Contents Warning : 

Graphic Violence.

Viewer discretion is advised.

 

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Loaye seized her moment of shock and pulled her away. She allowed herself to be dragged a couple steps from the horrors she just witnessed, her mind still reeling. Then she stopped, blinking the haze away, as if she just woke up from a dream only to be thrust into a nightmare.

“I told you you shouldn't be here,” Loaye said under his breath, his eyes wide blown from fear. He kept looking behind her, where the horrors were taking place.

“Wha− what just happened?” Ayah whispered.

“Something that has nothing to do with you. And you’ll do well to forget everything you’d just seen,” he hissed.

Ayah shook her head. “The man… the…”

“I know.” Loaye said forcefully. “Forget about him. Forget about everything.”

“What?... Are you insane? He just killed him!”

“I know,” he hissed, his voice barely above a whisper.

She shook his grip off and swirled around to return to the ceremonial room.

“Stop! Stop!” Loaye tried to halt her movement, but she was stronger than him.

“What will you dying here accomplish? Isn’t it better to live to expose their actions?”

Ayah stopped. True. There were many individuals in the room, more than Ayah could deal with alone. It would be best to leave here and expose their horrendous crimes than face them with no guarantee for success.

There was also the matter of her new quest.

It wasn’t like she was abandoning the child here…

She took a step in the opposite direction, ready to leave, when she heard a horrified shriek. In a blink of an eye, she had already turned, walked the couple steps separating her from the murder scene, and peered around the corner.

Behind the hooded individuals was a small cage, smaller than the one where she had found the dragon egg. Inside it was a little girl, smaller than Shoaib. She sat, hugging her twiglike knees to her chest, her round terrified eyes like dull lamps above her sunken cheeks, locked on the man’s corpse. Then and now, a shriek escaped her thin and bloodless lips. Her arm bore a mark, burned into her flesh.

Ayah gripped her sword tightly, her knuckles turning white and a faint creaking sound emanated from the hilt. She couldn’t leave the girl here, she would suffer the same fate as that man. The one Ayah couldn’t save because she was so absorbed in admiring his murderer. She gritted her teeth, feeling disgust at Aayan… at herself.

She needed to help her. She needed to get her out of here.

“You need to leave,” Loaye hissed under his breath, his hand tugging at Ayah’s arm.

Ayah shook him off, shooting a glare at him. “The girl−”

“You can’t save her. No one can.” Loaye cut her off, shaking his head vigorously. “The only thing you can do now is escape.”

“Coward. You’ll just stand and watch as he slaughters children?” Ayah’s gaze was crazed. 

“He’s stronger than ever. No one can stop him. Not after he consumed an accursed blood,” Loaye said, frantic.

Ayah stilled. Accursed blood? Was this what usually happened to the accursed that were found out? Not facing trial for some crime they might have committed? But slaughtered like cattle, with not even their humanity preserved?

“Damn him. Damn him…”

She had thought he was the bravest and brightest of protagonists she had ever laid her eyes on. She had thought he was the paragon of virtue. The sun of the kingdom and its moon. 

A killer was what he was.

A murderer.

“I will not leave. You can run away if you want. But I won’t leave without her.”

Loaye hissed, opening his mouth to maybe try and persuade her of abandoning the helpless child. But whatever he wanted to say was lost to her as a flash whizzed by her face. Ayah watched with widened eyes the golden blade that had embedded itself into the wall. She didn’t hear it coming. She didn’t see it. If Ayah’s face was mere inches to the right it would have embedded itself in her neck.

Then she felt a sting in her cheek. She touched her face and it came wet with blood. The blade had wounded her and she didn’t even notice it.

“It seems we have a rat spying on us,” the king’s voice sounded around the room. “Step forward little intruder and I might spare you.” His face was set in a pleasant expression, a soft smile pulling at his lips. As if he hadn’t just murdered a child.

Loaye, the traitor, took several steps back, blending in with the darkness. Ayah huffed. Whatever, she never thought he would help her anyway. The coward must have been here before the first child was killed, and still did nothing to save him.

