Rise of The Abandoned Husband

The crowd's mocking laughter still echoed in my ears as I held up the seemingly ordinary painting against Broderick. Their jeers turned to gasps when his powerful attack—one that should have obliterated me—was absorbed completely by the canvas.

"Impossible!" Broderick stumbled backward, his face a mask of disbelief.

I stood my ground, equally stunned but refusing to show it. The painting vibrated slightly in my grasp, pulsing with newfound energy. What was this artifact the Masked Woman had given me?

Ms. Hayward's eyes narrowed to slits. "What trickery is this?"

"No trick," I replied, my confidence growing. "Just a reminder that power comes in many forms."

The Man with the Mustache sidled up beside me, his voice low and urgent. "That painting... I've only heard whispers about such treasures. It's from the Masked Woman's personal collection."

"What does it do?" I asked without taking my eyes off our opponents.

"It absorbs energy—any kind, even from Martial Saints." His voice trembled with awe. "The stories say she used items like these to defeat practitioners from the Mighty Realm itself."

A chill ran down my spine. The Mighty Realm—cultivators so powerful they were considered nearly godlike. If this painting could counter even their attacks...

"You cheated!" Ms. Hayward's accusation cut through my thoughts. "No ordinary person could withstand a Martial Saint's attack!"

"Perhaps I'm not ordinary," I countered, feeling a surge of satisfaction at her frustration.

Dominic Ashworth stepped forward, his aristocratic features twisted with rage. "It doesn't matter what trinkets you possess. You're still nothing but a commoner playing with forces beyond your understanding."

I was about to respond when a sharp pain stabbed through my chest. Something was wrong—terribly wrong. My spatial ring burned against my finger, the magical artifact suddenly unstable.

"Liam?" Clara's concerned voice seemed distant as the pain intensified.

The next moment, chaos erupted. My spatial ring shattered with a deafening crack, expelling its contents in a violent explosion. Treasures, weapons, and artifacts scattered across the ground as the ring's magic collapsed completely.

"Get back!" I shouted, recognizing the danger instantly. Among my possessions were items too dangerous to be exposed like this—including two particular corpses.

But my warning came too late. From the wreckage rose two towering figures, their bodies reconstructing themselves before our eyes. Vernon Sherman and Hadwin Webster—the Guardians I had killed and stored away—were reforming, but something was terribly different about them.

Their eyes blazed with unnatural light. Their bodies, once merely powerful, now radiated an aura that made my skin crawl. Most concerning of all, I couldn't feel any connection to them—the control I once had was gone.

"Run!" I yelled to everyone present, enemies and allies alike. "They're self-resurrected!"

Ms. Hayward scoffed. "Another pathetic attempt to frighten us? These are just your puppets!"

Vernon Sherman's head turned toward her voice with mechanical precision. His facial features were more defined now, almost elegant in their cruelty. Hadwin Webster stood beside him, his massive frame even more imposing than before.

"They're not under my control anymore," I insisted, backing away slowly. "Something's changed them."

The Man with the Mustache grabbed Clara's arm, already understanding the gravity of the situation. "He's right. Those aren't normal corpses—they've undergone wild awakening!"

"Wild awakening?" Clara whispered, her eyes wide with fear.

"It happens sometimes with powerful bodies," he explained hurriedly. "They absorb ambient energy and resurrect themselves, but with no master. They become killing machines with only one purpose—destruction."

Ms. Hayward laughed derisively. "What nonsense. This is clearly another of his tricks." She turned to her subordinates. "Seize him and his little friends. We'll deal with these so-called Guardians as well."

I watched in horror as she approached the Guardians, her hand reaching for a glowing object at her belt. "This time, I brought a Martial Saint Weapon. Your two corpses will probably be useless!"

Vernon Sherman moved with impossible speed. One moment he stood motionless; the next, his hand closed around Ms. Hayward's throat, lifting her effortlessly from the ground.

"Release me at once!" she choked out, still believing I controlled him.

Hadwin Webster's attention turned to the other guild members, his massive form blurring as he charged. Screams filled the air as bodies were flung aside like ragdolls.

