《Avaris: World Of Stories》


 A New Era

    The city of Neo-Eden pulsed with neon light, casting a synthetic glow across the endless sea of people gathered on the streets. Towering holographic billboards displayed the countdown, each massive digit ticking away the final minutes of the century.


    11:50 PM.


    The air was thick with excitement, a shared anticipation electrifying the masses as they awaited the arrival of the year 2100.


    "Ten minutes left!" a man cheered, raising a glass filled with some overpriced drink.


    "Finally! About time we left the past behind," another responded, her voice barely audible over the collective murmur of thousands.


    "Can you believe it? We''re about to hit 2100!" a young woman laughed, gripping her friend''s arm. "Feels unreal. Like we''re stepping into a sci-fi movie."


    "Yeah, let''s just hope we don''t get any apocalypse bullshit. I''ve read too many old dystopian novels to trust a new century," her friend joked, sipping from a steaming cup.


    Robot vendors called out from the sidewalks, selling everything from instant-party injectors to glowing VR goggles that flickered in sync with the timer above. The smell of street food¡ªboth real and lab-grown¡ªdrifted through the crowd, mingling with the distinct hum of city drones hovering above to capture the event. Music blasted from unseen speakers, blending into the rhythmic pulse of Neo-Eden''s heart.


    For once, life seemed unified, and hopeful, as if humanity truly had a future beyond the bleak decades that had led to this moment.


    <hr>


    Meanwhile,


    In the highest room of a run-down high-rise in this same city, a different story was unfolding¡ªone drenched in blood.


    The walls, once a dull metallic gray, were now streaked with crimson, violent brushstrokes painting a massacre. Bodies lay strewn across the floor, lifeless eyes staring into nothingness. The air reeked of copper and death, thick enough to choke on.


    At the center of it all, two figures struggled amidst the carnage.


    A hulking brute, muscles rippling beneath a torn jacket, had his massive hands wrapped around the throat of a much smaller, frailer figure¡ªhis grip tightening with murderous intent.


    Xayn''s vision blurred.


    Spots danced before his eyes. The brute''s grip was suffocating, his weight pressing down like a mountain. He could feel his own strength slipping¡ª


    No.


    With sheer determination, Xavier jabbed a bloodied finger straight into the man''s eye socket. A sickening squelch followed, and the brute howled in agony, momentarily loosening his grip. That was all Xavier needed.


    His hand darted to the floor, fingers brushing against cold steel¡ªhis knife.


    With one swift motion, he drove the blade into the brute''s neck.


    A gurgled scream. A spray of warm blood. The body collapsed onto him like a falling pillar.


    Xavier coughed violently, shoving the corpse off with as much strength as he could muster. His entire body burned with pain. His wounds screamed. His breath was ragged. He had barely survived.


    "Should''ve just gotten a bolt gun, who the fuck told me close-range fighting a gang was realistic¡­" he muttered between pained gasps. "Would''ve saved me the trouble." Then again, with his shitty aim, he''d probably have shot himself first.


    He finally stood, trembling from exhaustion. Today was his birthday.


    December 31st. He was turning sixteen years old today.


    One would find it fun to be born on the last day of the year like he was, but what they would forget is the fact it would be completely overshadowed by it being New Year''s Eve.


    That''s how it is with being born on a holiday, and especially for a day like today.


    Others his age were out there, celebrating the upcoming century, yet here he was¡ªbroken, bleeding, surrounded by corpses, and nearing his death. Ironic.


    His eyes drifted to a corpse in the corner. A well-dressed man, one of his knives buried in his eye. The gang leader.


    Xavier smirked. At least that bastard was dead. His debt had finally been paid in blood.


    Then, the sound of commotion outside. ''Must be more gang members.'' he thought.


    He knew how the gangs in this city worked. He knew exactly what they would do.


    They wouldn''t try to breach the room as reinforcements. They''d burn it.


    It''s better to get rid of all evidence than to potentially add to it. Even if it would cost their boss''s life.


    If the boss was in any normal state within the building, then he could activate its disaster measures to stop the flames, if he didn''t it meant that he had been taken care of.


    A crackling sound confirmed his suspicions. He limped to the window, peering outside.


    Fire.


    Flames licked hungrily at the lower floors, spreading unnaturally fast. He wondered if they had secured the area before doing this, so he looked around from his vantage point.If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.


    No drones. No government enforcers. No one was coming.


    Of course, they did. He hadn''t forgotten the kind of enemy he chose tonight.


    With a heavy sigh, he leaned against the wall, watching the fire consume the building. He didn''t care.


    His goal was complete. His fate was already sealed.


    If he wasn''t going to die today, he was going to die sometime later, so it wouldn''t matter.


    So it''s better the new year would come without him.


    He wouldn''t add anything to it anyway.


    His fingers dug into his pocket, pulling out his phone. The old device was barely holding together, its cracked screen flickering erratically. "Guess I should''ve expected this. It''s shit like this that people don''t use smartphones anymore."


    It was a relic from the early 21st century¡ªa time when smartphones still had physical components before everything became chip implants. Despite its age, it still connected to the internet, a small mercy in his otherwise miserable existence.


    He turned it on, swiping through the few messages he had. There were only three chats, but his eyes focused on the one he hadn''t touched in two years.


    [Please, don''t...]-Last seen, July 2097.


    For a moment, he hesitated. If things had been different, would he be entering his final year like the others his age?


    Would he have friends, a home, a normal life?


    Would she still talk to him? Would he have been spending his New Year''s Eve with her?


    He shook his head.


    Those thoughts were useless, he knew that. The past was set in stone, and no amount of regret would change where he was now.


    Heat licked at the edges of the room. The fire was spreading faster than he expected. It fascinated him. He''d never spent much time around fire, but watching it now¡ªconsuming everything, rising higher, burning hotter¡ªit felt... alive. Unstoppable. Inevitable.


    He liked it. He wished he could be it.


    ''If I was like this... I would have no problems. No issues. No enemies... Just power...''


    With a sigh he glanced at his phone again. A minute to midnight.


    "Wonder what the next century will be like," he muttered, chuckling dryly.


    His thumb hovered over the message box. Screw it. He typed out a simple message and hit send.


    [Happy New Century.]-Just Sent.


    Outside, the city roared to life. Thousands of voices screamed in unison, counting down the final moments.


    Ten.


    Xavier exhaled, watching as the flames curled around him, creeping closer, hungering for his flesh.


    Nine.


    He smiled. At least he''d see the new year, even if only for a few moments.


    Eight. Seven. Six.


    He closed his eyes, the noise of the city drowning out everything else.


    Five. Four. Three.


    The fire surrounded him, the heat unbearable, scorching his flesh, yet strangely comforting.


    Two. One.


    Midnight.


    But instead of the triumphant cheers of the city, the world froze.


    The fire stopped moving. The air stopped vibrating. The very fabric of time itself seemed to halt before his eyes.


    Zayn''s breath hitched as he stared at the flames frozen mid-motion, their tongues of fire caught in place like the still frames of a paused film. The heat that should have been suffocating him only moments ago now lingered as an eerie warmth, neither advancing nor retreating.


    With surprise, he reached out with shaking fingers, attempting to disturb the fire''s shape, but it remained solid and unyielding, as though sculpted from molten glass.


    What the hell is happening?


    A surge of panic rippled through him, but even that felt muted, as though the world itself had stilled his emotions along with time. His gaze dropped to his own body, his tattered clothing soaked in crimson.


    The wounds that should have been gushing blood remained motionless, droplets hanging midair as if suspended by invisible strings. He twisted his wrist, flexed his fingers¡ªhe could still move, still breathe, still feel the dull throb of pain coursing through his limbs.


    But the blood, the fire, and the very world outside of him had stopped.


    Then, something pulled at him¡ªnot physically, but an undeniable force demanding his attention. His eyes snapped toward the shattered window, where the city''s neon glow still flickered, casting distorted colors over the streets below.