She glanced at the girl in the cage. Her terrified eyes were still glued to the lifeless corpse, her feeble form hunched over herself, trying to appear smaller than she already was.

The blade dislodged from the wall and tore into the air towards Aayan. It flew with such a speed that any ordinary human would think it had completely disappeared then reappeared in his hand.

He swirled it around as if the blade was foreign to him. He hummed, a satisfied smile on his lips.

“If you don’t come to me, I’ll just come to you.” He tilted his head to the side.

 

She debated her course of actions. Should she use one of her special skills? No, she huffed. There would be no use if the skill backfired like it did in the forest and she lost consciousness, leaving her defenseless against whomever the skill was unsuccessful against. She gritted her teeth. It all seemed hopeless. The whole thing was a hell hole she wasn’t sure she could escape from.

But no matter what, she had to try.

She tore the Temsian crest from her cloak and stored it in the inventory. Then she rushed forward, her hood secured over her face, and slammed into the nearest hooded figure. She hit him, hard, in the neck, wishing her hit wouldn’t be a finishing blow, and closed her fist over her intended item; the man’s mask.

It was a bit bigger than her face and obscured a part of her vision, but if she didn’t want to implicate Shoaib and his family in whatever muddled mess this was, she better keep her identity hidden.

Aayan watched her with almost an amused expression on his bloody lips. He shifted on his feet, his sword at his side, then… Then he was in front of her. She stumbled back, raising her sword just in time to evade a clean decapitation. The force of the blow sent her careening into the wall. Her head rattled from the impact. The wall’s rough and rugged edges dug into her skin, tearing into it.

She took a shaky exhale, the breath nearly catching in her chest. She blinked the dark spots that started invading her sight. She had to fight. She had to…

She stood on shaky legs and held her sword in a defensive position. The king chuckled, as if the mere thought of her still facing him was laughable. Maybe it was… If Ayah was capable of thought, she would have seen how futile and pointless this all was. But she couldn’t think, whatever remained of her conscious self was focused on the next step… and the next.

And standing upright.

He swung his sword down. Her knees buckled from the force of the strike. She dug her feet on the ground and propelled herself forward.

[Warning : Player has sustained heavy damage.]

[Health : 127]

[Stamina : 63]

Ayah scowled at the screen. A big chunk of her health and stamina were depleted in less than thirty seconds. 

Ayah took a deep breath… or as deep as she was capable of. It sounded weirdly wet in her ears, and no matter how she inhaled, only a small amount of oxygen made it into her system. She frowned. Is one of her ribs broken? Or worse, a punctured lung.

A strange thought made it to the front of her mind.

Was she dying?

She glanced at the girl, her eyes still glued to the man’s fallen form. Was he her friend? Her family? Someone she had met mere moments ago but bonded with due to their hopeless fate? Humans tended to cluster together every time something went horribly wrong, asking for comfort and to ease their burden, even by a little.

Ayah gripped her sword tightly, her grip growing slacker and slacker as time went by. She hoped she had the sense to fasten the weapon to her arm.

The others stayed back, observing casually the fight, certain in their king’s victory. They stepped back, some leaning leisurely on the walls, watching.

He swung his sword again and again. Ayah could barely keep up with his strikes. She could see the blade coming towards her, but the force behind the attack made her counteroffensive useless. She lost count of the times she was sent flying into walls. Her blood must have painted a horrifying picture on their pale surface.

He slammed her against the wall, and her mask cracked from the side, a part of it crumbled and fell apart, revealing one of her eyes. Frowning eyes locked into a pain creased one. “You’re so weak, it’s not even enjoyable to fight you.” He brought his hand around her neck and squeezed, cutting her airflow.

Ayah coughed, a tangy taste invading her mouth. She brought feeble hands around the one over her neck, clawing at it weakly. His face twisted, as if her touch was something revolting. He let go of her, and she had only a split second to take a shaky breath before his leg connected with the side of her torso, sending her crashing against the altar.

She landed next to the lifeless body. The man’s wide unseeing eyes bore into hers, accusing. The breath hitched in her chest. Ayah didn’t know whether it was from all the blood that must have flooded her lungs, or the sobs that had escaped her bloodied lips.

