《The Prince of False Heavens》
Boy with No Name
In the scorching heat of the barren lands of Kastar, a boy pushed a heavy cart forward. His head was shaved, and his body was wasted to the bone, ribs poked through his tattered, ragged clothes. A slave mark marred his chest: a single eye enclosed in a circle. Around his neck was a Brax collar, and rusty iron shackles bound his limbs, biting into his cracked skin.
The boy had no name.
His only purpose was to push the carts.
His back ached, each step sending sharp pain through his bloodied feet. The shackles seared his wrists, peeling off skin with every movement.
Yet the boy kept pushing.
¡°Move faster, you worthless maggots. The great Zaras¡¯th won¡¯t wait for your sloth.¡± barked the overseer, his leather whip cracking against the barren earth. ¡°We don¡¯t have all day.¡±
The boy flinched instinctively at the sharp crack, though it wasn¡¯t meant for him. He kept his head bowed, his eyes fixed on the cracked ground beneath him.
Ahead of him, the dirty, bloodied feet of another slave trudged forward, leaving streaks of deep red across the white sand. The man ahead dragged the cart with a pained grunt.
The whip cracked again, this time followed by a scream of agony.
The boy didn¡¯t look up. He couldn¡¯t.
His stomach growled, loud and hollow. The last time he had eaten was two days ago. Water was also scarce. All his parched, cracked lips could taste was the sandy, fiery breeze of Kastar¡ªa kingdom in the great desert of Zaras¡¯th.
He pushed and pushed until the cart finally stopped in front of a long, flat stone platform. With great struggle, they turned the creaking wooden cart¡¯s back to face the stone platform. The man ahead released the blood-stained handles as the boy quickly stepped out of the way.
The cart¡¯s handle shot upward as the stone tablets crashed to the hard ground.
At the sound of the crashing stone tablets, dozens of hollow-eyed slaves shuffled forward. With their bleeding hands, they lifted up the stone tablets, hauling them on their bony backs. They moved like lifeless dolls towards the center to reinforce the second foundation of the monument.
The grueling exploitation was part of the grand undertaking¡ªthe construction of a monument dedicated to the Zaras¡¯th¡ªthe patron deity of the kingdom¡¯s dominant religion. With the festival in Thal¡¯rasha fast approaching, the noble ruling the city demanded the completion of the monument before the festival, no matter the cost.
The boy finally lifted his head, stealing a glance as they trudged back to load more stone tablets, his eyes briefly catching the sight of the soldiers. Around the stone platforms, three scores of Kastar soldiers stood watch. Half a dozen overseers roamed the platform, their leather whips cracking sharply.
A splatter followed by a loud bang rang in the boy¡¯s ears. He looked up, confused, only to see the man ahead of him collapse.
His head was missing. A jet of red viscous liquid spurted from his neck, staining the white sand crimson.
It was too sudden.
The boy froze, his wide eyes locked on the headless body. Then another rock flew past, grazing his cheek before striking a soldier behind him. The rock tore through the man¡¯s chest, leaving a gaping hole as his organs spilled onto the ground.
Chaos erupted.
¡°Bone-eaters!¡± bellowed the captain. ¡°Regroup!¡±
Slaves scrambled for cover, some tripping over their own shackles. The soldiers formed a defensive line, their shields raised just as another volley of rocks hurtled toward them.
But to their horror, a massive boulder was hurled at them, easily piercing through their shield wall. Three soldiers were crushed by the impact. Yet the soldiers regrouped, with their shields dented but raised.Support the creativity of authors by visiting Royal Road for this novel and more.
The captain looked horrified at the sight of a scarlet eye peering through the dust clouds.
It vanished.
¡°Good Lord. An Elder bone-eater.¡±
The captain¡¯s voice quivered in fear. He quickly ducked and whispered urgently to a soldier at the rear. ¡°Fetch Sir Rakel¡ªNOW!¡±
The soldier nodded and darted away from the back line amidst the chaos.
Trembling, the boy crouched behind the wooden cart. Blood trickled down his cheek from the graze. His limbs shook as he propped himself. His breath came in shallow gasps as he clung to the wheel, peering out from behind the wooden frame to see the battle.
Another barrage of small rocks hurtled toward the shield wall. The swirling dust made it nearly impossible to locate the attackers.
¡°Hold your line.¡± Barked the captain, scanning the horizon with sharp eyes ¡°Damn those sand-crawling monsters.¡±
The bone-eaters, with their camouflaged fur and powerful rock-hurling arms that touched the ground, were deadly predators of the desert of Zaras¡¯th. They could launch projectiles with lightning precision.
A boulder tore through the swirling dust, crashing into the shield wall. Soldiers at the front crumpled under its weight, while shards from splintered shields pierced those behind.
¡°Damn it to Zaras¡¯th!¡±
The captain¡¯s gaze locked onto the Elder bone-eater, grinning from ear to ear, its single scarlet eye twitching with excitement.
Then it vanished again by the dust clouds.
¡°What a tiresome chore,¡± a voice drawled.
The boy turned to see a man approaching. He wore a straw hat tilted over his face and lightweight armor that shimmered in the sun. His hand rested lazily on the hilt of his sword.
¡°Sir Rakel!!¡± exclaimed the captain, relief washing over his face.
A boulder tore through dust clouds again and hurtled towards Rakel. Before it could reach him, the boulder cleanly split into two with a single motion of his sword. The pieces crashed to the ground as Rakel yawned, unfazed.
Turning his blade, Rakel swung it forward. The dust clouds parted as a massive shock wave surged through, severing the heads of the bone-eaters in it¡¯s path. Their bloodied carcasses fell.
The Elder bone-eater, however, survived. Deep wounds marred it¡¯s side, but it stood firm.
¡°Oh! An Elder?¡±
The bloodied creature let out a guttural screech, its single eye fixed on Rakel. Gathering the mangled flesh of it¡¯s fallen kin. It compressed them into a grotesques spherical mass of flesh and bone.
With a mighty roar, the elder hurled the macabre sphere at Rakel.
Unimpressed, Rakel swung his sword downwards. The sphere split apart, raining blood and viscera onto the sands.
In the blink of an eye, Rakel closed the distance between himself and the creature. His blade struck, piercing the elder bone-eater¡¯s heart.
The Elder Bone-Eater stumbled back, its remaining heart pulsing erratically. As Rakel closed the distance, it lashed out with sharp claws, its arm slicing through the air toward him.
Rakel sidestepped with ease, his blade flashing in an upward arc. The strike severed the creature''s wrist cleanly, sending the clawed hand spiraling away.
A screech of agony tore from the bone eater as it recoiled, its gaze fixed on the twitching stump where its hand had been.
Rage replaced pain in an instant. It roared and swung again, a wild, furious strike.
¡°First step,¡± Rakel murmured.
He vanished, reappearing behind the creature in a blur of motion.
For a moment, silence hung in the air¡ªthen a crimson line spread across the bone-eater¡¯s neck. Its head tumbled to the ground as blood erupted from the gaping wound, drenching the sand.
¡°Weak,¡± Rakel muttered, flicking his blade clean of blood before sheathing it. He knelt, inspecting the severed head and touching it¡¯s sharp canines and sides of the eye.
