Outside the cavern, the rain fell steadily, each drop tapping against the stone like the soft whisper of a lament. The sky was a dull grey, thick with clouds that blocked out any glimpse of the sun. The air was heavy with moisture, the smell of wet earth filling the air, as if nature itself was mourning alongside them.
Gabriel stood silently, his large frame barely shifting as the rain soaked his clothes and dark hair. His eyes, usually sharp and alert, were lowered, fixed on the ground before him. Next to him, Elias sat on a large stone, his expression grim, his usually vibrant aura dulled by the weight of sorrow that hung over them both.
Between them, resting in the shallow trench they had dug, was Kain’s body. The rain washed over the lifeless form, a natural cleansing that couldn’t undo the finality of death. His sword, once gripped tightly in his hand, now lay at his side, a silent symbol of the battles he had fought, of the life he had lived and ultimately lost.
Elias sighed heavily, his voice breaking the otherwise oppressive silence. “I should have been there,” he said quietly, his fists clenching in frustration. “If I had just acted faster... maybe this wouldn’t have happened.”
Gabriel glanced over at Elias, his expression calm but filled with understanding. “There’s nothing you could have done. The witch... she was far stronger than any of us anticipated. Kain... he knew the risks. We all did.”
Elias shook his head, his damp hair clinging to his face. “But he didn’t have to die. He was the strongest of us. The one we all looked up to. And now... he’s gone.”
Gabriel turned his gaze back to Kain’s body, his heart heavy. Kain had been their leader, the one who had always been there to guide them, protect them. And now, in this desolate place, he was gone. The reality of it was still hard to grasp.
For a long moment, neither of them spoke. The only sound was the gentle rhythm of the rain and the distant rumble of thunder. It was as though the world itself was holding its breath, giving them space to mourn in peace.
Finally, Gabriel broke the silence. “He died as a warrior should. Fighting to the very end. There’s... honour in that.”
Elias scoffed softly, though not in anger. “Honour,” he repeated, the word bitter on his tongue. “What good is honour when the people we care about keep dying? It doesn’t bring them back.”
Gabriel didn’t respond immediately. He knelt beside Kain’s body, placing a hand on his chest, over his heart. “No, it doesn’t bring them back. But it keeps their memory alive. Kain was more than a warrior. He was a friend. A brother. And we’ll carry him with us, in every battle, every step forward.”
Elias looked up at Gabriel, his eyes red with the sting of loss. “Do you think... he’s at peace now? Wherever he is?”
Gabriel’s expression softened, though the sadness never left his eyes. “I like to think so. He deserves peace after everything he’s been through.”
The rain continued to fall, heavier now, as if the heavens themselves wept for the fallen. Gabriel stood, his hand still resting on Kain’s body, his gaze lifting to the stormy sky. “We’ll finish this fight, Elias. For Kain. For everyone we’ve lost. We’ll make sure their sacrifice wasn’t in vain.”
Elias nodded, though his heart remained heavy. He stood as well, looking down one last time at Kain before stepping back. “We should bury him before the rain gets worse.”
Gabriel agreed, his movements slow and deliberate as they began the solemn task of laying their fallen comrade to rest. Each shovelful of earth felt like another weight added to their already burdened hearts. But they worked in silence, their grief a shared, unspoken bond between them.
As the last of the earth was placed over Kain, Gabriel and Elias stood side by side, heads bowed in quiet respect. There were no words that could truly capture the depth of their loss, but in the silence that followed, the rain seemed to speak for them—an endless requiem for the warrior they had loved and lost.
When the task was done, Gabriel placed Kain’s sword atop the makeshift grave, the blade shining even in the grey light of the storm. “Rest well, brother,” he murmured, his voice barely audible over the rain.
Elias turned away first, his shoulders slumped with the weight of grief. Gabriel lingered a moment longer, his thoughts heavy with the battles still to come. The world felt darker without Kain in it, but there was no time to falter.
With a deep breath, Gabriel turned and followed Elias back to the cavern, the rain still falling as the earth claimed another warrior.The rain continued to pour, thick droplets tracing paths down Gabriel's face, though it was hard to tell whether it was water or tears. He kept his gaze low, staring at the freshly packed earth where Kain’s body lay beneath. The pain was sharp, a weight on his chest that no amount of strength or resolve could lift. For all his power, Gabriel felt helpless against this raw, unrelenting grief.