“Repulsive,” the king muttered.

Ayah could see him shake his hand, trying to get the blood off his glove.

[Warning : Player has sustained heavy damage.]

[Warning : Player’s health and stamina had sustained critical damage.]

[Health : 57]

[Stamina : 23]

Ayah eyed the screen. From the beginning, she knew, deep down, that she couldn’t win against Aayan. And yet, she still…

She hit her fisted hand against the ground.

“... So frustrating…”

Just when she had thought there was something she could do, another wall appeared before her. A wall she could neither scale nor break down.

Her tears merged with her blood and fell into the bloodied puddle around her. She glared up at the king, months and months of admiration turning into deep seated hatred.

“Damn you,” she muttered. 

Ayah tried to stand, but her legs failed her. She gritted her teeth and forced them to comply. Blood gushed from a wound at her thigh. She leaned on the broken stones, her blood adding to the red painted on its surface. Her lips trembled as she stared up at Aayan.

“Damn you!” she yelled, her throat croaking. “You were supposed to be the hero that saved the world from the darkness. You weren’t supposed to be like this.”

He regarded her with a thoughtful look, his head tilted to the side. “Such admirable ideals. Sadly, such unreal standards have no place in this world that only favors the strong.”

“You’re destroying all the first emperor stood for. You’re tarnishing his legacy,” her angry words tore from her throat.

What would the first emperor think if he saw him murdering children?

Aayan chuckled, an airy and gentle laugh. It clawed at her chest, knocking what remained of her breath away.

“You poor fool,” he said softly. “His legacy is power. Weaklings only serve as stepping stones for their stronger brethren. That is their only purpose, and they should accept it with honor.” He held his sword up, flames erupted, covering the whole blade, rushing like water. “As you should accept yours.”

Ayah’s breath hitched.

Nur’s sun. Another name to this murderer. The one amongst few who managed to tame the flames and bend them to his wishes.

“I’m afraid this ends here,” he said.

She leaned on her sword and with a deep breath she readied herself for her last stand.

A frown pulled on Aayan’s lips before it morphed into a satisfied, almost, smile. “Honorable.” He nodded.

Ayah sneered at him. What did he know about honor?

She launched herself at him, and he stood there, waiting for her strike. 

Exactly what Ayah wanted.

At the last moment, she veered to the side and launched herself at the cage. Startled, he sent his sword towards her. It slashed her arm, the flames burning her skin and sending searing pain throughout her body. But she didn’t stop. She sped toward the girl and with one swoop, she cut into the cage. Its upper half fell to the floor with a loud groan.

She sent her sword at an approaching form, one of the hooded figures that had decided to finally step into the fight. It didn’t meet its mark, but it gave Ayah enough time to do what she needed next.

“Activate special skill: Heaven’s wrath,” she muttered as she cradled the limp child to her chest.

The tunnel trembled and groaned. Then bright light pierced from the ceiling, obliterating everything in its path. Then it blinked out. Ayah took advantage of the confusion that settled on what remained of the room, and launched herself towards the opening made by the skill, not sparing the red warnings of the system a glance.

She kept running and running, her mind on auto-pilot, taking her where she thought would be safest. She kept pushing her tired legs, only stopping at the sight of a familiar figure.

Harith startled as she fell in front of him, her trembling arms pushing the squirming child towards him.

“Save her, please.” She begged him.

She could feel the darkness pull at her. Her arms were growing heavier and heavier by the second. Her mind spun and his form kept blinking in and out of existence.

He kneeled in front of her, her eyes catching a glimpse of his expression before they failed her. She couldn’t stop the snort that escaped her bloodied lips.

He looked so frantic, as if the world was ending.

She looked blindly for his arm, and clutched it firmly− as firmly as she could with her fading consciousness. She squeezed it once, murmuring another “save her,” before she knew no more.

 

 

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Author’s note:

Writing fight scenes is hard (cries in a corner).

I also changed the name for one of the special skills to Heaven's wrath.

Thanks for reading! :)

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