"Stop them!" Dominic shouted at me. "Call off your attack!"

"I can't!" I yelled back, drawing my sword. "I told you—they're no longer under my control!"

Vernon tightened his grip on Ms. Hayward's throat, her struggles growing weaker. The Martial Saint Weapon slipped from her grasp, clattering to the ground. With his free hand, Vernon reached for her face, his fingers glowing with an eerie blue light.

I lunged forward, swinging my blade at his arm. "Let her go!"

Despite our differences, I couldn't stand by and watch her die like this. My sword connected with Vernon's forearm—and shattered on impact. The broken pieces scattered across the ground as Vernon turned his attention to me, Ms. Hayward still dangling from his grip.

"Your weapons cannot harm us anymore," he spoke, his voice deeper and more resonant than I remembered. "We have transcended your control, Liam Knight."

My blood ran cold. The Guardians had never spoken before.

Hadwin Webster appeared beside his companion, holding a struggling guild member by the back of the neck. "We serve a higher purpose now."

"What purpose?" I demanded, frantically searching for any weakness, any way to stop them.

"The awakening," they replied in unison, their voices creating an unsettling harmony. "She approaches. The Masked One returns."

Clara gasped beside me. "The Masked Woman—they're connected to her!"

Understanding dawned. The painting that had saved me, the scroll with the Crimson Fist technique, the mysterious mark on my palm—they were all connected to this moment, this catastrophe.

Ms. Hayward's face had turned purple, her struggles growing feeble. Despite everything she had done, I couldn't let her die. I channeled energy into my marked palm, feeling the crimson power surge through my veins.

"Crimson Fist of the Masked Saint!" I shouted, driving my fist toward Vernon's chest.

The impact sent shockwaves through the air. Vernon released Ms. Hayward, who collapsed to the ground, gasping for breath. He staggered back several steps—the first sign of vulnerability I'd seen.

"You bear her mark," Vernon observed, studying me with renewed interest. "Interesting."

The effort of using the Crimson Fist had drained me significantly. I fought to remain standing, knowing I couldn't afford to show weakness.

"Get everyone out of here," I told the Man with the Mustache and Clara. "I'll hold them off."

"We're not leaving you," Clara insisted, her small hand clutching my arm.

The Man with the Mustache looked torn. "She's right. You can't face them alone."

Dominic Ashworth had helped Ms. Hayward to her feet. For once, the arrogance had vanished from his face, replaced by genuine fear. "What have you unleashed, Knight?"

"I didn't unleash anything," I replied, keeping my eyes on the Guardians. "But I'll stop them if I can."

Hadwin Webster laughed, a sound like grinding stones. "Stop us? You cannot even comprehend what we have become."

As if to demonstrate, he slammed his fist into the ground. The earth split open, cracks spreading outward like spider webs. The entire area shook violently, buildings in the distance swaying dangerously.

"Such power..." the Man with the Mustache whispered in horror. "They've grown tenfold stronger than when you first controlled them."

Ms. Hayward had recovered enough to speak. "This is your fault," she rasped, glaring at me. "You brought these monsters here."

"Save your accusations," I snapped. "Unless you have a way to defeat them, we need to retreat and regroup."

For once, she didn't argue. "Guild members, fall back! Protect the civilians!"

Vernon and Hadwin exchanged glances. "They flee," Vernon noted.

"Let them run," Hadwin replied. "We have work to do."

"What work?" I demanded, desperately trying to keep their attention on me while the others escaped.

Vernon's lips curved into a chilling smile. "Preparing the way. The Chamber of Masks awaits its mistress."

The Chamber of Masks—the same place mentioned in the scroll, hidden beneath the guild's inner compound. Where Isabelle was being held.

"Isabelle," I whispered, realization striking like lightning. "Is she part of this too?"

Vernon tilted his head. "The vessel? Yes. Her blood sings with ancient power."

My heart hammered against my ribs. "If you harm her—"

"We do not decide her fate," Hadwin interrupted. "The Masked One does."

I gripped the hilt of my broken sword, useless as it was. "Take me to her."

"Liam, no!" Clara cried out.

The Guardians regarded me silently for a moment. Then Vernon spoke. "Follow if you wish. Your journey ends the same."

