Chapter 14 – Strength and Courage

Two of the newly reborn, out of all, deserve to be told about first.

The first was the being of mud that God had possessed. He slowly bent down, with visible determination in his newly formed eyes, and picked up the divine sword that God had left behind. He raised it to the sky, the gleaming blade reflecting the light that still hovered in the air, and with a strong and confident voice, he proclaimed:

Earth: "Men, listen to me! My name is Earth, and I have picked up this sword because I want to fight!"

(Pause, filled with gravity.)

"I will use all the resources at my disposal to bring down this monster. But you... you must believe in my choice. You must ensure that every time the blades cross, you are further away. I will take care of the problem. You run, run toward a better future."

(A murmur spread among the Earthlings, but before they could react, another stepped forward.)

From the center of the crowd, a second individual advanced with a determined step. His eyes were fixed on the remains of Martyr, and with a delicate but solemn gesture, he drew the sword lying next to him. Raising it with both hands, he spoke with a voice that rang clear and vibrant:

Sky: "My name is Sky, and I too have picked up a sword. I, like Earth, believe it is my duty to fight."

(Another pause, but this time the tension in the air was almost palpable.)

"I may lose my life with what I am about to do, but as our brother Martyr taught us, that matters little. I am ready to give everything I have, and even more.

Do as Earth told you: run to a faraway place, where this being can no longer oppress us. Find a place where joy can finally take root. We will take care of keeping it at bay. Together, Earth and I, we will prevent it from hunting you down.

Men, inflame your hearts! The time has come to fight, to face with strength and courage everything that has crushed us. Let us do it in the name of what is right, in the name of the freedom that belongs to us!"

(Those words sparked a flame in all the Earthlings present.)

And then the chaos began.

With a sudden roar, the demigods scattered, running in all directions. They were leaving Proxima Mortis, seeking refuge far, far from Death. For the first time, that square – a theater of suffering and oppression – was emptied of fear.

But in the center of the turmoil, two figures remained still.

Earth and Sky had surrounded Death, who was watching them with an unreadable expression. The two brothers were motionless, their swords ready, their stances already prepared for combat.

And in that moment, the challenge was clear.

The newly reborn, the fruit of divine light, had turned against their own creator. They were ready to fight. Ready to cross their blades against the one who had enslaved them, determined to confront the absolute power of Death directly.

Earth: "What are you doing, Death? Are you perhaps underestimating us? It doesn't seem like you're suppressing our powers."

Sky: "It's true, I too feel this new power flowing within me. But let him underestimate us, brother. It'll be better for us."

Death: (With a mocking and icy smile) "Do you really think you have a chance just because I let you act freely? You almost make me feel sorry for you. Watching you chase after these pathetic hopes of yours is almost amusing. But know this: with your rebellion, you’ve just signed your own doom.

I realize now how lazy I’ve been. I relied too much on my ability to weaken others. But now, out of pure curiosity, I’ll leave you with your powers. I want to see how far these illusions of power can take you. You, poor fools, are the perfect guinea pigs to test how truly unstoppable my power is."

Sky: "We’re ready to die, if necessary, to save our brothers. We won’t let you take their lives too."

Death: (His voice turned into a roar, full of disdain.)

"Fools, miserable humans!

Your arrogance will be the cause of your downfall. You will die under the blows of my blade, and you will cry the bitterest tears you’ve ever known. When your blood stains this earth, you will understand how useless your hopes are.

There is no future for you, no salvation. Your illusions are nothing but smoke that dissolves at the first breath of reality.

Prepare yourselves, then, to receive the punishment that awaits those who dare challenge one of my kin!"

Death raised his scythes, and the clang of chains mixed with the heavy silence that enveloped the square. Earth and Sky remained still, swords firmly in hand and eyes filled with determination; the battle was inevitable.

Death, without any warning, slowly lowered one of his scythes toward the ground. A deep, sinister sound filled the air, like the groan of a tortured earth. The ground began to tremble. Dark cracks opened beneath the feet of the fleeing, slithering like poisonous snakes across the square.

And then it happened.

From the torn earth, bone spurs emerged, sharp as blades, rising with brutal speed. Each spur exploded upwards with a chilling sound, a mixture of explosion and tearing, as it pierced the bodies of the unfortunate ones who hadn't managed to escape in time.

The screams filled the air. Some of the terrestrials were impaled on the spot, their bodies lifted by the spurs. The flesh split with disturbing ease, while blood sprayed in all directions, staining the ground and coloring the white bones red. The sight was macabre and merciless.

