At the center of a deadly zone covered under a crimson sky above, dense fog of its same color, and nothing but scorched land as far as the eye could see, rested a colossal stronghold that rose high above the clouds. Its black structure gleamed like polished obsidian, and the crimson veins than ran along its walls glowed with a ferocious red. Even the strongest of metals could not compared to the sturdy spectral walls of the castle, but the unforeseen strength of a highly disregarded material during the era would be the last line of defense for humanity.
In contrast to its solid and pristine appearance on the outside, the wreckage and total chaos within the castle’s walls bounced off through every room and corner. At the highest point of the obsidian stronghold, stood a gargantuan demon with an armored body. Many sharp edges of its black exoskeleton stuck out from its shoulders, knees, and arms. Its black exoskeleton was fueled by the crimson veins running inside its fissures, and incrusted in its back were four massive wings of obsidian color, glowing fiercely with the same crimson veins of the demon’s body. The creature thumped its large and robust tail on the floor, lifting dust with every whipping motion.
Before the intimidating monster of behemothic size and power stood a single man, protecting the earth from the demon twice his size. His left shoulder was dropped with long streams of blood running down its skin, but the man’s determination did not waver at the terrible condition of his body. He kept a tight grip on his blade, an unexpected weapon that none would dare confront a specter with.
The blade was nothing to boast about, not to a human, and special not to a gladean knight. In hand he carried a bronze sword, displaying a very basic and plain shape. The radiance of a newly crafted sword had already faded from its blade, exhibiting a rough and bluish color on its oxidized surface.
Planting himself in position, the man did not allow such dire situation to put a stop to his fight against the powerful demon before him. His clothes were mostly ripped off, revealing the many wounds and scars on his muscular torso. From face to feet the knight was bathed in the crimson of his own blood, forming a small pool at his feet.
Walls, ceiling, and the pillars that sustained had all crumbled during the chaotic battle—filling the room with dust and rubble as both knight and specter fought to claim each other’s lives.
“Did he win?”
Cerberus HQ, Female Barracks: 936, December 11th, Tuesday, 5:00 AM.
“Lucy, don’t interrupt the story.” Claire frowned at the girl’s sudden question.
She was seated in her own bed, illuminated by the morning rays of the sun entering through the glass panels of her window. The small girl chuckled, and buried herself in the lieutenant’s arms. Claire almost dropped the book in her hands as Lucy snuggled in closer, drawing a smile in her face. Their bonding time together would come to a sudden end however, as the loud and annoying sound of an alarm suddenly fired up—prompting to Claire to slam it off.
“Alright…” she whispered, lifting the girl in her arms and gently lowering her back in the bed. “It’s working hours for me, remember to stay here. I’ll bring you food during lunch, got it?”
“No.”
“Lucy…”
“Got it.”
Claire smiled at the girl’s confirmation and fixed her uniform, rushing towards the exit of her dormitory, and leaving into the busy hallways of the female barracks. Lucy was left watching the door for a few seconds, moving her attention back to the book Claire left on top of the bed. Its cover was brown like almonds, and had its title written in a very simple font. The girl flipped the cover into the first pages, and fixed her eyes in a small announcement written in black ink.
On its very first page, a small paragraph disclosed the lack of evidence for the tale contained within its book, seen only as a myth, or a fairy tale made up as time passed, and stories were shared among the public. Lucy continued reading on her own, going through the same words the lieutenant had narrated to her only a few minutes ago.
She was engrossed in every bit of the story, which contained notes from Claire herself. Small childish caricatures of the characters present in the books could be seen in a few pages, ranging from people to animals and even specters. One in particular caught Lucy’s attention, as it moved to describe the man who carried a bronze sword in his back. Many elements like face features, skin, eye color and shape were missing, yet a very detailed caricature of the character was drawn by an infant Claire.
His eyes were concealed with a dark shadow Claire drew with the carbon of her pencil, his mouth remained straight—giving the man a stoic and blank expression, and his hair was messily colored in black. Though the man displayed such an unfriendly and rough look, his face brought the warmest of smiles in the girl’s face—who proceeded giggle while softly clapping at the book.
“Loewe!”
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Center of the Deadlands, Ruined Castle: 936, December 11th, Tuesday, 6:00 AM.
Resting among the wreckage of his own home, was a man of silver hair wearing a black suit and red shirt underneath. He was seated in a black throne at the very center of the room, his head dropped, and arms placed on top of the seat’s armrests. Although his body remained in a slumbering state, his eyes could still see, and ears still hear.
Despite the blur and strange whispers echoing in his mind, he could perfectly tell the exact location of the Deadlands he found himself in. A large open area near the south, revealing nothing different from any other place within the hellish zone. He was surrounded by dust and fog, but the voices in the distance guided his instinct towards them.
