Kale
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Quadrant: Darna Quadrant
Government: Republic of Hekat
System: D-447
Planet: Ora
Location: Agora City, Facility beneath the Colosseum, Near Warden Akaria's office
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***
One hour ago
***
The blood of my enemies drips from my body as I walk towards Warden Akaria’s office, having slain every person along my way, carving a new path to her. The darkness swells in me like a storm, rising higher, clouding my vision. The outlines of the nine demons walk with me, as the darkness in my eyes swirls with the bioluminescence, I see flashes of the dead who linger in this realm. They have heard my call. Soon I will answer theirs. Their voices soft as a whisper upon my ears. The outer doors open, and I see before me a score of soldiers already dead.
One of them crawls, gasping for breath, clutching a wound on their chest that seared into their lung, missing their heart. I give them absolution as I move to the inner doors, a fresh trail of blood following behind me. In the reflection of the polished metal doors, I see myself, darkness crawling up my neck. My eyes darker than the night, the only light from the iris of each eye, they burn in defiance. The change will be soon, I can feel it, the ghosts I see are a testament to it.
The ghosts of the dead are becoming clearer to me now, their voices becoming more than a whisper as I parse their words.
The doors slide open, before me I see her, kneeling in blood. The traitor of my people… Akaria. Her back is to me, she clutches a lifeless body in her arms. Blades on the ground at her side. A plasma weapon’s barrel still steams a few feet from her.
She was the one to slay her retinue I realize, the one who denied my blades thirst. There can be no half measures, she knew of what the masters did, aided them in it. Allowed the defiling of our people. There can be no forgiveness this time, only blood can sate the pain in my heart.
She does not turn as I approach, she stares down at the one in her arms. As I draw closer, ready to slide my blades across her throat, my blades song pauses. My eyes blink, wishing away what they see in her arms. My feet move, taking me in front of Akaria to stare down at the girl in her arms. My knees slam to the floor once more as my heart breaks, not for myself but for the girl I know in her arms, and for my sworn brother Arrum.
In Akaria’s arms she holds the lifeless corpse of Isola, the girl who stole Arrum’s heart, the one he swore on his honor he would marry. The one he nearly died to protect from our city guards. My heart is shattering, knowing that he has lost her, and will soon lose me. The fates are too cruel. As I look upon Isola’s flesh, I see scars upon her exposed body, along her arms, leading under her clothes. Scars like Akaria has. How she must have suffered. She did not deserve such a fate.
Sekat the false gods.
“You offered to take my pain…” Akaria says finally, pushing her hand through Isola’s hair, tears streak down her face as she picks up a blade in her other hand, the hilt facing me now.
I grasp the blade, moving it towards her, she does not recoil or try to move as it pierces the flesh, a single drop of blood rolling down the blade’s edge. My hand stops as I see the souls of the dead moving closer, surrounding Akaria and I. They whisper things into my ears. Truths I do not wish to hear, truths that hold my blade from taking her life. From the still body of Isola, I begin to see a shimmer as her lingering soul rises from it. The blade driven into my heart twists as she places one hand upon Akaria, and the other upon me.
I feel warmth from her touch as though it is really there, she shakes her head at me with a smile. Her eyes tell me to forgive Akaria. The words of the dead speak of what she has done, they tell me she is worthy to carry their hopes. The blade falls to the ground.
“Can you hear them…” I ask her.
She looks up to me, taking in my eyes, hers widening as she sees them. She does not understand, confirming what I suspected. What I already knew. It feels like more than madness though. Something tells me these are the souls of my people, not my imagination.
“The dead that linger say you are forgiven, worthy to carry…” I begin but she interrupts.
“Liar!” she screams, her hair going askew, hanging over her eyes “Do not tell me of fairy tales. If you will not take my pain, then I will.”
She grasps the knife, bringing it to her throat. My hand grasps hers, ripping the knife from it, throwing it into the wall. Grabbing the back of her head, slamming our foreheads together, looking into her eyes so she will find meaning from my words.
“She says you gave her pills to quiet the pain, offered to free her from this place.”
Akaria looks at me, her eyes searching for truth.
“She would not leave…” my jaw flexes “Without Arrum.”
“How?” she breathes, her eyes know I tell her the truth, spoken from the lips of the dead.
“The same way I know you have saved thousands of children from the hells of this place… It is why I do not run you through, why my blade does not sing for you.”
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Her eyes flit back and forth in mine, measuring my words.
“The dead tell me you are worthy to carry their hopes.” I say, now rising to my feet.
She looks to me, taking in what I have said as she asks softly “What else do they say?”
“Juta.” I say in the old tongue of our people, extending my hand down to her.
She looks at it for a moment. Turning to Isola and placing her gently upon the floor with her arms crossed over her chest, as is the custom of our people. Her eyes turn back upwards at the hand I extend. Her jaw tenses as she feels the words spoken give rhythm inside her to make action. Her hand grasps mine. She rises up and meets my gaze.
“Then we shall give it to them.” She says, there is resolve in her, I can feel it now building as the words ignite the slumbering embers of hope in her.
In her hands I place hope in the form of a small metallic sphere. The same sphere that Kotina gave me before I arrived here.
“There is work to be done.”
***
Minutes before Present Time
***
My legs carry me, the demons whisper in my ear, telling me they come for me soon. The voices of the dead chant in unison now. Muffling the sound of the crowds of the Colosseum above.
Juta – Juta – Juta
It fills me with strength hearing their calls. In the old tongue Juta means – Justice. I will bring it for them, it is the only purpose I have left. The plan Akaria and I concocted will only work if I can cut off the head of the snake, my blade sings loudly for it.
