In the dead of night, Great Budak Kingdom
The moon cast an eerie glow over the Great Budak Kingdom, a realm notorious for its cruel practices. Among its many dark traditions, the enslavement of other races stood out—a barbaric practice indifferent to the pleas of the lower classes.
Two men ambled outside a grimy slave shop, the stench of sweat and despair clinging to the air. One man clutched a collar chain, dragging an emaciated teenage boy behind him. The boy’s legs barely moved, his frail body scraping against the cobblestones. The men chuckled with perverse delight, their cruel laughter echoing in the night.
"HAAAAA, Fresh air!" the first man bellowed, yanking on the chain. "Oy, wake up already or do you want me to drag you?"
The boy remained silent, his eyes empty and distant. Disgust momentarily flickered across the man’s face before he grinned with a cruel idea. "Well, I guess I am just gonna drag you then—just some exercise."
The boy, barely conscious, looked at him with hopeless eyes. The only thing he could think of was the memory of his mother, the last comforting image before he was ripped away from her.
The man resumed dragging the boy, further injuring him with each harsh pull. He and his friend chatted and laughed, oblivious to the encroaching danger. Suddenly, a dense mist began to roll in, swirling ominously before them. The chill of the mist brought an unsettling awareness, but the friend remained oblivious, lost in conversation.
Without warning, the chain snapped. The men turned, bewildered, to find the boy gone—his collar shattered and the space where he had been empty. confuse on what is going on they suddenly see a shadowy figure at a nearby house. The figure knocked urgently, and when a woman answered with a loud and angry voice, without a warning figure rushed forward followed by her short scream echoing in the street, striking her down.
The men’s faces blanched in terror. They bolted, desperately trying to escape the encroaching mist. The mist, cold and unrelenting, separated them. One man fled in blind panic, his breath ragged. Suddenly, a cold metal clasped around his feet. He looked down in horror to see a mechanical hand dragging him into the mist. His screams pierced the night, echoing with raw terror.
The mist swallowed the man, his cries fading into the darkness. Citizens nearby, awakened by the commotion, watched in horror as the guards, roused by the man’s screams, rushed into the mist. Moments later, armor, stained with blood, was hurled into the air before falling back to the ground, a grim testament to the fate that had befallen them.
The citizens, paralyzed with fear, turned and fled as the mist pursued them relentlessly. One by one, they were consumed by the darkness, their screams of terror, pain, and disbelief mingling with the oppressive silence of the night.
Inside the Castle
The castle was thrown into chaos as the alarm bells blared, their jarring clang ringing through the night. “ALERT, IT’S AN ATTACK!” the urgent cry echoed through the grand halls, sending shockwaves of panic through the castle’s inhabitants. Soldiers, knights, mages, and archers scrambled into action, their determined faces illuminated by the flickering torchlight.
The mist, dark and menacing, crept closer to the castle walls. In a desperate bid to fend off the encroaching threat, mages gathered at the ramparts, their hands weaving intricate patterns in the air. “Stand back!” one mage shouted, unleashing a powerful spell meant to dispel the mist. But their efforts proved futile—the mist seemed to swallow the magic, indifferent to their attempts.
From the castle’s vantage point, the defenders witnessed a horrifying scene unfolding below. Explosions echoed through the night, punctuated by the clash of swords and the anguished screams of the fallen. Shadows moved within the mist, dispatching soldiers and knights with brutal efficiency.
Many tried to flee, their instincts screaming for survival, but none were fast enough to escape the powerful disaster that descended upon them. The mist seemed to devour everything in its path, its cold grip reaching for those who thought they could outrun it. No matter how fast they ran or how desperately they fought to survive, the overwhelming force moved with relentless speed, overtaking them one by one. Screams of despair echoed through the night as the kingdom's defenses crumbled, powerless against the unstoppable force that had befallen them.
Adventurers stationed at the gate braced themselves, their faces set with grim resolve despite the fear that lurked in their eyes. One of them, an assassin known for his swift and lethal prowess, charged forward into the swirling darkness. His blade gleamed in the pale light as he disappeared into the mist.