¡°Barely an Elder,¡± he said. ¡°Seems like it ascended only days ago. No wonder it was so pathetic.¡±
¡°A proper elder wouldn¡¯t fight like that.¡± He muttered.
The captain approached cautiously, bowing deeply. ¡°Thank you, Sir Rakel!¡±
¡°Right,¡± Rakel yawned. ¡°I¡¯m going to sleep now.¡± Without another word, he turned and strode back toward his tent.
¡°Understood,¡± the captain saluted. Watching Rakel¡¯s retreating figure, he muttered under his breath, ¡°Squires are different.¡±
The nameless boy¡¯s jaw dropped after witnessing the fight. It was the first time he had seen a squire or a knight-apprentice fight. The display was mesmerizing, enough that he forgot about his own wounds for a moment.
For the first time, a flicker of something stirred within him. Not hope, but a strange curiosity¡ªa longing to understand the power he had just seen.
The captain turned to the remaining soldiers and overseers. ¡°Stop the work for now!¡± he warned sternly. ¡°Clear this mess and investigate.¡±
¡°Yes, Captain,¡± the remaining soldiers saluted.
The boy¡¯s gaze lingered on the fallen bodies of the bone-eaters and the lifeless slaves strewn across the platform. The bodies of dead soldiers were carefully carried away, but those of the slaves were discarded into a pile and burned outside the platform. From afar, the boy watched as the man who had shared his labor was consumed by flames.
¡°Move, you wretches,¡± bellowed the overseer. ¡°You are dismissed for the day.¡±
Yet, no relief graced the faces of those who had survived the attack or those who had watched the carnage from afar. There was no joy, no celebration at the overseer¡¯s words¡ªonly empty stares and broken spirits.
The crack of leather whips tore through the silence, forcing the slaves to shuffle back toward their quarters¡ªa cramped, suffocating space packed with far more bodies than it was ever meant to hold.
The boy stayed for a moment, casting a final glance at the smoldering pile of bodies. The stench of burnt flesh and organs clawed at his nostrils, turning his stomach.
Without a word, he turned and joined the others.
That day, the boy was reminded of the cruel reality: life was fragile, a flickering flame that could be snuffed out without warning.
Name
The sun sank over the horizon, darkness engulfing the desert as biting winds surged eastward toward the Wurthinne Ocean.
The camp sprawled across the sands, its bonfires flickering like scattered embers under the growing darkness. Soldiers'' tents were spaced widely, while slave quarters crammed bodies into every available corner.
Hungry.
It was the boy''s only thought. His stomach growled.
He shuffled toward a crowded bonfire, gripping his threadbare rags in a futile attempt to ward off the chill.
The flames offered little warmth, their crackling taunting the boy¡¯s outstretched fingers. Tonight, there was hope¡ªa rare supper promised to quell the hunger.
A sharp clang echoed through the air, piercing and metallic. The supper bell.
A wave of movement surged through the camp as hundreds of slaves rushed toward the sound. The boy followed. The crowd packed tightly together, their bodies pressing against each other, radiating heat and the stench of sweat.
At the center of the commotion stood large boiling pots of gruel, steam curling upward into the cold night.
¡°Quiet, you maggots,¡± barked the overseer, his voice sharp and cruel. He slammed a metal ladle against the pot. ¡°Stand in line!¡±
Whips cracked in the background, sharp snaps driving the crowd into nervous compliance. The boy scrambled to find his place but was shoved toward the back.
Not again.
He clenched his fists, his heart sinking. The last two nights, he had been at the very end of the line, left with nothing but an empty stomach.
The line inched forward. The boy¡¯s turn came at last. He grabbed a wooden bowl from a nearby table, its surface gritty with sand and the crusted remnants of last night¡¯s meal. He gripped it tightly, ignoring the grime.
The gruel bubbled in the pot, its smell an unappealing mixture of stale meat, soggy rice, and overcooked vegetables. A soldier ladled out a portion, pouring the steaming sludge into the boy¡¯s bowl.
The boy didn¡¯t wait. Clutching the bowl like a precious treasure, he hurried to the side, his eyes darting around to ensure no one would snatch it from him.
Sitting in the sand, he lifted the bowl to his lips. The steam stung his face, and the taste was as awful as he had remembered, but none of it mattered. It was food. And that was enough.
He ate it all. The boy longed for more, but there was none left.
Walking back, he noticed a group of children like him, gathered around a frail old man near a small bonfire.
He recognized the man¡ªthe storyteller.
Every day, the children would gather to listen to the stories about the Mythical Era from the old man. The old man would narrate the stories vividly, and the children sat mesmerized, with wide eyes reflecting the firelight.
The boy fidgeted for a moment. He also wanted to listen but didn¡¯t know whether he would be welcome. He always watched from afar.
Curious.
He took a step forward toward the dim bonfire. The other children didn¡¯t pay him any heed, engrossed in the tales. He took a seat behind the last kid. The old man noticed him and still went on narrating.
¡°It is said,¡± the old man¡¯s voice trembled, ¡°that the Hero Dalius split a part of the continent during his battle with the Demon King. A single strike of his blade severed the land and cast it into the sea.¡±
¡°That land,¡± the old man continued, ¡°is now called Zornvuur¡ªa place forged in the fires of battle.¡±
¡°You can find statues of Hero Dalius and his three companions in most cities¡ªeven in Kastar,¡± the old man said.
¡°Grandpa,¡± a child at the front piped up, ¡°why don¡¯t you ever say the name of the Demon King?¡±
The old man chuckled, a smile spreading across his face. ¡°Ah¡ that¡¯s because names are powerful.¡± Love what you''re reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on.
¡°My grandfather used to say that naming the Demon King¡ªremembering him by name¡ªonly makes him stronger,¡± he continued.
¡°But Hero Dalius defeated the Demon King, right?¡± another child asked eagerly.
¡°Yes, child,¡± the old man said, patting the boy¡¯s shaved head gently. ¡°It¡¯s faith that keeps him defeated.¡±
The boy hesitated, his voice faltering. ¡°Um¡¡±
All heads turned toward him.
¡°Yes?¡± the old man prompted kindly.
¡°S-S-So¡¡± the boy stammered, gripping his tattered rags tightly, ¡°does¡ does that mean¡ w-we¡¯re powerless¡ b-because we d-don¡¯t have names?¡±
The old man¡¯s eyes widened. For a moment, he was speechless. He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came.
¡°Grandpa, can we get names?¡± another child asked hesitantly, breaking the silence.
The old man¡¯s smile returned, soft and reassuring. He patted the child¡¯s head with a warm laugh. ¡°Of course. Why not?¡±
Turning to the first child, he said, ¡°You are Alaric now.¡±
¡°Alaric?¡± the child repeated. ¡°What does it mean, Grandpa?¡±
¡°Ruler of all,¡± the old man said.
The naming continued, each child stepping forward eagerly. ¡°You are Otto,¡± the old man told one. ¡°And you¡ªBertram.¡±
The boy stood back, watching intently.
Name.
He wanted one.
He waited patiently, his hands clenched at his sides. Finally, the old man looked at him and gestured. ¡°Come, child.¡±
The boy trudged forward, his steps hesitant. He fidgeted as he approached, his bare feet shuffling.