    The gang members who had been fleeing the burning building were now stock-still, their heads all tilted upward in eerie unison. A creeping sense of dread curled in Zayn''s stomach as his gaze followed theirs.


    His heart stopped.


    Above them, suspended in the vast abyss of the night sky, was an impossibly massive open book. Its pages glowed with an intensity that should have seared his retinas, brighter than the sun itself¡ªyet the light did not burn, nor did it force him to look away. The air around it shimmered, warping like heatwaves, distorting reality itself. The book loomed impossibly large, dominating the sky like a celestial deity staring down upon its insignificant creations.


    Zayn could not comprehend what he was seeing, but neither could anyone else. The scene was not limited to this one city or even this one continent. No matter where they were¡ªworking in underground tunnels, lost within the subaquatic cities, or stationed within the artificial habitats of the space colonies¡ªevery single human being, every creature of Earth and the universe, saw the book in the sky as though it hung directly above them.


    It was beyond logic. Beyond physics. Beyond sanity.


    A weighty silence fell upon the world, suffocating and absolute. A moment later, the silence shattered as an almighty voice boomed from the heavens.


    Pathetic.


    The word did not simply echo¡ªit resonated, shaking every living soul to its core. It carried disappointment, scorn, and an undeniable authority. Though no one understood why, a deep and primal shame festered in their chests, as if they had failed some incomprehensible expectation. Even the most arrogant and powerful among them found themselves trembling, unable to refute the truth they could not even grasp.


    The voice continued, its presence filling not just the air but their very beings.


    For so long, you have been granted the opportunity to exist, and yet you have squandered it. You persist without direction, without contribution, without purpose. A wasted existence is an insult to creation itself.


    The weight of its words pressed upon them like an unseen force. Zayn''s hands clenched into fists, his breath coming in ragged gasps. He wanted to scream, to deny this being. But how could he even attempt that when he himself knew it was true.


    At least for himself.


    The voice carried on, unwavering in its decree.


    Such existence is a burden upon the cosmos. Worlds that serve no purpose have no reason to remain. To continue such a cycle is the epitome of waste. But I am not without mercy. I shall grant you purpose.


    Zayn instinctively swallowed hard, his throat dry as sandpaper. The voice did not feel malicious, nor did it revel in cruelty. It simply was¡ªa cosmic judge passing down a sentence without bias, without hesitation.


    The reality you know shall be no more. Your world shall be unmade and rewritten, merged into a new existence where all things serve a greater design. You shall be grafted into a world of worth.


    A sickening sensation crawled over Zayn''s skin, a pressure that made his entire being scream in defiance. He could barely process the being''s words before it continued.


    In this new existence, all things¡ªbe they human, beast, plant, or machine¡ªshall be given a chance to prove themselves. To grasp the essence of truth, to forge their very beings into something greater.


    Zayn exhaled sharply as the final words crashed down upon them like a celestial verdict.


    To become Loreforged.


    As the proclamation settled, reality itself trembled. Cracks of blinding light split the sky, and for the first time since the frozen moment began, motion returned. But it was not the world returning to normal. No, this was something far worse.


    Reality was unraveling.


    Zayn''s stomach lurched as the world around him distorted, threads of existence peeling away like the frayed edges of a burning tapestry. Buildings, streets, and people dissolved into streams of radiant energy, spiraling toward the heavens where the great book remained open, its pages absorbing all that was.


    The Regrafting begins.


    The voice''s final declaration rang clear, and in that instant, everything that existed was unwritten.


    And this was what served to begin a new year.


    A new era.

 It Begins

    The unraveling began subtly. At first, the changes were nearly imperceptible¡ªa flicker in the air, a momentary distortion. Then, tiny symbols drifted up like dust caught in the light. People stared in confusion as these strange markings¡ªletters¡ªfloated gently into the sky, absorbed into the luminous pages of the colossal book above. The realization was slow, creeping like a predator in the dark.


    It wasn''t until objects began breaking apart that the panic set in. Buildings dissolved into their fundamental descriptions. Walls peeled away into lines of text¡ª"brick," "steel," "glass"¡ªeach word forming and floating skyward in the language of the observer. Water broke into "water," stone into "stone," air into "air." People gawked in disbelief as they saw the very fabric of their existence turn to words.


    Then, some of the more observant among them noticed something truly terrifying: the letters that formed the words were also made up of smaller letters, recursively spelling their own meaning in an infinite regress of language. "Water" broke into smaller words like "oxygen" and "hydrogen", and "stone" broke into tiny words of "minerals".


    It was as if reality itself had never been anything more than a collection of words and letters waiting to be undone.


    Screams filled the air as humanity finally understood. They had been nothing more than a tale in the pages of something greater. And now they were being unraveled.


    People ran in every direction, clawing at their homes, their belongings, as if their desperate touch could somehow hold the words together. A woman shrieked as her house disintegrated, the letters spelling "home" before fragmenting further into materials. A child sobbed, grasping at his dog as the creature shuddered, its fur becoming ink, then mere text before vanishing entirely. The boy collapsed in horror, screaming as his pet''s name was erased from existence.


    Then came the humans.


    Mothers clutched their children, shielding them from a fate they couldn''t stop. But the universe had no mercy. Little bodies unraveled, syllable by syllable, while parents watched helplessly, their own fingers starting to fray into sentences. Lovers grasped at each other as their names blurred into meaningless script. Children wailed as they witnessed their siblings become nothing more than words in the wind.


    Their flesh, their bones, their very essence unspooled into phrases¡ª"skin," "muscle," "blood"¡ªeach term peeled away until nothing remained but emptiness where they had stood. One by one, the people of Earth and all over were unwritten out of existence.


    Amidst the chaos, Xavier stood still.


    He watched the fire before him dissolve, its flames breaking into the very letters that defined it. "F-I-R-E" hovered in the air before it was absorbed into the sky-bound tome. The walls around him peeled away like paper, leaving only words drifting into nothingness. Even the gang members below, who had tried to flee, were now nothing more than desperate cries lost in a sea of disappearing text.


    Yet Xavier was not afraid.


    He felt strangely at peace, an odd serenity amidst the apocalypse. He had no reason to run. He had no home, no family, no real future to lose. When the entity had first spoken, declaring humanity pathetic, he had felt like he was supposed to be angry. But now, standing amidst the unraveling world, he wasn''t sure what to feel anymore. He watched with detached curiosity as his fingers disintegrated before his eyes, the letters forming his flesh swirling away like embers in the wind.


    Within those words, he could swear he saw the word ''useless'' in there.


    A faint smirk tugged at his lips.


    "Heh¡­ Figures."


    His body continued to dissolve, letters spelling out his name, his existence, vanishing into the great unknown. His vision darkened. He felt himself slip, yet he was not afraid.


    To him, it didn''t matter.


    And then¡ª


    Nothing.


    Or perhaps, something beyond nothing.


    Xavier drifted in a state of paradox. He existed and did not. He was written and erased. His thoughts felt hollow yet full. He should not have been able to see, yet he could. He should not have been able to hear, yet sound reached him. He should not have been able to feel, yet sensations tingled at his consciousness.


    It was an indescribable sensation¡ªhe existed, yet he didn''t. He felt, yet he was numb. He saw, yet he had no eyes to perceive. The vastness of his unraveling form stretched into infinity, and for the first time, he felt untethered from the burden of his own existence.


    Was this death? Or was it merely the next page of his story?


    And if it was¡­ who was holding the pen?


    Xavier drifted in the void, caught between nothingness and awareness.If you come across this story on Amazon, it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.


    Then, a voice called out.


    It wasn''t sound. It wasn''t vibration. It was something more profound, a declaration that embedded itself directly into his very essence as if the words weren''t meant to be heard but to be understood beyond the constraints of language. It was the almighty being.


    Your reality has unraveled. The wasteful and purposeless among you shall be discarded. But among the countless existences, sentient and non-sentient, a select few shall be given the opportunity to prove their worth. To be granted a place in a world of true meaning. Avaris.


