Chapter 10 – Death

Suddenly, a profound silence descended upon Proxima Mortis, enveloping everything in a palpable, deep, and oppressive darkness. The light vanished completely, as if swallowed by an endless abyss, and those present were reduced to a state of total blindness.

The only sound they dared perceive was a mournful clinking, the slow dragging of chains against the ground. But that sound was not clear: it reverberated in the air, mingling with itself in a distorted echo, as if coming from every direction and from none at all. The minds of those present seemed to give way under the weight of that spectral melody. Their consciousnesses dulled, leaving everyone in a state akin to stupor, as if they were on the verge of falling into an eternal, dreamless sleep.

With every clink, another sound overlapped: heavy, metallic footsteps, an inescapable rhythm that made the ground vibrate. Every step was like a hammer strike on armor, cold and relentless. It was Death, advancing, a figure set in deep black, surrounded by an aura of absolute terror.

The forces had now abandoned Martyr. The warrior, once a figure of light and indomitable flames, was now reduced to his earthly form, kneeling on one knee. His body trembled, every muscle contracted in a desperate effort not to collapse entirely.

His breath was ragged, broken. The air around him had become acidic, a miasma that burned his lungs and caused excruciating pain with every attempt to inhale. Each breath felt like an invisible stab, a torment that seemed endless.

Martyr barely lifted his gaze, but his eyes, though blind in the darkness, perceived something: the presence of Death was drawing closer, the sound of chains and footsteps becoming ever more oppressive. Every fiber of his being screamed to resist, but even his indomitable will seemed to falter under the looming shadow of the dark Eden.

Proxima Mortis had sunk into a living nightmare, and its ruler was claiming the battlefield.

Hope seemed to have completely extinguished. Martyr, bent by fatigue, was kneeling on the ground, stripped of his powers, reduced to his earthly form. In front of him stood two Edens, figures of pure dominion and strength. Death watched the scene with disdain and confusion, while War, battered and injured, barely stood upright.

Death: (in a cold, sharp tone)

"What is happening here? Brother, have you gone mad? Why are you going to devastate my lands with this... creature? Are you perhaps retracting our alliance?"

War: (hoarsely, his face twisted with rage)

"You won’t believe me, but this little mud insect is the bastard who reduced me to this state. Don’t let him roam free, Death. He’s much more dangerous than he seems."

Death: (with a contemptuous smile)

"A terrestrial? And he’s the one who did this to you? Are you delirious? Since when do my lands harbor such absurdities?"

War: (shouting, exasperated)

"He’s not a terrestrial! He looks like one of them, but he’s not. If allowed to use his powers, he’s as strong as us... and he spits fire! Also, he’s not even made of mud."

Death: (slowly approaching Martyr, observing him with disdain)

"You, little beast... what are you really? How did you manage to reduce my brother like this? Look at how you tremble now, you seem so harmless I almost pity you."

Martyr: (lifting his gaze, with a provocative smile despite his disastrous condition)

"Let me use my strength freely, and I’ll show you. I’ll give you a demonstration: the same fate awaits you. You know, I thought you were the strong brother... but seeing you now, I’m changing my mind. Are you sure you can hold up those horns by yourself? Or do you need a hand?"

(with a mocking tone)

"Are you walking slowly for dramatic effect or is this really your top speed?"

War: (in a tense voice, trying to contain Death’s fury)

"Don’t fall for his tricks, my brother! He’s clever and just wants to make you angry so he can get the upper hand. Don’t let him provoke you."

Death: (with a sudden outburst of rage, raising his hand to silence War)

"Silence! Both of you, silence! I cannot tolerate such insults from such a ridiculous creature. Not even a thousand like you could scratch me!"

Martyr: (with a mocking grin, eyes fixed on Death)

"You talk... but you contradict yourself. Are you stupid? If you really think that, then free me from your grasp and try not to hurt yourself. Don’t worry, if you’re scared, I understand. After all, looking at your brother reduced like this, you’ve probably already figured out your fate. Maybe you’ve finally realized that you’re not unbeatable."

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War: (agitated, his voice trembling with emotion)

"Don’t listen to him! Don’t make the mistake of giving in to anger. Don’t let him act, not even for a moment!"

Death: (with an icy tone, his face darkening with fury)

"Too late, War. This fool has crossed every line. My rage is now unstoppable."

