Written by: Chris Chret © 2026
Outside the cities, far from the roads known to the law, a large group of people was moving.
They carried no banners.
They left no tracks.
They moved like a shadow across the land — heading toward something, or fleeing from something.
No one spoke of the final destination.
Bandits, smugglers, killers, people with nothing left to lose — a mass of shadows moving like a single organism. Criminals, fugitives, people with nowhere to return to. Metal clinked, voices whispered, and the air smelled of blood that had not yet been spilled.
Lorian was separated from the main group.
With him — the wolf.
Large, black, with light blue eyes that constantly scanned the darkness. It moved silently, as if it were part of the night.
Lorian did not speak.
He knew that something was moving.
Something big.
And that something bad was going to happen.
Lorian did not know why they were going there — only that the path had finally begun to lead them toward something greater than an ordinary raid.
The colosseum was loud.
But Edric was alone.
The people respected him.
They knew his name.
They knew his past.
But respect does not mean love.
Three men approached him.
Leaders.
Strong.
Accustomed to others stepping aside for them.
"Hey," one of them said with a smile. "Now you're alone. What will you do without your little group?"
Edric did not react.
They shoved him with a shoulder.
He remained calm.
"Do you hear us?" the other continued. "You're nothing special. You were just lucky. If you're the only survivor — that doesn't mean you're strong. It means the others were weak."
Edric stopped.
Slowly, he straightened.
His voice was cold.
"If you mention my friends one more time," he said, "you'll reach them much faster than you think."
He turned to leave.
But a voice sounded behind him:
"Your friends won't save you. They're all weak. And dead."
Something snapped inside Edric.
He turned.
He charged.
He slammed the man into the wall and began punching him — without pause, without thought. The other two tried to pull him away, but they couldn't.
Edric grabbed him by the neck.
He strangled him.
Foam began to spill from the man's mouth.
He released him.
The man fell to his knees.
For a moment, faces that no longer existed flashed before Edric's eyes.
Smiles covered in blood.
Voices that once called him by name.
The hands of his friends, fallen in the dust.
If I let their words live —
then my friends die once more.
He grabbed the man's head.
One sharp motion.
The neck snapped.
The other two were in shock.
They started running.
But for one of them, it was too late.
Edric caught him, slammed him to the ground, and with his bare hands — with his thumbs — tore out his eyes.
Blood.
A scream.
Silence.
The man died instantly.
The space around them fell silent.
Some turned away.
Others stepped back.
No one tried to help.
Fear was louder than pain.
The last one escaped.
People watched.
With fear.
And with respect.
Because Edric was a man who killed for his dead.
The guards entered.
They threw him to the ground.
They beat him.
"I'll finish it," Edric roared. "I'll avenge them all!"
Ragna was there.
She saw the man who was running.
She stopped him.
She held him.
At the same moment, Rovan approached one of the guards and discreetly stole his knife.
Ragna waited.
The guards beat Edric, warned him, and left.
In that same moment —
Ragna attacked the man.
She did not hesitate.
If he stays alive — he will talk.
If he talks — he will betray us.
She had only just met Edric,
but she knew one thing — he was not a beast.
And they…
they trampled the dead.
Rovan emerged from the shadows and stabbed the knife into the man's kidneys multiple times.
Ragna held his mouth shut.
They laid him on his side.
As if he were sleeping.
At that moment — the doors opened.
They froze.
Rovan immediately hid the knife.
But they did not come for them.
The guards brought another prisoner.
A man from a special prison.
Silent.
Isolated.
Angry.
When they left, Edric stepped forward.
He gathered the slaves.
"We'll try to escape," he said. "Or we'll die trying."
They all looked at him.
They wanted him to lead them.
One slave said:
"I have a friend — a knight. He can help us."
Edric nodded.
"There's a fight tomorrow. When we go out — arrange for him to open the gates. Start the attack from the inside. We'll create chaos."
The prisoner spoke for the first time.
"I'll watch your backs until you get out. After that — I'm free."
"I'm not doing this for you," he said quietly.
"I'm doing it to be free.
And to finally begin my revenge."
"Agreed," Edric said.
Ragna approached him.
"Who are you?"
He looked at her.
"I am the discarded brother of the King of Skeldor. My name is Vaelric Frostborne. I was a slave to Zahir for seventeen years."
His eyes burned.
Silence.
Not an ordinary silence — but one that weighed on the chest.
One of the slaves unconsciously took a step back.
Another lowered his head, as if he had heard a name that should not be spoken.
In the kingdom, it was said that his brother had renounced him.
That he disappeared.
That he had been executed… or worse — erased from history.
The name Vaelric Frostborne was a legend.
A curse.
A rumor everyone believed was dead.
And now — he stood before them.
Alive.
Broken.
And full of rage.
"When I get out — I will take revenge on both kingdoms."
"Come with us," Ragna said. "We also want to bring down Ashkar."
Vaelric remained silent.
"I'll think about it."
Edric stepped away from the others and approached Rovan.
He grabbed his head with both hands and pulled him closer.
His gaze was heavy, but sincere.
"Thank you," he said. "For the help… and for avenging my friends."
Rovan only shrugged.
"You're welcome," he replied indifferently.
"I like killing people who trample the dead and humiliate them.
They died in battle. That deserves respect."
Edric looked at him longer.
"How old are you?"
"Thirteen," Rovan answered without hesitation.
Something broke in Edric's chest.
"I had a brother," he said quietly. "A little younger than you.
Tomorrow… be careful."
Rovan smiled.
Not childlike — but dangerous.
"I'm thirsty for battle," he said.
"And for blood."
The next day — the colosseum exploded.
Before the gates opened, a silence ruled the colosseum that did not belong there.
The diversion began.
King Kael sensed that something was wrong.
So did Varyn.
And Iskra.
They gathered the knights quietly.
The gates opened.
Edric moved forward.
Behind him — Vaelric.
Shoulder to shoulder.
Knights fell.
Blood flowed.
They broke through outside.
But there — even more knights.
And then —
From the shadows, the criminals appeared.
Lorian was with them.
They attacked.
Ashkar was once again in a battle it was losing.
Lorian saw the symbol of Ashkar fall into the mud.
Something inside him smiled.
This was not coincidence.
This was destiny that had finally begun to move.
They split.
Two groups.
Ragna led hers.
Edric — his.
"It's better this way," Ragna said. "So we can succeed."
Edric nodded.
They parted.
Vaelric went with Ragna.
And whispered:
"I am finally free…
Seventeen years of rage will bring Ashkar down.
And then… brother… I am coming for you, and the throne will be mine."
The throne was no longer a dream.
It was a debt.
End of Chapter 17