    Xavier found himself momentarily suspended in an unfamiliar feeling. Not fear. Not relief. Just a hollow silence as the words continued to etch themselves into his mind.


    Avaris, a world where even the smallest of creatures may find purpose. A world where existence itself holds weight. You, who hear this decree, have been selected to partake in a handcrafted trial. Among the unessential masses, only those who prove themselves shall ascend. To become Loreforged, those of definite higher purpose. Those who will truly succeed in this world.


    Those who fail will still remain but will acknowledge that they hold no worth.


    The voice carried the weight of something absolute. It was not a choice, not a plea. It was law. The decree of an existence so far beyond comprehension that defying it was as meaningless as a spark defying a wildfire.


    Then came the final words, resonating with an undeniable finality:


    Those who face this trial will forge a story for themselves. But it must not be forgotten. Any story can be created. But only a story with purpose can truly exist.


    And then, silence.


    Xavier felt something shift within himself. A realization. Those words¡ªthat decree¡ªmeant that he, too, had been chosen.


    ''Me?''


    He let the thought sink in, and for a moment, he simply couldn''t comprehend it. He had never considered himself to be of any importance. No hidden talents, no extraordinary skills, no fate-defying abilities. He wasn''t some prodigy or miracle child like those other fucks his age, nor had he been born into wealth or influence.


    He had nothing.


    ''Hell, I''m not even average.''


    Nothing except a good memory and an uncanny knack for finding ways to fuck up his life. And he wasn''t even that good at that, his memory serving only as a storage of grudges he couldn''t let go.


    ''Not exactly the traits of a chosen one.''


    He had expected the selection to favor the elite, the prodigies, the ones with so-called "destined greatness." Yet, here he was. Maybe the selection was random, or maybe there was some incomprehensible logic behind it.


    He didn''t know. He couldn''t know.


    But what he did know was this: he had been chosen, whether by mistake or by some unknown design, and there was no turning back now.


    He had nothing to lose.


    At some part of his consciousness, he knew that this trial wasn''t anything normal. He knew that some way or another this was actually something more than he could understand. The way this being spoke about it made it pretty obvious that whatever being a Loreforged meant, it was pretty good.


    And one thing Xavier knew was that there was no such thing as good things without risks. He wouldn''t be shocked if this ''trial'' could kill him and to be honest, his odds of survival were practically nonexistent.


    But that wasn''t new to him. He was supposed to die tonight anyway. If this was just another inevitability, he might as well see where it led.


    After all, what was one more impossible trial in the life of someone who had nothing to care about or fear for?


    For a short moment, Xayn was met with nothing, just silence. He wondered what was going on when he felt some sort of delay. He couldn''t pinpoint what gave him that idea but that was what it felt like to him.


    ''I wonder what''s happening...''


    Xavier''s vision, if it could even be called that, began to shift. The formless void that had encompassed him started to stir, bending and warping in ways that defied reason. At first, it was subtle¡ªfleeting flickers of words appearing beneath him. These words weren''t just near him; they stretched far below as if he were gazing from a celestial vantage point, watching reality be woven together beneath him.


    The letters emerged in waves, an endless tide of ink forming coherent structures. Small words like "dirt" and "stone" coalesced first, fragmenting and interlocking in a delicate dance. As they merged, they no longer remained mere words but became something more tangible. "Dirt" layered upon "stone," and where they joined, the term "land" was etched into existence. The moment it formed, it became real¡ªa vast, stretching terrain of soil and bedrock sprawling outward, limitless and unending.


    Xavier was held captive by the sight before him, unable to do anything but marvel at the impossible. It was not simply the creation of a world, but the articulation of one. A reality that had to be written before it could exist, where language was the blueprint of creation.


    Then came the rivers and lakes. Words like "stream" and "wave" interwove, forming the flowing motions of water, cascading and twisting through valleys sculpted by their existence. Above them, the air itself began to materialize, the word "sky" stretching across the void like a vast dome, its presence shaping the world into something habitable.


    Forests sprouted from nothingness, their names carving their forms into being. "Tree" multiplied into dense thickets and towering woodlands, where each leaf and branch bore the imprint of the letters that had given it life. The world was no longer an abstract idea¡ªit was breathing, living, and real.


    And then, at the center of it all, his gaze was drawn to a singular, breathtaking sight¡ªa mountain, rising high above the rest of the land. Its jagged peaks were crowned with a magnificent city, constructed entirely of words that morphed and solidified into grand architecture. The moment he saw it, he knew this place was different. This city was not just a structure; it was a declaration. The towering castle at its peak stood as the heart of this newborn land, its presence regal and commanding.


    Xavier could feel something changing. The endless void that had surrounded him was now retreating, the distance between him and the world below shrinking with every passing moment. It was as if he were being pulled downward, drawn into this realm that had been shaped before his very eyes. Words flowed around him, wrapping around his form, their essence seeping into him as reality claimed him once more.


    Sensations returned¡ªfirst, the faintest traces of weight, then the familiar pressure of gravity. The void was gone. He was descending.


    His pulse quickened, anxiety creeping in as he fell faster and faster. What was happening? Where was he being taken? Would he survive the descent, or would he be obliterated upon impact? The questions swirled within him, but before he could process them, everything went dark.


    And then, in the abyss of his mind, he saw the words appear. Grand and bold, in colors he couldn''t distinguish.


    [Your First Story Is Before You]

 Right Into The Chaos

    Amidst the howling winds and the cacophony of steel, roars, and screams, a battlefield raged with an intensity that could shake even the gods.


    The battlefield was alive with the thunderous roars of war, a cacophony of death and defiance ringing across the towering walls of the mountain city. Steel clashed against gnashing teeth, arrows rained like a deadly downpour, and the stench of blood mixed with the acrid scent of burning flesh. The walls, ancient and steadfast, loomed above the chaos, their stone foundations shaking under the relentless assault of monstrous abominations.


    They came in droves, a never-ending tide of grotesque creatures, their forms twisted beyond recognition. Some were thin and skeletal, darting through the battlefield with terrifying agility, their elongated claws slicing through armor like parchment. Others were lumbering behemoths, their bloated bodies covered in patches of jagged, chitinous plating, absorbing blows like an unstoppable force of nature. And then there were the true horrors¡ªcreatures that defied reason, shifting and writhing like the very embodiment of nightmares, their grotesque forms an affront to the natural order.


    The towering walls of the mountain city, once a symbol of human resilience, now trembled under the siege of abominable creatures, their grotesque forms clawing, gnashing, and shrieking in a relentless pursuit of destruction.


    Among the human defenders, the desperate fight continued. Archers lined the battlements, releasing arrow after arrow, some striking true, piercing the creatures'' skulls, dropping them instantly. Others missed their mark, their shots deflected by thick hides or lost in the chaos.


    Soldiers with steel in hand engaged in brutal melee combat, their swords cutting down the monstrosities only for more to replace them. Some succeeded, their blades carving through flesh and bone, while others found their fate sealed as fangs and claws tore into them, reducing them to nothing more than bloodstained remnants of battle.


    A veteran soldier, his face lined with scars and his blade chipped from countless battles, let out a victorious cry as he cleaved a creature in two. His triumph was short-lived as a massive claw speared through his chest, lifting him off his feet before discarding his lifeless body like refuse. Nearby, a young woman barely past adulthood drove her spear into an abomination''s skull, only for another to seize her from behind, its gaping maw closing over her throat, silencing her forever.


    This was not war. It was a bloodbath in its truest, most unforgiving form.


    Amidst the carnage, a young soldier lay sprawled against the cold stone of the city walls, his body half-mangled, barely clinging to life. Barely more than a teenager, he was sprawled against the cold stone, his breath ragged and wet.


    He was far too young to be among these warriors, but in desperate times, even children were forced to fight.


