“Godless. Benedict told us, that it was a derogatory term, meant to place us into some sort of group. Them the summoned, and us the Godless. The.. Fools that would not want to save this world. It was just like what the Spaniards did to our people during their occupation, calling us ‘Indio’, considering us as nothing. I personally do not mind the term, it sets an example on what we can do. Survive without Gods, survive without magic or any sort of supernatural help. As we bear no hope, only Faith.

That is what Benedict would have said in this situation.”

- Carleon Krieger; Conversation with Aniara regarding the term Godless

Asairos did not sit upon his ancient throne, he stood like the others within this royal hall of his bloodline. To his side were the two, which he considered to be a part of his family. Leila stood to his left, the pale daughter of his was quite unlike her sisters. The two daughters of that were not present, had been busy pouring over the what libraries were open to them in home of the Sahdun. For his daughters, as much as he loathed it, were gifted with a measure of ‘Delving’ as the Ancients had called it. They were the first to alert him of the coming dark, and the steps they needed to take. Even his dearest wife said the same.

And to his right, was Aniara. She could be said to be the greatest warrior to have served under him, the leader of his Royal Guards, cold and ruthless just like her kin. A true Sahdun that would honor her fallen parents. But she held an artefact he did not recognize, a black steel skull, wrought by the hands of the Royal Smith Deremel, a hand whose blood was mixed with the Drekani Dwarves. This very skull was mentioned by Leila, the helmet that was supposed to be worn by Benedict.

But why bring it here? He thought in confusion as he looked at it for a moment, being held by Aniara with gentle ease as it grinned out towards the gathered individuals in the hall. Many looked at it with interest and equal confusion, but the two godless gave it an intense stare. One of recognition and pain. They knew of it, and it reminded them that its owner was not here.

Though he had to speak now, it was due to a matter of great importance.

“I must dispense with the formalities, as time is short. There shall be a greater gathering later to properly explain the matter at hand. But for now, all of you must know that the creeping dark.. Has been discovered..”

There was confusion among the summoned, the Sahdun took on a grimmer look. Uron and the Herald beside him looked down uncomfortably for a moment, as the one that looked to lead the Sahdun nodded, taking a step forward. This Sahdun, wore a more glorified armor than the rest of his peers. Made from a metal that oozed a cold aura, as if it embodied the cold itself. His chest was protected by a plate mail adorned by depictions of their kind, of past glories and failures.

Unlike Asairos who wore a crown, this Sahdun wore a cage-like helmet. Impractical, highly ornate and symbolic, and clearly intimidating. Its front was just that, a cage with numerous bars, with four pronged tips at the top forming a circular form, in a way making a crown. And yet his face could not be seen properly.As the caged form of its front were tightly knit, emanating only a blow of chilled breath. He was the source of the cold, the Winter Aspect.

“We do not have confirmation if it is truly the dark, my fellow king. But there is one thing we know, there’s a malign force working upon the land of the Fae, affecting the cousins of my people.. The Fel’Sha. It is such a grave matter, that those… Cowardly cousins of ours had invoked a blood-bond between one of my ancestor’s and theirs. Asking aid from us.

I see no merit in aiding them, but you seem to desire to help them?”

Distaste laced the words of the Winter King, his foreboding form making the words he speaks weigh heavily upon those that heard it. As if they were hearing from the embodiment of cold winter itself. And yet the distaste from his words were towards the Fel’Sha, cousins to their people and cowards to him. The summoned stood uncomfortable as they waited for Asairos to speak, as there was silence that soon followed as the human king thought of what to say next.

“It is because that the Summoned need to see what is beyond our home. They are our saviors, our champions. So that they may understand that the world they are in, is worthy of saving. Not because we, or our gods tell them to.

Additionally, this will further their training and experience. A contingent of our armies will be sent to assist them, as they alone cannot take this threat alone.”

Asairos spoke then, his voice solid and true as he replied to the Winter King. There was no doubt on his eyes as he said this, as he fully believed what he had muttered. He had no choice in the matter, as the Heralds want this to be a test of sorts, and at least it would allow the summoned to see the other lands with their own eyes. What may they discover, for the better or worse was necessary.

