It started as a sword fight...
Giants same size the monsters – a fair fight... swords piercing through flesh, gnashing of teeth, armours clunking with aggression as they clashed in full force, heads sliced off, bodies dropping lifelessly, roars of both giant and beast...
Each strong man for a strong beast...
At the centre of all these, there he was. Valentine, surrounded by more than tens of mighty men with the strongest weapon of them all in his grip... Unguis Draconis – The legendary weapon of the Captain of Astheimoth. A weapon, when in full potential, grows bigger both in size and height compared to the seeker.
Upon activation, it glows in the darkest shade of blue. Most likely blue flames – this only happens when it is held by Valentine. Its steel was made with the scales and blood of a draçon... Created to taste blood and for destruction.
The most dangerous weapon in existence, yet it had never been exploited to its full potential.
Now, although Valentine activated the strongest weapon during his awakening as a seeker, he hadn't done the one thing every member of this bloodline does.
Soul-binding.
Once a seeker binds his soul with his weapon of destruction, he becomes one with his curse and births forth abilities from his desires/emotions, which could only be done through his blood. The moment a seeker bleeds, it meant a cry for help and his weapon comes through... That's how the bond happens.
Usually, seekers have unmatched speed but the moment you bond with your weapon, you become a hundred times faster, and stronger. No different than an immortal. You'd activate new skills in the process, depending on the strength of your weapon.
Still, there were consequences after bonding.
That was the one thing he never wanted. Not because he couldn't, but because he was terrified of the destruction he would cause the moment he let go of all the emotions he struggled to bury. From the slaughter of his entire family to the public execution of his father, beheaded right before his very eyes. He wished he died that day with them.
The only reason he was still alive was because he was a late bloomer. His curse only broke out when he was bedridden and at the point of death.
Just when he had given up, when he thought it was over, from the core of both his palms, his flames erupted, mouthing unreasonable words which sounded like chants, even though his eyes remained closed. He summoned his weapon from the depths of the earth, right in that state, unknown to him.
All the pain, all the traumatic sights he had to behold, all the long days full of lies, full of discrimination and loneliness, his every determination, his daily battles with the demons in his head, everything he gritted his teeth to accomplish... Every damn thing crafted the strongest seeker alive.
As he countered their swords, he vanished into thin air, becoming completely invisible like a flickering lightsaber, only making his presence known with the glow of his sword on the necks of his beasts... Yeah, he was that fast.
They dropped like flies around him.
His armies, strong and mighty men, and their captain, a master of sword and strategy.
They were conquerors in any battle they ventured, seizing victory on its neck with everything in them.
In the blink of an eye, they had almost covered the entire battlefield with bodies of their enemies and not much harm on his men.
Let's get this over with. He thought, taking out the rest on the field with very little effort.
In silent huffs, Valentine scoffed, turning his eyes back to his men in disbelief.
What was that?
Could it be this easy?
Was that it?
This was supposed to be his last battle, and if anything, battles waged against Astheimoth were never easy. It was battle to the death.
... It was never this easy.
This couldn't be the end of it... Something in his gut told him so.
Everything felt off. As though they had just been warmed up for something bigger, even though he still couldn't wrap his head around what it was... What this was.
His armies had already begun chanting in victory, his second in command, Zeroth, raised the victory horn, blowing to the skies in proclamation that the battle was over as the others followed suit, taking off their head armours.
Yet, Val remained standing with his sword still in his grip. His eyes remained in the dark... It just didn't feel right.
"Captain!" Zeroth's excitement was written all over his voice. "Another victory to Astheimoth! Let us return and merry to our win!"
"YEAH!!!" The others responded, concurring with his words as they filled the air with deep laughter of joy.
Val, on the other hand, remained silent still. Maybe he was just being paranoid. Maybe it was really over, and they had really won.
This was his last battle with his brothers, and if anything, he should be happy that they all stayed alive to celebrate his retirement.
He couldn't wait to get back to Astheimoth... He couldn't wait to see his son. He could finally settle for a normal life with his Angel, and his little Johan, his three-year-old son.
He could finally live freely with them without having to hide them from enemies and could finally give them the life they'd always wanted – to live in a spacious house with a lovely garden and a stable.
They'd live far away from town...
He could teach Johan some defence skills, and they could finally build that wheel horse he'd always talked about. He would be there for his birthdays and never give an excuse for the rest of his life. They'd never have a reason to worry ever again because he won't ever have to leave them all alone and unprotected.
With a slight nod, he breathed out in relief, giving his brothers a go-ahead to celebrate. He took his eyes away for a brief moment as they turned to go.
And just then, it happened.
In their moment of celebration, when they had let their guards down, the shift occurred, unknown to them.
A little stir in the atmosphere.
The chills crept up Val's skin as the cold breeze passed over him, causing him to pause in his steps.
His brothers still marched forward away from the battlefield, oblivious that he had stopped behind, well, until Zeroth realised and turned back to see their Captain staring into the darkness in silence, as though observing.
"Captain, don't tell me you already regret retirement... What? You can't do without your little bloodbath?" Zeroth joked and his entire brothers bursted into laughter.