Some were pierced through the chest, tearing away their lives in an instant. The bodies remained suspended at an unnatural angle, while blood poured from the wounds, running down the bone structure like a cursed waterfall.

Others desperately tried to avoid their fate, but they were struck in the back, their spines shattered with a chilling crack. They fell to the ground with a muffled scream, their bodies contorted and motionless, while their eyes reflected the horror of what was happening around them.

As blood flowed abundantly and their flesh was torn mercilessly.

Yet, amidst that chaos and carnage, some managed to keep running. Their figures, blood-soaked and shaken by terror, ran without looking back, stumbling over the remains of fallen comrades. Each step was an act of desperation, each breath a fleeting triumph.

Death observed the scene from above, his face impassive, but his eyes filled with an icy malice. His scythes reflected the light of the spilled blood, while his presence seemed to permeate everything, making the air heavy and soaked in death.

"Flee, if you can," his silence seemed to say. "But know that you won’t get far."

And then again, he moved his hand, reaping more victims in the gesture.

An unsettling silence enveloped the scene, broken only by the crackling of blood flowing through the cracks in the ground, mixing with the dust and debris.

Some fragments of flesh hung limply from the sharp edges, while crimson droplets fell rhythmically, staining the ground like a macabre metronome.

The scattered bodies were frozen in poses of agony: one of them lay on his side, his fingers still curled towards nothing, his gaze fixed in an expression of pure terror; another slumped against a spur, his torso broken in two, his intestines slowly spilling onto the ground, as if death itself wanted to prolong its spectacle.

Footprints pressed into the earth, mixed with blood stains, told of a flight abruptly interrupted. A figure still alive staggered, his face pale and eyes wide open, as if trapped in a nightmare he could not comprehend.

The sky above Proxima Mortis was a tapestry of gray and red, with dense clouds that seemed to drip liquid darkness, and distant flashes of lightning briefly illuminating the devastation.

A pool of blood reflects the shadow of Death, an imposing and motionless figure, with scythes hanging heavily from his hands like instruments of a macabre art. In the background, the bone bridge stretches through the mist, its cracked arches standing out against the sky like the remains of a fallen colossus.

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Everything is still, as if time itself has stopped to admire the cruelty of the moment.

Is this the cost of freedom? Blood spilled as an insatiable tribute, lives shattered before they even understood the meaning of their existence. I wonder: what have those who have already spent everything come into the world to do, those who have burned themselves out for an ideal they will never see fulfilled? What was the purpose of those poor souls, impaled as silent offerings, whose deaths leave no trace or memory?

Perhaps freedom is an illusion, as precious as it is cruel, a flame that burns anyone who dares to come too close. But then, is it worth paying the price? Can we truly call freedom that which is born from the sacrifice of others?

Yet, I cannot ignore that these deaths, as silent as they are, are a seed. A seed thrown into the driest land, but that, with time, might sprout. Aren’t these sacrifices, however anonymous, the very bricks upon which something greater is built?

What distinguishes a vain sacrifice from an eternal one? Perhaps, it’s the memory. But who will remember them? There is no monument to these fallen, no praise sung in their honor. So, I ask myself: could it be that their true legacy lies not in remembrance, but in the act itself? In the courage of having chosen to fight, to flee, to resist.

And what about those who survived? Will they carry the weight of what they have seen in their hearts, and will it be an unbearable weight or a guiding flame? Can the freedom gained with the blood of others be a freedom that can be borne?

And, finally, Death. Is he not, in this scenario, the most sincere of them all? He promises nothing, he deceives no one, he doesn’t disguise his cruelty. He is an absolute reality, without masks. In the end, perhaps he is the only indisputable truth in this theater of doubts and suffering.

And so, I wonder: is it right to oppose the truth? To fight against the inevitable? Or perhaps the true freedom lies not in winning the battle, but in fighting it anyway, aware of the price to be paid and the impending defeat.

This is what remains: questions, many more questions than there were before. But perhaps, it is in these questions that the ultimate value of what has happened lies. Perhaps, freedom is not a destination, but a journey. A journey that is measured not by the result, but by the courage to undertake it.

Despite the macabre, as soon as Earth and Sky had time to react, they charged with all their strength against Death, wielding their divine swords. Earth, with a roar that resounded like thunder, delivered a horizontal slash aimed at the torso of the enemy, while Sky, quick as lightning, attempted a descending strike aimed at the head.

Death, cold and unperturbed, raised his scythes in a fluid motion, blocking both strikes with deadly precision. The blades met in a deafening clang, creating sparks that lit up the air for an instant, saturated with dust and smoke.