“Summoned Champions, the expedition to the far eastern areas of the Lonesome Frost is.. Abandoned. Now instead you shall be sent, alongside a contingent of our forces to bring aid to the Fae Lands. How you shall do this shall be debated and planned for the days to come.

No matter how against I am towards this, your training shall also be hastened or outright postponed for the time being. As preparations for this new expedition will be of greater importance.”

A ripple of both shock and excitement showed itself among the summoned, even the two godless could not remain impassive and emotionless in the wake of this revelation. There were now whispers, talks of what could this mean. They did not properly grasp the dangers of this, though luckily a majority of the summoned knew what this entailed. As the two godless hardened their expressions, leaning close to one another as they whispered their thoughts regarding this.

Asairos could see it all, as he stood upon an elevated area of the hall. These children, from worlds he could not understand, standing forth with the weight of an entire world upon their shoulders. He as a king had the burden of safeguarding his own people, their rights and honor. And yet, he felt that it was nothing compared to what the summoned were being forced to carry.

With much of the summoned now discussing among each other, they failed to realize that the two Kings would begin to converse with one another. Mentioning the will of the Gods.

-

There was a strange instinct within Benedict that dwelled at the back of his mind. It was one that came surging from what dark recesses of his mind, coming out of its hiding place once he was no longer in his own world. It was anger, anger like nothing he had felt before. He deluded himself that it was simply that, a burning feeling that made him lash out towards anyone not his friend. But, deep down he knew it was bloodlust.

Not only that, what happened in the night disturbed him. He felt a strange feeling of helplessness at the realization this twisted blessings he had, was indeed from some powerful entity. An entity that obviously viewed him not as a champion, but a source of entertainment. He could feel its influence within his veins, the idle writhing of muscles within him, that strange urge to devour and that pain within his veins.

This made him look to the scythes of his, the deadly appendages that sprouted from his back like some foreboding reminder of his inhumanity. It was currently outstretched, resting forward and over the table in front of him, touching the wooden floorboards as he examined them.

It was the same as he had first seen them, with a majority of their structure being composed of hard taut muscles with hardened bone, almost like the limbs of an arachnid. Its mutation however was clear, in that it was both a functioning limb to support the locomotion of its owner, and as an effective tool for disemboweling nearly anything that is alive.

His inhumanity was not only found in those two limbs of his, but also on his hands. Hesitantly he looked down, to his own two hands that were now much different than he remembered. Upon the back of it and his fingers, were growths of bones that directly grew from his wounds that formed over his flesh. They did not cover all of his flesh, and only came from what wounds he manage to gain. Eerily his nails were growing sharper too, elongating into claws.

It was an unsubtle declaration, that he was no longer human, or for that matter the boy he once was before all this was fading. He wouldn’t have any proper thoughts regarding this, as his mind swam between emotions and sensations being forced by his change.Yet there was a peace being forced into it, as subtle as it was, he noticed it clearly.

“Are you always such a heavy sleeper?”

The peace that came from Salia, this woman that acted something akin to a caring lover gave him relief, in the physical and spiritual sense. Her very presence emanated an aura that affected him clearly, as it had shown when her own touch could make his pain fade. With the fact that no thoughts aside from ones that are positive, or caring could be formulated against her. But, for some reason, he could at least retain some of his own thoughts without being it affected by the ‘love’ he felt for her.

“Not always..”

He murmured in a strange show of shyness, as he looked up from his hands towards Salia. He did not know what to do, what purpose he would have, aside from possibly simply living. He did not have a proper goal, aside from simply enduring and perhaps finding a way out of this world. But that goal was next to impossible, as he held no proper knowledge of magic or the secrets of this world. Other than that, one simple goal was to amass power, to prove the Summoned and their Gods wrong, as an act of spite.

“I am glad you’re well now, the wounds you incurred were.. Grievous. It should have even killed you.”

Salia approached him as she had entered through the open door, she carried on her hands a tray of food. Evidently due to his heightened sense of smell, he could catch the scent of cooked meat that was incredibly familiar to him, as if he could taste its blood already on his lips. Though he also noticed the worry on her voice, the genuine emotion of concern made him feel happy and warm inside.

