The royal agore was built ontop of the mountains themselves. The agore signified the strength of the Maztica empire. To reach the agore, one would need to be as fearless and willing as the gods, only when one surpasses the gods themselves in their fearlessness and will can they be admitted. At least, this is the case in times of peace. In times of war, such as the one happening currently, the agore becomes a different kind of beast. The agore, in times of war, embodies the concept of death and perseverance. The training? Much too cruel. The training is so cruel that many beg for the sweet release of death, and most kill themselves before completing it… Alhough the agore has training that may make you beg for death, that is not the most important aspect of the agore. The most important aspect is in actuality, the concept of perseverance. As long as you do not give up. As long as you crush all challenge. As long as you push fowards no matter how many times you fall… As long as you do this. All will be fine, and you will be sure to become one of the strongest in the world.
And so, we come to the challenge before even stepping foot in the agore. The path of no return. It is known by many names, but it’s most famed one is ‘the royal road’. The royal road is a road that has seen it all. It has seen bloodshed, it has seen future emperors and kings. It has seen the greatest of commanders. And this, this is why the royal road is known as the path of no return. In the world of Qotal, tradition and honor are respected. But what’s even more respected is power. And power is something that all who step in the royal road achieve. And thus with that power, the tradition and expectation of the next generation following in the foot steps of the previous comes. And they most often than not become greater than the previous generation. It is this that gives honor to the royal road. It is this expectation, that all who step on the road must honor the previous generation by becoming greater and achieving more power than those who came before them.
“Filth.” The general screamed at them “You are all here to become soldiers for the royal army. Be honoured” the general expecting a shout of indignation paused, “This is your first challenge. Iam sure many of you can see that building atop the mountain.” The general gestured towards the agore. “You have one goal and that is to step inside the agore.” The general looked at them one last time before smirking. “Good luck. May the gods be with you… Now go.” Some of the boys needed not to be told twice, as they instantly rushed inside the royal road.
The royal road, is also known by another name, the last respite. This is because although the mountains the agore is built on looks like their near, it is much further than one might think. The agore is built on an island, although you may not realise that when your at the last respite. The island its built on is known as the isle of the damned. The isle of the damned has many names, some simply call it hell on earth, others call it a damned desolation, however it’s most common name is simply known as the agore. This is because only those who’ve been there know that it’s an island and so the populace do not know it’s true name and simply call it the agore.
The isle of the damned is a sinister and enigmatic locale, a place shrouded in darkness and mystery. This island, nestled far away in the heart of a desolate and tempestuous sea, embodies an eerie beauty that is both captivating and terrifying. The island is a jagged jewel, an irregularly shaped landmass formed by centuries of volcanic activity. Its black, rocky coastline is a stark contrast to the pale, foaming waves that relentlessly crash against it. Towering cliffs, with ominous, shadowy caves hidden beneath, guard the island's secrets. Rugged, uneven terrain stretches inland, offering only the most daring a treacherous path forward. The place known as hell on earth boasts a grotesque array of otherworldly plant life, each more sinister than the last. Vines with thorns as long as daggers wind around gnarled trees, while carnivorous flowers with petals like bloodstained knives await unsuspecting prey. The island's fauna is equally fearsome, with venomous serpents and razor-toothed creatures lurking in the shadows, forever hungry for fresh victims. The isle is perpetually shrouded by a blanket of mist, which obscures the sun and casts a twilight light upon the island. Not only is the island perpetually shrouded by mist, the air is heavy with an inexplicable aura, a palpable sense of foreboding that chills the bones of even the bravest souls. Unexplained lights flicker in the night sky, and eerie, melodic whispers seem to emanate from the very earth.
The guard frowned, “Well? What are you all waiting for?” His stern and commanding voice brought the few boys that stayed behind back to reality - a reality where the general decided to have his fun. “Boy.” The general ordered as he picked the weakest looking of the bunch. “You look like you need some motivation.” Moloch could hear the generals smugness in his voice, and moloch’s heart audibly beat loud enough to hear as fear seized him “See that?” The guard gestured to a nearby encampment where soldiers were training wolves to be used for war. The encampment was a short minutes walk away, and while he was talking the general ordered a soldier to bring back a pair of wolves. “These wolves haven’t eaten in 2 weeks.” The guard clipped a big piece of steak onto moloch’s back. “They’re docile around the soldiers. We’ll give you 15 seconds so all of you should run.”
