A great massacre has happened. The blood-red moon shines through the largely destroyed roof of a brick-walled church high up on a mountain area. The ominous vermilion light reveals numerous bodies of armored warriors sprawled across the floor, the pews, the doorways, and near the ground where a lone humanoid male figure stands.

His back is turned towards the carnage, but his face is alight with the otherworldly contrasting blue-green light of a portal he stands in front of. Blood is splattered across his white hair, pale skin, and his scythe-like weapon; it drips with the freshness of water just drawn from a well. Adding to his fiendish appearance are dark veins extending from his neck all the way to his temples and eyes. The emblem on his garments also appears to be the same emblem the dead knights carry: two swords pointing the opposite direction within a shield, all surrounded in silvery flame.

Suddenly, a roar is let out from the back and a man-like tiger of muscular physique wielding a curved sword jumps forward to attack the figure. “Cania, You traitor! Iras Art: Aspect of Monsters!” the assailant shouts as he musters a violent magic that covers his entire body in a flaming monster-shaped aura. “You shall know this tiger’s fury! Let the Iras energy consume me in order to put an end to you!”

A burst of dark energy sparks out of the soon to be attacked figure as he turns, and he turns with a vengeful look in his piercing yellow eyes. “Too slow, Samsar! Nihilim Art: Force of Nothing. I deny you; you have no power greater than I” the turncoat figure replies with a chilling, emotionless voice. His body is quickly enveloped in a dark-turquoise mantle of shadowy tendrils that seem to be originating from the portal behind him.

The two then clash with one another, their battle lightning-fast and fierce, and their surroundings bursting with the colors of their magic. As they swing their weapons and dash across the ruined area, the gusts of wind emitted from their strikes throw the lifeless bodies and debris to the side.

“We all trusted you! The Sentio Knights—all our friends—sacrificed themselves for naught!” angrily bellowed the tiger man.

“That was…your final mistake.” replies the husk of a person as his scythe replies with precise cuts. “You have always known me, friend. I’m a little disappointed you didn’t see my ambition bearing fruit.”

Their blades clash and sparks fly, and all this happens while a robotic man with dented skin of iron crawls out from the woodwork and discreetly heads for the portal.

“Cania…Samsar…how did it come to this, brothers” the metal man, full of regret, thinks to himself as he crawls forth due to intense damage to his body. Little streaks of electricity pop out of his joints and limbs every now and then. “Have you always underestimated…our friendship…Cania…?” he continues as he lets out a little chuckle, “That portal seems to be giving you so much energy, huh. I should do something about it...”

Ultimately, the tiger figure named Samsar drops to his knees and bleeds heavily due to numerous slashing wounds across his body. Being quite in tune with his rage earlier perhaps prevented him from feeling it. “Curse you, Cania! You would forsake us all, for your ideals of—"

“Emotions make us weak.” the brutal Cania says as he quickly moves his scythe towards Samsar’s neck. Samsar is immobilized and speechless by the risky position he is in. “From the orphanage to joining the Knights, you and Irontoes have always been by my side. Your last words will be my final favor to you.”

Samsar lets out an arrogant but struggling growl, “Heh. It’s complicated but…I’m happy for you, friend. Your research in the Nihilim energy paid off. Who would’ve thought there existed the Void, a realm without Emotio, the very force that governs our magic and our world. If our existence hinges on feelings, then why is unfeeling...stronger?”

In a flash, Samsar’s neck is slit with a deft movement. Cania quickly turns his scythe to the side as blood gushes and sprays out from the tiger man’s throat. Samsar grips the geyser of red, but he cannot staunch the flow of his life force leaving his body.

If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.

“Farewell, Samsar.” Samsar falls to the ground and, already weakened by grievous wounds, he succumbs. As he slowly closes his eyes for the last time, cherished memories fill his mind as he thinks back to the days when they were young.