“Yet I live, why?”

Like before he had his suspicions, it was not supposed to be like this. He should not feel this, and yet he does. Making him frown a bit as he asked his question, looking over his hands once again and seeing them fully healed. He was an Aberration now, an Aberrant. The Primogenitor of a race he had inadvertently created.

“Is it because I am ‘blessed’?”

Almost spitefully he replied, his two scythes retreating back to settle on his shoulders and chest. Allowing Salia to come closer to the table, and place down the tray. The tray was made out of food, but the plates and bowls were made from a sort of silver. The utensils were also made out of metal, something that did not surprise him due to his stay in Isalabi. It reminded him how this world was a world of its own, and what he knew to be true could be proven also rather quickly.

“You’re the Despot, it is unthinkable you’ll die easily. As you are a Lord of our people, even your predecessor was quite hard to kill, as you’ve seen already.”

As he was about to take a look at what exactly the food she brought was, what she said drew his attention. Shock and confusion crossed his mind, as he looked at her with barely hidden distaste at what she told him. It was more of a dislike for the fact that, it implied he would be burdened with a purpose that he never wanted. Just like how he and his friends were given a similar burden in the beginning of this mess.

“Why do you call me that, and what do you mean a Lord of.. Our people?”

A tinge of anger overcame him that was quickly doused by some influence, only letting a small measure of it remain. There it was, another burden. It made his heart beat faster, his gut wrench in nervousness as he could already envision what she was going to say. ‘You’re a chosen, you are to be a grand champion of our people.’ It made him nauseous, lies upon lies to make him bend to the will of others. To waste his life on something he did not want.

“It is your title, a name for your purpose in this world. Given to you, by my grandfather, the Elder. You’re the chosen successor of the Forlorn, and as such you will be treated like an Ancient. Does it.. Bother you?”

‘Does it bother me? Yes! It goddamn bothers me!’

Spitefully Benedict cursed in his mind, his irritation becoming obvious before it was turned off abruptly. All thoughts of negativity towards her was not allowed, to some extent, yet when he focused his anger on something else, it rose up quickly. But he was not stupid enough to lash out towards her, not when she was a kind and loving person to him, which put him at ease as he sighed.

“Why am I specifically called Despot?”

It was such a demeaning title, more akin to an insult than anything else. History had taught him that Despots did not rule for long, or did not rule without the use of fear. They were powerful indeed, making him admire their capability of enforcing their will, and yet they never lasted. They were always toppled by the masses that sought a better path.

“Your future.”

At the mention of that, he looked up to see her gently smiling. She held no contemptuous look, only one of true affection and kindness. It felt so out of place, so different that he looked back down, to look at the plates of food. They contained a sort of steak, alongside what seems to be cut up vegetables and mashed potatoes.

“My future..?”

She mentioned that he was a Lord of their people, but before that, before he was dragged by the Seekers to a battle. He remembered that she mentioned other Lords, that would debate whether or not he would be a Lord. But as she told him that he was a Lord, it already meant the verdict was already done, he was a Lord. Much in annoyance he would pick up a spoon, completely leaving the fork as he shoved it on what he thinks was mashed potatoes.

“Yes, your future my dearest Despot.”

As he was slowly shoving the surprisingly delicious mushy food into his mouth, he was interrupted by a gentle hand reaching out and touching his cheek. Like always he felt the idle pain under his skin dissipate, and a gentle cold overcoming him. Or at least until she stopped stroking his cheek. This made him realize that he had forgotten something, the memories before the battle. It slowly came back, and he saw further into his situation.

“... To kill.. To kill, conquer and dominate.. Till the world is dyed in red..”

He parroted the words he heard that night, it echoing within his very being as the writhings returned for the duration of him speaking those words. It felt right, it felt that it was his purpose. But he did not want that, as he chose to continue eating, ignoring the familiar smelling meat, which he thought to come from the same species of that beast he devoured.

“No, to bring order if you wanted.”