Moloch ran for his life, his heart racing, and panic surging through his veins as the General issued the command, "You have 15 seconds, boy, starting now!" The seconds ticked away, each one feeling like a cruel, fleeting breath of life. The meat pressed tightly against Moloch's back, and he could feel the cold sweat trickling down his spine. He sprinted with all the desperation of a cornered animal, his breaths coming in ragged gasps. With every step, he could hear the hounds' frenzied anticipation growing closer. Their barks were sharp, piercing through the night air like a chorus of demons. Moloch pushed himself harder, running as if his very life depended on it, which, in this moment, it did. The count reached ten seconds, and Moloch's legs burned with agony. He could practically feel the hot breath of the pursuing beasts on his heels. Fear and adrenaline coursed through his veins, urging him to go faster.
Thirteen seconds.
Fourteen seconds.
Just as he approached the brink of despair, the 15-second mark arrived, and the night was shattered by the thunderous release of the hounds. Snarling and barking, they surged forward like a tidal wave of fury.
Moloch’s heart skipped a beat, and he threw himself forward, his body propelled by sheer terror and the instinct to survive. The meat on his back was now a burden, a ticking clock that threatened to be his undoing. The hounds were almost upon him, their growls growing louder, their hot breath brushing against his heels. Moloch's heart pounded like a relentless drumbeat as he found himself pursued by the hounds, the meat securely tied to his back beyond his reach. The cruel challenge before him left no room for convenient escape, no weapons, and no mercy. The rocky path of the royal road stretched ahead, its daunting length seeming impossibly far from the distant agore atop the mountains. Moloch knew that to survive this chase, he needed more than just physical prowess—he needed cunning, ruthlessness, and a willingness to make dark choices. As he ran, Moloch's mind raced, scanning his surroundings for any advantage. His fellow prisoners, desperate to survive, sprinted alongside him. He realized that in this dire situation, he had to be both a predator and a survivor. The hounds closed in, their frenzied hunger propelling them forward. Moloch's heart ached with fear, but he couldn't let that paralyze him. He needed to exploit every opportunity, no matter how ruthless it might seem. In a cruel twist of fate, Moloch spotted a young boy, one of his fellow prisoners, who had fallen behind, struggling to keep pace. The desperation in the boy's eyes mirrored Moloch's own fear, but there was no room for sentiment in this merciless race. With a ruthless calculation, Moloch subtly tripped the boy, causing him to stumble and fall. The hounds, their instincts honed by hunger, swarmed the fallen boy in a frenzy of snarls and teeth. It was a gruesome sight, but Moloch knew that in this unforgiving race, every second counted. As he sprinted past the gruesome scene, guilt and remorse clawed at Moloch's conscience, but he couldn't afford to look back. He couldn't afford to be caught by the hounds or slowed by his own emotions. Moloch continued to push forward, his heart heavy with the knowledge of the dark choice he had made. He understood that in this brutal world, survival often required ruthless actions, even if it meant sacrificing others.
The isle of the damned, with its eerie beauty and ominous atmosphere, bore witness to the grim chase. Moloch's cunning and ruthlessness had secured his position at the front of the pack, but the cost of his actions weighed heavily on his soul.
In the end, he had survived, but his victory was a bitter one, tainted by the sacrifice of his fellow prisoner. As the hounds chased them, their snarling barks filled the air. Moloch felt a shiver run down his spine, and a deep sense of unease settled in his stomach. This place was not a kind place. Moloch had a feeling that his trials were only just beginning. The guard watched the pack of boys, his eyes cold and calculating. He saw the boy trip over another, and then the dogs went wild. The guards were silent. They had done this before, and they knew what to expect. The boy's screams were muffled, but they echoed through the isle. The dogs were vicious, and they tore the boy apart. It was a gruesome sight, but it was also a reminder. They were prisoners, and they were lucky to be alive. The boys kept running. The dogs were still chasing them, and they needed to get to the agore as fast as possible. Moloch looked back at the other boy. His face was white and his eyes were wide. He was clearly in shock. Moloch wanted to reach out and help him, but he knew that there was nothing he could do. The other boy was going to die, and he was going to have to watch. The dogs were getting closer, and the boy was getting slower. Moloch could see the dogs' saliva dripping from their mouths, and he knew that they were hungry.
The other boy stumbled, and the dogs were on him in an instant. Their teeth sank into his flesh, and his screams filled the air. It was a horrible sight, but Moloch couldn't look away. He had to keep running, or he would be next. He had never seen anything like it, and he had never heard screams like that. It was a sound that would haunt him for the rest of his life. Moloch and the others continued to run, but the screams were still echoing in their ears. They had to keep going, or they would end up like the other boy.