Without another word, they turned and began walking toward the center of the city—toward the guild's inner compound. The destruction they had caused lay all around us: broken bodies of guild members, shattered buildings, cracked earth.

"You can't go with them," the Man with the Mustache grabbed my shoulder. "It's a trap."

"I don't have a choice," I replied, shaking off his hand. "They're heading for Isabelle. I can't let them reach her first."

Ms. Hayward stepped forward, her throat bruised but her eyes hard with resolve. "For once, I agree with your friend. Those creatures are beyond any of us now."

"Then what do you suggest?" I challenged. "That I abandon Isabelle? Leave her to whatever fate these 'Guardians' have planned?"

"I suggest," she said coldly, "that we form a temporary alliance. Against a common enemy."

I stared at her in disbelief. "You want to work together? After everything you've done?"

"I want to protect my guild," she replied. "And right now, those monsters are a greater threat than you."

Dominic stepped forward. "Ms. Hayward, you can't seriously be considering—"

"Silence!" she snapped. "You saw what they did. No ordinary weapons can harm them. We need his help." She pointed at my palm where the crimson mark still glowed faintly. "That technique affected them. Nothing else did."

She was right, as much as I hated to admit it. The Crimson Fist had been the only thing that made Vernon even flinch.

"Fine," I said reluctantly. "A temporary alliance. But understand this—my priority is Isabelle. I will save her, with or without your help."

Ms. Hayward nodded curtly. "The girl is important to the guild as well. Her safety is a mutual concern."

I doubted our definitions of "safety" aligned, but this wasn't the time to argue the point.

"What's the plan?" the Man with the Mustache asked, clearly unhappy with this arrangement.

I looked at the path of destruction the Guardians had left in their wake. "We follow them, but carefully. I need time to recover before using the Crimson Fist again."

"I have healers," Ms. Hayward offered. "They can help restore your energy."

"And I'm supposed to trust them not to poison me?" I asked skeptically.

She smiled thinly. "You're no use to me dead, Knight. Not right now, at least."

Clara tugged at my sleeve. "Liam, what about the scroll? It mentioned the Chamber of Masks too."

I had almost forgotten about the ancient scroll in all the chaos. "You're right. It might contain information about these Guardians, or how to stop them."

Ms. Hayward's eyes narrowed. "What scroll?"

I hesitated, then made a decision. If we were going to work together, we needed to share information—some of it, at least.

"A scroll that led me to the Chamber of Masks," I explained, carefully omitting its connection to the Masked Woman. "It contains a map of hidden passages beneath the guild compound."

Her expression darkened. "Impossible. Those passages are known only to the highest-ranking members."

"Evidently not," the Man with the Mustache muttered.

She glared at him but addressed me. "Let me see this scroll."

"Not yet," I replied. "First, I want your word that once this is over—once the Guardians are defeated—Isabelle goes free. Completely free, with no conditions."

"You're in no position to make demands," Dominic snarled.

"On the contrary," I countered. "Without me and this—" I held up my marked palm, "—you have no hope against those creatures. So what will it be, Ms. Hayward? Isabelle's freedom in exchange for my help?"

She studied me for a long moment, calculation evident in her eyes. Finally, she nodded. "Agreed. But only if we succeed."

I knew her word meant little, but it was the best I could get under the circumstances. "Then let's move. We're wasting time."

As we began following the Guardians' trail, I caught the Man with the Mustache watching me closely.

"What?" I asked quietly.

"Just wondering if you realize what you've gotten yourself into," he replied. "The Masked Woman, the Chamber of Masks, self-resurrected Guardians... this goes far beyond rescuing your girlfriend."

"One problem at a time," I said firmly. "First Isabelle, then everything else."

But deep down, I knew he was right. I had stumbled into something ancient and powerful—something that had been set in motion long before I was born. The mark on my palm tingled, as if responding to my thoughts.

Whatever game the Masked Woman was playing, I had become a piece on her board. And as we hurried through the darkening streets, following creatures I once controlled but now feared, I couldn't shake the feeling that we were all marching toward a confrontation that would change everything.