She refuted what he said, smiling ever so gently when he looked back to her. Such kindness was not natural, not towards a man you’ve met for just a few days. But what she said, was different, unexpected. Something almost anathema to him, which made him look to her in disbelief. As she spoke with such confidence, as if she really believed in him.

“It’s entirely your choice. No matter what it is, I will stand by your side and support you.”

This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

Nearly choking, Benedict swallowed hard as he looked to her with wide eyes. This was a huge change in her personality compared to yesterday, not only that she told him in a way one would tell a person they loved. Accepting them for all the good and bad they are capable of. It was too different, too alien to him, and yet he could not think that it was a lie. He was made to not feel it, as that was truth. Not even his mind could think she was lying.

“..Why?”

Asking that, his mind tried to find a reason. A reason to think she was lying, a trick to lure him into doing the bidding of whoever she followed. If the Gods of this world had ulterior motives, she too would have them, as everyone did so. Nothing was truly free, everything had a price no matter how miniscule it was. But, he couldn’t think of a reason, nothing came up. Not even his rage. There was only peace.

“I am your better half. Your.. Lover as the Northmen might say.”

But that was an answer he could not expect. It made him crush the spoon he held, crumpling it easily as if its metallic nature was nothing to him. He then froze, his mind thrown into disarray, making him slowly look up with a befuddled expression. He had suspended his disbelief for many things in this new world, he accepted that Gods exist, he accepted that there were just so many blessings the others had compared to him. Yet this was something he couldn’t accept.

“You’re joking, this is just some prank. This cannot be real, I cannot even think this is real.”

He told her this, a laugh coming from him as he smiled stupidly. Of all the things that brought him to shock, this hit him hard. Her, being his lover? It was an obvious lie to him, but it felt right. That feeling of utter joy came over him, of flattery and contentment. But a part of him fought against it, a part that was not shackled by whatever spell that bound him. This was not real, that part said, it screamed at him as he slammed his fists into the table, surprisingly not breaking it.

“I am not a fool Salia, do not trick me. It will not work on me.”

Disbelief gnawed at his mind, as the force that made him not assume such things clashed with his mind. His changing biology resisted what was happening to him, but that force was far too strong for him to resist truly. This clash gave him a headache, forcing him to grind his teeth together as he looked to her. She looked to him with worry now, as his expression showed pain and anger.

“I am not lying, calm down Benedict. Your anger is taking over you again, please you’ll only hurt yourself!”

It was almost too late, as Benedict craned his head to the side as he felt that overwhelming urge to devour and kill. To sate his anger and hunger. Fortunately, there was something that could satiate at least the first need. There roughly, resorting to using his clawed hand he picked up the meat left on the plate, roughly like an animal he would tear a chunk of it with his teeth.

“This is the truth, I am bound to you as you're bound to me.. I.. Should have told you sooner, but you’ve been asleep for a while.”

The meat did little to stop his anger, only the hunger faded. Her words made his burning anger far worse, as he felt the pain beneath his skin slowly worsen. It was clear that she was suppressing it, as her face of worry slowly turned to that of panic. She cared for him, but in what sense? As a lover as she had said, or as a useful pawn in both a political and military sense.

‘Bound .. Bound to me as I am to her.. Why? Who did this.. Which cretin did this..’

There was only one person he thought, that old man, the Elder. Who gave him the title Despot, and thrusted him into this mess. He was the one, he was the cretin that forced him into this without his consent. Just like the nobility in Isalabi, treating him little more than as a tool.

“Calm down, please..”

He hated it, to not have the freedom he thought he would have in this new world. He denied the sponsorship of the gods, spurned the offers of aid from the other summoned. Yet fate did not relent and forced him into a similar situation. What choice did he have, but to attempt to deny it, to lash out towards the one that was bound to him. But it was futile, as she touched his right hand gently. Dispelling the burning pain that rose from his veins on his limb, which slowly rose up to his body by the minute.

-

Humans, Elves even the Demons had said that love could conquer all. That it will bring a tyrant to his knees, to change his ways just for a fair maiden to love them truly. Salia knew of it very well, as she had spoken to what traders from their races had come to their home. Their tales, their rumors and even literature spoke about that to some extent. She believed it, as it was a romantic thing for a girl her age. Even to further think that, it may even stop certain events from happening in the futures she could see.