Elias stood next to him, equally drenched and silent. His usually confident demeanor had wilted in the face of their loss. The ache of Kain's death gnawed at him, not just as a comrade fallen in battle, but as a friend—a brother in arms who had been there since the very beginning.
“Kain was... invincible,” Elias murmured, breaking the silence. His voice was hoarse, barely audible over the rain. "I still can't believe he's gone. He should've survived that fight. He always survived."
Gabriel nodded slightly but said nothing. He understood. Kain had been their anchor, their guide. His presence had always been something solid to rely on, even in the darkest moments. And now, that presence was gone, snatched away by the cruel hand of fate, leaving them exposed to a future uncertain and cold.
Elias shook his head, drops of rain flying off his soaked hair. “The witch... she didn’t just kill him. She humiliated him. Took his own sword and... and...” His voice cracked, unable to finish the thought. He clenched his fists, trying to contain the rage and sorrow warring inside him. “How could we let this happen?”
Gabriel looked up at the grey sky, the rain dripping down from his chin. “We didn’t let this happen,” he said softly but firmly. “Kain chose to face her. He knew the risks.”
“That doesn’t make it any easier.” Elias’ shoulders sagged. "We were supposed to be a team. We should've been there for him."
Gabriel turned to face him. “I know. But we can’t change the past. We can only honour him by doing what he would have wanted—by finishing what he started.”
Elias inhaled sharply, his eyes narrowing in determination despite the grief that still twisted in his chest. “Finish what he started...”
“Yes,” Gabriel continued. “The witch, the demon lord, all of them. We take them down. For Kain. For everyone who’s fallen because of this war.”
Elias nodded, though his expression was still one of deep pain. “We have to get stronger. We can’t afford to lose anyone else.”
Gabriel agreed silently. The sting of loss had etched itself deep into their hearts, and the only way to dull that pain was through vengeance—through victory.
After a long pause, Elias turned to look at Gabriel, his face still wet from the rain. “Gabriel... do you think Kain knew? That this was his end?”
Gabriel hesitated, considering his words carefully. “I think... Kain always knew the risks. But whether he foresaw this outcome or not... we’ll never know.”
Elias sighed, stepping away from the grave. “Let’s just hope we don’t end up the same way.”
For Kain. For all that remained.Kaelus trudged through the thick mud, the rain continuing to beat down on him. His body ached, the remnants of his recent death and resurrection leaving him far weaker than he was accustomed to. But despite the pain, despite the fog that clouded his mind, he had to be here. Kain—his friend, his comrade, the leader and cleric of their party—was gone. And Kaelus, no matter how fragile he felt, could not miss this moment.
Selena walked beside him, her usual light-hearted demeanour tempered by the somber reality of their loss. She didn’t speak, but Kaelus could feel her presence—her quiet support. He appreciated it, though words felt too heavy in the air between them.
As they approached the burial site, Kaelus saw Gabriel and Elias standing silently over the grave. The sight of the freshly packed earth hit Kaelus harder than he expected. His chest tightened, and his breath caught in his throat. It didn’t seem real. Kain, the one who had always been there to lead, to protect, was now just beneath the soil.
Kaelus stopped a few feet from the grave, his legs suddenly weak. He stared down at the mound of dirt, his fists clenching at his sides.
“Kain...”
His voice was barely a whisper, carried away by the rain.
Gabriel turned at the sound of his approach, his eyes shadowed with grief. “Kaelus,” he greeted, his voice low and hollow. “You made it.”
Kaelus nodded slowly, his eyes never leaving the grave. “I had to. I couldn’t... I couldn’t miss this.”
Elias, standing beside Gabriel, remained quiet. He glanced at Kaelus but said nothing, his face tight with the same mixture of anger and sadness they all felt.
Selena stepped up beside Kaelus, her hand resting gently on his arm. She didn’t say anything, but her presence was grounding, pulling him from the abyss of his grief, at least a little.
Kaelus took a deep breath, trying to steady his emotions. “I still can’t believe he’s gone,” he said, his voice cracking. “He was... He was always the one to get us through. To lead us.”
Gabriel’s jaw tightened. “He led us well. And now... we honour him by seeing this through.”
