PROLOGUE

A bleak and desolate landscape stretched out endlessly as corpses lay strewn across the ground. The pungent smell of death and decay permeated the air as the silence weighed heavily on the senses.

In this macabre tapestry of death, one spot seemed to flicker with life in the bone chilling wind. A frail silhouette stood gazing up into the firmament. This once stalwart frame, weighed down by a thick aura of death, swayed back and forth like a candle flickering in the wind. It was clear that they were not long for this world. Raven black hair shielded the silhouette’s face from observation, but from the battered armour that the figure donned, and the conspicuous glaive that hung impaled from its chest, one could see how harrowing the battle had been.

Following the figure’s gaze, one would be shocked to find that up in the sky resided not clouds, but debris of what was once landmasses almost the size of continents.

The corruption of death, however, did not spare even the heavens. The sky had collapsed and what now overlooked the earth was boundless space!

Chaos!

Nihility!

One weak, staggering step at a time, the armour-clad survivor waddled to the top of a short hill where a figure clad in heavy armour knelt with one steady hand clasped tightly around a meter long sword. The slender blade was firmly rooted in the skull of a pale green creature with pointed ears and two canines protruding from the bottom lip. The length of the blade was dyed an assortment of colours of what could be assumed to be blood from felled adversaries. Though still and unmoving, the warrior still radiated an aura that caused light to bend and distort not daring to touch the mighty existence.

Thud!

The staggering figure fell to their knees in front of the warrior.

Drip. Drip. Drip.

Head bowed, streaks of red liquid ran down the figure’s face. Whether they were tears or blood was unknown.

“Heh - cough! Cough!” the warrior atop the hill tried to speak but immediately broke into a violent coughing fit. Each cough spewed blood that was mixed with chunks of internal organs. With the wounds aggravated, a light squelch was heard as a few more centimetres of intestines rolled out from the gash on the warrior’s belly.

“Looks like we lost, milady,” the warrior said as he looked into the firmament.

“We did,” replied the raven-haired figure. The figure raised their head to reveal a face that was beautiful once upon a time. With the baptism of battle, however, the once flawless visage of what was undoubtedly a nation toppling beauty had crimson blood flowing out of an empty eye socket and a bloody gash that split the face into an upper and lower half.

The warrior retracted his gaze from the sky to look at the raven-haired woman. Pain could be seen in his eyes as he looked at the toll the battle had taken on her.

“Little Sam?” he asked.

The woman remained silent. She bit into her lips to stop them from trembling. She could not stop her body,however. Blood dripped from between the fingers of her clenched fists as her nails dug into her palms.

“He… did not… let us down,” she hiccupped trying to hold back the sobs that punctuated her words.

“I see.” With a heavy sigh, the warrior retracted his gaze to focus on the landscape of death before him. “If only we had more time.”

The raven-haired woman did not respond. She just looked at the man before her, tears streaming down her face. Even though he was on his knees, his frame radiated indomitability. Even as his body was riddled with holes. Even as his left arm was detached from his body, impaled in one of the vanquished foes scattered along the slopes of the hill. The man did not shake or tremble. Stable as a mountain!

Ever since they were children, this man had been with her. Come hell or high water, this man followed her to the highest heavens and the deepest depths of hell. Sword in hand, he would cut down anyone she judged worthy of death without so much as furrowing his brow. She knew she wasn’t perfect. She was ambitious, yes, but far too immature. She was impulsive and impatient. But that did not matter. She had him. He would hold up the skys should they ever collapse.

This time, however, he had shouldered too much. This time, the hole she pierced into the heavens was too big.

This time, it wasn’t just Aziel that had paid for it, everyone she had ever held dear had been slaughtered.

“I’m sorry…” voice hoarse, the frail raven-haired figure trembled while shaking her head. The tears never stopped flowing.

The two remained facing each other. Neither spoke but the smile on Aziel’s face told the woman that he did not regret the life he had lived. Even if he had another chance, he would still follow her to cut a bloody path through the nine majors.

This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author's consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.

Slowly, the sound of tears touching earth ceased. What took their place was an ominous black fog that seeped out from the ground. Even the landmasses floating in space emanated the black fog.

Aziel’s eyes widened in shock as he looked at the woman teetering on the brink of death before him.

“You…” he wanted to speak but couldn’t find the words.

Shortly after, he gave up. He had a bitter smile on his face as he looked at the fairy of a woman in front of him. Even beaten and battered. Even with one eye missing. Her beauty still shone through.

Resigned, he sighed. They had already reached this point. Any path forward would only result in more pain. Thus, he asked, “Are you sure this is the path you wish to take?”