    A massive ballista bolt jutted from his neck, the wooden shaft thick with his own blood, draining him of life with every passing moment. His metal gauntlets, crude and battered, bore jagged edges where the knuckles extended outward, formed from the relentless bites of a monster. His armor, barely adequate, had been torn in multiple places, exposing bruised and broken flesh beneath.


    His vision blurred, but he could still see the battle raging on. He wanted to fight. He wanted to keep going. But his body refused to obey. He could feel it slipping¡ªhis strength, his will, his very existence.


    He didn''t want to die.


    He didn''t want to fail. He had so much to live for.


    Why was he dying so early in his life?


    But his body no longer listened to him. The world around him dimmed, the sounds of battle growing distant, fading into nothingness. His eyes, once brown, dulled as his lids grew heavy, ready to close for the last time.


    Then, something changed.


    His hair, stained with blood, seemed to drink in the crimson essence, darkening, deepening, shifting into a striking shade of blood red. The wound at his throat, a fatal hole just moments ago, closed with unnatural speed, knitting together like an unseen force had rewritten his very existence. The thick bolt lodged within snapped with a sickening crack, falling away as if rejected by his very being.


    Had the other soldiers not been so preoccupied with their own desperate struggles, they might have gone mad witnessing such an impossibility.


    A sharp gasp tore through the silence of his mind as his lungs filled with air once more.


    Xavier was alive.


    His senses returned in an overwhelming flood¡ªhis sight, his touch, his sense of self. But everything was wrong. His breathing was erratic, his heart pounding in his chest. He was no longer witnessing a world being written before his eyes; he was here, physically, undeniably present in this place.


    The stench of blood, the heat of battle, the deafening cacophony¡ªit was real.


    His mind reeled, his thoughts disjointed.


    ''What the hell just happened?''Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings.


    His thoughts scrambled for meaning. The last thing he remembered was that overwhelming voice, the declaration of some trial, the formation of a world beneath him. Had he fallen into it? Was this the trial that it spoke of? More importantly¡ªwhose body was this?


    ''Why am I wearing this?''


    Xavier lifted his hands, his fingers flexing within unfamiliar gauntlets, the cold weight of metal pressing against his skin. His arms were covered in worn armor, the kind he''d only seen in medieval history books, dented and cracked but still holding firm. His torso was clad in a breastplate that felt heavy, foreign. He was no knight, no warrior, and yet¡ª


    ''This is real.''


    Panic surged in his chest. He pushed himself up on shaky limbs, his muscles weak but functional. He had to make sense of this. He had to understand.


    Xavier blinked as he studied his surroundings, his thoughts in a tangled mess. His gaze instinctively drifted towards the city behind him, the towering mountain stronghold that had stood at the heart of the world''s creation.


    It was one thing to have watched its birth from above, witnessing words weave the very fabric of its existence, but to stand here now¡ªto feel the rough stone beneath his fingers, to hear the distant toll of warning bells¡ªit was almost too much to process.


    His mind snapped back to the present, finally registering the overwhelming noise of the battle raging before him. The metallic clash of swords and flesh, the twang of bowstrings, and the gut-wrenching screams of soldiers filled the air, all interwoven with the deafening roars of monstrous creatures.


    His head jerked toward the battlefield. What he saw sent a cold chill racing down his spine.


    A sea of nightmarish figures clawed their way up the walls, grotesque and unrelenting. They climbed over each other in their mindless frenzy, a grotesque tide seeking to spill over the walls and consume everything within.


    Xavier barely breathed as his eyes dropped to the ground near his feet, catching sight of something that made his stomach twist. A broken bolt¡ªits shaft slick with blood¡ªlay uselessly on the stone floor. It wasn''t just any random weapon. It was the same one that had been impaled through his neck when he had first arrived.


    He hadn''t felt the pain of that moment, but as he entered, he remembered his final moments, or rather whoever he had become''s final moment.


    His fingers twitched. ''I or the person I currently am had been dead. Now I am here, whole, uninjured. Why? How?''


    ''Why was there a bolt in my neck if I was on the side fighting those abominations?''


    ''Was I even actually fighting them?''


    ''What gave me that idea?''


    ''Why am I acting like it''s even me?''


    ''Is it because of the feelings of the person who died?''


    He didn''t even know what was going on as his mind spiraled with questions, each one met with frustrating silence.


    A low, guttural growl interrupted his thoughts.


    Xavier stiffened.


    Slowly, he turned his head. His breath caught in his throat.


    A creature stood just a few feet away, its gaunt frame hunched over the body of a fallen soldier. The corpse was still fresh, its armor torn open like paper, blood pooling beneath it. The monster''s snout was stained red, thick strands of flesh clinging to its fangs. Its eyes¡ªsunken, hungry¡ªlocked onto him, and in that moment, Xavier felt something gnawing at his gut.


    Fear.


    Real, raw, animalistic fear.


    His muscles coiled instinctively. He could run. He should run. But would it matter? The beast looked like it was built for speed; turning his back on it was practically inviting death. The moment stretched thin, tension winding tighter and tighter until¡ª


    It moved.


    Xavier barely had time to react before it lunged, its limbs snapping forward in a blur of movement. His body acted on impulse¡ªhe fell back straight onto the cold stone floor. A moment of weightlessness followed as the monster, mid-leap, realized its target had disappeared from view. It crashed full-force into the wall behind him with a sickening thud.


    Pain exploded through Xavier''s back as he hit the ground, but there was no time to think about that. The beast had fallen right on top of him, its considerable weight pinning him down.


    "Shit!" Xavier spat, arms flailing as he struggled against the heavy, still-dazed creature. Its breath was hot and rancid, its claws twitching as it began to recover.


    ''Move...Move now!''


    The monster thrashed atop Xavier, its jaw snapping hungrily, just inches away from his throat. Its breath reeked of decay, hot and sticky against his skin, but its own body was a hindrance, preventing it from biting him outright.


    Xavier''s mind raced, his breath coming in ragged gasps. His fingers scraped against the stone floor, searching¡ªgrasping¡ªfor anything. His eyes darted, and there it was¡ªthe bolt that had once been buried in his neck. He stretched an arm towards it, his fingertips brushing against the broken shaft.


    The monster realized its mistake. A guttural snarl tore from its throat as it heaved itself up, throwing Xavier aside like a ragdoll. He crashed into the wall''s edge, his ribs screaming in agony as his vision blurred from the impact. The world spun, and suddenly, he was teetering on the precipice of the battlements. Just beyond, an ocean of writhing monstrosities clawed at the walls, their shrieks and howls blending into a single, deafening cacophony.


    Panic surged through him. He scrambled, gripping onto the rough stone to keep from plummeting. But the monster was already upon him again, its elongated limbs carrying it with horrifying speed. He barely had time to turn before it lunged, its powerful maw snapping shut around his torso.


    Pain exploded through his body as razor-sharp teeth clamped down, biting through layers of armor and pressing into his flesh. A deep, primal groan of agony tore from his lips, but he refused to scream. He refused to give this thing the satisfaction.


    His arms were pinned, his movements sluggish beneath the weight of his battered armor. He cursed inwardly¡ªdamn this metal coffin! If he didn''t act fast, he''d be ripped in half. His fingers twitched, groping for anything¡ªanything!¡ªthat could save him. Then his eyes locked onto the abomination''s mouth, and an idea¡ªinsane, desperate¡ªflashed through his mind.


    Without hesitation, he twisted his arm just enough to ball his fist and slammed it into the monster''s tongue. The thick muscle recoiled, but he didn''t stop. Again and again, he drove his knuckles up into the soft tissue, the jagged metal splinters of his broken gauntlet tearing into the flesh like makeshift claws as black blood sprayed.


    The effect was immediate.


    The creature let out a pained yelp, its jaw snapping open as it recoiled in agony. Xavier tumbled to the ground, gasping for breath, pain lancing through his ribs where the monster''s teeth had nearly crushed him. He wasted no time¡ªhe bolted, diving toward the broken bolt.