“I do not want this..”

However, her love could not pierce through the mind of her lover. It could not convince Benedict, the one she was bound to, the one her soul was deeply connected to. She felt what he felt to some extent, and she felt a great anger and hunger within him. But that was not only it, she felt his mana course violent within his body in response to his anger. She saw the moment he woke, and she saw it now. Yet there was something different, something dark and malign alongside it that made her want to fear him.

“Please, trust me.”

As sincere as she could be, or rather in a truly sincere tone she pleaded to him. Their link did not allow lies, or any negative emotions for that matter. Yet Benedict was resisting the spell, his body which was changing allowed him to do this subconsciously. She saw it in the way his mana moved, forming a monstrous silhouette with his cacophony of a voice. His humanity, the one thing the race he was once a part of cherished, was rapidly disappearing before her. It pained her, to see him be in this kind of pain, as even if the link made her do this, the emotion and feeling was truly genuine.

It fell to her, as he witnessed her reluctant lover tear what remained of the cooked meat of a Jaelir, to stop him from falling deeper to his hate. As it influenced him not only mentally, but also physically, it was the source of his inhumanity, his rapid changed. It would have resulted in him lashing out towards her if it wasn’t for their link.

“Why should I?!”

He yelled at her once he devoured the meat, his sharp teeth being revealed as he shook. The scythes on his shoulders were ready to to strike, to kill something, he was a true being of instinct, of emotion. Yet what rationality he had was influenced by their link, making him be in conflict with his own mind. Seeing no other way to convince him, she stood up and gently leaned closer to him over the table.

“You don’t believe me Benedict? Do you not believe me, your other half my dearest Despot?”

The effect was instant, he tried to get away, to lean back. But she did not allow him, as her hands went up to cup his cheeks, to forcibly siphon the excess mana within him into her. This was an easy task for her, their link allowing them to share mana if needed. It was wholly convenient, but this action also brought some measure of pain to her, which she endured with a smile.

She even found an understanding of his own mana, of that corruption within him. It was not from this world, it was different, it was terrifying as it was a violent part of him that sought bloodshed. But she did not care, as she brought her face closer, waiting for him to answer. But there was none. He sat there, staring at her, eyes wide in shock, in confusion and fear, with his scythes slowly unfurling to go over her form.

He was obviously afraid of her love, of her affection that it bled from their link. To the point that it actually overshadowed the anger he felt towards his situation. It was a curious thing, as for all she knew the noble males from the Lonesome Frost desired a woman that loved them unconditionally. He was different, he was afraid of what gentleness he could bring her. Like as if he was a different person compared to the one that woke up yesterday.

“Stop lying..”

Two emotions vied for his mind, they fought and warred more so than his mind against their link. This was her chance, as he murmured in a rising voice, his hands opening, letting go of the crumpled spoon.

“I am not lying, I swear in the name of my ancestors, in my name and blood. I do not lie to you Benedict.”

Though her words did not reach him, as he growled towards her. It was obvious now that anger took over, as his hands now held her wrists, clearly attempting to push them away.

“Bullshit! Stop playing with my mind, this is nothing but a false lo-”

She did not allow him to speak any further. There was only one way to shut him up, to stop him from further becoming an irrational being led on by anger or fear. She will not allow that, not when she could help him.

“Please be silent.”

She told him, as brought her lips to touch upon his. She kissed him, brazenly doing so without a proper thought. It caused a blush to run across her face, but she closed her eyes just as Benedict looked at her in shock. It was a simple act, yet it did so many things to the both of them. It made them both feel warm as they blushed, with her deepening the kiss despite her current position. Just as she had wanted, he had gone quiet, his scythes unfurling even further as his hand went to hold her shoulders.

After what seemed to be minutes, she broke the kiss, sheepishly letting go of his face as she sat back down. There she finally opened her eyes, smiling softly at him as her blush deepened. Slowly she saw him lower his hands, his face bright red as he looked at her with shock and embarrassment.