The old man smiled warmly, placing a calloused palm gently on the boy¡¯s shaved head.
¡°You are Stark,¡± he said.
The boy looked right into the eyes of the old man.
¡°It means strong.¡±
He blinked.
Strong.
A name that felt so far from his reality yet filled him with hope.
Slowly, a smile spread across his face.
He finally had a name. One he could carry with pride.
Meanwhile, Rakel watched the children from afar briefly before stretching his arms languidly after a deep slumber. He adjusted his straw hat with a yawn, scanning the camp and the vast desert beyond through a sleepy haze.
To the far west, dotted city lights from Thal¡¯rasha gleamed in the dark. The camp, built around the sacred site of Lestha, stood a few kilometers away from Thal¡¯rasha, where the monument to Zaras¡¯th, the Patron Deity, was slowly taking shape.
Rakel pondered whether to return to Thal¡¯rasha and report the unexpected and alarming appearance of the Elder Bone-Eater to his superior.
It was highly unusual, as newly ascended Bone-Eaters rarely sought confrontations, typically retreating into hiding to adapt to their new bodies. The difference between a fledgling Elder Bone-Eater and a True Elder Bone-Eater was immense; the latter would pose a tough challenge even for him.
I should go. he thought, his gaze lingering on the distant city lights. Better to avoid needless risks!¡¯
At full speed, he could reach Thal¡¯rasha in minutes.
Rakel, a squire nearing the rank of knight, had trained relentlessly over the past two years. His strength surpassed most of his peers, and he could already rival the lower-ranking knights of Kastar.
Taking a stance, he launched forward in a burst of speed. The sand erupted beneath him, and within moments, the camp was far behind.
Landing lightly on a distant dune, he paused briefly before blasting toward the city, leaving an explosion of sand in his wake.
Guards patrolled the walls of Thal¡¯rasha, their leitium armor dull but sturdy, and spears gripped tightly as they saw dust clouds approaching in the distance. In seconds, the dust clouds raced to the city gates, coming to an abrupt halt in front of the gate.
¡°Rakel! Squire!¡± He called, fumbling through his pockets for the silver badge, and finding it, he tossed it to a soldier atop the enormous gate.
The soldier caught it deftly, inspecting the emblem of the kingdom and Rakel¡¯s rank engraved at the bottom.
¡°Open the gates,¡± the soldier barked.
Before the gates opened, Rakel dashed up the wall in an instant, snatching his badge from the soldier¡¯s hand. ¡°It¡¯s urgent!¡± he said, disappearing toward the heart of the city.
Moments later, Rakel arrived at the garrison office in the city¡¯s heart. Elite guards patrolled the perimeter. They instantly recognized Rakel and stepped aside.
The garrison stretched a vast area, surrounded by barracks, outhouses, and supply warehouses. At the center stood the command building, a two-story structure housing the highest-ranking knights and commanders.
After completing the formalities, the servants guided Rakel to his superior¡¯s room on the second floor of the command building. An old room with a scent of polished wood and old books. Floor-to-ceiling shelves lined both walls, crammed with books and tomes.
Directly in front of the door, two plush sofas faced each other across a low wooden table. Behind them stood a sturdy desk, papers littered on the surface.
¡°Squire Rakel, reporting.¡± Rakel removed his straw hat and bowed slightly to the man seated in the high-backed chair behind the desk. Beyond him, a large window framed the view of the garrison¡¯s gate.
¡°Rakel¡¡± the man muttered, running a hand through his streaked gray hair. ¡°You¡¯re supposed to guard Lestha. Why have you come here?¡±
¡°General Koles, eleven Bone-Eaters and a newly ascended Elder Bone-Eater attacked the camp at Lestha,¡± Rakel said.
Koles¡¯ brow furrowed, his wrinkled face twisting into a scowl. ¡°An Elder Bone-Eater? That¡¯s... unusual.¡±
¡°Yes, General. Their behavior is abnormal.¡±
Koles sighed heavily, leaning back in his chair. ¡°I¡¯ll deal with it. It¡¯s fortunate you¡¯re here; I was about to summon you for another matter.¡±
Rakel tilted his head in confusion. ¡°Another matter?¡±
¡°Ah. Here it is.¡± Koles rummaged through the scattered papers, eventually pulling out a list. ¡°You¡¯ll lead a slave caravan to the Canyon of Dzeth. As for Lestha...¡± He waved dismissively. ¡°I¡¯ll send Esther and Adel to handle it.¡±
Rakel grabbed the list, folding it neatly and putting it away in his coat.
He turned on his heel and put his straw hat back on to leave.
¡°Ah¡ I did forget,¡± Koles exclaimed. ¡°Your promotion test will be held in the Capital three months from now.¡±
Rakel glanced back. ¡°Right.¡±
¡°There would be squires from the Capital. Do your best.¡±
Slave Caravan
A sharp metallic clang echoed in Stark¡¯s head, growing louder and more unbearable with each passing moment.
It was the accursed morning bell.
Grumbling at the grating noise, Stark reluctantly opened his eyes, cramped in the suffocating corner of the overcrowded tent where he had battled the merciless cold all night. He sat up straight, gripping against the tent''s canvas as he struggled to stand. Brax collar clinked as he moved, and his wrists burned where the shackles bit into his skin.
A slave¡¯s day began early, with only a few precious hours of rest allowed during the night. The desert was still cool from the lingering night breeze as they stirred, the sun yet to rise over the distant horizon.
Emerging from the tent, Stark was greeted by the distant screams of the overseers.
¡°Line up, you godless bastards!¡±
The slaves shuffled forward, forming several parallel lines. Stark followed the others and found himself at the front of the line. Ahead, a group of overseers stood flanked by several armored Kastar soldiers.
Stark saw a familiar straw hat peeking from behind the soldiers and overseers. He turned his neck to get a better view. He saw a man leisurely sipping drink from his leather skin bag.
Stark recognized him.
It was him¡ªthe man that killed those monsters.
Beside him stood two figures, a man and a woman clad in similar armor.
Rakel¡ªI think was his name.
As for others, Stark had no idea.
Beyond the tents, Ish¡¯raks shifted restlessly. These bipedal creatures, with their grayish scales and elongated necks, bore maws lined with sharp canines. Their muscular legs were built for speed, and atop their heads gleamed a single white horn.
¡°The ones I point at, step forward and move to the separate line!¡± barked an overseer, snapping his leather whip.
The slaves complied in silence, their faces blank with resignation. Overseers moved through the rows, pointing at individuals to separate them.
¡°You,¡± one of them snarled, pointing at him.
Stark hesitated only for a moment before shuffling meekly to the end of the new line. Most of those selected were uninjured slaves. Stark¡¯s stood at the back among them, but he knew why they were separated.
Another caravan?
He wasn¡¯t a stranger to slave caravans¡ªthis would be his second. The Kastar rulers frequently transported and traded slaves across the kingdom.
The Ish¡¯rak carried goods and overseers, but the slaves themselves had to walk, enduring the burning heat of the Zaras¡¯th desert. The longer the journey, the more punishing it became.
