DIVINE BANE-Chapter 79: charge to inevitable death

Meanwhile, in the Ravenhart Estate...

The once serene manor that famed for its laughter, music, and golden-hued gardens was now an inferno of chaos and screams.

Flames licked the sky. Smoke curled through shattered windows. Maids fled barefoot, their dresses scorched and torn, while the sound of crumbling stone echoed through the estate like thunder.

Uriel walked calmly through the devastation, his divine wings spread wide, radiant and unyielding like an angel of death cloaked in moonlit glory.

Each step he took left ruin in its wake .The gardens erupted in fire. Fountains cracked and burst, spraying steam as their marble structures shattered.

Statues fell. Hedges burned and the beauty of the estate died.

The knights gathered, there blades were drawn but none dared to move as fear sank into their bones like frost. Because what they were up against was not a man. He was judgment's incarnate.

When one brave soul charged forward with a scream of defiance, Uriel didn't pause he simply moved his arm once and the knight's head hit the stone floor with a wet, final thud.

Silence followed.

Then, one by one, swords slipped from trembling hands and clattered to the ground, it was a quiet surrender to overwhelming power.

Uriel didn't speak. He didn't need to because terror was his language, and the estate understood it well

Beneath the ravenhart estate, the flickering torchlight cast long, restless shadows along the stone walls of the basement. Dust trembled with each distant explosion. The muffled screams that came from above had faded into a haunting silence only broken by the rattling of armored breath.

Lady Aurora in her silken gown that was stained with ash, stood at the edge of the old cellar steps. Her eyes bright, fierce, and unafraid locked onto the knight before her.

"What is happening?" she demanded, her voice calm but edged with command.

The knight removed his helmet, despite the cold underground air sweat clinging to his brow and his lips trembled before he spoke.

"A being, my lady. A winged one... He fell upon us like judgment. He's burning the estate. The guards, the men he is cutting them all down."

Aurora's eyes narrowed. "Wings? Are you certain?"

"Yes," the knight nodded, almost choking on the word.

"An angelic thing... but not holy. There is no light in him only wrath."

Aurora moved to ascend the stairs, but the knight stepped in front of her, kneeling low.

"My lady, please your safety is our top priority. You must stay here. If he finds you..."

"I am not a child to cower in cellars while my people die," she said, the fire in her voice rivaling the flames above. But the trembling in her hands betrayed her this was no ordinary enemy.

Still, she paused.

The ceiling rumbled again, another blast.

A single tear escaped down her cheek, not from fear, but from the helplessness she rarely allowed herself to feel.

Outside, Ravenhart was dying, and somewhere above, a storm with wings walked unchallenged.

Uriel tore through the estate without care, destroying whatever he saw—buildings, lives, history. It didn't matter. Nothing did. Until a voice shouted over the chaos.

"Stop!"

Uriel paused, genuinely surprised that someone had dared to raise their voice at him. He turned, expecting a desperate fool but found a small boy rick.

Small. Barely standing. His legs shook like reeds in the wind, but his stance was firm, both hands gripping a sword. His eyes held no fear and they met Uriel's gaze head-on.

"Stop it, you monster!" Rick yelled.

From the sidelines, the guards screamed at him to run, to stop being reckless. But Rick didn't move. He didn't even flinch.

Uriel's lips curled into a slow, entertained smirk.

"Not bad, kid," he whispered. "I was getting bored anyway. Let's play."

Then, without warning, he moved.

To human eyes, it was as if he had vanished or teleported in a blink. A gust of displaced air marked his arrival in front of Rick, and then came the strike.

One punch.

just one punch ,It wasn't rushed, It wasn't wild, It was deliberate, it was a calculated cruelty with a bit of mercy .

The blow landed squarely in Rick's stomach.

A sound of cracking bones echoed through the scorched courtyard.

Rick's body bent around the strike, his mouth open in a silent scream as blood splattered from his lips. His sword clattered to the stone. He didn't fly backward. No. Uriel's fist held him in place made sure the boy felt every second of the impact.

He didn't want him to die quickly.

Rick dropped to his knees, clutching his stomach, gasping like a fish on land. His eyes were wide and red due to pain .

Uriel leaned down, face inches from Rick's.

"Pain..." he whispered, "...is the only language mortals never forget."

Then he stood, turned his back and let Rick collapse like a puppet with its strings cut alive but broken.

Blood dripped from Rick's mouth as he rose, limbs trembling, body screaming with pain. His fingers found the hilt of the fallen sword again.

Broken.

Bruised.

Barely breathing.

But still standing.