They ran as fast as they could, but the dogs were relentless. They chased moloch until he could no longer run, and then in desperation, Moloch grabbed a rock and hurled it at the dogs. The rock hit the first dog right in the head, and it’s legs quivered from the weight of the rock. The other dogs slowed for a moment, but then they continued their pursuit. Moloch tried again, this time throwing two rocks. One hit the second dog in the shoulder, and the other one hit the third dog in the leg. But the rocks didn't stop the dogs. They kept coming, and they were getting closer. Moloch was out of rocks, and he didn't have any other weapons. He was trapped, and he was going to be killed. But then, something miraculous happend, moloch stumbled, his foot turning sideways as his centre of mass made him fall, and at that very moment, Zeck appeared, a rock in hand. With the force of his entire weight, he smashed the rock onto the skull of one of the dogs, and the dog instantly died. The other two dogs stopped their pursuit, and instead attacked Zeck, their jaws snapping as they tried to get a piece of him. But, Zeck was too quick. He dodged their attacks, and used their momentum against them. Moloch was in awe, but he couldn't waste time. He quickly got back on his feet, his blood boiling, he felt greater than ever, being saved. He was on the brink of despair when he was saved. His heart was louder than ever, becoming audible to Zeck and the wolves. His blood pressure was rising, his muscles felt as if they had doubled in size, and his skin looked as if it was blood red. In his rage, he charged at the wolves, and without a weapon, he grabbed a rock and rushed at a wolf, throwing his body on top of it. The wolf landed on the ground, its ribs cracked. Moloch started swinging the rock. Moloch didn't stop, and he kept swinging the wolf’s head, until the wolf was a bloody mess, the wolf’s nose was cracked and its teeth had been smashed out, resulting in a thick scent of blood permeating the air. Moloch was set on swinging, even if the wolf’s skull was now bashed in. His mind had turned into a cloudy haze, as the voice of the child moloch had killed screamed. The voice was telling him to kill the wolves, to annihilate them. The voice wanted to see blood. It wanted blood and the wolfs death. Moloch lost himself in the rage, Zeck had long finished the other wolf off, but now Zeck was standing there, looking at Moloch, his face contorted in a mix of disgust and concern. Moloch had long lost control. He was lost in a world of rage.
This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.
Zeck could feel his pulse rising. He was concerned. He didn't know what was going on, but he could feel the anger and the rage emanating from Moloch. Zeck knew that Moloch was different. He could see the anger and the rage in Moloch's eyes. He could feel the hatred and the anger in Moloch's words. He could see the way that Moloch was looking at the wolf. Yet Zeck didn’t do anything. He watched in morbid fascination as moloch repeatedly bashed the wolfs head in. The sound of the impact between the wolfs skull and the stone shocked him out of the ‘trance’ he was in.
He pushed Zeck aside, and continued to swing the rock at the wolf's head. Zeck watched in horror as Moloch became more and more violent. He had never seen anything like it before. He didn't know what to do. He tried to reason with Moloch, but it was like talking to a brick wall. Moloch was lost in the rage, and nothing could bring him back. Zeck knew that he had to act fast. He had to stop Moloch before he did something he regretted.
With a sudden burst of strength, Zeck tackled Moloch, causing him to drop the rock. He wrapped his arms around Moloch's waist, trying to immobilize him. It was a struggle, but eventually, Zeck managed to get Moloch under control. He pinned him to the ground, holding him down until Moloch calmed down.
Moloch's breathing was heavy, and his eyes were filled with a mixture of anger and confusion. He didn't understand what had just happened, and he didn't know why he had lost control like that. Zeck looked at him with concern, and slowly released him from his grip. Moloch sat up, and looked at Zeck, his eyes filled with tears. "What happened?" Moloch asked, his voice shaking. "You lost control," Zeck replied softly. "You were in a trance of rage, and you attacked the wolf without mercy." Moloch looked at the wolf's body, and he felt sick to his stomach. He had never killed anything before, and he didn't know how to deal with the guilt and the shame he was feeling. "I'm sorry," Moloch whispered. "I didn't mean to lose control like that. I don't know what came over me." Zeck nodded, and put a hand on Moloch's shoulder. “It’s fine. You’re alright now kid.” Zeck pulled moloch up from the ground, “Let’s get out of here.” He said as they started walking.