All he received was a gaze that spoke of decisive resoluteness. An unwavering resolve to sever this cruel fate! To sever this destiny!

Aziel hesitated but only for a moment. “This karma…”

Releasing his grip from his sword, he tapped his finger on the woman’s forehead. A moment later, his body seemed to wither at a visible rate. He seemed to age tens of years in a single breath. Finally, his body, completely desiccated, turned to dust. Ashen remains dispersed in the wind as the valiant armour he once wore, as well as the blades that impaled his body, dropped to the ground.

The only thing that remained upright was his sword, that wailed as it vibrated wildly. The planet shook and the world lost what little colour remained.

“This is the last thing I can do for you, Neva.” Aziel’s voiced drifted into the woman’s ears but it seemed to be coming from far away. “I… will go ahead first.”

Tears streamed down Neva’s face but her determination never faltered. Blood oozed from her eyes, nose, mouth, and ears as she weaved cryptic hand signs one after another. Unintelligible words could be heard coming from her mouth and with every syllable her throat vibrated unnaturally, unable to shoulder the strain of the words being spoken.

The earth shook even more violently.

***

At a region far from Neva’s location, a group of war-torn figures stood in uniform military formation.

At the head of the group stood three people adorned in ornately decorated armour. The insignia and unique styling of their armour testified to their superior rank to the troops arrayed behind them. The different emblems that rode atop the war banners, however, spoke of a difference in faction.

At the moment of Aziel’s passing when the sword shook the earth, the figure that stood in the middle of the three turned in the direction of the battlefield.

His gaze pierced thousands of meters traversing multiple splintered and shattered landmasses to rest on the largest one. There, he witnessed Aziel’s body scatter in the wind.

To this he was indifferent. Face expressionless, he observed Neva, waiting for the last of his greatest foes to perish.

Reality disappointed him.

Eyes widened in incredulity, his body trembled as the colour drained from his face.

It was at this moment that his two companions noticed his odd behaviour. Turning around, the two did not have time to process what was happening before the earth’s tremors reached them. The shaking was so violent that some of the soldiers at their backs stumbled and fell causing the army’s formations to nearly collapse in on themselves.

The same shock registered on their faces as their pupils constricted. Confusion marred their features as the trio heard an archaic voice speak. It was an ancient tongue that caused the space to ripple as it resonated with heaven and earth.

“Tongue of the Ancients!” the trio exclaimed simultaneously. But this confused them even more.

“No! How can they interfere!?” the central figure roared.

Face twisted, he retrieved a short rod from his back which promptly extended itself into a two-and-a-half-meter golden halberd. Two pairs of pitch black dragonoid wings emerged from his back as black scales tinged his neck.

“STOP THE SUMMONING!” with a guttural roar, he hefted the halberd and thrust it with all the power he could muster.

BOOM!

The ground they stood on shattered from the recoil as sonic booms followed the shattering of space as the halberd shot for its target. Like an envoy of death, everywhere the halberd passed, all life would turn to dust!

***

Back on the small hill, Neva noticed the oncoming assault but paid it no heed. She focused solely on her summoning.

The chest plate of her armour was now covered in crimson blood that flowed endlessly out of her neck. Her vocal cords had shattered, unable to endure the strain of using the forbidden language.

However, even this did not shake her resolve.

She continued to chant, her voice coming from the ignition of her soul. And as the trembling grew more intense, she noticed a debris cloud over the horizon. She did not take long to surmise that this was the Dragon General’s signature halberd.

500 meters.

100 meters.

10 meters.

5 meters.

In mere moments, the halberd was already right in front of her, targeted right at the centre of her brow.

However, it was already too late. She had succeeded.

Everything stilled as the world stopped moving.

The three commanders of the army were locked in their expressions of disbelief. In the depths of their eyes, however, therein lay a boundless deep-seated terror that did not outwardly manifest thanks to the world being frozen.

At this moment, a sigh spread through the battlefield. It sounded tired and ancient as if it had travelled from antiquity and only its embers echoed in the present day.

Following that, everything turned to dust as if having passed through millions of years in an instant.

The three commanders. The endless swathes of soldiers. The corpses that littered the earth. Even the shattered and floating landmasses in the firmament! Everything was reduced to dust, blown away by the wind.

Neva was no exception. Her body was disintegrating starting from her legs. And in a matter of seconds everything below her mouth had turned to dust.

As she closed her eyes, the ancient voice drifted into her ears. “My patience is wearing thin. Five hundred thousand years.”

Then it disappeared.

As the last of her existence was wiped out, a ghost of a smile could be seen on her face.