A sudden, thunderous crack rang out, followed by an eerie silence. The others watched in dread as a bloodied blade was hurled back through the mist, landing at their feet. The assassin’s fate remained unknown, but the chilling sight of his weapon spoke volumes. The air was thick with terror.
With mounting desperation, the defenders retreated into the castle, the gate slamming shut behind them with a resounding thud. The guards, their faces pale with fear, hurried to secure the gate, hoping to fortify the last bastion of their defense against the relentless mist.
Inside the castle, the tension was palpable. Every creak of the ancient stone walls seemed to carry the weight of impending doom as the defenders braced themselves for the unknown horrors that lay just beyond the gates.
The guards braced themselves against the gate from inside, their bodies pressed firmly against the heavy wood in a desperate attempt to keep the unknown enemy at bay. The sound of three ominous knocks resonated through the thick walls, each one sending ripples of fear through the defenders.
One of the mages from the adventurer group, her voice trembling with a mix of fear and urgency, exclaimed, “What the hell is attacking us? They wiped out half of us in an instant!”
A shield-bearer, his face set with grim determination, shouted back, “Quick, use your ice magic! Freeze this gate so they can’t get through!”
Snapped back to reality by the urgency in his voice, the mage’s fear began to wane as she focused on her task. With a determined flick of her wrist, she began casting her spell. The soldiers scattered, moving away from the gate as the mage’s ice magic encased it, forming a solid barrier.
For a brief moment, hope flickered among the defenders as they watched the ice solidify, believing they were safe. But that hope quickly shattered with the sound of a powerful, resounding knock from the outside. The ice began to crack, the once-sturdy barrier showing signs of strain. Panic gripped the soldiers again as the gate threatened to give way.
The mage redoubled her efforts, her face etched with concentration and fear, as she cast another layer of ice magic to reinforce the gate. Each successive knock grew more thunderous, the force behind them threatening to shatter the ice and breach their last line of defense.
Realizing the gravity of their situation, the soldiers fled, leaving the mage alone at the gate. She continued her spell, but with each new impact, the ice's resistance weakened. Desperation filled her as she assessed the futility of her efforts. With a final, crushing blow, the gate burst open, and a cold, swirling mist began to pour in.
The mage was thrown backward by the sheer force of the explosion. She landed heavily, her body battered and bruised. Struggling to her feet, she looked up to see a colossal, shadowy figure emerging from the mist. Its enormous hand reached toward her, and the sight filled her with sheer terror. Her scream echoed through the hallways as she was dragged into the fog, her cries of anguish swallowed by the encroaching darkness.
The remaining adventurers and soldiers, who had fled from the gate, quickly made their way to the king’s throne room. They burst in, sealing the door behind them. Desperation filled the air as they turned to the king, who stood with a look of grim determination as he watched the royal mage struggle with a teleportation spell. The mage’s attempts to open a portal were thwarted repeatedly, each failure increasing the tension and confusion in the room.
Suddenly, a slow, deliberate knock came from the door of the throne room. The realization dawned that the enemy had already breached their defenses and was now at their doorstep. The defenders prepared themselves, their hearts pounding as they braced for the impending assault.
This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.
The king, his face etched with terror, screamed, “Hurry up! Cast the teleportation magic NOW!”
His voice trembled with a mix of desperation and fear as tears streamed down his face. The royal mage, his own fear palpable, struggled to focus on the spell, his hands shaking as he tried to open a portal to safety.
The tension in the room reached a fever pitch as the door began to tremble under the relentless pressure from the other side. The defenders could only hope that the mage’s magic would succeed in their final, desperate bid for escape.
They heard a girl's voice outside the gate, filled with anger and impatience. "HEY, open the door now!" The guard and adventurers inside the castle stood frozen, their faces a mix of fear and anger, listening to what they believed was the voice of the enemy. "It's over you fool, theres nothing you can do."
Confusion spread as they heard another voice from the outside, more casual but equally unsettling. "You should tone it a little heavier on your voice. That should do the job."