Moloch followed Zeck, still feeling a mix of emotions. He was grateful to Zeck for saving his life, but he was also ashamed of what he had done to the wolf. He didn't know how he was going to live with the guilt. They walked in silence for a while, the only sound being the crunching of leaves beneath their feet. Moloch was lost in thought, trying to make sense of what had just happened.
Finally, Zeck broke the silence. "You're not the only one who's lost control like that," he said softly. "Sometimes, when we're faced with extreme situations, our minds can play tricks on us. We can lose control, and do things that we never thought we were capable of." Moloch looked at Zeck, and saw a glimmer of understanding in his eyes. He felt a pang of relief knowing that he wasn't alone in his experience.
Zeck continued, "What you did to that wolf was brutal, but it was also a matter of survival. You had to do what you had to do to protect yourself. It's not something to be proud of, but it's also not something to be ashamed of. You did what you had to do, and that's all that matters in the end."
Moloch nodded, feeling a bit better knowing that Zeck understood. They continued walking, and after a while, they came across a small stream. Zeck knelt down and drank from the stream, and Moloch followed suit. The cool water was refreshing, and it felt good to wash the blood off their faces and hands. They sat by the stream for a while, enjoying the quiet serenity of the forest.
Eventually, Zeck stood up and motioned for Moloch to follow. "Come on, kid. We've got a lot of ground to cover before nightfall." Moloch nodded, and stood up, feeling a sense of purpose. He knew that he had a long journey ahead of him, and that there would be many more challenges along the way. But he also knew that he wasn't alone. He had Zeck by his side, and together, they would face whatever came their way.
As they continued their journey, the sun began to set, casting a golden-orange glow across the forest. The trees were bathed in a warm light, and the air was filled with the sounds of birds and insects. Moloch felt a sense of peace wash over him, and he smiled for the first time in what felt like ages. Zeck noticed the change in Moloch's demeanor and smiled too. "You're starting to understand," he said. "This world is beautiful, but it's also dangerous. You have to learn to appreciate the good moments, because they won't last forever."
Moloch nodded, feeling grateful for Zeck's words of wisdom. They walked in silence for a while, enjoying the beauty of the forest. They walked quickly, making way to reach the isle of the damned. As they trekked through the forest, they made way to the mountainside, where they would begin their ascent. The climb was steep and treacherous, but Moloch and Zeck were determined to make it to the top.
As they climbed higher and higher, the air grew thinner, and the wind grew stronger. Moloch's muscles burned, and his breath came in short gasps. But he didn't give up. He pushed himself harder, determined to make it to the top. Zeck was right beside him, encouraging him every step of the way.
Finally, after what felt like hours of climbing, they reached the summit. Moloch collapsed to the ground, gasping for air, but feeling a sense of accomplishment. Zeck helped him up, and they looked out at the breathtaking view before them.
The sun was setting, casting a warm glow over the land. The mountains stretched out before them, their peaks bathed in golden light. Moloch could see for miles, and he felt a sense of awe and wonder fill him. He could see a chasm, signifying the boundary between hell on earth and the royal road. The chasm was deep and wide and there was no way across it. Moloch looked at Zeck, feeling a sense of desperation. “How are we supposed to get across?” He asked. Zeck smiled, as he answered in a single word, “faith.” Moloch looked at Zeck, feeling a sense of confusion. He wasn’t sure what Zeck meant by faith, but he trusted him. “We have to cross the chasm but there’s no bridge, no rope and no way across. The only thing we can do is have faith.” Moloch stared dumbly at Zeck, still questioning what he meant. But Zeck simply took his hand, and led him to the edge of the chasm. "We're going to jump," he said. Moloch's eyes widened in fear. "Jump? Are you crazy? We'll fall to our deaths!" But Zeck just smiled. "Not if you have faith," he said.
Without warning, Zeck took a running leap off the edge of the chasm, pulling Moloch along with him. Moloch screamed in terror as they plummeted down, his eyes closed. They fell for what seemed like millennia yet it was truly only a few seconds. And then they reached the bottom, landing safely on a cliff.