I hear an ominous clicking noise coming from where my feet take me. My pace does not slow, even as my skin crawls from more than just the darkness. As the doors open, I see a container upon a lift. Inside I see a creature fastened to the walls with a thick metal alloy of some kind, coated in a thick clear plastic on the outside. To say it is hideous would not give it breath, it resembles what I imagine the inside of the masters soul to be. Grotesque mandibles click louder as I draw closer, it looks like a cockroach crossed with a man. It is vile. My blade slashes at its throat, but it does not pierce. My jaw flexes, how many of my people would this beast have killed.
Turning the plasma blades to maximum, I slowly carve the head from neck as its thick exoskeleton melts under the combined heat of the twin plasma blades. It’s beady red eyes lock onto me, it clicks lower and lower, I do not see fear in it’s eyes. It is anger that matches mine. The lift begins to rise upwards as I am halfway through it’s neck. It sputters, acid dripping to the floor from it’s thick green blood. The putrid aroma of it wafts upwards to me. The lift stops with a dull thud. I begin to hear from the sound system the voice of Marcus, the one whose tongue incites the crowds to cheer at the suffering of my people.
“Our Benevolent Governor Adonius has secured special dispensation from the Senate for the next challenge. Using his connections, yet another reason to vote Adonius for Governor.” Marcus says, wagging his tongue obediently for his master.
My eyes burn brighter as I hear the words from the snake begin to hiss it’s toxic lullaby.
“Please Marcus, these good people came for the games not politics. Let them enjoy what’s in store for them.” The soon to be former Governor Adonius says. The hiss from his words brings a savage snarl to my lips as my blade cries for his blood.
Yes, let them enjoy what is in store for them.
“So humble, truly a remarkable man.” Marcus’s tongue wags “Without further ado, I give to you the most fearsome predator in the galaxy!”
Marcus’s tongue speaks a rare truth as I step out into the light of day now, grasping the head of the creature, throwing it upon the sands. The crowd screams as they see me, the wrath comes from deep within as I look upon them. I see hundreds of my people upon the sands, their weapons dulled yet again. They were to be slaughtered here, without hope. The darkness swells in my throat amplifying my voice, making it distorted with the malice I welcome from it.
“You who would lay claim to my people, you have incurred the wrath of their blade made flesh.”
The dead chant louder to me, yelling over the murmurs of the crowd.
Jutarak – Jutarak – Jutarak
My eyes grow brighter as my heart becomes alit by their chant in the old tongue – The Bringer of Justice.
My people who still draw breath do not understand what is happening yet, I can see it in their faces. Among them I see one stepping forward slowly, their gait I could recognize in any lifetime. It is Arrum. The wrath rises higher as I see Isola’s soul travels behind him, chanting with the others souls. The dead all begin to point upwards to where the snake Adonius is upon his floating pod, high above, unreachable. Or so he thinks. Their chants are deafening.
“You who enslave and place boot to neck, I have come for your life.” I say, my blade now pointed at the snake.
My eyes move over to Akaria who stands near him on one of the floating pods, adorned with seats and protective shields high in the sky, in defiance of gravity. She told me it is where the upper class dwells, the ones who our blades sing the loudest for.
Her face ripples with a smile as she presses the device in her hand. A blast of energy erupts from it, the lights in the stadium go off, leaving it cloaked in the shadows the suns light casts. The energy field which protects the crowds ruptures. My plasma blades light fades, it does not matter though. Because I see the pod begins to rapidly descend from the air towards the sands below, encroaching on my domain.
“T’Akor!” I yell in the old tongue – We Rise. Imbued with the darkness it carries across the entire Colosseum, seeping into the bones of the masters who will soon know the blade of my people’s wrath.
I move with a swiftness towards the snake as my people take to the walls, climbing into the crowd, the metal soldiers stuck inside their suits turned coffins. The stands run red, the demons howl with laughter, save one, the one who spoke the words of my people follows close becoming my shadow. Their eyes fully open now, a spark of violet ripples in the crimson. I can feel their strength being pushed into me, hastening my legs as I close the gap.
The pods crash to the ground, shaking the sands, sending plumes of dust into the air. There are screams in every direction as the crowds try to flee, but cannot, for my people are upon them. Their massive metal doors hang closed, barring them from escaping the justice in my people's blades. From the tunnels more of my people begin coming, carrying with them the wrath of vengeance.
Akaria has succeeded in more than just bringing the snake to me. Perhaps the dead were right to entrust her with their hope. Perhaps I was right to listen to them.
As I approach the downed pod which the snake dwelled, the first I see amongst the wreckage is Marcus the announcer for the Grand Hunt. I pull him from the debris and slam him upon the ground on his back. He puts his hands over his face and squeals, begging for mercy which will not come from these hands forged for a singular purpose.
“You whose words bring about the suffering of my people, speak no more.” I say.
My fists smash into Marcus’s face again and again until he is choking on his teeth. Reaching into his mouth now, grabbing his flailing tongue, I pull with all of my might, the demon’s strength floods me as the tongue tears from his flesh. Leaving him gurgling upon his own blood, clawing at his face in a panic.
As the life leaves his eyes, mine turn for my next prey. I hear him before I see him.
“You dare!” Adonius yells “Father should have put you down years ago, feral…”
“You.” I say, my voice carrying to his ears.
He turns his head slowly, his eyes growing wide as he takes in the inferno of wrath that swell in mine. A smile forms upon my lips like the demon’s, in his eyes I see something primal… in his eyes I see fear.
“Hail Thy Gods.” I say, my voice distorted more than before, almost like the demon’s now “For I send you to meet them.”