Then, a deep, loud voice boomed from outside the gate. "Listen, either you surrender, and we’ll keep one of you alive, or fight, and like the others, we’ll still keep just one of you alive. So what will it be?"
Panic filled the room as the adventurers looked to the royal wizard, their only hope for escape. The wizard, desperate, opened a portal. Hope flickered once more in their eyes, and the wizard quickly stepped into the portal, followed by the others.
But just as the king was about to step through, a giant tentacle, armed with a blade at its tip, shot out from the portal, impaling the wizard. The room went silent, shock rippling through the remaining group. Blood pooled around the fallen wizard as the doors to the throne room slowly creaked open, mist beginning to seep in.
A voice echoed eerily through the mist, "Finally got you all. I offered something good, and you wasted it."
The mist filled the room, thick and oppressive, as each adventurer readied their weapons—staffs, bows, daggers, swords—all prepared for whatever was coming.
But the enemy was already there. One by one, everyone were silently dragged into the mist, their mouths sealed before they could utter a sound. None knew what happened to the others. The shielded adventurer glanced around, fear gripping him as he whispered to himself, "Am I going to die today?"
A voice whispered in his ear, sending chills down his spine, "No, but we assure you, you will never see the sun again."
Panicked, the shielded adventurer swung his shield blindly, hitting another adventurer, who was thrown into the mist, disappearing from sight.
His heart pounded as something cold gripped his foot. Before he could look, he was yanked into the mist. His scream was cut short as a knife stabbed into his cheek, and with pain searing through him, he was dragged into the unknown.
The king cowered behind his throne, gripping the chair as screams of terror echoed through the throne room, only to be swallowed by the mist. His tears streamed down his face, the weight of his crown feeling heavier as fear took hold of him. He clung to his crown, the symbol of his power, now useless in the face of this unknown horror. When the screams finally faded into a chilling silence, he took several minutes to compose himself, gathering just enough courage to peek around.
The thick fog obscured everything except the royal chair in front of him. Suddenly, the top of the chair was seized by an unseen force and violently hurled into the mist. The king’s grip slipped, and he scrambled backward, pressing himself into the wall, paralyzed by fear. His breath quickened as he spotted a dark figure looming in the fog, its hand reaching toward his face. Its eyes glowed a murderous red, filled with intent to kill.
Before the figure could touch him, a commanding voice broke through the tension. "No, leave this one alive. We need him." The figure halted, retracting its hand, and disappeared back into the mist.
The king, still trembling and confused, dared to speak, his voice weak and filled with fear. "What do you want?" His eyes scanned the mist, trying in vain to make out the figure's shape.
For a moment, there was silence. Then, the girl’s voice from earlier—outside the gate—responded, cold and indifferent. "Nothing." A shadowy figure of a girl stepped forward from the fog, her red eyes glowing menacingly.
The king, terrified, stared back at the figure. She stared back with a look of mock empathy. "I feel sorry you had to go through this," she said, her tone almost kind. Then, her voice shifted, dripping with anger. "Although, you deserve to see it."
The king felt his heart stop as her murderous intent filled the room. But just as quickly, her tone became playful, almost casual. "Awh, don’t worry. We’re not going to kill you or do anything harmful. It’s just that, well, like you, we need to restock our resources. You understand that, don’t you? After all, you practice slavery."
Her eyes narrowed, and she continued, "As for the second reason, you'll be doing a big favor for my bestie. I’m glad I don’t know your future, but rest assured, I’ll keep my eyes on you... like a wolf."
With that, the shadowy figure dissolved back into the mist, her presence fading as the mist itself began to dissipate from the throne room. The king sat frozen in shock, unable to comprehend what had just happened. And fainted
A few hours later, the first light of dawn began to creep through the castle’s windows. The king stirred, his body aching from having slept on the cold stone floor behind the throne. For a moment, his eyes remained closed, clinging to a desperate hope.
"This is a dream, right?" he muttered under his breath, half-believing the horrors of the night to be nothing more than a nightmare. His mind begged for that comforting illusion as he hesitated to open his eyes.