Uriel turned, eyes narrowing with faint curiosity. He expected the boy to beg... not to rise.

Rick didn't flinch.

With a roar torn from a shredded throat, he slashed again, and again. Wild, defiant arcs of steel aimed at an Aryan. Sparks flew and cuts reappeared across Uriel's chest, only to seal shut moments later.

The angelic being didn't move. He let it happen.

Then, gently almost admiringly, he reached out and caught the blade mid-swing.

Crack.

A pulse of divine force surged from Uriel's palm, exploding through Rick's body.

Bones shattered like glass under a hammer. His arms bent at unnatural angles. Knees buckled. Jaw dislocated. Rick collapsed into a mangled heap, but his eyes... they burned.

Still defiant.

Uriel crouched beside him, expression unreadable.

"Why fight?" he asked, voice soft, curious. "You knew you couldn't win. You knew what I am. You knew what would happen. So... why?"

Rick's face was pulp, his lips torn. But somehow... he smiled. A red, broken smile.

"I don't care..." he rasped, barely more than a breath. "how strong you are..."

"...I don't care... if I can't win..."

He coughed blood bubbling from between his teeth.

"I'm a knight of Ravenhart... and I did my duty... until my dying breath."

Silence fell.

The flames still crackled. The air still stank of ash and blood. But the battlefield stood still.

Every guard, every knight watching from behind cover heads dropped in shame. Weapons loosened in their hands. Not because of fear but because they remembered who they were supposed to be.

And in that moment...

Rick's broken body shone brighter than Uriel's wings.

A silence heavier than death loomed over the courtyard until a lone voice broke through.

A knight, helmet dented, armor scorched, stepped forward with sword in hand, eyes burning with fury and shame.

"How can you all be like this?" he shouted, voice cracking not from fear, but from rage.

"Look at that boy!" He pointed to Rick's shattered form, sprawled in blood and grit, still clutching his sword like it was life itself. "He's just a child a mere eight years old! No Rhu core, no magic, no power! And yet he stood. He fought!"

His voice rose with every word, echoing off the burning stone.

"And we, we who swore oaths to protect this house, we stood here like cowards while he bled for us!"

He raised his sword high, blade gleaming with reflected flame.

"Aren't you ashamed?!"

The knights shifted, shame painted on their faces like ash.

"If you have even a shred of honor left in your hearts, then pick up your damn weapons..." he roared, "...and charge!"

Something snapped, no, awakened in them.

A sudden clatter as swords were lifted. Spears found their grip. Shields raised. One by one, the guards of Ravenhart remembered who they were.

And then like a storm breaking its chains—

They charged.

Steel met wind, a thundering chorus of war cries echoing as dozens surged toward Uriel, not to win but to fight, to buy time, to uphold the last breath of a brave boy.

And above it all, Rick's bloodied eyes fluttered open for a second.

And he smiled.

They charged knowing they were going to die.

But they died with honor.

Steel clashed against divinity, a hopeless war of flesh versus godhood. Uriel stood tall in the flames, an immortal among mortals his wings unfurled, eyes glowing with unholy light, and yet... they came.

They came anyway.

One knight leapt, blade overhead, roaring a battle cry that shook the ash in the air. Uriel swatted him from the sky like a gnat his body shattered before he hit the ground.

Another guard drove his spear forward, eyes ablaze with courage. Uriel caught it mid-air, twisted, and drove the steel back through the man's chest with a sickening crunch.

But they didn't stop.

A third.

A fourth.

A fifth.

Every man who once trembled in fear now fought like demons not to win, but to stand beside a boy who remembered what it meant to be brave.

Blood sprayed across the scorched earth. The Ravenhart estate became a graveyard of valor, each fallen knight a testament to a single, sacred truth

It is better to die standing, than to live on there knees.

Uriel, radiant and terrible, stood amidst the ruin, blood on his hands, expression unreadable.

And still, Rick lay breathing, his tiny chest rising faintly. His sword had slipped from his broken hand, but his heart hadn't.

He had lit a fire even the heavens couldn't extinguish.

Uriel stood amidst broken bodies and shattered steel, his divine wings casting long shadows over the blood-soaked stones. One by one, he had dismantled them knights of honor, guards of resolve, and finally the boy who started it all.

He lifted Rick by the head, the child's face barely recognizable bruised, bloodied, jaw shattered and spoke with a mocking calm:

"Look what you did."

But Rick... smiled.

A crooked, bloody smile.

Even through the haze of agony, his eyes sharp, unwavering stared past Uriel. His voice came broken, crushed by bone and blood, but the words were unmistakable:

"Get ready... to dead..... he is.....here.."