    His fingers wrapped around the it. The weight felt foreign in his grip, unbalanced and unwieldy, but there was no time for hesitation. He spun around, chest heaving, just in time to see the monster licking at its wounded mouth, its elongated, twitching limbs tensing for another lunge.


    His mind screamed at him for a plan. He had no plan. He had nothing but a pointy stick and a body that was in searing pain. The creature growled low, preparing to strike.


    Then, suddenly¡ª


    A voice, loud and commanding, cut through the battlefield. "DUCK!"

 Retreat

    Xavier didn''t think.


    He dropped forward instantly, barely comprehending the warning before something massive whistled through the air above him. A thunderous impact followed¡ªa massive projectile slammed into the beast with the force of a battering ram. The monster let out a distorted screech as it was launched backward, its body crumpling under the sheer force, bones shattering as it skidded across the stonework.


    Xavier locked in on the moment. His body moved before his mind could catch up, sprinting toward the reeling creature. His grip tightened around the bolt. With everything he had, he drove it straight into the monster''s eye, feeling the sickening crunch as the bolt pierced through the surprisingly weak bone and brain matter.


    The beast convulsed violently, its twitching limbs grasping at nothing before its body finally went limp. With one last grotesque shudder, it toppled over the wall, disappearing into the seething mass of horrors below.


    Panting, Xavier staggered back, his entire body shaking. His hands clenched the sword, his fingers numb from the sheer force of his grip. His chest rose and fell, his mind reeling.


    Xavier turned, still catching his breath.


    Standing atop the battlements, behind a ballista still steaming from the recent shot, was a girl. Her eyes glowed an eerie golden hue which matched her long blonde hair. A sharp contrast to the blood-smeared grin on her face. She lifted a hand, waving at him in an almost playful manner.


    But Xavier barely registered the gesture. His vision flickered as glowing golden letters materialized before his eyes, imprinting themselves deep into his consciousness.


    [Welcome To Your Prologue]


    Xavier stood dumbfounded, his gaze fixed on the golden words floating before him. Their glow seemed ethereal, otherworldly, yet undeniably real. His instincts took over, and he hesitantly stretched out his hand, fingertips grazing the shimmering letters.


    The moment he touched them, they dissolved into nothingness, scattering like dust caught in the wind. Leaving him a sense of losing touch with something. He blinked, momentarily dazed, his mind scrambling to make sense of what he had just seen.


    ''What the hell was that?''


    Before he could dwell on it, a voice rang out, sharp and urgent. "Hey! This is still a battlefield, idiot!"


    Xavier snapped back to reality, twisting on his heel just in time to witness a massive, clawed hand gripping the edge of the wall. The grotesque limb twitched, its sinewy muscles bulging as it attempted to haul its monstrous bulk upward.


    Nearby soldiers were already upon it, hacking and stabbing desperately, their strained faces painted with exertion and fear. But despite their efforts, the beast refused to let go.


    Xavier took a step back, his breath shallow and quick. He didn''t belong here. He had no idea who these people were, why they were fighting, or what monstrous shit he was fighting in this chaos.


    The only thing he knew was that he wasn''t going to die for a battle that wasn''t his. Escape¡ªthat was his current priority. If he could just find a way down, away from this madness, he could figure things out later.


    But as his eyes lingered on the struggling soldiers, something deep within him stirred. A distant, painful memory clawed its way to the surface¡ªone annoying one in particular that he didn''t want to remember. He clenched his jaw so tightly it ached.


    "Damn it," he muttered under his breath. "I''m always doing stupid shit like this¡­"


    With a frustrated growl, he snatched a broken spear from the ground, turned on his heel, and sprinted toward the looming beast. He launched himself off the wall, spear poised in his hands. The creature, focused solely on climbing, never saw him coming. The spear''s jagged tip plunged into its grotesque skull with a sickening crunch, embedding itself deep.


    For a split second, Xavier dangled midair, his weight held aloft only by the weapon lodged in the monster''s skull. His pulse pounded in his ears, and his breath caught in his throat.


    ''What the hell am I doing? I''m going to fall with this thing...''


    But the thought was fleeting. With a sharp exhale, he wrenched the spear free and kicked off the creature''s face just as its body tipped backward. It let out a deafening shriek before plummeting back into the writhing mass of its kind below, its massive frame crushing several others in the process.


    The soldiers, momentarily stunned, stared at him in awe. But there was no time to react. A bloodcurdling scream tore through the air¡ªanother soldier, a young woman barely in her twenties, was pinned beneath a monstrous, lanky beast. Its elongated maw dripped with saliva as it tore into her arm, her agonized cries ringing out over the battlefield.


    Without hesitation, the nearby soldiers charged forward to save her. Xavier groaned, tightening his grip on the spear before breaking into a sprint after them.


    The next twenty minutes were a blur of carnage and chaos. Xavier fought with a crazed madness and strength he didn''t know he had, slashing, stabbing, and tearing through the abominations that scaled the city''s walls.


    There was no time to think, no time to process¡ªonly the primal instinct to fight and survive. The soldiers fought alongside him, their movements no longer as sluggish with despair but fueled by the newfound drive to hold the line. When one of them faltered, another took their place. They fought as one, pushing back against the relentless horde.Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.


    Each time the creatures threatened to overwhelm them, a thunderous crack would ring out, followed by the unmistakable whistle of a massive bolt slicing through the air. The girl with the ballista stood vigilant, her glowing yellow eyes scanning the battlefield. Her perfectly timed shots sent the larger beasts tumbling off the walls, their weight crushing those still trying to climb. She offered no words of encouragement¡ªonly the silent promise of continued support.


    The shift in battle was small, almost imperceptible from an outside perspective, but it was there. The relentless slaughter of the human defenders had slowed. The tide, while still overwhelmingly in favor of the enemy, had been stymied. Soldiers who had once succumbed to fear now fought with a fire in their eyes. The will to survive had taken root.


    And as Xavier stood amidst the blood and bodies, panting and gripping his bloodied spear, he realized something unsettling.


    He was still alive.


    ***


    Ten more minutes later...


    Xavier slammed the shattered remains of the sword into the skull of the snake-like monster, feeling the sharp vibration travel up his arm as the brittle metal gave way under the impact. The beast spasmed once before collapsing into a heap, lifeless. He exhaled sharply, his breath ragged from exhaustion.


    "Damn it!" he hissed under his breath, tossing the useless handle aside. That was the fourth weapon he''d lost in just this fight. ''


    At this rate, I am going to be forced to fight these ugly abominations barehanded.''


    He scowled at the thought. These creatures weren''t just monstrous; they were grotesque nightmares made flesh, each dripping with an unnatural hunger that made his stomach churn.


    And worst of all despite how easy he made it look they were still physically superior to the soldiers fighting.


    As he turned to find another weapon, his eyes flicked to the side, catching sight of the ballista girl. She was no longer firing¡ªshe was scrambling, desperately searching for something. Xavier''s eyes widened in realization. She had run out of bolts.


    ''Shit.''


    He followed her line of sight and saw what she saw¡ªa monstrous creature, one that had just scaled the wall and was now locking eyes onto her. It crouched, its muscles coiling, preparing to pounce. Without hesitation, Xavier ran toward it, shouting obscenities at the top of his lungs, waving his arms wildly to draw its attention.


    "Hey, you ugly bastard! Your mother''s a slug and your father''s a pile of dung! Come get me instead!"


    ''That was absolute ass...'' he cringed inwardly.


    The creature''s eerie, pupil-less eyes snapped toward him. It hesitated for only a moment before shifting its weight, seemingly reassessing its target. Xavier braced himself for another desperate brawl when, suddenly, the battlefield shuddered.


    A low, resounding vibration coursed through the air, a sound so deep and unnatural that it settled in Xavier''s chest like an unrelenting pressure. It was as if the entire mountain itself had begun to hum ominously. The battlefield froze. Soldiers, monsters, everyone, everything¡ªcame to a sudden halt.


    Then, something absurd happened.


    The monsters at the farthest edge of the battlefield began to retreat.