Stark had survived before, but it wasn¡¯t uncommon for slaves to collapse and be discarded along the way.
¡°You bastards are being transported to the Canyon of Dzeth!¡± one overseer roared. ¡°Prepare to depart!¡±
Chains clinked as the slaves were shackled into a single file.
Stark cast one final glance at the camp as the overseers prodded him forward. He spotted Rakel mounting an Ish¡¯rak alongside other senior soldiers and overseers, each astride their own beast.
More than two scores of soldiers stood ready to lead the caravan, armed with spears and curved swords at their waists. Stark¡¯s eyes wandered to the piles of supplies strapped to the sides of the Ish¡¯raks. It was clear this journey would be a long one.
The Canyon of Dzeth.
Stark had never heard of the place. Its name stirred a vague sense of unease, but there was no time to dwell on it. His hands tightened around the cold chain connecting him to the shifty man muttering ahead, forming an unbroken line of prisoners.
¡°Devil¡ Death¡ Devil¡ Death¡¡± he muttered endlessly.
The sun began to rise minutes into the journey. Stark¡¯s eyes followed the sparse rays as they painted the dunes, turning the cold sand warm beneath his feet. Soldiers on either side kept the slaves in check.
Ahead, the desert stretched endlessly. Stark shielded his face against the dusty breeze, his eyes narrowing as the wind threatened to blind him.
Dust storms were frequent in Kastar, swirling tempests that reduced visibility to nothing and brush the skin like needles. Stark had heard of a notorious cluster of these storms along the route to Evont Pass.
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Time dragged on. The sun climbed higher. Stark¡¯s feet burned against the sand, his soles red. Skin peeled, blood seeped, yet he held tightly to the hot metal chain.
Survive.
It was the only thought in his mind, louder than the clinking chains. He refused to be discarded, another nameless body left for the desert beasts.
His blurred vision caught glimpses of the overseers and Rakel riding their Ish¡¯raks, untouched by the heat. A wave of anger swelled in him, only to be beaten back by his powerlessness.
I survived last time. I won¡¯t die.
Suddenly, the collar around his neck pulled him back, yanking him off balance. He stumbled and fell onto a sweaty body, narrowly avoiding the scorching sand. The line of slaves had come to an abrupt halt.
He glanced down. The slave beneath him had collapsed under the sun''s merciless heat. Stark staggered upright, his fellow slaves watching his huffing figure with wide eyes.
The overseer, noticing the halt, marched forward. Soldiers yanked Stark aside, shoving him roughly into place as they unbuckled the chain from the collapsed man¡¯s Brax collar. Without a word, they connected the chain to the next slave.
¡°Remove all his shackles and collar,¡± the overseer ordered coldly. ¡°Toss that filth aside. Let the beasts feast.¡±
The body was discarded, left for the beasts to feast on. Even in death, cruelty remained for them. Stark¡¯s gaze lingered on the lifeless form before the chain yanked him forward.
There was no trace of remorse in the overseers¡¯ cold eyes. The soldiers were equally indifferent, and the squire didn¡¯t even spare a glance at the commotion.
Above, the sun¡¯s flaming disk began its descent westward. The sky, though not night, grew dark with gathering shadows. Winds picked up, fierce, their gusts strong enough to shove the slaves backward. Swirling dust obscured the horizon.
¡°Stay close!¡± Rakel roared. ¡°We¡¯re entering the Evont Cluster!¡±
The slave chain hugged and followed close to the Ish¡¯raks of the overseers. The soldiers closed in on both sides forming a bold line. Stark and the slaves behind him, left dangling like a tail in the back.
Stark shielded his face with both hands, his eyes narrowing against the swirling dust.
Squinting ahead, he caught faint glimpses of towering sandstorms spiraling into the sky. Lightning crackled through it, leaving streaks of blue, illuminating the churning walls of brown. The air was dense with floating sand grains, stinging his skin. The storms howled, drowning all sound and swallowing the dim light.
The Evont Cluster lived up to its reputation¡ªa graveyard for both people and goods. Skeletal remains poked out from the shifting sands, while shattered crates lay half-buried, forgotten relics of doomed caravans.
¡°The Devil¡.is¡..responsible..Death¡¡¡± The man muttered. His voice faintly audible in the roars of the sandstorms.
Devil? Death? What is he saying? Stark wondered.
After entering the Evont Cluster, the caravan pressed onward. Thanks to the Squire''s exceptional navigation, they managed to avoid the raging sandstorms.
But the cluster seemed endless. Stark squinted into the swirling darkness, unable to see any sign of an exit. The sandstorms devoured the remaining light, plunging their surroundings into an suffocating gloom.
¡°Light the lamps,¡± Rakel commanded, his voice cutting through the howls. ¡°The Eye is up ahead.¡±
The sky turned pitch black, an abyss devoid of sparse rays of the sun. Stark could only hear the roars of the storms and the crackling streaks of lightning that occasionally lit the surroundings.
One by one, small flames flickered to life. Soldiers carried lamps, their light pushing back against the encroaching void. A larger flame lit the path ahead, illuminating the Squire leading the caravan.
The flames... they''re not being snuffed out by the wind? His thoughts lingered on the unnatural sight.
Unease gripped Stark¡¯s mind, his body trembling despite the warmth. His heart pounded heavily, his thoughts a chaotic blur of survival. He clutched the chains tightly with skeletal hands turning his knuckles white.
Death loomed close, its scythe at his throat, ready to claim his soul. Cold sweat trickled down his dusty forehead, leaving a bitter taste on his cracked lips.
¡°We are close,¡± Rakel roared. ¡°Don¡¯t get caught by the storms.¡±
Stark¡¯s eyes darted forward. A faint golden light pierced the void of the Eye. It shone brightly, growing stronger with each passing moment, breaking through the darkness.
Exit! We are safe. He thought¡ªa faint glimmer of hope.
But his relief was short-lived. Stark suddenly felt his feet lift off the ground. His body floated, weightless, as a deafening roar erupted behind him. Screams filled the air.
He turned to see the tail of the slave line being pulled into a swirling storm. The winds howled and closed in, tearing everything in their path.
¡°Help me!¡± cried the slave directly behind him, clutching at the chains desperately. ¡°I don¡¯t want to die!¡±
The line ahead of him began to rise as well, drawn toward the storm¡¯s cavernous maw. Soldiers shouted in panic. Chaos spread through the ranks, but none could find a solution.
Stark¡¯s gaze shifted forward. Rakel, near the exit of the Eye, stood motionless atop his Ish¡¯rak. The beast¡¯s scaly legs held firm against the storm. Rakel¡¯s straw hat flew off, revealing his windswept brown hair.
What is he doing? Is he going to abandon us?
Then, in an instant, Rakel vanished.
Hope left his eyes.
He squeezed his eyes shut, bracing for the inevitable. His mind displayed vivid images: A skeletal figure of death with a wide grin pressed it¡¯s scythe against his throat.
A sharp metallic clang echoed through the storm, followed by a roar. Suddenly, Stark felt the ground beneath him once more.
Dazed, he opened his eyes to see Rakel standing atop him. The chain behind him was severed, cut cleanly by a blade. The slaves further down the line screamed as they were sucked into the storm, their voices fading into despair. Stark¡¯s eye wide with horror as he witnessed one of them being torn to shreds by the raging winds.