Elias, still looking at the grave, finally spoke. “We’ll finish this. For him.”
Kaelus swallowed hard. He wanted to say something, anything, to make sense of the loss, to make it feel less crushing. But there was nothing. Kain was gone, and the world felt emptier because of it.
“Kain wouldn’t want us to stop,” Selena said softly, breaking the silence. “He’d want us to keep going. To fight.”
Kaelus nodded, though the weight of her words felt like a burden. "I know... but it's not the same."
Gabriel stepped forward, placing a hand on Kaelus' shoulder. "It never will be. But we fight on, Kaelus. We have to."
The rain began to let up slightly, but the cold remained, clinging to them as they stood in silence for a few more moments. Each of them mourning in their own way, grappling with the enormity of what they had lost.
Finally, Kaelus knelt down beside the grave, his hand brushing the wet soil. "I'm sorry, Kain," he whispered, his voice breaking. "I'm sorry I wasn't there."
Selena placed a comforting hand on his back as he lowered his head, allowing himself to grieve.
Gabriel and Elias stood back, giving him the space he needed. There were no words that could heal this wound, no speeches that could bring back their fallen leader. But together, they would carry his memory, and together, they would fight on.In Eirina's dimly lit room, the soft glow of a few enchanted lanterns flickered, casting an intimate warmth over the ornate furniture. The air was thick with a sense of anticipation as the three women rested before their upcoming journey to the realm of the Magic Gods. The large, opulent bed on which Eirina and Morigan sat was covered in silk sheets, the deep crimson colour contrasting with the pale skin of the women. Circe lounged nearby, perched elegantly on the edge of the bed, her posture relaxed yet alert.
Eirina had changed into her chamber clothes, a long, flowing white gown made of the finest silk. The fabric was so light it seemed to float around her, slightly transparent but tastefully modest. Her deep-blue hair cascaded down her back, adding an ethereal beauty to her already regal appearance. Morigan, on the other hand, was far less concerned with modesty. She was dressed only in her underwear—dark purple lace that clung to her curves. Her skin was fair and smooth, her chest of mid-size, full and perfectly shaped, with delicate but noticeable curves that drew attention. Her long legs were crossed casually, and she seemed completely at ease, her golden hair falling over her bare shoulders.
Circe remained in her usual clothes, though they were different from the regal attire she typically wore in her castle at Tartesso. Now, her outfit was simpler—light and breezy, with transparent layers of dark silk draping over her slender figure. The black and silver hues caught the light with every slight movement she made, giving her an almost spectral presence in the room.
The walls of Eirina’s chamber were lined with intricate wall affusions, a curious blend of ancient tradition and modern culture. One tapestry depicted a group of rock-and-roll musicians, guitars in hand, while another held the iconic figures of famous Jump series characters, drawn with bold strokes but faded from age. They were out of place in such a grand setting, yet somehow, they added a unique charm to the room.
As the women talked, their conversation drifted into trivial matters—idle chatter about their journey and casual remarks about the setting sun, which cast a faint golden light through the large window. But then, Circe shifted the topic, her tone taking on a curious edge. “Eirina, you’ve been with the demon lord longer than any of us. Do you know where the Anakim come from?”
Eirina paused, her gaze drifting out the window for a moment before answering. “The Anakim... they're not from this world,” she began slowly, as if considering how much to reveal. “They are otherworldly beings, indebted to Yami-sama. Before they came here, they were fighting a losing war in their own realm. A war they couldn’t hope to win.”
Morigan perked up at this, her interest piqued. “A war? What kind of war?”
Eirina sighed softly, turning her gaze back to her companions. “They were trapped by their enemies, a force guided by creatures of holy light. Their adversaries were relentless, pushing the Anakim to the brink of extinction. The leader of the Anakim, Thalassa, was fierce and proud, but even she couldn’t turn the tide of battle. They were about to be buried, trapped in the center of their world's core, when Yami-sama intervened.”
Circe leaned forward, her eyes glimmering with intrigue. “Why would the demon lord help them?”
Eirina’s voice dropped, a knowing smile playing on her lips. “Because Yami-sama saw potential in them. But more than that, he saw something else—something that others missed. The Anakim’s fate had been sealed by the Creator, their defeat already written in the grand design of the world. But Yami-sama...” Her eyes darkened. “He has the power to bend fate itself. He turned their written destiny into a singularity—an anomaly that even the Creator couldn’t anticipate.”
