Cedric, Paladin of the Holy See, stood among the most devout and lethal warriors to ever bear the Pope's banner. A loyal servant of God's will, he had spent his long life drenched in the blood of crusades. Seven campaigns, some glorious, others disastrous. In each, he had witnessed both triumph and despair.
Killing a man, even an unbeliever, never came easily. Yet the Pope, God's voice on Earth, had decreed it was necessary.
With each swing of his greatsword, a soul was cast into judgment.With each word he spoke, kingdoms trembled.With every step he took, the lands of the infidel shrank before him.
His zeal turned cowards into martyrs. His righteousness earned him the reputation of a just and fearless commander. But Cedric never cared for praise. All glory belonged to God. The mission to reclaim the Holy Land was sacred, a purpose worth dying for.
And if death came, he would welcome it with open arms.
Now, standing before the walls of Jerusalem, Cedric knew the end was near. His silvery armor gleamed beneath the sun, though it was streaked with blood. His sword moved like a vengeful spirit, cleaving through another enemy.
Around him, his most loyal warriors struck down foes without hesitation. They were the blade of God, unwavering and merciless.
Cedric crushed a wounded enemy's skull beneath his boot. The sound of bone and blood filled the air. The gates had fallen. Jerusalem lay open before them.
He raised his voice, a thunderous command. "Men! The gates are open! Punish the wicked and reclaim what belongs to God!"
With a cry of devotion, his soldiers charged forward. Their blades danced in the sunlight, cutting down all who stood in their path. Blood stained their armor, but their purpose remained pure.
The crusader army followed close behind. House by house, alley by alley, they cleansed the city of resistance. The streets flowed red as Jerusalem was retaken inch by inch.
Cedric, always at the vanguard, broke off from the main force. An isolated building caught his attention. Despite his heavy armor, he moved swiftly, trained to navigate tight spaces without hesitation.
Inside, there was silence, but he sensed a presence.
He kicked down a door, sword raised."Deus Vult!" he roared.
His blade struck first. The man inside barely had time to react, his curved sword raised too late. Cedric's blow tore through him. Blood painted the walls as the man collapsed. Cedric yanked his weapon free with a slick sound, eyes already scanning for the next threat.
Nothing moved. But there was a staircase. He could not leave it unchecked.
"I must be thorough," he muttered.
He climbed carefully, one hand on Equilibrium's hilt, each step echoing softly in the quiet.
At the top was another door. He eased it open and lifted his visor to get a better view. The room was simple. A bed, a rug, a half-burned candle on a bedside table. A boarded window.
Cedric approached the window. One swing of his blade shattered the wooden planks, letting sunlight spill into the dim space. He took off his helmet and finally allowed himself a breath of rest.
The city was theirs again.
After a week of relentless battle, it was done. Jerusalem belonged to Christendom once more.
He closed his eyes.
Then, something shifted. The wardrobe creaked.
In an instant, Cedric lunged. His blade pierced the figure emerging from the shadows. Another assassin, slain.
But the man had fired.
The crossbow bolt struck Cedric's neck.
He stumbled, his sword still buried in the assassin's chest. Falling to his knees, then to the floor, he felt the warmth of blood spreading beneath him.
So this was how it ended. His final crusade.
'My service is complete. Lord, I come to Your embrace.'
There was no fear. No sorrow. Only peace.
He whispered one final prayer.
Then, a strange voice filled the room, coming from everywhere at once.
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Cedric's mind could not grasp it. He was already slipping into darkness as footsteps echoed from the floor below.
But his part in the story had already ended.