¡°Run to the exit!¡± Rakel shouted.
The panicked soldiers and slaves ran forward towards the exit, Stark was dragged along the sands, giving him no time to stand up.
The remaining soldiers and slaves bolted forward, driven by fear. Stark was dragged along the sands by the momentum, the rough ground scraping against his skin. He had no time to stand¡ªsurvival was all that mattered now.
Everyone remaining stumbled out of the Eye, collapsing in exhaustion. Stark was thrown face-first into the white sand, the gritty grains filling his mouth and choking his breath. He coughed violently, spitting out the sand as his hands fumbled to rub the sand from his eyes. His body was battered and bruised, covered in fresh wounds¡ªbut he was alive.
He had survived the Eye.
Rat Knights in Arazan
A cloaked figure stood atop the guard tower of a desolate noble manor in the capital city of Arazan, Kastar.
Below, guards lay sprawled across the ground, unconscious, their weapons scattered on the stone pavement. A silvery glow, cast by the split moon, traced a pale path to the manor¡¯s massive wooden door. Above, the stars shimmered faintly, their light struggling against the midnight sky.
Without a sound, the figure vanished, reappearing at the door in an instant.
Gripping the scabbard of his sheathed sword, he struck the lock with its hilt, shattering it with a dull clang. Pushing the heavy door open, he stepped into the vast hallway beyond. Ornate portraits of the noble house¡¯s heirs lined the walls.
Above, a grand chandelier bathed the room in a soft golden glow, its light reflecting off the polished wooden floor. The staircase loomed ahead, splitting into two paths that led in opposite directions.
"Where is it¡" he muttered, rummaging through the inner pocket of his cloak. A crumpled note emerged in his gloved hand.
"Study," he mumbled.
Scanning the room, he ascended the stairs, his footsteps muffled by the thick carpeting. Reaching the study, he pushed open the creaking door.
Inside, the study was dimly lit, the moonlight spilling through a large window. A towering bookshelf filled with book dominated the right wall. Dust covered the desk in the center, and the room carried a sharp, unpleasant scent of polished wood.
Approaching the bookshelf, he scanned its shelves, running his fingers along the spines.
¡°Did she say the Book of Igon?¡± he muttered, pulling out a few volumes to check.
A reddish leather hardback gleamed under the moonlight, the word ¡°Igon¡± etched on its spine in biyin, an ancient language of Kastar. His gloved hand brushed off the dust, revealing a distinct symbol of a star encircled by a crescent on the cover.
Slipping the book into his coat pocket, he turned back to the shelf. Carefully, he selected several books in a specific sequence, their removal triggering a faint tremor in the air. Dust swirled as the room shook lightly. A white glow enveloped the bookshelf, which slid aside with a rumble, revealing a stone staircase spiraling downward. Torches flickered to life along the walls..
Descending, he entered a long, narrow tunnel. It seemed endless, the torches gradually giving way to glowing white lamps embedded in the walls. One hand rested on the hilt of his sword as his eyes darted around the surroundings.
¡°No traps?¡± he muttered suspiciously .
The lack of resistance in such a place was unsettling.
At the tunnel¡¯s end stood a metal door secured with a rune-engraved padlock. He reached into his cloak and pulled out a slip of paper inscribed with a similar rune. Placing the paper on the padlock, he watched as it glowed scarlet.
CLICK.
The lock clattered to the ground.
He stepped forward cautiously, the faint crunch of sand beneath his boot breaking the silence.
The room was pitch black, except for the faint light emanating from the center.
A faint noise of the wind, close to the left side.
Straightening his posture, he squinted towards the center. ¡°There it is,¡± he murmured.
As he approached the pedestal, the air seemed to thicken, pressing against his senses. His fingers lifted the glass container delicately, and he reached for the glowing object within.
¡°NOW!¡± A harsh cry shattered the silence, followed by the hiss of blades slicing through the air.
His instincts kicked in. He flicked the glowing object upward. Sidestepping the incoming slash, he trapped the attacker¡¯s arm, locking it at the joint. With a pivot, he used the momentum to hurl him onto the hard ground.
The impact reverberated as the attacker hit the surface. His body went limp from the force
The glowing object arced through the air, spinning. His eyes locked on it, he snatched it mid-fall.
He smirked. ¡°An ambush?¡±
The figures in the dark hissed in frustration, their outlines barely visible in the faint light.
He darted to the left and reached into his cloak. Pulling out a rune-etched paper, he pressed it against the cold stone wall. The rune flared to life, glowing with an crimson hue.
BOOM!
The wall erupted outward, shards of stone raining into the courtyard below. Dust and debris filled the air, the roar of the explosion echoing through the hidden chamber. Without hesitation, he vaulted through the opening, landing in a crouch amid the rubble outside.
¡°Don¡¯t let him escape!¡± A voice shouted from the darkness.
He scowled, muttering under his breath, ¡°How did they even find me?¡±
Pushing off the ground, he dashed toward the manor¡¯s perimeter. Reaching the wall, he leaped high, his fingers gripping the rough edge. Swinging his body upward, he vaulted over to the other side.
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Once on solid ground, he crouched low. Power surged, and in a blur, he vanished from sight.
In the next heartbeat, he was on the rooftop of a nearby building, close to a wide empty stone pavement that went through the street of the noble district.
Suddenly, something shot toward him at lightning speed. He barely raised his sheathed sword in time as the force struck him like a thunderclap. The impact hurled him off the rooftop, smashing him into the stone wall of a neighboring building. The wall crumbled around him in a cloud of dust and debris.
¡°Ho¡ You managed to block that,¡± came a cold, mocking voice.
Shaking off the rubble, he brushed debris from his cloak and stepped forward. His sheathed sword remained steady in his grip. Before him stood a knight clad in leitium armor, its surface etched with the emblem of the Order of Juh¡ªone of the most elite and fearsome forces in Kastar.
¡°That¡¯s quite the welcome,¡± The cloaked man voiced, his eyes fixed on the knight.
The knight held a slender rapier, its thin blade shining in the moonlight. Flanking him were two others: one armed with a spear, the other with a longsword.
A Knight and two squires, he noted.
The knight, unamused, leveled his rapier at him. ¡°Surrender the item you stole, or prepare to die.¡±
¡°Nope!¡±
In a blink, the rapier darted toward him. He leaned just enough to the side, the blade grazing past his cheek.
The spear-wielder lunged next and jabbed at his neck. He caught the jab edge-to-edge with his blade. With a flick of his wrist, he threw the spear off-center, using the squire¡¯s momentum to force him to stumble forward.
Before he could reposition, the longsword descended in an arc towards his head. Without missing a beat, he slammed the scabbard against the squire¡¯s grip. The force sent the weapon backward and threw the attacker off balance.
Three? This is going to be a pa¡ª.
A sudden gale howled through the air, rushing at him like a blade. His instincts screamed, and he stepped back just in time. The wind slammed into a nearby building, carving a deep gash into its stone wall.
¡°Whoa, whoa... you even brought a Magus?¡± his eyes darting upward.
A figure in dark robes stood on the roof.