Morigan’s eyes widened in awe, her earlier casual demeanor replaced by an almost childlike fascination. “He changed their fate?”
“Yes,” Eirina said. “He saved them from destruction and gave them a new purpose.”
The room fell silent for a moment as the weight of her words sank in. Morigan leaned back slightly, her half-naked form glistening faintly in the low light as she processed the information. Finally, she broke the silence, her voice hesitant. “What... what was Yami-sama like when he was still the Hero of Light?”
Eirina didn’t answer immediately. Instead, she looked down at her hands, tracing the patterns on the silk sheets beneath her. “He was... different,” she began slowly. “Back then, he was still human. He fought alongside others to save this world from the previous demon lord, a creature far more monstrous than any we’ve seen since. The kingdom that summoned him revered him as a saviour, a beacon of hope.”
Her voice grew softer, filled with an undertone of sadness. “But the very people who called him their hero eventually turned against him. After the demon lord was defeated, people no longer saw him as a saviour. They began to fear him. His power, his presence—it unsettled them. The kingdom that summoned him... betrayed him. And not just them—his own comrades, the ones he fought beside, turned on him too.”
This book is hosted on another platform. Read the official version and support the author's work.
Morigan’s eyes widened, disbelief flashing across her face. “They... they betrayed him? Even after everything he did for them?”
Eirina nodded. “They did. The ones he thought closest to him—the kingdom he saved, the people he protected. They feared him, despised him. And in the end, they tried to kill him.”
The room grew cold as Eirina’s words hung in the air, the gravity of Yami’s past now fully understood by her companions. Morigan and Circe exchanged glances, both shaken by the revelation.
Morigan’s earlier awe was replaced by a deep respect, her voice soft and full of wonder. “I never imagined...”
Circe, still seated, let out a soft sigh. “No wonder he is the way he is now.”
The three women fell silent again, each lost in thought as the sun slowly began to set outside, signalling that their departure to the realm of the Magic Gods was drawing near.The Anakim trudged through the dense forest, their massive forms effortlessly carving a path through the undergrowth. These were no ordinary giants. Each was a hybrid of distinct races—beastmen, cyclopeans, and humanoids—yet all shared the same towering stature. Their bodies, built for war, were as varied as their origins. Some had fur covering their limbs, others had thick, leathery skin like stone. A few had single, glowing eyes in the center of their foreheads, while others had more human-like features, though none could be mistaken for anything close to human.
Their new leader, a man named Typhon, stood at the forefront of the group. He was a hulking figure, a cyclopean of immense power. His single eye glowed a faint yellow, and his head was crowned with jagged, black horns that curved backward like those of a ram. He carried no weapon, for his strength was unmatched even without one. Typhon was a name that resonated with ancient power—taken from the myths of old, after the great storm demon who once sought to overthrow the heavens. He embodied that chaos, though his mind was sharp and calculating, a stark contrast to the brutish nature of some of his companions.
Typhon led them deeper into the forest, his steps slow and deliberate as he surveyed the path ahead. Behind him, the other Anakim marched with less care, their footsteps heavy, breaking branches and crushing flowers underfoot. They spoke in low, guttural tones, their conversations as trivial as they were dark.
“I’ve never had the chance to bed a woman,” one of the beastmen grumbled, his voice a deep rumble. He was covered in dark fur, with the head of a wolf but the body of a man. “Maybe we can grab a few from the next village.”
Several others grunted in agreement, their faces breaking into twisted grins. Another, a cyclopean with red skin and a scar running down his chest, laughed cruelly. “We’ll take what we want. Women, food, whatever we find.”
The rest of the group chuckled, their monstrous voices blending with the sounds of the forest. Typhon didn’t participate in the conversation, though he didn’t silence them either. His mind was on the road ahead, the path they followed closely matching that of the heroes who had passed through not long before.
As they continued their march, the group found themselves standing before a massive tree, its trunk as wide as a city, its branches reaching high into the sky. The tree glowed faintly, the pulse of life within it still strong, though the signs of decay were apparent. Its lower branches were brittle, slowly being eaten away by the void that crept at the forest's edges.
A few of the Anakim voiced their awe. “Look at the size of that thing,” one of the cyclopeans muttered. “How does something like that even exist?”