"Aww, poor Cap, haha".
Instantly, Val cut them off. "Shh". Trying to listen as he kept staring into the darkness at nothing at all, causing the rest to swallow back their mockery in an unserious way.
Something was moving in the dark... As though swirling. He could feel it, yet he couldn't see it!
What was this feeling? This smell?
Suddenly, it began rushing towards the captain in an invisible order, pausing halfway in a challenge, diverting his attention from the main course.
Why did it resemble... Val furrowed, wrapping his gloved palms around Unguis Draconis, waiting...
A puff in the air was all it took to align the suspicions of the Captain. A red plough thrown from absolutely nowhere to the centre of the sky before exploding massively, spreading around the entire battlefield, leaving sprinkles of red dust.
... Dark magic.
That was all it took.
"What is this?" Langman, who stood beside Zeroth, questioned as they all stared in confusion. Another beside him muttered. "Looks like dust..."
And those were his last words.
It felt like a dream...
Because it didn't even take a single second, he slumped coldly with both eyes open wide. The giant took his last breath.
His brothers around him tried to check up on him, but as they gathered around to check on him, another followed after him, and the next one after that, then two more, by the left and right were no more... Giants dropping like flies.
Zeroth, terrified and in utter shock, yelled at the top of his voice, mouthing the direct words of his captain, "FALL BACK!!!!"
Still, it was way too late. They had already absorbed the dust of death, crafted solely by none other than one entity.
who?
With every step they took, the death dust sucked their souls, leaving their hefty bodies dropping with thuds... every giant on that field attaining enlightenment one after another.
"NO!!!!" Val yelled at the top of his voice, dodging the bodies of his brothers as they fell, "FALL BACK!!" with fright in his eyes.
What was this?
What sort of sorcery was this?
What sort of forces were taking his armies without indulging in a fair fight? They were all dying... One by one, the entire battlefield was covered with the bodies of his brothers.
"REVEAL YOURSELF!!!"
Val yelled at the top of his voice, striking out Unguis Draconis in the air. But what exactly was he fighting when he couldn't even tell what or who he waged war against? He just kept pointing at nothing in particular as he moved in circles towards every direction like a useless, tactless fool given a worthless tool where it couldn't be of any use.
This had never happened to him before.
Still, it didn't stop his armies from dying. Right before his eyes, thousands were down to hundreds, and hundreds down to two, Langman and Zeroth, just like that!
The two who stood back to back with their swords in their grip, waiting in defence with terror in their eyes.
They were terrified.
Zeroth's left arm clung to his standing brother as he sought to give him courage. If anything, he wanted to walk out of this alive.
There was no way this dark place would be the end of him.
"We're going to drink to stupor after this". He managed, pushing words past the trembling in his gut.
"Hah... Yeah". Langman replied. "Maybe find a wife too while we're at it. Never got the chance to...".
This was their biggest regret in the face of death. They had been so busy fighting for the kingdom that they forgot to build a life for themselves.
"Haha, got someone in mind?" Zeroth questioned, waiting for his brother's response, but Langman remained quiet, making him even more curious. "No need to be ashamed, I totally understand..."
Usually, Langman wasn't the talkative one, but seeing that he was the one engaging said a lot about his emotions. For all he knew, this could be their last conversation, so he had every right to be this way.
Still, something felt off. A certain weight was pulling him down.
But it wasn't from him, though. No...
It came from his arm, which clung to his brother's armour. It was pulling him. "What are you doing?"
Zeroth asked, but Langman remained quiet. The kind of quiet that was unsettling and frightening. It was then that his fingers began to tremble.
Not from the sudden chill that filled the air, no. From fear...
All his bravery and courage completely dissipated into thin air.
He had also lost his voice at this point, but only found out when he parted his lips to call his brother's name...
It came out in whispers.
"...Lang?"
No response...
Zeroth's knees instantly buckled from shock.
His fears were beginning to cloud his thoughts. But worst of all, he was scared of them being true. His heart was already aching from his assumption.
Slowly, he cocked his neck, moving hesitantly to at least take a glance at his brother whom he called out to, but just as he tried to, he heard to clank of his brother's sword met with the ground before the lifeless body of Langman dropped palely, eyes wide open, damp hands still clinging up... Tied to Zeroth's arm.
... He died standing.
His skin turned blue as though he was deprived of air... or strangled with it.
Zeroth was unable to stop the tears. It kept rolling down his face as he fell to his knees, sobbing nonstop.
His heart ached as he screamed at the top of his lungs, alarming Val, who looked soulless as he watched silently.
He was completely out of it. His entire army lay lifeless on the battlefield, down to just one. His second in command.
A man who had never lost a single battle in his life and had always returned home with every one of his soldiers intact, watched everyone fall right in front of his eyes, yet he couldn't do anything.
Like a dream, everyone was dead.
Both the captain and his assistant were heartbroken. One on his knees and in tears, while the other stood completely speechless.
And then in that moment, when everywhere reeked of death and grief, carrying an air with no hope of life, the atmosphere adjusted to accompany his presence.
The one responsible for all this strolled through the slit portal with his armies.
Mundus