The Rapier Knight spoke again. ¡°Surrender, you slippery maggot.¡±
¡°What if I don¡¯t?¡± the cloaked man smirked.
¡°I shall take your life.¡±
He laughed. ¡°You? Are you serious! You can''t even use Aura.¡±
"Shut up, you thief scum."
The Rapier Knight tightened his grip and glanced back at the magus, nodding.
The Magus carved glyphs in the air with his gloved hand. The glyphs floated and glowed in the air.
Instantly, Five glowing magic circles materialized in the air, hovering side by side. Blades of wind barreled toward the cloaked man. He sidestepped, narrowly dodging as each blade struck the stone pavement, carving deep cuts into the surface.
Without hesitation, he surged forward, leaping toward the magus. In a flash, his blade arced toward the robed figure¡¯s neck.
The blow was caught mid-swing, deflected by the knight¡¯s rapier. The force of the parry pushed the cloaked man back slightly. The magus, unfazed, carved Ventus Furore again.
Above him, three more magic circles materialized.
Damn it.
He jumped back as a barrage of wind blades descended, tearing into the rooftop and filling the air with smoky debris.
A sudden jab came from the haze¡ªa spear aimed directly at his head.
The cloaked man caught the spear under his arm, locking it in place. With a sharp motion, he struck the wooden shaft with his scabbard, shattering it in two.
The longsword-wielder slashed at his side, and he blocked the blow with blade and scabbard. The scabbard flew off from the impact, and he was pushed back by the force.
¡°Whoa, you are strong,¡± he remarked.
The assault didn¡¯t end. The Rapier Knight closed in and lunged with his weapon.
The cloaked man sidestepped just enough for the blade to graze his cloak, tearing the fabric as it passed. He trapped the knight¡¯s arm at the joint, twisting to lock the weapon.
SNAP.
He broke the knight¡¯s arm at the joint.
¡°ARGHHHH!¡± screamed the knight, his arm mangled at an unnatural angle along with his armor.
The squires, witnessing the scene, widened their eyes. They moved closer to the magus, gripping their weapons tightly.
Geist the magus carved with a single flick of his wrist. "Keep your eyes on him." The Magus ordered the squires
A magic circle materialized shooting at the cloaked man. He kicked the Rapier Knight away and jumped to get away.
But the magus and the spear man closed the distance in seconds. The splintered spear jabbing at him.
He dodged the spear but the Magus was already behind him. Carving Geist behind him.
This time it hit the target.
The wind blade sent him flying into a stone chimney on the roof.
¡°Hey¡ come¡ is this it?¡± The cloaked man got up, dusting the debris off his cloak. He was uninjured.
His cloak had come off, revealing his dark brown hair fluttering to the side against the dusty wind. His eyes glinted like dark emeralds.
¡°Khrn,¡± the magus muttered. ¡°The Fifth Plague¡¡±
¡°Ho, you know of me?¡± Khrn¡¯s grin widened. ¡°I¡¯m honored, magus.¡±
The longsword-wielder gripped his sword tightly, his gaze fixed on Khrn. His comrade tended to the Rapier Knight.
¡°Who¡¯s he?¡±
¡°He¡¯s a high ranking member of the Rat Knights,¡± the magus whispered. ¡°One of the Five Plagues.¡±
¡°¡..Rat¡knights.¡±
¡°Alert¡don¡¯t drop your guard.¡± The magus warned. ¡°We wait for reinforcements.¡±
He jumped back to the next building.
Khrn¡¯s smirk faltered as his skin started to tingle ¡°Tch, playtime¡¯s over.¡±
Suddenly, the air grew oppressive. The weight shifted, suffocating. A heavy force pressed down on them, as though the very air around them had thickened. The knights¡¯ knees buckled, their bodies refusing to obey. Their breaths came in ragged gasps. The building shuddered under the mounting pressure, the roof tiles cracking beneath the weight.
The squires and magus were slammed against the roof as if held by an invisible hand.
Schwer
A heavy, unnatural force pressed down. The air itself felt suffocating, thick with weight. The knight''s armor cracked under the pressure, but it was useless.
With a sickening crack, his head caved in, crushed mercilessly under the force. Blood sprayed, splattering against the stone beneath him. His bones shattered in an instant, the sound lost in the wake of the spell.
The building itself crumpled into nothingness, collapsing into a massive crater, leaving only a mist of blood hanging in the air.
A woman floated in the air, clad in a black one-piece dress with layered sleeves. She held a black parasol, her long black hair and eyes shimmering in the moonlight. A pale scar stretched straight from the edge of her lips to her brow.
"You waste time, You pathetic worm." The woman spat.
¡°Worm?¡± Khrn chuckled.
"Why didn''t you use Aura? Could have finished them in seconds."
"Eh!! I didn''t feel like it," Khrn pouted. "I wanted to stall time to fight an Sword''s master."
"Ugh..." She rolled her eyes. "Pathetic."
¡°Scar, you''re as cold as ever. Did you come to rescue me?¡± He smirked at her.
She was the second Plague¡ªScar.
¡°Silence,¡± Scar scowled. ¡°The leader has summoned us. All five of us are expected to be there.¡±
Khrn''s smirk vanished. ¡°Alright, I give up.¡±
He sighed, patting his cloak¡¯s inner pocket. ¡°I got the item, by the way.¡±
Scar barely acknowledged his words with a disdainful look. She carved a purple glyph in the air.
There was no magic circle forming like the Magus. The air grew heavy, and an opening formed, slicing through space to create a pulsating crevice.
Without hesitation, Scar touched the crevice, and Khrn followed.
A gust of cold wind swept them in, and in a flash of violet light, they vanished from the city of Arazan.
Ambush
The caravan stopped by and restocked supplies at Evont Pass¡ªa narrow strip of road carved towards the Plateau in the desert of Zaras¡¯th. Flanked by jagged cliffs, the pass was heavily guarded by knights and soldiers. Two towers looked over the dusty road.
Stark had been treated with crude first-aid for his bruises, a luxury he didn¡¯t expect but could understand. Too many slaves had succumbed to the journey¡¯s hardships, and losing more could land the soldiers and Rakel in trouble.
That was yesterday.
Now they were far from the path in the never ending great desert. Dunes of sands stretched across the horizon.
With Each step, He winced.
The hot air stung his bruised skin.
There was a dusty wind occasionally.
Ahead, something caught his eye¡ªa shimmering white structure that seemed to float in the heat.
Narrowing his eyes, he muttered under his breath, "What¡¯s that?¡±
As they drew closer, the vision sharpened. A large white tent rose above the sands, surrounded by a cluster of smaller, ones. Ish¡¯raks lounged in the sun, while scarfed men busily loaded goods.
Armed men patrolled the perimeter, their gazes sharp and fixed on the approaching caravan.
The caravan shifted course, steering away from the camp. Stark glanced back at the soldiers near the tents. Their armor marked with an emblem of a snarling wolf.
"Who are they?" he mumbled, his voice barely audible over the clinking of chains.
A sudden yank pulled him forward, and the camp disappeared into the swirling dust.
So many questions arose in his mind regarding the camp.
Why were they in that location, and what were the goods? Why did the soldiers ignore them completely
Stark''s mind raced, the questions filled his mind as if to drown out the ache of his suffering.