“It’s almost as if it’s alive,” a beastman added, his clawed hand reaching out to touch the tree's bark.
Unbeknownst to them, one of the giants had crushed a small, delicate flower beneath his heel—a flower that had bloomed from the tear Selena shed just days earlier. The life it held was snuffed out instantly, unnoticed by the group of towering beings who stomped through the forest with little care for the world around them.
They continued their journey, passing the tree without further incident, but as they moved away from the forest’s heart, something strange happened. Eyes began to open along the bark of the tree, large and glowing, like windows into another world. The eyes observed the Anakim with curious glances, following their every movement as they left the forest behind.
Typhon sensed something, a faint unease creeping into his mind, but he said nothing. The eyes disappeared into the void as quickly as they had appeared, leaving the Anakim to their path. They didn’t realise it, but the forest had been watching them, and the mark they left behind would not be forgotten.
The group emerged from the forest, still laughing and talking, unaware of the ancient forces that stirred behind them. Typhon continued to lead, his single eye glowing brighter as the journey continued. His thoughts drifted to Yami-sama and the task at hand, but a part of him couldn’t shake the feeling that they had crossed into something far greater than they understood.
The Anakim were powerful, yes, but even Typhon knew that power alone wouldn’t protect them from the world they now walked through.The Anakim, a terrifying mix of beastmen, cyclopean figures, and towering humanoids, trudged through the forest with heavy steps. They were a massive group, their sheer size making the journey of what would take a human days seem like mere minutes. Among them, Typhon, their leader, was silent, his mind fixed on the goal ahead—the heroes who had been challenging their dominion.
The forest was dense, but to the Anakim, it was nothing more than a minor obstacle. As they marched, they engaged in idle conversation, their deep voices rumbling through the air.
"Once we catch up to those heroes, what then? Rip them apart?" one of the giants growled, his beastly voice dripping with malice.
Another chimed in, his voice filled with hunger. "Maybe. But I'd rather take my time with the humans we pass on the way. Been a while since I had a taste of fresh meat."
Laughter echoed among the group as the more crude of their kind made lewd jokes and shared tales of past conquests. One, a cyclopean brute, chuckled as he mused, "I'd like to try something new. Maybe a village girl. The ones from these lands are soft."
Their words were filled with casual cruelty, but this was the nature of the Anakim. They were creatures built for war, and their desires were base, driven by hunger and lust. As they continued their march, the forest began to thin, and soon they reached the outskirts of a small, unsuspecting village.
Typhon raised a hand to halt the group. "We’ll restock here. Just make it quick," he ordered, his deep voice commanding respect from the others. His eyes scanned the village ahead, small and seemingly defenseless. It was the perfect opportunity for them to replenish supplies before continuing their pursuit of the heroes.
As they approached the village, a young boy led his cattle through the fields, unaware of the danger that loomed nearby. The animals suddenly scattered, sensing the danger long before the boy did. Confused, he turned to look for them, but before he could react, a massive hand closed around him. The boy barely had time to scream before he was lifted into the air.
The giant who had caught him grinned wickedly, his teeth glinting as he pulled the boy toward his mouth. The crunch of bones and the boy's stifled cry were all that could be heard as the giant devoured him without hesitation. The other Anakim laughed at the gruesome sight.
Not far away, a young girl—his sister—watched in horror, frozen as she witnessed the unthinkable. The sight of her brother being consumed by the monstrous figure sent a wave of terror through her. She dropped the wood she had been carrying, screaming as she turned to run back toward the village. But before she could take more than a few steps, a massive spear pierced through her small body, lifting her from the ground as if she were nothing more than a doll. She died instantly, her body limp on the spear.
The giant who threw the spear grunted in satisfaction. "Human meat really is the best," he muttered.
The village was quickly overrun. The Anakim stormed through, tearing down makeshift defenses and slaughtering anyone who stood in their way. Chaos erupted as villagers scrambled to escape, but there was nowhere to run. The giants' heavy feet crushed anyone too slow to flee, and their monstrous hunger knew no bounds. They consumed livestock, and in their brutal rampage, captured women and children.
In the center of the village, the women and young girls were rounded up, their faces pale with fear. The giants, driven by their lust and greed, gathered around, making crude remarks and jostling for the first choice. Typhon’s voice boomed over the chaos. "You have ten minutes," he growled. "We move after that."