    It was slow at first, with only a few turning away. But soon, one after another, they all started pulling back, abandoning their relentless assault. The soldiers, still locked in combat, faltered in confusion. Some took advantage of the distraction to strike their foes down, while others simply stood there, weapons raised, baffled by the sudden shift.


    However the monsters paid no heed to them even as they were slashed at or even killed as they focused on their retreat.


    Xavier, panting heavily, watched in stunned silence. "What the fuck is going on?" he muttered to himself.


    The monster that had been ready to pounce on the ballista girl turned away from him without a second glance, effortlessly leaping off the wall to follow its kin. Every single creature was now in full retreat, disappearing into the distance as swiftly as they had come.


    The silence that followed was deafening. No roars, no screams, no clash of steel¡ªjust the quiet sounds of the wind whispering through the bloodied battlefield.


    Then, with an exhausted sigh, Xavier let his legs give out beneath him. He collapsed onto his back, staring at the smoke-filled sky, every inch of his body screaming in protest.


    ''I''ve never worked this hard for something in my entire life.''


    His muscles ached, his knuckles were raw, and now that the battle was over, the pain of his wounds was catching up to him. He barely had the strength to wiggle his fingers.


    ''Scratch that... I have...'' he chuckled.


    And yet¡­


    He was alive.


    The stunned silence of the guards didn''t last much longer. As the realization set in, a cheer erupted from them¡ªfirst tentative, then growing into a triumphant roar. Some soldiers fell to their knees in relief, others clapped each other on the back or embraced, overwhelmed with emotion. A few openly sobbed, having just moments ago believed themselves doomed.


    Xavier closed his eyes, letting the noise wash over him, feeling a strange mixture of satisfaction and disbelief. He had survived. Against all odds, he had made it through.


    The celebrations, however, were short-lived. A voice, firm and commanding, cut through the revelry like a blade.


    "Enough! Settle down!"


    The commanding officer''s roar brought the guards back to attention, their cheers fading into wary obedience. The battle was over, but something told Xavier that this war was far from finished.


    The commander swept his gaze over the battlefield, his expression grim as he took in the carnage left behind. Despite the sudden retreat of the monsters, he knew better than to assume the battle was truly over. His voice cut through the murmurs and relieved sighs of the soldiers like a steel blade.


    "This is not a victory!" he barked, his voice carrying across the battered wall. "We did not drive them back. They left on their own! That means something worse is coming. I need every able-bodied fighter to gather weapons from the fallen. We need to be ready. Those who can''t fight, retrieve the fallen weapons and bodies of our comrades. They deserve a burial, not to be left to rot among the filth. Move!"


    The soldiers who had been on the verge of celebrating quickly sobered, nodding as they scrambled to carry out his orders. The air of exhaustion still lingered, but the disciplined urgency of trained fighters took over. The commander exhaled sharply, rubbing a hand over his face. Nearly forty percent of his force had been lost in this one wave. He feared that number would rise once they accounted for the wounded.


    Xavier, lying flat on his back as he tried to catch his breath, groaned internally. He was barely able to move his limbs, let alone get up and start helping. His entire body felt like a lead weight, his muscles aching with exhaustion he had never known before.


    ''I don''t know how I''m still breathing after all that'' he thought bitterly. ''That was an absolute shitshow of a workout, and I wasn''t even given the courtesy of knowing why the hell I was thrown into it.''


    He turned his head slightly and caught sight of movement¡ªsomeone was coming up the wall. His blurry vision sharpened as he saw the golden-eyed girl from before. She had been the one manning the ballista, saving his and many of the other soldiers'' asses more than once.


    As she drew closer, Xavier watched as her luminous golden irises faded into a dull yellow. That only added to his confusion. Was it some kind of ability? Or just a trick of the light?


    Back in New Eden, this wouldn''t have raised an eyebrow. Plenty of people bought cybernetic eye implants for aesthetic reasons. But here? He had yet to see a single other person with anything but natural brown or black eyes.


    ''Something''s up with her,'' he mused.

 Strange Things

    Soon, the girl stopped near him and studied him for a moment before smirking.


    "So... were you trying to see how much punishment you could take before dropping dead?" she teased, crossing her arms.


    Xayn let out an exhausted chuckle before groaning. "If I say yes, do I get a prize?" he shot back, still catching his breath.


    The girl laughed, shaking her head. "You get bragging rights, I suppose. That was insane, by the way. I''ve seen some reckless idiots, but you? You take the cake."


    Xayn smirked despite himself. "Yeah, well, it worked, didn''t it?" he said, rolling his shoulders as he attempted to push himself up again. His entire body protested, but he gritted his teeth and forced himself to stand.


    After Xayn rose to his feet, shaking off the exhaustion that weighed on his body like a heavy chain. He instinctively ran his hands over his torso, feeling the numerous dents and cracks in the battered armor he wore. The sight of the damage made him wince; he was more than certain the body underneath was a mess of bruises and torn flesh.


    The girl standing nearby noticed his examination and made a casual remark. "You got off lightly. Others didn''t even have limbs left."


    Xayn didn''t respond to her comment. Instead, his focus remained on the cumbersome armor. He had already made up his mind¡ªhe needed to get rid of it. The loud man from before, whom Xayn presumed to be their leader, had given orders to stay prepared, but Xayn knew better. This armor wasn''t going to protect him¡ªit was only going to slow him down. If another wave of monsters hit, he''d rather be fast than weighed down by broken metal.


    With a grunt, he started prying the armor off, using sheer force as he struggled against the battered pieces. The girl protested, telling him to stop, but he simply shook his head. "Don''t bother," he muttered, his voice laced with determination.


    After several moments of effort, the final piece clattered to the ground. He flexed his arms and examined his exposed body, frowning at the fresh bruises and open wounds. There were no old scars¡ªnone of the familiar marks he had come to recognize as his own. It was yet another piece of proof that this wasn''t his body. Something about that realization sent a chill down his spine, but he forced himself to push the thought away.


    When he glanced back at the girl, he noticed her gaze lingering on his chest¡ªor perhaps slightly above it. He couldn''t quite tell. Raising an eyebrow, he decided to break the silence. "You did well with that machine."


    She blinked, snapping out of whatever trance she was in. "It''s called a ballista," she corrected him, though she didn''t seem too bothered by his mistake.


    Xayn shrugged. "Whatever it is, it saved my butt. Thanks for that. If you hadn''t yelled for me to duck, I would''ve been decorated with a massive hole."


    The girl smirked. "Yeah, well, if you were impaled it would have been my fault but thanks to my timely warning and aim that didn''t matter."


    Xayn found himself chuckling at that. "Good aim, then."


    Before their conversation could continue, another voice joined them. "Good aim indeed... Didn''t expect to find someone who could handle a ballista like that."


    Both Xayn and the girl turned to face the source of the voice. It was the tall commander, the man with a full beard and piercing eyes. He studied the two teens with a measured gaze before shifting his attention to the girl.


    She seemed to shrink slightly under his scrutiny. "I just got lucky with my shots," she murmured, rubbing the back of her neck.


    The commander''s lips twitched slightly. "Must have been a lot of luck, then. From what I saw, you didn''t miss a single shot."


    The girl scratched her chin, clearly unsure of how to respond. Meanwhile, Xayn simply watched the exchange with quiet interest. The commander''s gaze then turned to him, his eyes narrowing slightly as if trying to size him up. Xayn met the look head-on, bracing himself for whatever the man had to say.


    "I don''t remember seeing you before," the commander finally said, his voice low and firm.


    Xayn frowned. "What do you mean?"


    "I mean I have no recollection of meeting someone like you," the commander clarified. "I make sure to remember the names and faces of every fighter I bring to this wall. Someone with striking red hair like yours? A combatant who fights as wildly and as crazily as you do? There''s no chance I would have forgotten."