But as soon as he did, reality struck like a cold, sharp blade. The scene before him was the same—empty halls, abandoned armor scattered across the floor, the heavy silence pressing down on him like a suffocating weight. The mist was gone, but the terror lingered in the air.
It hadn’t been a dream. Everything that had happened was real.
His heart sank, and for a brief moment, he felt utterly powerless, the weight of the events crushing his spirit. His kingdom—his people—all vanished, taken by forces he couldn’t even begin to comprehend. He sat there, his hands trembling, unsure of what to do or how to make sense of what had transpired.
As the sun starting to rise from the horizon
After a long silence he finally stood up, his legs shaking as he made his way toward the door. In the halls, there were no bodies, no blood stains—just abandoned armor and weapons left behind by his soldiers, as though they had simply vanished into the mist.
"Hello?" His voice echoed through the empty halls, trembling with desperation. There was no response, only the hollow sound of his words reverberating in the eerie silence.
As the king walked through the deserted halls toward the castle gate, the only sound he could hear was the wind, softly whistling through the cracks and empty corridors. His footsteps echoed in the eerie silence, a silence so profound it seemed to swallow the very air around him.
"Is there even someone alive other than me here?" he wondered to himself, the question lingering in his mind like a shadow.
He pushed open the heavy castle doors, stepping out into the early morning light. The sight that greeted him sent a chill down his spine. The kingdom—once bustling with life—was now eerily empty. No humans, no slaves, no animals. Not a single soul in sight. He looked around, his gaze falling on the scattered remnants of armor, weapons, and clothing strewn across the ground. It was as if every living being had vanished in a matter of seconds, leaving only their belongings behind.
"No blood… nothing," he muttered, his voice trembling with disbelief. "It's like they all just disappeared."
The king wandered aimlessly through the streets of his empty kingdom, his mind racing as he tried to comprehend what had happened. Every corner he turned, every alley he passed, told the same haunting story—complete and utter abandonment. He called out, his voice growing more desperate with each passing minute, but there was no answer. No sign of life anywhere.
He continued walking, the reality of his isolation settling in with each step. He was the last one left in the kingdom, a lone survivor in a place once teeming with life.
And now, it was nothing more than a ghost town.
He fell to his knees, sweat pouring down his face as he struggled to regain his composure. Around him, the ground was strewn with armor, swords, clothes, and scattered food. The chaos was palpable, yet no bodies were visible, only the remnants of a frantic struggle. He sat in silence, overwhelmed, until the distant sound of horse hooves caught his attention. It wasn’t just one horse—it was a whole group.
Realizing that help was arriving, he forced himself to stand and staggered towards the sound. The knights, returning from their expedition, arrived on the scene. Their initial shock was evident as they took in the disarray before them.
“What is happening here?” one of the knights asked, his voice reflecting their collective confusion. Before anyone could answer, a familiar voice rang out.
“HEY!!!” The king’s shout grew louder and more urgent. The knights, now fully alert, hurried towards the direction of the voice.
When they finally saw the king, he was visibly exhausted. The knights dismounted swiftly, their concern evident as they approached him.
“Are you hurt, my lord?” one of them asked, his voice filled with genuine worry.
The king tried to smile, but his relief was short-lived. Without warning, a red demonic portal suddenly opened beneath him. The knights were caught off guard, their attempts to react too slow. A monstrous hand emerged from the portal, grasping the king firmly. The king struggled to free himself screamed in terror, but it was futile. The portal closed quickly, taking the king with it and leaving the knights in stunned silence on what just happend
Far away, Mira watched from an alley with face disguested with something. Her body starting to become fractured and shatter, her arm severed fall and shatter as soon it hit the ground, turning to dust as it shattered following a cold white smoke fly to the sky. Her gaze was fixed on the scene with a detached expression. As the portal closed, Mira’s forehead eye flickered and then closed, signaling the end of her involvement. She then turned her attention to the carriage she was guiding, From her stomach a two skeletal neck was strecthing out to the carriage where Bintang slept peacefully, unaware of the turmoil that had just unfolded.
Their journey continue