“Now, are you calm?”

With only a nod to answer her, she grinned at how easy of a solution it was to calm him down. It made her wonder, if this was his true state of mind, behind the layer of anger and fear. A simple young and innocent noble, that feared affection so much, that he turned to anger instead. Though it couldn’t be that, not anymore, as she saw upon him now a forced destiny upon him. That he himself obviously did not want.

“I am glad then my dearest Despot, as I have said. I will support you no matter what, but it does not mean I will tolerate you hurting yourself.”

Taking a moment to collect himself, he idly touched his lips with one clawed finger, unsure whether or not he should even look at her as he replied.

“I.. Alright.. Though hurting myself? Explain.”

In a bid to show strength and stoicism, he straightened his posture, his face turning dour. But alas, he was still embarrassed, giving it away in the way he tried not to look at her.

“Your mana, it burns you each time you grow angry.” She says with a soft sigh, continuing it on as she pointed at his chest.

“You know this already. Your anger is tethered deep into your change, your body siphons so much mana in its purest form and.. Turns into something else. I wish I could say more, to explain it to you in the fullest of words. But I do not properly understand it..”

“And you support me, despite that?” He cuts in, his scythes being reeled back, with him motioning to one of the deadly blades with one finger. “Despite these?”

“Despite all of those, yes. I will support you.” She replied surely, her smile clearly making him more embarrassed.

“I will support you no matter what you choose, as long as you do not hurt yourself. Be it the shedding of blood in its thousands, the slaughter of others.. Or perhaps, bettering yourself as you become a force of Order. All is possible Benedict, be it the path of the Despotic Child or something more, something entirely different.”

Her sincerity bled into her words, as Benedict looked down for a moment in contemplation. She felt it, the feeling of uncertainty and of hesitation from him. There were things she did not know about him, and the same could be said about him towards her.

“Why? To say all this.. I cannot be sure if you’re lying or not.. “ Yet still he held on to his suspicions towards her, which luckily did not bring the deadly anger with it.

“I will be truthful with you Benedict, I will speak with all honesty on what you wish to know.” He perks up at that, he sensed an advantage and he obviously would take it. The excitement he had in him, hidden beneath his dour mask, echoed to their link.

“Who did this?” He then asks, scythes slowly unfurling as he slouched. His brown eyes looked to her with a desire for answer, as his brows furrowed in his rising displeasure.

“Pardon? What do you mean?” She asked in slight confusion, which drew from him a soft sigh.

“Who bound us together? And why. Tell me.” He clarified to her, his eyes staring at her with such intent, that she reached out to touch his cheek again, which made him stiffen.

“My Grandfather did. The Elder of Delving. Your future he saw, and in it you were an Anchor. An event that cannot be avoided no matter what. It is why you’re named Despot. Your anger, hate and hunger will influence that. He did it to save me, and our people.

As you were chosen by the Forlorn, you too became a Lord of our people. You’re no longer human, yet not a monster, but an Ancient like me. Though I feel that you do not want this burden upon your shoulders, that you simply want to follow your own will.”

Nodding, he would gently hold her hand and place it down, seemingly unable to accept such an intimate act. Though he did not look angry, instead he looked deep in thought. Seeing this, she did not speak any more, and patiently waited for him to speak his mind.

“Do I have a choice?” He asked softly, looking down and holding her hand still, not realizing it himself.

“No, none at all.” She replied, witnessing his face change to a more displeased look. With clear reluctance on his tone, he looked up to speak.

“Alright. Fine.. You said you will support me no matter what. That you will do this as long as I don’t do anything stupid, that will hurt myself.. I will accept this. I will take this.. Mantle of the Despot. Fine, sure, nothing I can do about it.

But tell me.. “

Widening her eyes, she saw Benedict begin to smile. A malicious and murderous smile that matched his title, it showed off his sharp teeth with him cocking his head to the side. There, his chorus of voices rang out with a deadly edge, of a malign tone about it.

“Will you help me kill?”

But she replied without hesitation, without a need to think as she smiled once more.

“Yes, I will my dearest Despot.”