    Xayn stiffened. This wasn''t just idle talk¡ªthe commander was genuinely convinced. A slight unease crawled up his spine. He knew he had been thrown into this battle as part of some sort of trial by that being, but he had assumed everyone here was just random things similar to characters in a game or movie. For the first time, doubt crept in. Could this man actually be thinking like a human and sense that he was an outsider?This narrative has been purloined without the author''s approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    "Maybe you just forgot," Xayn offered casually, not wanting to let anything slip.


    The commander''s expression didn''t change. "I don''t forget."


    Xayn was about to retort when something the commander said earlier hit him like a hammer¡ªred hair. His eyes narrowed in confusion. That wasn''t right. He had black hair. And if it wasn''t black, even the memories of this body before his arrival showed it was brown. What the hell was this guy talking about? Reaching up, he casually plucked a strand from his head and brought it in front of his eyes.


    Crimson.


    The blood-red strand glowed under the torchlight, a stark contrast to what he had expected. Xayn''s brows furrowed. Was this some side effect of the trial? An anomaly? He gritted his teeth, stuffing the thought away for now. Whatever the reason, he couldn''t let it shake him.


    He glanced back at the commander, who was still watching him with sharp, calculating eyes. Xayn simply shrugged. "Well, I guess it doesn''t matter. I was useful, right?"


    The commander exhaled through his nose and crossed his arms. "That, you were."


    With that, his attention shifted to the scene unfolding below. Xayn followed his gaze, and what he saw made him grimace.


    The remaining soldiers were hard at work, dragging bodies and salvaging weapons. Blood soaked the ground, mingling with the dirt to form thick pools of crimson. Severed limbs were carried carefully¡ªsometimes reverently, sometimes with shaking hands. The dead were more than just fallen soldiers; they were neighbors, childhood friends, siblings, parents, and lovers.


    A young man knelt beside the torso of an older soldier, his hands trembling as he gently closed the man''s vacant eyes. A woman sobbed silently as she cradled the head of someone who had once been her husband, whispering words only he would understand.


    Some soldiers carried their dead with hollow eyes, too numb to grieve properly. Others hesitated before picking up the remains of a loved one, their hands shaking as if touching them would confirm a reality they weren''t ready to accept.


    This wasn''t just death in war¡ªthis was tragedy, despair, and a cruel reminder of the cost of survival. He crossed his arms, suppressing a sigh. Xayn was no stranger to death, he had caused a lot of it personally.


    Instead of the feeling of sadness the situation provoked he instead had questions. What was this battle? Why were these people even fighting? What had started all this? His mind spun with questions, yet he had no answers.


    A whisper cut through the silence beside him.


    "Why are we dying like this¡­ to these monsters?"


    It was the golden-eyed girl, her voice barely audible, thick with something between sorrow and frustration.


    Xayn turned to look at her. He saw her fists clenched tightly at her sides, her lips pressed into a thin line. She had fought bravely during the battle, but now, standing amidst the aftermath, the weight of everything seemed to be catching up to her.


    The commander exhaled sharply through his nose, muttering something under his breath before shaking his head. "Would you believe it, I haven''t even told you lot why you were fighting yet."


    Xayn''s ears perked up at that. He turned to the commander with a raised brow. "Wait. You mean they don''t even know?"


    The man''s expression darkened. "What do you mean they. You yourself shouldn''t even know." He shook his head, his gaze distant. "But I will have to share it sooner or later."


    Silence stretched between them, thick and heavy.


    Xayn''s mind raced. What the hell is going on in this place?


    The commander simply sighed and gestured for them to wait as the soldiers continued gathering the bodies. However, before moving forward, he needed to clarify something. He turned his sharp gaze back to the blonde girl and asked,


    "Why were you even there, manning the ballista?"


    Xayn blinked at the commander''s sudden question, sensing a shift in the conversation. The golden-eyed girl seemed caught off guard as she stammered,


    "W-what do you mean by that?"


    The commander crossed his arms, his expression unreadable.


    "No one should have been manning the ballista. All the people who were trained to operate them had been systematically eliminated. The monsters targeted them first. That wasn''t coincidence."


    Xayn frowned as he processed this revelation. His mind flashed back to the moment before the monsters retreated. He remembered how one of the creatures that had climbed the wall locked its gaze onto the girl. It had ignored the more accessible prey around it and remained focused on her, even when he tried to provoke it it had hesitated. That wasn''t normal predatory behavior¡ªit was deliberate. They had been taking out the ballista operators on purpose.


    He turned his attention back to the girl, intrigued by her response. She looked momentarily unsettled before speaking hesitantly.


    "During the battle, I fell off the wall, onto the city side. When I hit the ground, I caught a glimpse of someone rushing out of the ballista tower and running away. I didn''t understand why at the time." She bit her lip before continuing.


    "At first, I was confused, but then I realized that unlike the other soldiers, I wasn''t strong enough to fight in close combat. I figured the best way I could help was with the ballista. I''ve always been a decent shot, even if I don''t know how to properly handle a bow, so I decided to try it. When I reached the tower, that''s when I saw¡­ him," she nodded toward Xayn, "fighting those creatures. So I took the chance to help."


    Xayn tilted his head slightly. It wasn''t an unbelievable story, but something about it felt oddly convenient. Before he could dwell on it, the commander let out a frustrated sigh and instead asked,


    "Who exactly did you see leaving the tower?"


    The girl furrowed her brows in thought before giving a hesitant answer.


    "I didn''t get a great look, but it was a man. He was short, kind of scrawny, but he was wearing heavy plate armor."


    At her words, the commander visibly tensed. He closed his eyes briefly, pressing his fingers against his forehead as if suppressing a headache, before muttering a curse under his breath.


    Xayn narrowed his eyes. The reaction was telling.


    "So you know him?" he asked, more a statement than a question.


    The commander exhaled through his nose before speaking in a low, displeased tone.


    "That description fits my second-in-command." His voice was laced with irritation as he rubbed his temple. "And if it really was him, then I know exactly what happened here."


    Xayn raised an eyebrow, but before he could probe further, the commander turned on his heel and gestured toward a nearby soldier.


    "Find him. Now," he ordered.


    The soldier gave a sharp nod and sprinted off, disappearing into the depths of the city.


    Xayn exchanged a glance with the blonde girl, both of them sensing that whatever was going on, it was much bigger than either of them had initially thought.

 Coming Clean

    The three stood in silence, watching as the soldiers continued their grim task of gathering bodies and weapons from the battlefield. The sun had begun its slow descent, casting long shadows over the blood-soaked ground. A short while later, the girl stepped forward to help, her golden eyes dim with sorrow, but Xayn remained rooted in place, his mind too preoccupied to be bothered to act.


    Time passed in an agonizing crawl. An hour, perhaps two. The soldiers worked tirelessly, collecting the broken remains of their comrades, stacking them into a massive pile at the base of the city walls. Limbs, torsos, shattered armor¡ªit was impossible to tell where one body ended and another began. A grotesque monument to the brutal cost of battle.


    The commander finished his hushed conversation with a soldier who had approached him, then turned to face the gathered troops. Hundreds stood before him, their bodies battered, their faces weary and streaked with grief as they didn''t care about how they were packed together tightly on such a small wall.


    Some clutched at wounds that still bled sluggishly, while others barely remained upright, their injuries too severe for them to fight again. And then there were those whose spirits seemed even more broken than their bodies¡ªeyes glazed over, filled with an unbearable weight of loss and despair.


    The commander sighed deeply before beginning to speak, his voice low but firm enough to carry over the hushed murmurs.


    "Today... was a terrible day for all of us. I do not think there are words that can fully describe the sorrow that weighs on our hearts. Many of you have lost friends. Some have lost family. Others, neighbors. We stand here now, breathing, while they lie before us, never to rise again. It is a cruel and painful reality. I know that ache well, the way it claws at your throat, the exhaustion that makes every movement feel like a burden."


    His gaze swept over them, his expression unreadable yet heavy with unspoken grief.