Moloch saw nothing but a blur as the earth rushed toward them. The air burst into a cyclone that pulled them forward at an incredible speed. It pushed them downward, making the ground come to them as if they were being sucked to the center of the world. Moloch heard the sound of wind whistling through the trees above him. Moloch heard the wind howl as it whipped around him. It felt like a tornado, with the force of a hurricane. His hair felt like it was being pulled at by twenty people at once, trying to rip it off his head. The air was filled with the smell of autumn in the forest, something like the smell of fresh cut wood mixed with salty ocean air. The earth smelled like a fresh rain, the dust a hint of smoke as if something was lit on fire. Moloch fell through the air, the wind whipping around him, and the smell of rust and dust. He fell through the air with his eyes closed, not wanting. Moloch's hands were shaking as he touched the ground; he was still in shock from the jump. The chasm was a rocky surface, but smooth. Moloch felt no pain, only a cushioned landing. Zeck and Moloch were safely standing on the ground of the cliff they had jumped from. They had made it across the ravine.
Rubble and rock covered the bottom of the chasm. It was as though the mountains had collapsed in on themselves. They stopped, taking a moment to just breathe until moloch started laughing and exclaiming that they did it. Zeck laughed along with moloch for a while until they took enough time. They then went off to climb the mountains. The final challenge to reach the agore.
The island is considered to be "Hell on Earth," burning with fire all year round due to volcanoes. This volcanic activity makes the entire ground always hot. The earth burns like the sun which is enough to burn and likely scar the feet, unyielding year-round. A rain of fire that corrodes the skin falls on the island, making it nearly impossible for anyone to survive there for long. But Zeck and Moloch were not deterred. They were determined to reach Agore, no matter what it took.
They climbed the mountains, their feet burning from the scorching hot ground. The rain of fire was relentless, but they pressed on, refusing to give up. Moloch's skin felt like it was on fire, and he wondered how much longer he could hold on. But then he looked at Zeck, and he saw the determination in his eyes. He knew that they would make it, no matter what. Finally, they reached the top of the mountain. They looked out at the island before them, and it was as they had been told. The island was a sea of fire and smoke, with no sign of life anywhere. But in the distance, they could see a castle, looming in the distance. It was Agore, the place they had been searching for. Zeck and Moloch ran down the mountain they were on, their feet scalding hot and they clothes sticking to them as if they were rags. Down the mountain was grass. Although it was grass this grass was special. It was able to grow in a place known as hell on earth. The grass was known as spear grass. Moloch and Zeck walked down. Their feet were about to step on the grass and when it did, the grass pierced their skin with its sharp blades. Zeck, because he was richer was wearing sandals and so the grass didn’t penetrate his feet. Molach however, had always been destitute and living in squalid. He let out a silent cry of pain as the grass ripped open his feet. This shocked Zeck, as he quickly turned to look at moloch, “what happened ?” Zeck asked as moloch grit his teeth and pointed to his feet. They were ripped open as the grass appeared out of them. It was bloody all over and what made it worse was the scalding hot ground. Moloch grit his teeth and pulled his feet out of this blade of grass. His muscles quivered, and his bones burned, yet he didn’t give up. Moloch slowly, but surely made his way to the mountain where the agore was atop. Followed by Zeck encouraging him, moloch limped slowly towards the base of the mountain, almost crying out in relief that he didn’t need to touch the grass again. Although the grass was a terrible challenge, the mountain was worse. With his feet burning, broken and bruised, moloch kept going. As if he was a zombie he trudged ahead, dragging himself fowards, all that mattered was reaching the agore by nightfall.
After hours and hours of hard labour, hard work and an excruciating journey through the mountain and its steepness moloch finally reached the peak. It was then that he could see it. The agore. A veritable fortress of knowledge and power. This. Moloch realised that this was the true might of the Maztica empire. The fortress was beautiful. It was elegant, with great attention paid to the details of its construction. It stood majestic amongst all the mountains. He could see it clearly: the beautiful stonework of the agore’s walls, the tall windows and arches, the turrets and outposts. Not to mention the towers and the roof. It was stunning he thought. Atleast until his eyes swerved onto a statue of Baal. The warrior god king. It must have been around 10 metres tall, it was imposing and impressive. The god had a fierce look to him, his jaw clenched, brows furrowed, a slight frown on his face, yet what shocked moloch was his eyes. They seemed so real. It was a storm in his eye and when moloch moved it seemed as if the eyes too moved. Yet when moloch looked back at the god his eyes were made of marble, much like the rest of the statue including his body. He had a well defined, lean body. He had a toned chest, strong arms and powerful legs. In his opinion, that was how a king should be. He should be fighting with his soldiers on the battlefield, and the statue simply holstered moloch’s determination to complete the vow he took.