What is true freedom? He wondered.
From the past filled with abuse and slavery, to his present as a teen still bound by chains, Stark had never dared to dream of freedom. Survival was all he had ever known.
Stark trudged forward. He was at the end of the line. The man ahead of him muttered ceaselessly under his breath,
¡°Devil¡ Devil¡¡± the man whispered, his words rising and falling like a chant.
Stark guessed the man had gone mad after learning about their destination. The muttering got on his nerves, but he forced himself to block it out. He couldn¡¯t waste energy on someone else¡¯s despair¡ªhis own thoughts were heavy enough.
Lost in his mind, Stark clung to the story of Hero Dalius, the legendary warrior who had vanquished the Demon King. The tale fascinated him. If I became strong¡ strong like Dalius¡ could I escape this wretched life?
The desert stretched endlessly around him. For most of his life, Stark had toiled in this arid wasteland, the sand and sun. He was sick of it¡ªsick of the endless dunes and the scorching heat.
Yet, amidst his misery, a fragment of a memory surfaced. He remembered a grass field, its blades swaying gently in the breeze. In the center stood a tiny house, warm and inviting. The image was soothing, but beyond it, everything was hazy. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn¡¯t remember more.
The next thing he vividly recalled was waking up on a ship bound for Kastar, his wrists bound in chains. The soft green of the grass field had vanished, replaced by the creak of wooden planks and the salty sting of ocean air.
Stark¡¯s gaze drifted to the Squire leading the caravan. A strange unease settled over him, prickling at the edges of his senses. Narrowing his eyes, he scanned the horizon. For a moment, he swore the sand moved¡ªrippling like a living thing.
He blinked a couple of times and looked again.
What was that? He thought.
He glanced at the Squire but no one seemed to notice
Was it just me? Maybe it¡¯s the heat.
Stark looked ahead, dismissing the thoughts. According to the conversation he heard from the soldiers yesterday. It would take the caravan 3 days to reach the Canyon of Dzeth¡ªthe location of his next job.
There was a slight problem, to reach the Canyon, they had to cross the Fool¡¯s sand.
He had no information about the fool¡¯s sand¡ªin fact he never heard of that place in his life. From the looks on the soldier¡¯s face, stark didn¡¯t expect it to be cozy. It would be like the Evont cluster if not worse.
Suddenly, the caravan came to a halt in the middle of nowhere. Stark glanced around, his brow furrowed. The dunes stretched endlessly. Only the wind stirred, swirling dust into their faces.
A sharp scream shattered the uneasy calm.
¡°ARGHHHHHH!¡±
The sound tore through the air, followed by a sickening splatter.
Ahead, the slaves began to panic. Stark¡¯s gaze snapped forward. Something was falling from above. Instinctively, he stretched out his hand, letting the droplets hit his palm.
It was warm. Sticky.
Blood.
Chaos erupted.
Slaves screamed, pulling at their bindings as the dust began to settle. Stark¡¯s chest tightened. His vision cleared just enough to make out the scene ahead¡ªand his blood ran cold.
They were surrounded by bone-eaters.
¡°DEVIL... DEVIL... IT¡¯S THE DEVIL¡¯S DOING!¡± screamed the man in front. He clawed at his shaved head, leaving bloody streaks as his nails dug into his scalp.
Blood trickled down his face, but his wild eyes seemed oblivious to the pain.
Stark ignored him, his thoughts fixed on survival. His gaze turned to Squire Rakel, perched atop his Ish¡¯rak.
Rakel stood for a moment, his back to the caravan. Then, with a blur of movement too fast to follow, he vanished.
Three Bone-eaters fell. Their heads hit the ground with dull thuds, staining the sand crimson.
"REGROUP! SHIELDS UP!¡± Rakel¡¯s voice thundered above the clamor, commanding immediate attention.
The soldiers shook off their panic. They scrambled into a tight formation, shields locking together as they braced for the next assault.
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Stark stood frozen in plain sight. The Bone-eaters'' screeches pierced the air, sending shivers down his spine. He tugged futilely at the chains binding him. There was nowhere to run, no shelter to hide behind¡ªonly the endless sands.
He had seen the creatures¡¯ brutality before. Their projectiles ripped through flesh with ease, leaving only mangled bodies in their wake.
Fortunately, their attention was fixed on the soldiers and the squire up ahead. Clashes erupted.
¡°Hold the line! Take them out!¡± Rakel ordered as he killed another bone-eater.
The soldiers struggled to obey, their formation breaking as swirling winds churned up dust. The haze provided perfect cover for the Bone-eaters, who emerged briefly to hurl rocks before disappearing again.
One projectile struck a slave nearby, tearing through his chest. Blood sprayed across the sand, and the man collapsed without a sound.
Stark winced, his breath catching in his throat.
Panic rippled through the line of slaves. Those at the front screamed and pulled against their chains, desperate to escape, but the metal bonds held fast. The sound of rattling metal mixed with cries of terror as the Bone-eaters killed.
he knew there was no escape¡ªonly survival, if luck would grant him that mercy.
Soldiers fell one after another. Bone-eater¡¯s projectiles tore through the shield wall, striking men with devastating force. A soldier near Stark collapsed, his chest caved in, blood pooling in the sand as his lifeless body slumped. Another''s head burst with a sickening crack, spraying the ground with crimson.
Rakel fought, slashing down bone-eaters on his side. But these creatures used the sands as cover, vanishing after each attack, forcing him to face them one by one.
Stark¡¯s chest heaved as his gaze darted from one horror to another. The soldiers were being pushed back, their formations crumbling. His heart pounded as though it might burst. His thoughts spiraled.
What do I do?¡¡¡What..Why¡.
I don¡¯t want to die!
Then, the worst happened. A massive boulder ripped through the haze, crashing into the shield wall. It hit with the force of a god¡¯s hammer, splitting the line apart. Soldiers were flung like rag dolls, their bodies crushed, blood staining the sands.
Stark stumbled forward as the chain yanked him. He fell hard, the taste of iron filling his mouth as he hit the ground. Around him, the front line of slaves was obliterated, their crushed remains scattered in the sands.
The chain snapped, leaving only Stark and the crazed, muttering man alone.
"It¡¯s an Elder!¡± Rakel¡¯s voice rang out. ¡°Regroup. I¡¯ll handle it.¡±
He moved in a blur. The Elder Bone-eater vanished into the haze just as quickly, a wide, mocking grin plastered across its face.
¡°Fuck!¡± Rakel snarled. ¡°You fucking ape!¡± He spat the words like venom, his eyes scanning the swirling dust.
¡°Duck!¡± he barked.
Stark dropped low, pressing himself against the sands. The crazed man was already on the ground beside him and ripping his scalp in fear.
Rakel took a low stance, his muscles coiling to strike. ¡°Second Step,¡± he murmured.
A shock wave tore through the desert as the sand clouds split into a perfect circle, revealing the scattered Bone-eaters.
¡°Third Step.¡±
In a flash, Rakel paced ahead, his blade moved swiftly as he cut down every Bone-eater in his path. Blood sprayed in arcs, staining the sands red.
But then, his momentum faltered.