"Fools," Death hissed with contempt, and with a movement of his chains, he made the scythes dance like metal serpents, attempting to strike the two brothers in a circular motion.

The battle became frantic. Earth drove his sword down with powerful strikes, trying to break through Death's defenses, while Sky moved with agility, delivering quick and precise slashes aimed at vital points. But each of their attacks was effortlessly blocked. Death moved like a lethal shadow, his scythes blocking, deflecting, responding with relentless violence.

Suddenly, the ground beneath them trembled. From the earth, bone shards exploded upward, launched by Death's manipulation. A bone spear grazed Earth's face, while another nearly struck Sky's side, which he managed to dodge by a hair.

"You can't even touch me," Death roared, as with a gesture of his hands, a series of bone spikes rose around them, attempting to trap the two brothers.

Earth responded with a shout, slamming his sword against one of the spikes, shattering it into a rain of fragments, while Sky performed an acrobatic leap over another bone trap, attempting a downward attack. But Death was too fast. With a fluid motion, his scythes rose in a cross, blocking Sky's strike in mid-air and deflecting it, forcing the warrior into a temporary retreat.

The two brothers were constantly forced on the defensive. Even using all their powers, they could barely block Death's waves of attacks, which seemed endless. His scythes spun like an extension of his will, slicing through the air and searching for any opening in their movements.

Yet, despite the evident disparity, Earth and Sky kept Death occupied. Every strike they managed to block, every second they gained, was a precious moment for the fleeing ones, who continued to run toward an uncertain hope.

"It doesn't matter how strong you are," Earth snarled, teeth clenched, as he blocked a slash with a desperate swing of his sword. "We will never give up. Not while they still have a chance to live!"

"Empty words," Death retorted, with a cold smile. "Let's see how long you can resist before your determination shatters like your bones."

The battle intensified, turning into a primal fury. Earth, finally aware of his power, stamped his foot on the ground with force. The earth responded to his command, rising in a wave of rocks and debris that crashed against Death with overwhelming force. The boulders flew like projectiles, each as large as a cart, but Death sliced through them with a single movement of his scythes, turning them to dust.

Sky didn’t miss the opportunity. While the rocks distracted Death, he raised a hand to the sky and summoned a lightning bolt that struck with a deafening crash. The energy flowed into his sword, charging it with a shimmering and pulsating aura, while an electric current danced along the blade. With a battle cry, Sky lunged forward, unleashing an enhanced slash that struck Death like a furious storm.

Death responded with his usual lethal precision. His scythes spun in a vortex of steel and bone, blocking Sky's blow with a crash of sparks and vibrations that made the air itself tremble. However, the impact made him stagger back a few steps, the first sign that the combination of the brothers' powers was starting to make an impression.

Earth seized the moment. With a motion of his hands, he made sharp stone columns rise from the ground beneath Death's feet, attempting to impale him. The Eden moved with supernatural agility, avoiding the lethal points, but not before one of them grazed him, leaving a scratch on his black armor.

"Finally, you're starting to be interesting," Death growled, with a fierce grin. With a sudden movement, he threw one of his scythes, chained to him, toward Earth. The blade wrapped around his arm, tightening like a steel serpent. With brutal force, Death yanked him toward himself, sending him crashing to the ground.

But Earth didn’t let himself be overwhelmed. He focused his power on the ground beneath, transforming it into a platform that suddenly lifted, throwing him into the air and forcing Death to release his grip.

Sky seized the opportunity. He sent a surge of lightning directly at Death, striking him in the chest with an explosion that made the entire battlefield tremble. The impact made him stagger, but it did not bring him down.

Death, now visibly irritated, raised both his hands. From the ground, an army of bone spikes poured in all directions, striking indiscriminately. Sky leapt into the air, his lightning wings lifting him off the ground, while Earth created a rock barrier to shield himself from the onslaught.

"You want to play with your new powers?" Death hissed, with a cruel grin. "Then let’s see how long they last against me."

Earth and Sky responded without hesitation. Earth caused a part of the bridge behind Death to collapse, creating a wave of rolling rocks that surged toward him with devastating power. At the same time, Sky dived, his sword charged with electrical energy crackling like a miniature thunderstorm.

The battlefield had become pandemonium. Rocks flew, lightning cracked the air, and bone spikes multiplied with every movement of Death. The blows followed one another with such violence that the very ground seemed to groan under the weight of the fight.

Each exchange was an explosion, an expression of pure primordial force, yet Death continued to resist, seemingly unstoppable. But for the first time, even he seemed tested, his movements becoming slightly less fluid, and his armor showing signs of wear.

The battle was far from over, and no one could predict who would prevail.