The horse stumbled over a loose rock, jostling its rider. But the young man gave no complaint. The horse was just as exhausted as he was. He could not blame it. But he did blame himself.

Every moment of the last ten years raced through his mind. Every subtle eye movement. Every quiet discussion whispered in corners. Every sad glance.

Now it all made sense, but now, Luke was screaming at himself for not figuring it out faster.

Why would Evelyn's parents never send a letter? Why would they send her away while she slept? How come Luke had never heard of the plague that supposedly killed her family spreading to other villages?

Evelyn had talked a lot about her family, if even a quarter of the stories were accurate, Luke should have known something didn't add up. But he didn't. Everything was great, for him, so he didn't even bother to question it.

And now, the woman he had be raised alongside and grown to love was missing, as was all their friends and part members, the Kingdom of Lissura was in ruin, and the Continent of Man was being invaded.

He doubted the last part had anything to do with Evelyn or him, but he chose to blame it anyway.

After all, why not? It seemed as if his father was to blame for everything else.

Luke looked up from the sweaty mane of his horse and towards his father, slightly ahead of him on the trail and surrounded by the various Commanders and Generals. Though only two of them bore the rank they had assumed. Too many had died, too quickly, and without warning. The responsibility of command had fallen to whoever was there at the time. And they had already had to replace the hastily appointed leaders several times due to death.

Of course, these 'Generals' led no glorious armies or expertly executed maneuvers, spreading the glory of the Lissurian Kingdom. There was no glory to spread. Not anymore.

Now, what little remained of the once magnificent Kingdom was a gangly line of refugees covered in mud, filth, and blood, carrying what little they managed to grab before fleeing. Many carried nothing.

As the son of the Duke, it was his responsibility to help care for them, aid them where he could. But there was nothing he could do. Even if there was, he was not sure he could.

Every time he looked at the long line of refugees, it was obvious something was wrong…missing. It had only taken Luke a few moments the first time to realize what it was.

There were very few children or elderly.

If the reason was not apparent enough, the empty stares of parents told the harrowing tale. If they had not been fast enough to flee, they were cut down by the Demons without mercy. If they had managed to escape the cities, they were then forced to survive the freezing cold. Winter was near its end, but it would still be many weeks before it became warm enough to ward off frostbite.

To make it worse, if the near daily attacks from Demon patrols weren't enough, the constant attacks from Monsters certainly killed plenty.

That is what the remnants of the Military tasked themselves with. Fending off the Monsters, buying what little time they could against the Demons, and helping the injured travel faster.

There were no smiles, no laughs, not even loud conversations. No joy, no anger, there was not even any sorrow. The situation had happened so violently and so suddenly and had not improved any since that none had been able to feel anything at all.

Luke found himself in a similar state, except that he did feel something. A small something. A seedling of hate. A seed that was nurtured any time he glanced in the direction of his father.

This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

But Luke was not some volatile brat incapable of controlling himself. He knew there were more important matters than confronting his father.

Matters such as ensuring his siblings and step-mother were looked after.

The Captain of the Guard employed by the Redmond House had acted swiftly the moment the city alarms were rung. While the commoners were still wondering what was happening now, after God-like beings battled amidst their beautiful city, the Captain and his well trained soldiers had already ushered the Redmond Family into a carriage and sent them rushing towards the nearest city gate as fast as the horses could go.

The Captain sent his best men and women to escort them. He could have gone with them, before the true chaos started, but his duty was to the Redmond Family in its entirety, that included Luke and the Duke himself. A duty he prided himself in upholding.

But he was too late.

The Captain and the rest of the Family's Guard eventually did find the Duke and his son, but they were immediately attacked by the Demons. They stayed and held the line, even with their Systems disabled, so that their Lord and young master could escape.

Luke still remembered the time the Captain had showed him how to first hold a sword, a toy wooden one at the time, but as he grew, the wooden sword changed to a dull practice blade, and then to the blade that he still carried on his hip.

The man had been a staple throughout his life. Luke could not remember a time the Captain was not present in his life. And now, he was gone.

And in his grief, confusion, and rage, that too was placed on his father's blame.

Struggling, his horse finally crested the steep hill. Luke turned around in his saddle, giving the tired steed a minor reprieve as he glanced back at the long line of survivors that stretched for several miles ahead and several more behind.

Far away, around the distant bend in the road as it went around the base of another hill, Luke heard the sounds of another battle. From the sounds of it, the conflict was just another Monster attack. A routine occurrence even for the soldiers.

But with each attack, there would be fewer to defend the refugees. Fewer who could fight. Fewer who could survive.

Far to the East, where the refugees were headed, lay the borders of Taria. A Kingdom that had once been bitter rivals and had it been any other time, if Luke had so much as attempted to cross the border, he would have been killed. Now? The Tarians had sent messages welcoming the refugees and offered food and shelter.

Luke knew the Tarians were no fools. They would have know the extent of the invasion, and how it still grew without sign of stopping. They knew this was no longer a battle between factions, but instead a war between Species.

But he also suspected grudged would inevitably get in the way and that the Lissurian Refugees would more than likely be used as fodder against the Demons. Many of the Refugees themselves knew this.

What other choice did they have?

But as Luke looked back towards their destination, just at the horizon, he wondered how many more would die before they reached it.

The people were struggling to keep going. Most of them had been walking and running since the invasion began all those days ago. Drinking very little, eating even less. Their injuries all but ignored.

It was a retched scene.

And it was not as if the King was there to help with his large army of Elite Masters. As always, he had left his people to attend to his own matters. Of course, he claimed he had moved ahead of the refugees in order to better prepare the Tarians for their arrival.

Most of the people even believed him.

But Luke knew better.

The King's son, the Crown Prince, was critically injured, and the King did not care about the lives of a few thousand of his own people enough to simply send the boy ahead and remain with them.

His presence alone would have uplifted the spirits of the downtrodden people, the sight of the combat prowess of his Golden Thousand would have given the impression that all was not lost, and merely a short term set back.

But with their deeply felt absence, to the people, it felt as if their King and protectors had abandoned them.

And Luke could not blame them.

The Crown Price, his cousin, had been critically injured, but he was stable, at least when Luke last saw him a few days prior.

In Luke's opinion, the King should have sent his son ahead with half the Golden Thousand to prepare for the refugees' arrival, while the King himself and the rest of the Golden Thousand stayed to help protect and motivate the people.

Luke nudged the horse forward once more as the sun began to set once more on this changed world.

It was a horrible situation he had found himself in. He just hoped that wherever Evelyn and their friends were, they were in a better position. All logic pointed to them being dead, after all, tens of thousands of others were, and they were all at ground zero for the invasion, given absolutely zero warning.

Had it been any other person, Luke would had justly concluded they were dead and moved on, but he refused to write them off. Once he was sure the people safe, at least as safe as they could be, and that his family were not in direct harm's way, Luke would figure out the Continent's situation and try to locate Evelyn by whatever means necessary.

He just preyed she would still be alive when he found her.

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