    "Despite how I may appear, do not mistake me for a man who does not understand your suffering. I have stood where you stand now, many times over. I have watched my own comrades fall beside me, knowing that I could do nothing to stop it. And every time, I have wished for a way to take that pain from you, to make it easier, to fix what has been lost. But I am no miracle worker. I am simply a soldier¡ªa man who knows how to wield a sword and lead others to do the same. I cannot bring them back, nor can I erase the pain you feel. I wish I could."


    A heavy silence settled over the crowd, broken only by the distant wails of the wind. Some soldiers clenched their fists, others lowered their heads, their grief raw and visible.


    "I know some of you wish to take your loved ones, your friends, and give them the burial they deserve. That is what any of us would want. But we do not have the luxury of time, nor the safety to do so. The enemy will not grant us the chance to grieve. We must be prepared for when they return. That is why we must set a pyre."


    A ripple of discomfort coursed through the gathered soldiers. Some shifted uncomfortably, their lips pressed into tight lines. The idea of burning their fallen instead of laying them to rest in the earth they once walked was bitter, painful. But the commander stood firm.


    "I do not say this lightly. I do not say this because I wish to discard them as if they were nothing. They were our comrades, our family. They fought beside us, bled beside us, and we will honor them in the only way we can. We will not let them rot in the open air, nor will we leave them for the beasts to desecrate. They will be sent off with the fire, with the sky bearing witness to their sacrifice. And though it is not the burial they deserve, it is the farewell we are able to give."


    The weight of his words pressed down on the crowd. Many looked as though they wanted to argue, to cry out in protest, but none spoke. The commander did not expect silence¡ªhe had seen men rage, wail, curse the gods in moments like these. He did not seek to smother their pain but to let them feel it, acknowledge it, and understand that he, too, carried it.


    After a long pause, one soldier¡ªa man missing an eye and an arm, his face streaked with dirt and dried blood¡ªstepped forward. His voice was hoarse when he spoke.


    "...Then let us send them off properly. Let us build the pyre and give them the flames they deserve."


    The commander nodded solemnly, and slowly, the others followed. Some murmured prayers, others whispered the names of the fallen. But none refused. The pyre would be built, and with it, they would say their last goodbyes.


    Xayn watched as the soldiers scurried back and forth across the bridge, carrying wood and other materials to construct the funeral pyre. Despite his initial indifference, he couldn''t help but feel slightly out of place, standing idly while the others worked. He told himself he had no obligation to assist them; after all, he didn''t belong to this world, nor did he owe these people anything. Yet, as his eyes drifted over the solemn faces of those around him¡ªteenagers even younger than himself hauling wood with blank expressions¡ªsomething within him stirred. He clenched his jaw, cursing himself inwardly.You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.


    "Tch. What a pushover," he muttered under his breath before finally stepping forward to lend a hand.


    The work was strenuous but straightforward. The pyre steadily took form, growing larger as more hands contributed to its completion. Xayn kept to himself, stacking the wood and avoiding unnecessary interaction. He could feel the heaviness in the air, the unspoken grief pressing down on the gathered warriors. When the final piece was set in place, everyone stepped back, and all eyes turned to the commander, who stood before the towering mound of bodies and kindling, a torch in hand.


    Before he could proceed, a small figure emerged from the crowd¡ªa young girl, much smaller in frame than the golden-eyed archer from earlier. She clutched a bow tightly in her small hands, her left eye concealed beneath a hastily wrapped bandage, while unshed tears glistened in her remaining eye. The commander regarded her with quiet patience, waiting as she stepped forward.


    "Why?" she asked, her voice strained but clear.


    The commander''s brows furrowed slightly in response. He had expected many things, but not for this girl, of all people, to be the one to ask. He didn''t answer immediately, instead allowing her the space to continue.


    "Why did they attack us?" Her voice cracked as she pressed forward. "We lived peacefully in the city. My mother was supposed to teach me tailoring. My sister and I were supposed to run the shop together." She gripped her bow tighter, her knuckles white. "Now they''re both dead, and I... I couldn''t even find my mother''s hands in that pile."


    A ripple passed through the gathered soldiers. Others, emboldened by the girl''s raw grief, began to step forward, their voices layering upon each other like a growing storm.


    "My son was in the barracks that fell first. I never even saw his body."


    "We had a farm outside the city. My parents and brothers were there. If they attacked us here, then..."


    "My wife and I just had our first child! I should have been with them! Why are we fighting instead of running?"


    "My lover just proposed to me yet I can''t even find his body."


    The murmurs of sorrow gave way to whispers of frustration, then to words laced with anger. The air became thick with tension, the soldiers'' faces shifting from grief to resentment. The commander remained still, his expression unreadable as he took in the sea of expectant, wounded souls before him. His grip tightened around the torch in his hand, but for now, he kept his silence.


    The commander lifted his head and gazed upon the gathered soldiers, his expression unreadable. The tension in the air was palpable, every eye upon him, waiting for answers. When he finally spoke, his voice was steady but carried a weight of resignation.


    "Running would have been worse for us than any of you might think."


    A murmur of confusion passed through the soldiers, but the commander wasted no time and continued, his tone leaving no room for doubt.


    "Months ago, the Castellan made a deal with a powerful abomination warlord. What the deal entailed, I do not know, but I do know this¡ªthe castellan was supposed to pay a significant price for whatever bargain he struck. When the time came, he refused."


    The commander continued, his voice dark. "The warlord, furious over this betrayal, declared that if he did not receive his payment, he would lay waste to all who stood in his path. And so he did. You all saw it with your own eyes. You have fought against the abominations he leads."


    Still, the weight of his words did not fully register in their minds. A few soldiers shook their heads as if to deny it, but the commander did not stop.


    "A week ago, the castellan vanished. No one in the castle knew what happened to him, but one thing was certain¡ªwithout him, we were doomed. The officials tried to reason with the warlord, offering everything they could muster. None of it was enough. It wanted its payment, and it wanted it in full. And when it did not receive it, it decided that we would all pay the price instead."


    A stunned silence settled over the crowd, eyes widening in disbelief. Xayn, watching from the back, felt his mind struggling to process the words. He had expected something sinister, but this? This was utterly stupid.


    Xayn couldn''t hold back his thoughts any longer. "Wait a damn minute, are you telling me none of you put it together? Isn''t it obvious? That bastard ran away after getting what he wanted! He abandoned you all! So why are you still here, fighting and not escaping?"


    The commander''s gaze snapped to Xayn, and for a moment, he was silent, as if considering the words carefully. Then, with a tired sigh, he answered.


    "It is not that simple. The warlord... it has a way of marking those who have lived in this city. Every man, woman, and child who has spent even a single night within these walls is now marked. No matter where they run, it will find them." He looked out at the sea of horrified expressions. "We learned this the hard way. We sent scouts to call for aid from nearby cities, only for their corpses to be dragged back by beasts¡ªmutilated, disfigured, left as a warning. There is no escape. There is no safe haven. We are already dead in the warlord''s eyes."


    The soldiers stood in stunned silence. Some trembled. Others clutched their weapons, their knuckles white. A few whispered prayers to gods who had long since abandoned them.


    The commander exhaled deeply, his voice heavy with guilt. "When the other officials learned this, they tried to flee as well. They all died. My second-in-command and I are the only ones left among those who knew. I kept this from you all, not because I wanted to deceive you, but because if I had told you earlier, you wouldn''t have fought. You would have fallen into despair. I made a decision... a foolish one, perhaps, but it was the only path I saw. And now, I stand before you, knowing full well that you have every reason to hate me for it."


    He straightened, inhaled deeply, then bowed deeply before them all.


    "I will accept your anger. I will not make excuses. If you wish to curse me, do so. If you wish to strike me down, I will not resist. But I did what I thought was necessary to keep you alive by giving us a fighting chance."


    The wind carried his words into the silence that followed, the firelight casting long shadows on the faces of those gathered. Their grief, their fury, their helplessness¡ªall of it mixed into the tense air. And yet, no one moved. No one spoke. They could only stare at the man who had just shattered the last of their hopes.