And what did you say—your own people? Promanthae, have you ever accepted anyone as your own? Do you have any emotions? Being raised by you, I also became emotionless. How can we expect people to not rebel no matter how much affection we hold for them? You and I, we both didn’t know how to express
our affection, hence people don’t think much before leaving us. The only thing that makes us different is that now I am trying to be a little better than I was before, although I can never be someone good, but now that my lover and my friends can feel all the affection I have for them, I try as muchas I can to make them feel happy and safe in my company. And it was all because I left you. So now, I don’t want anyone to be under your guidance anymore. I will not let you control Promapple, Promanthae, forget about ruling Absyleous.”
With a vicious smile, Promanthae, said, “Do you think you can kill
me?”
Martia asked, “Is it because I never fought you that you are so confident I can never kill you?”
“No, Martia, you have passed the training where killing me is not a big deal for you with your skills,” he said. “I am talking about the emotions you have started feeling now. I was emotionless because I wanted to be an assassin, and I wanted the people around me to be the same, and with emotions, it is not possible, that’s why I made you like me. And look at you..you are the best one in Promapple, and who knows, even in Absyleous. But now you are ruining yourself by filling yourself with these useless and weak emotions. Did the fact that you are here to kill your father start to bother you? Did you get distracted by this feeling while you were searching for me?”
Martia looked a little bothered, and Promanthae easily understood this.
Proud of his analysis, he said, “But I never considered you as my daughter, so when I was torturing you or when I heard that you died or even right now, when I see you in front of me with the motive to kill me, none of these events bothered me, and they will never bother me, no matter the outcome of this situation.”
With a slight pause, Promanthae continued “My dear Martia, now is it disturbing you that you being alive or dead will have no effect on me?”
Martia, no matter how much she tried, was getting affected on hearing this.
Promanthae continued, “Look at yourself. This is why I made you
emotionless. To make you a better assassin. If I had made you a good person, then you would have been a useless person, like your Prince, andin this infernal world, where only the powerful survive, you would have died a long time ago.”
He paused with a sudden realization and said, “Wait a minute,
maybe I am wrong. I met you the day when you injured Zarek slightly and you were just a child. I don’t think I was the one who made you ruthless. I think you were born like that, and no matter what I tried to make you, you would have been an assassin and only chosen the path of destruction. That is what you are, and nothing and no one can change that.” He started laughing.
And continued “Now I feel proud. I now know that you were
born to be powerful and not die like a weak, ordinary person, who just cries in misery. Choosing you as a leader is one of the best decisions I made as it was going to happen sooner or later. How long do you think you will sit at home and wait for your Prince? The moment you have no power or nothing to display power on, you will be lost and will not survive, no matter how much love your Prince showers you with. You, Martia, are born to rule. But unfortunately, now that we are opposed to each other, it is such a shame that I have to kill you. Because, let’s not forget, I am still your guardian, and I still have some tricks to defeat you without fighting much.”
Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.
Martia was filled with rage and attacked him. Promanthae defended himself quickly, and he attacked her back with the same intensity, and they started fighting.
Martia angrily said while fighting, “Never talk about the Prince or my life with him. Keep yourself and your manipulations away from my life.
You are just a person who lives in the past with no courage to face the present. In the present, you are just a lonely person with nothing and no one to hold on to. Have you looked at yourself? Have you seen how tired you look, Promanthae? I might have ended up just like you if the Prince hadn’t come into my life, if my teacher hadn’t helped me to find a meaning in life, if my friends hadn’t helped me to hold on and save the purpose of my survival for my happiness. You are just the unlucky version of me. You feel proud of me!? Well, thank you, but I feel sorry for you.”
Promanthae’s calm composure began to break. He also started to look troubled and became a little clumsy while fighting.
Seeing this, Martia stopped, laughed, and said, “What happened,
Father? Did your child learn the final trick from you, too? Manipulation with the hidden and harsh truth? Have I finally become a worthy opponent of Promanthae, who always thought that no matter how much skill the opponents have, he can always manipulate the situations according to his desire? My dear guardian, accept my final farewell to you, my final
gratitude for giving me a house to live in, food to eat, even just in name, for being a parent to me.” Martia bowed her head a little in front of Promanthae, who was looking at her anxiously.
She then started attacking him, and Promanthae started defending himself. Martia didn’t give Promanthae any chance to attack her. Getting closer while attacking, she hit him on his chest, making him lose his balance, and then quickly on his hand, which made him lose his sword. She hit him again and again, without giving him time to recover, and eventually, threw him on the ground. While holding the sword to his neck and with one leg on his chest, she noticed that Promanthae was looking at her with hopelessness and sorrow.
Martia asked him, “I can understand the lack of hope, but why the
sadness? Are you sad that you are dying? Or that you couldn’t fulfill your dream of conquering Absyleous for yourself?”
Shattered, Promanthae said, “I don’t know why I am sad. Just kill me already.”
Martia then removed her leg from his chest, held her sword high,
perpendicularly, towards Promanthae’s chest to pierce him. But suddenly a gust of wind blew, and she saw a ribbon blowing in the wind, tied to one of Promanthae’s hands. It was the same ribbon she had given him when she was a child. She paused for a moment and asked Promanthae, “Why did you keep this ribbon? Is it because on that day, I injured the previous king, Zarek, your greatest enemy?”
“If I had to keep something to remind myself of the harm you did to my greatest enemy, then I would have kept the knife you gave me..the one with which you harmed the king,” he said. “But I gave you back that knife, didn’t I? Martia, just go ahead and kill me, because if you hesitate even a bit, then you do realize that with Just one trick, and I will slash your neck and watch you till you bleed to death. So just kill me now if you want to live.”
Mustering up all her courage, Martia lifted the sword and brought
it near his chest, but she just couldn’t take the decision to kill him.
Disappointed in herself, she took a step back, threw her sword down, stood there, and said in frustration, “No matter how much I want to, my heart is not allowing me to kill you. It doesn’t matter what you thought of me as I unwillingly always considered you as my father. I just cannot kill you, Promanthae. So, goo ahead, slash my neck, and watch me die.”
While saying this, she felt sorry for the Prince, Minver, and Acastius, but she knew that if she killed Promanthae, she would never live a peaceful life.
Promanthae looked at Martia with confusion, tiredness, and pain,
which he too was feeling because of his inability to kill her. He untied the ribbon from his hand, stood up, and moved forward. The moment he reached Martia, Minver came out of nowhere and slashed Promanthae from the back. Promanthae fell on his knees. Promanthae held Martia’s hand and returned the ribbon she had given him when she came into his life. Minver then slashed Promanthae’s neck and killed him, giving him no chance to say anything to Martia.
Martia couldn’t help the tears from falling on seeing Promanthae dead in front of her. Minver, unable to see Martia like that, took her hand and started pulling her away from Promanthae, towards Promapple, to announce to everyone the end of the leadership of Promanthae and the new leadership under them now.
Martia followed him like a lost child. Her heart started mourning a parent. She hadn’t realized it before, but now she knew, deep down in their hearts, she had loved him and he had loved her too, but they had never been able to express that love to each other. And when they realized it, was too late.
If you are loving this story, give me your loveliest praise. The author loves to walk on the isles of flowers...
If you think this story shouldn't exist altogether, then give me your most brutal constructive critique. The author is already in their grave, ready for the final execution.
"Toss a bloom upon my path, or a shovelful of earth upon my chest."