B1 Chapter 12: Oathbreaker

Modivar looked at her, shook his head, and said, “Though that is a tempting offer, I’ll have to decline.”

Belladonna looked at him, aghast.

“It’s not you,” he said quickly. “It’s the fact that I’m a mess, and you’re insanely hot, and that’s not a good combination for making life choices.”

She stared at him. “Who said this would be a life choice? I was asking if you wanted to rip my clothes off.”

She sounded almost offended.

He blinked at her and said, “It wouldn’t be for you, but it might be for me.”

She gave him a faint, almost imperceptible glare that might have been a smile.

“So,” she said slowly, “you do want to rip my clothes off, but you’re not going to because you think you’re going to get attached.”

“Yeah,” he admitted. “And I’m planning on dying, anyway, so I don’t think it would be fair if someone grew attached to me and I just ended up being gone one day. You know what I mean.”

She stared at him. “Why do you keep saying stuff like that?”

Modivar looked back at her. “Because I’m dying. Can you do me one favor before I do? You’re the only other classer here. When I pass, can you take care of Gwendolyn for me?”

She let out a short, incredulous laugh. “You’re kidding, right?”

“No,” he said. “I’m not. She’s going to need someone. And I’m truly sorry that I’m not going to be there to see her grow into whatever it is she’s going to become. We’ve only known each other for a short time, but she’s important to me. She’s the last bit of family I have left, even if she’s just a horse.”

Belladonna looked at him. “You can’t be dying. There’s no way. I just met you.”

“It’s the truth.” He lifted his shirt again and showed her the black mark. “This is a curse. It will eat my vitality away. It marks me as an oathbreaker.”

“An oathbreaker?” she asked.

“Yes. The Lichlord I slew to reach the maximum level was my king. I was bound to his service. When I killed him, even after he was corrupted, my life was forfeit. I knew that was what I was walking into when I chose to stop him… when we chose to stop him, we knew it was a suicide mission, but unlike the others, I had accepted I would die even if we succeeded.”

He looked down at the mark on his skin.

“I’m the last to die at the hands of Vandagrath, the Lichlord of Wargonia. But at least he’ll have no more. And I’ll find peace in the afterlife. Hopefully.”

Belladonna looked at him in silence. “I’m so sorry.”

He met her eyes. “I don’t need your pity. I accepted my death long ago.”

“I’m not pitying you,” she said quietly. “I’m saying I’m sorry I didn’t get to meet you sooner. When you had all your vitality, you might have been incredibly hot.”

He started laughing, and it quickly turned into a cough. She stepped closer and steadied him as he hacked, his shoulders shaking.

Modivar forced himself upright again, a thin line of blood at the corner of his mouth. “That was funny. Thank you for that.”

He drew a slow breath. “The honest truth is, I don’t think I have the strength left to rip your clothes off. I don’t even have the endurance, at this point. All of that is being drained from me. I barely have enough mana left to cast simple spells.”

His gaze softened. “I came to a small place like this hoping to find a few friends, to spend the last days of my life with some company. I think I found that.”

He gave her a faint smile. “Thank you, Belladonna. I’m truly saddened that I’ll be leaving this world and won’t get to explore it with you. You seem like an interesting person. It’s been a pleasure meeting you.”

Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

He swayed slightly, then steadied himself against the dresser. “I do need to rest, though. Today’s taken a lot out of me.”

Belladonna helped him into bed and pulled the blanket up over him. He was asleep almost the moment his head touched the pillow.

She walked downstairs slowly. Gwendolyn was snoring loudly on the shop floor, legs sprawled in every direction. Belladonna patted the horse’s broad side.

“I’ll take care of him,” she murmured. “And I’ll take care of you.”

She made herself a promise. She would visit him every day until he passed. And when he did pass, she would take on the care of Gwendolyn.

He’d made an impression on her that she couldn’t shake. This day had been life‑changing.

She stepped out into the rain. The cold water soaked her instantly. If she was crying, it was impossible to tell. The rain washed everything away.

She walked with purpose.

Instead of heading home, she turned down a crooked side street and began banging on a rickety, half‑rotted door.

“Hey!” she shouted. “Get the fuck up! I need you right now!”