A massive figure stepped into his path, towering over the battlefield. Rakel¡¯s blade met its mark, only to stop cold against a thick arm. The Elder Bone-eater grinned. With a screech, it grabbed Rakel¡¯s arm and hurled him through the air.
Rakel crashed into the sand dune hundreds of feet away.
The creature turned, its massive jaws opening to reveal dagger-like canines. This was no fledgling¡ªit was a true Elder Bone-eater.
The soldiers were gasping for air, their armor stained with blood.
Only a handful remained, forming a feeble line at the front.
Desperately, they fought to hold back the Bone-eaters, but the creatures tore through the defenders.
The front line was gone.
Stark stumbled backward, dragging the muttering man along with him. He was bound to the crazy man.
¡°Devil¡ Devil¡¡± the man chanted, his bloodied fingers clawing at his scalp.
¡°Shut up, you bastard!¡± Stark spat.
Fuck! Fuck! I have to get out of here.
Adrenaline surged through his veins as he scanned the battlefield.
The Bone-eaters, distracted by the slaughter ahead, seemed oblivious to him¡ªfor now. Stark¡¯s heart pounded.
Slowly¡.Slow.. He inched back away.
But his luck didn¡¯t last.
One by one, the creatures turned. Their mocking grins stretched wide as their eye locked onto him.
Stark froze, his breath caught in his throat. Time seemed to slow as he watched their hands grasping rocks.
The crazy man continued his chant, oblivious to the danger.
¡°No! No! I don¡¯t want to die! Someone¡ anyone¡¡± Stark¡¯s voice cracked as panic consumed him.
Just as the Bone-eaters raised their elongated arms to throw, a glimmer of steel flashed in the air. Their heads rolled cleanly to the ground.
¡°Fucking apes,¡± Rakel muttered, his face caked in blood, a gash on his forehead. He turned his focus to the Elder Bone-eater, standing tall and unyielding.
Without hesitation, Rakel charged.
CLANG!
The metallic ring of his blade striking the Elder¡¯s arm echoed through the chaos. The camouflage and distance advantage were gone, but it adapted quickly, its elongated arms flexing like whips to block Rakel¡¯s strikes.
Stark stumbled backward, dragging the murmuring man with him. His gaze remained fixed on the fight. Around him, only death and destruction remained¡ªevery other soldier and slave lay lifeless on the sand.
The Elder dodged Rakel¡¯s next attack. It kicked up sand and used the bodies of its kin as shields. Rakel¡¯s blade blurred as it deflected incoming projectiles and carved deep wounds into the Elder¡¯s flesh. Blood sprayed with every strike.
Stark couldn¡¯t follow their movements anymore; they were too fast.
Suddenly, Rakel lunged with a deadly stab. The Elder sidestepped, its arm coiling around Rakel¡¯s like a serpent. With a growl, it shifted its weight and hurled him into the air. Rakel slammed into the ground with a sickening thud, sand puffing up around him.
"ARGHH!!" Rakel screamed.
The Elder wasted no time, grabbing a boulder from the ground.
¡°HOW DARE YOU!¡± Rakel roared, staggering to his feet. One eye was swollen shut, and blood dripped from countless wounds. He shifted course toward Stark, using the Elder¡¯s blind spot to gain an advantage.
The Elder grinned maliciously and hurled the boulder, its aim flawless.
Rakel had no choice but to face it head-on.
With a roar, he swung his blade. The boulder split in two, fragments scattering across the battlefield.
Stark flinched, squeezing his eyes shut.
The ground shook, and sand rained over him.
I¡¯m safe¡ he thought with relief. But something warm and sticky coated his side. A lone shard had taken his arm away.
Shivering, he turned his head. His stomach dropped.
His arm was gone. Blood gushed from the shoulder.
¡°ARGHHHHHH!¡± Stark screamed, his voice raw with agony.
Tears blurred his vision as he clutched at the bleeding wound. ¡°No! No! Why¡?¡±
Through the pain, he gritted his teeth and watched Rakel charging again. The Squire dodged the Elder¡¯s swing, his blade flashing as it severed the creature¡¯s forearm.
With a screech, the Elder became frenzied, attacking savagely. Wounds mounted on both sides.
He severed its other arm and, with a final leap, drove his sword into the creature¡¯s single scarlet eye.
The Elder collapsed with a guttural howl.
¡°DIE!¡± Rakel screamed, slashing its head clean from its shoulders. The massive body slumped, lifeless, into the blood-soaked sand.
Stark winced in pain, his breath ragged. Somehow, he had survived the attack, chained to the crazed man who still muttered incoherently.
His gaze locked on Squire Rakel, who was struggling to rise. The Elder Bone-eater lay dead in the sand, its severed head resting near its body.
Yes... I survived¡ Stark thought.
Rakel huffed, planting his bloodied sword into the sand for support. ¡°Why... Why is an Elder Bone-eater on this route? It was supposed... to be... safe,¡± his voice faltering.
Behind him, the sand shifted. Stark¡¯s eyes widened as he saw the grains cascade off something massive. Another Elder Bone-eater emerged, its mouth stretching into a sinister grin.
No¡
The creature moved with terrifying speed. Its arm swung in a blur.
¡°move!¡± Stark¡¯s voice caught in his throat.
But it was too late.
The blow struck Rakel, severing his body cleanly at the waist. His upper half was flung into the air before landing lifelessly in the sand.
Stark froze in horror, his body trembling. The strongest among them had fallen, and now the creature¡¯s mocking gaze turned to him.
No¡ No¡ I have to run... I don¡¯t want to die!
He crawled backward, adrenaline coursing through his veins. The chain binding him jerked, stopping his retreat. The crazed man lay sprawled on the sand, still chanting incoherently.
¡°Yo...u... Bastard,¡± Stark choked, his voice trembling as he grabbed the chain. ¡°Get up... Get up!¡±
The Bone-eater took a step forward, its grin widening. Stark¡¯s heart pounded in his chest.
I want to live...
Blood soaked Stark¡¯s side, seeping from the shoulder. His breath came in shallow gasps, and his vision blurred. The Bone-eater inched closer. Stark clawed at the sand, trying to drag himself away, but his strength was failing. The world around him dimmed, a haze of pain and fear engulfing him.
Suddenly, the crazed man sprang to his feet, his voice a wretched scream that pierced the chaos.
¡°DEVIL! IT¡¯S THE DEVIL... NO¡ª¡±
The Bone-eater¡¯s hand shot forward, gripping the man¡¯s head. With a crunch, it crushed his skull. Blood splattered across the sand, mingling with fragments of bone and brain matter.
¡°DON¡¯T COME CLOSE!¡± Stark screamed, his strength nearly spent.
The Bone-eater raised its head to strike when¡ª
A dark beam of light erupted through the air, striking the Bone-eater¡¯s head. The creature froze. A gaping hole burned through its skull, and its body remained standing for a moment before beginning to crumble. Purple ash consumed its form, scattering in the wind dissolving into nothingness.
Stark¡¯s breath hitched as his fading eyes searched for the source. A figure floated above. Its golden eyes shimmered like molten lava, and a purple flame danced in its hand.
Who...
Before he could finish the thought, darkness claimed him.