It didn’t take him long to reach a small group of four white armored soldiers, walking together alongside the enormous black wall near Heildin. Their clothes were of a bright magenta, with fully visored helmets that displayed the symbol of a lion, goat, and snake merged together.
At the top of the massive rampart, many spotlights were placed like heavily secured prison—moving from side to side in an attempt to spot movements within the zone. One of the lights suddenly blinded his sight, hitting him like a flashbang from a short distance. An alarm was immediately fired up at his presence, bringing the group’s attention directly towards him.
“Grr…” the specter growled, covering its face with one of its skeletal hands.
The sound of whistling bullets flying past its head, and the ignition of the ones hitting its body forced the creature to step back—feeling its armor shatter little by little with every impact. The small group of soldiers slowly approached the staggered creature while releasing a barrage of bullets against it, keeping a tight formation as they made sure to not let out on their assault. The barrels of their rifles began to emit a white smoke, and the specter would eventually fall against the dirt with its body riddled with holes.
“Seize fire!” one of the officers commanded with a raised fist.
The man led one finger to his earpiece, and began to speak through the radio, but his words could no reach the demon’s ears. A line of soldiers observed situation from the top of the rampart, training the rifles and mounted turrets on the downed specter. The officer in command of the group below issued his last command to the group, motioning with his hand to open fire.
Their assault lasted for about a minute, discharging all they could on against the demon. Its body convulsed violently with every projectile that ignited on its torso, head, arms, legs, and very inch of its shattered body.
“I’ve seen enough,” Sovereign spoke at the sorry sight of the creature—broken, and almost turned into dust by an aggressive assault from the soldiers. “Tear them to pieces, nothing they can do will harm you.” He calmly commanded.
With the authority of its god behind it, and in a sudden burst of energy. The demon jumped back on its feet, and ignored every exploding projectile that attempted to break its body. Big or small, there was no caliber strong enough that could pierce the specter’s armor. Its hunger only grew as the group of men standing at even ground with it recoiled in fear, snapping its jaws open to roar at them all with an earsplitting screech.
Three soldiers in the group immediately turned back and run closer to the wall, yelling at the officers on top to drop down the emergency ladder. The captain was left to fend off the creature with his own strength by the fleeing soldiers, who stood no chance against the revitalized demon.
Not a scream could be heard from the now dead soldiers, who’s skull was crushed by the specter in a single swing that shattered his helmet with ease. One of the officers at the wall brought the ladder close, but was immediately stopped by another—warning him about the risks of such an action. The trio on ground level pleaded for help, but the demon behind them silenced their words in an assault that lasted mere seconds.
The first officer to fall had his back slashed by the monster’s sharp claws, and had his head smashed against the spectral wall. The second soldier had his life taken by the same claws, which tore through his abdomen with relative ease—giving the man a relatively slow and agonizing end. Only the last soldier remained, screaming and banging his fists in the black spectral structure of the wall.
His fingers bled as he ripped his nails while trying to climb the rampart, he screamed, pleaded, and even closed his eyes to pray at the goddess. Some of the soldiers observed from the top, shooting at the demon with their strongest weapons from the time. The demon did not even flinch at their attempts, keeping its glowing crimson eyes glued to the man begging for his life.
“Please…” he whimpered. “Gladea, I’ll… I-I’ll pray every day… please….”
The officers pulled out a pistol from the holster on his hip, extending his arm against the approaching specter. Its hungry stare did not flinch at the sight of such a weak weapon, as not even the stronger turrets and rifles could scratch its armor. The man sobbed unconsolably, and he could barely keep his hand steady to aim at the demon. He made his last prayer, and pressed the trigger on his pistol.
“I’m bored…” Sovereign said. “You can die now.”
A whistling sound ran past the demon’s ear, feeling the blistering surface metal of the bullet scratch the side of its head. The will of its god forced the demon to plummet in a mere instant, dropping down to its knees, and dispersing into embers instantly.
Loud gasps echoed all over the nearby area, caused by the slack-jawed officers that observed the events unfold with wide open eyes. The whimpering soldier could not believe it himself, instinctively dripping the gun from his hand, as he too kept his mouth open with shock.
“I… I, did it?” he whispered—proceeding to chuckle, and then laugh loudly with maniacal panting breaths, throwing his head back. “I did it!” he continued with a stream of tears flowing down his face, eyes wide open and lost in the crimson sky above him.
At the ruined structure of the enormous black castle, Sovereign rested his head in one fist—looking at the empty throne room he’s been resting at for months. “So, that’s all it takes…” he said under his breath. “Ninigi, Atalanta, Loki... King… Gal… Maulik… who am I forgetting?” the man anxiously tapped one finger in the armrest of his throne. “Dammit… I’ll have to figure it out when I get there. Still, no army will be a problem if even a specter like that can do the job.” A quick chuckle escaped him, leaning back on the throne, and returning to his peaceful slumber.
END OF CHAPTER