It was one afternoon, one afternoon they thought would last forever. In the fair golden rays of the sunlight walk Cania, Samsar, and Irontoes in their younger years. Dressed in lightly armored clothing bearing the crest of the two swords and a shield enflamed in silver, the Sentio Knight Order crest, they walk through the edge of a forest. Nearby, they could see golden fields of wheat where a pristine stone castle sits in the middle. The winds softly blow on the crops as the scenery evokes a sense of haven.

“Another relaxing patrol for the Knight-Aces, am I right?” a much younger and less damaged Irontoes says to his two companions. “Aurum Fort has nothing to worry about with us on guard!”

“The result of proper Emotio wielding: peaceful thoughts, peaceful environs.” Samsar replies. “Although it is not formal, I take the nickname Knight-Aces rather positively. Perhaps it means we are actually doing our duty as Sentio Knights: being protectors and role-models of Sentia.”

“For them to give us the title of Knight-Aces and glorify our struggle at Dragons’ End, its infuriating.” A younger, much less fiendish-looking Cania says with his then natural black hair blowing in the wind. “I cannot believe the irony of this world” he continues as it seems he is about to start a long angry rant.

Samsar lets out a relieved sigh. “It indeed has been a long time since we were tossed into that situation. I’m just thankful we made it. Never fighting undead dragons again.”

“Watch your Iras energy, my brother Cania.” Irontoes jokingly tells him. “You might end up burning the entirety of Sentia down!”

“Oh, I’ll make sure to build Sentia back up better…without undead dragons.” Cania replies with a playful smirk.

Samsar and Irontoes let out a hearty laugh.

But all good memories end. Everything snaps back to reality.

“Your turn.” Cania says, still without emotion, to the robotic man who is just inches away from the portal.

“Damnit!” Irontoes curses.

Cania teleports close and delivers a swift end to the man of iron with a downwards strike of his dreaded scythe. “Bonds should not impede me, as I will bring this world to its knees and reshape it!”

Irontoes’ mechanical parts are blown to pieces, to be left in dust forever.

Although Cania’s delivery of his words is as devoid of feelings as can be, a faint hint of pain can be heard from his suffering soul, as if a little bird still struggles to escape from a lonely cage.

“My body has not fully acclimated to the Void just yet it seems. No matter. I must push on. This is a necessary sacrifice.” he affirms to himself. “In the world that will be born anew, I will remake you in a better image, brothers. No further sacrifices will be needed. Unlike in this world, we will suffer no longer and be its’ rightful rulers: the Kings of the Void.”

After a brief distraction as Cania was lost in thought, Irontoes’ voice fills the area, as if nothing happened to him at all. “Timoris Art: Invisible Voice!” he yells.

“Huh?!” Cania looks around, putting up his guard once again and turning his attention outward.

“Always the one with a branch up his ass, brother. You know, emotion can be helpful sometimes. In this sordid reality, perhaps we can mask our suffering with some humor and keep on moving towards things that truly matter.”

“The trickster’s final joke. Show yourself, it is futile!” Cania shouts back, readying his weapon to strike in a split-second.

While Cania’s back is turned, Irontoes is revealed from invisibility near the portal as if nothing happened to him. He waves his hand towards it. In his mind, he quickly recites an incantation, “With this spell, I anchor a wish in my deep sadness. Everything has a price, and I offer my very existence. Erase all that brings me sorrow. Tristier Art: Reality Begone!”

A blast of light blue magic interferes with the dark portal. The area then is bathed in a bright yet somber glow, like the last few minutes of the sunset.

Time appears to have been frozen and Irontoes’ final thoughts caress his mind sweetly as he bids farewell to everything. “Maybe in the next life, we could’ve stayed Knight-Aces forever…patrolling streets that didn’t need patrolling.” The metal warrior’s visage soon fades into non-existence.

“No!—”

Unstable energies swirl around the area and gather into an explosion that sends quakes into the deep into the mountain upon the scarlet night.