War: (with one last warning, voice full of frustration)

"Don’t underestimate him, Death! Every time he says the word ‘Forgiveness,’ he regenerates every single wound. I’ve killed him hundreds of times, dealt him countless fatal blows, yet none of them have worked."

Martyr: (slightly lifting his chin, the mocking smile still on his face)

"Ah, so now you’re listening to the words of that loser? Look at your legs shaking... You’re getting discouraged, aren’t you? It seems like you’re not as strong as you thought. What is it, does fear make you so clumsy?"

At that moment, Death completely lost his patience. With a glare full of rage, he decided to lift the power that was immobilizing Martyr, leaving him free to act. As soon as Martyr regained his strength, he transformed back into his Eden form: an imposing figure, enveloped by his white flames.

Death: (with a sarcastic tone, observing the transformation)

"So, this is your true fo—"

He didn’t finish the sentence. In a flash, Martyr lunged at him with incredible speed and delivered a devastating punch right to Death’s face. The impact was such that it sent Death flying, making him roll across the ground, leaving a trail of debris and dust behind him.

When Death finally regained his balance, he rose quickly, his face contorted in anger. His eyes desperately searched for Martyr, who emerged from the dust, walking toward him with an eerie calmness.

With a swift motion, Death drew his divine weapon: two sharp scythes connected by a black, glittering chain. In an instant, with a precise and lethal gesture, he stabbed Martyr in the stomach, then brutally withdrew the blade, dismembering him.

But Martyr remained unfazed. Despite the damage, he moved forward with determination and delivered another violent punch to Death’s face, sending him stumbling backward. With a deep voice filled with disdain, he spoke his key word once again:

Martyr:

"Forgiveness."

His wounds instantly sealed, the blood vanished, and his body returned to its perfect form as if nothing had happened. With a provocative smile, he locked eyes with Death, who was beginning to show signs of frustration.

Martyr:

"Now do you understand who you’re dealing with? You seemed so sure of yourself... but to me, you just seem weak. I must say, the battle earlier was much more fun."

Death didn’t respond with words. His face, as rigid as stone, showed only disdain and rising hatred. Without hesitation, he began to swing his two scythes in a deadly dance, launching quick and sharp blows at Martyr. Every movement was precise, lethal, and left the air ringing with the sharp hiss of the blades slicing through the air.

But his efforts were in vain. Every wound inflicted on Martyr was immediately undone by his Forgiveness, bringing him back to his original state. Meanwhile, Martyr kept attacking, his powerful fists crashing into Death with relentless fury. Each impact echoed like an explosion, shattering both the body and the pride of Death, breaking him down.

Death began to realize the inevitable. No matter how many times he struck, no matter how much force he used, as long as Martyr was free to say the word "Forgiveness," there was no way to defeat him. Martyr’s devastating blows were slowly wearing him down, not only physically but also spiritually.

With a roar of frustration, Death made a decision. He raised his hands, and with a commanding gesture, reactivated the power that blocked Martyr’s abilities. Immediately, Martyr collapsed to the ground, his body returned to its earthly form. No longer an Eden, no longer an invincible warrior, now he lay helpless on the ground, gasping and immobile.

Death, breathing heavily, looked at his opponent with a mix of anger and relief. The battle, for now, seemed to be over.

War: (with a sly grin, still panting)

"You’re not thinking you’re the one getting rid of him, are you? He insulted me much more than he did to you, brother. The shame you’re feeling, you brought it upon yourself. You ignored my warnings, and now you’re dealing with the consequences."

(with a serious and accusatory tone)

"I told you: don’t believe his words. He’s clever, treacherous, and incredibly dangerous. He’s not an opponent to take lightly."

Death: (with a severe yet relaxed expression, accepting the accusations)

"I have no objections, War. You were clear, and I chose not to listen. I admit my mistakes, but now I’ll say this: the final blow is yours. This insult to our pride is a battle for you to finish."

(looking at Martyr, immobilized on the ground)

"I’ll hold him off for you. Use your axe, brother, and cut off his head. Put an end to this nuisance once and for all."

War: (with a fierce look, gripping his axe with both hands)

"So be it."

At that point, War raised his axe to the sky, ready to deliver the final blow. But just at that moment, the unexpected happened: from the edges of the plaza, all the terrestrials watching the scene burst into an immense laughter...