The giants wasted no time. They ripped the clothes from their captives, exposing their trembling forms. The women screamed and sobbed, but there was no mercy to be found. The Anakim, massive and powerful, violated the helpless villagers with brutal efficiency, their desires unchecked by any sense of morality. Some women fainted from fear, others were silenced by the horrifying sight of what happened to those around them. The giants' monstrous strength overwhelmed their fragile bodies, leading to an unimaginable nightmare.
Hidden away in a nearby barrel, a young girl watched the carnage through a small hole, her tiny body shaking with terror. She held her breath, her hands covering her mouth to stifle her sobs as she witnessed the horror unfolding before her. She had never imagined such monsters existed, and now, trapped and alone, she could only pray they wouldn't find her.
The carnage continued for the full ten minutes, a hellish nightmare of death and suffering. When Typhon called for them to leave, the Anakim reluctantly pulled away from their victims, some grumbling about the short amount of time, while others looked satisfied with their cruel indulgences.
As they prepared to move on, the village lay in ruins behind them, a scene of devastation and horror.As the Anakim resumed their march, leaving the ruined village behind, their heavy footsteps echoed through the surrounding wilderness. Their massive forms towered over the landscape, casting long shadows under the dim, overcast sky. Despite the grim slaughter they had just left in their wake, they were in high spirits, exchanging jokes and crude remarks amongst themselves.
One of the beastmen chuckled, wiping blood from his lips as he spoke. “That was quite the feast back there. The meat was fresh, and the women were... well, let’s just say they didn’t disappoint.” He laughed, his voice rough and filled with satisfaction.
Another, a towering cyclopean figure with a single glowing eye, grinned as he joined in the conversation. “Yeah, that one I had... she was something else. Fragile, but they always scream the loudest when they’re scared. Makes it more fun.” His laugh was deep and booming, and a few others joined in.
A third, with a more human appearance but the bulk and strength of a giant, rubbed his stomach and let out a contented sigh. “I might’ve gotten one of them pregnant. Wouldn’t mind having some half-human kids to play around with in the future. They’d make good servants.”
The others burst into laughter at the remark, their crude humor masking the darkness of their deeds. They had no moral qualms, no guilt or regret for what they had done. To them, humans were nothing more than playthings, to be used and discarded at will.
“Maybe next time we can find a bigger village,” one of the cyclopeans suggested, still grinning. “With more women. I wouldn’t mind spending a whole day having my fun before we catch up to those heroes.”
Typhon, walking ahead of the group, remained silent, his mind focused on the road ahead. He wasn’t as indulgent as the others, but he allowed them their fun. They were warriors—brutal and savage—but they followed him without question, and that’s all that mattered. Still, his sharp ears caught wind of their conversations.
One of the more curious Anakim, a leaner figure with the face of a wolf and a humanoid body, spoke up with a thoughtful tone. “Why was there even a village there in the first place? The whole world is falling apart. Human kingdoms have crumbled, and their population is almost wiped out. Who would be stupid enough to settle at the edge of that forest?”
The others looked at him, and for a moment, the group’s laughter quieted.
“It is strange,” another mused, stroking his beard thoughtfully. “That village was isolated. No walls, no defences. They were practically inviting death.”
Typhon finally spoke, his voice deep and commanding. “Humans are stubborn. They cling to hope, even when there’s none left. Maybe they thought they’d be safe there, hidden at the edge of the forest. But it doesn’t matter now. They’re dead, and we’re moving on.”
The wolf-faced Anakim nodded, though his curiosity wasn’t fully satisfied. “Still, it’s odd. The forest... it didn’t seem natural. That tree we passed—it was unlike anything I’ve seen before.”
Typhon’s eyes narrowed. He had noticed the massive, glowing tree in the heart of the forest as well. Its presence had been unsettling, its aura almost alive. But whatever power it held didn’t concern him. Their focus was on the heroes, and nothing else mattered.
“Forget the tree,” he said, dismissing the thought. “Our goal is the heroes. Once we find them, everything else will fall into place.”
The others nodded, accepting his words without question. Typhon was their leader, and his authority was absolute. With the village far behind them and the path ahead uncertain, they continued their march, their minds already turning to thoughts of future conquests and the bloody trail they would leave in their wake.The eye that had watched the giants retreat flickered and then vanished, sinking back into the massive, ancient bark of the Ygdrana tree. From the heart of its trunk, the bark began to shift and part, revealing the form of a woman. She stepped forward gracefully, emerging from the living wood as if she had always been one with the tree. Her body was bare, pristine, and untouched by the elements, and a sly, knowing smile played across her lips.
Her gaze settled on the crushed flower beneath her, the one the Anakim had thoughtlessly trampled. She knelt down briefly, touching the ruined petals with a finger, her expression shifting to one of cold irritation. “Those damned giants,” she muttered, her voice laced with quiet malice. Then, almost as if responding to her anger, the leaves, vines, and ropes from the surrounding forest began to converge toward her, swirling and weaving in intricate patterns as they wrapped around her form.
The magic of the forest clothed her in a warrior’s garb, one that combined lethal elegance with minimalistic allure. A bikini-style top with metallic accents formed across her chest, offering minimal coverage yet adorned with elaborate detailing that shimmered in the dim light. Straps held it together, intricately bound, while a decorative centerpiece rested just above her heart, its gleaming surface catching the dappled light filtering through the canopy.
Around her shoulders, a flowing white and green cape draped loosely, billowing in the soft forest breeze. The cape was open in the front, revealing her lithe, exposed midriff, and added a regal, battle-ready appearance. It was a contrast of grace and strength, granting her an air of elegance while also allowing for unrestrained movement.
Her bikini-style bottom matched the top in design, with armour detailing along the hips that emphasized her agility and the latent power coiled within her muscles. Her long, lean legs were encased in knee-high boots with metallic accents, the heels clicking against the ground as she shifted her weight. The boots were sleek and practical, made for both combat and intimidation.
Covering her arms, long gloves extended from her hands up past her elbows, glistening with the same metallic sheen as her armour. These gauntlets weren’t merely ornamental—they added to her imposing presence, reinforcing the notion that she was as much a weapon as she was a being of beauty. The green and white tones of her outfit, coupled with gold detailing, gave her a majestic, almost divine quality, a reflection of her connection to the ancient Ygdrana tree that birthed her.
Her eyes gleamed with a dark, sadistic pleasure as she stood tall, surveying the forest that responded to her very will. She traced her finger over her newly-formed gauntlet, as if testing its weight, a small smile tugging at the corners of her lips. There was no mercy in her gaze—only the quiet hunger for retribution.
"Let’s see how long they last," she murmured to herself, her tone soft, almost playful, but laced with a chilling promise of pain.
The giants had made a fatal mistake by crossing her path and harming her forest. They would soon learn that this warrior wasn’t just the forest’s protector—she was its fury incarnate, and she relished in the suffering of those foolish enough to provoke her wrath.Meliae soared effortlessly atop the colossal, twisting root, her figure gliding gracefully as if the very forest itself was carrying her. The root rippled and shifted beneath her like the surface of water, responding to her every thought, making the journey swift as she pursued the giants. Her eyes were alight with excitement, a dangerous glint in them as the wind brushed against her skin, her cape fluttering behind her like a banner of war. The giants were not far now—just a matter of time.
As she passed over a ruined village, something below caught her sharp gaze. A village in ruins wasn't unusual in this chaotic world, but something about this one made her pause. She narrowed her eyes and descended, her root lifting her effortlessly down toward the ground. What she saw stirred something within her—a mixture of anger and disgust.
The scene was one of utter devastation. Scattered across the village square were piles of unconscious women, their bodies drenched in a thick, white, translucent fluid. It clung to their skin, glistening like huge flakes of water, pooling around them in a grotesque display. The expression on each woman’s face was one of twisted lust, as though their very essence had been violated. Their eyes were shut, their mouths slightly parted, some of them still twitching as if trapped in the nightmare of what had been done to them.
Among the women, one small girl stood out—she was crouched beside a woman’s body, her tiny hands clutching the limp hand of what was clearly her mother. Tears streamed down the little girl’s face, her body trembling violently as she sobbed into the silence. The woman, her mother, lay there, her belly grotesquely swollen as if on the verge of giving birth, her body drenched in the same vile fluid that soaked the others. Her once-beautiful face was marred with exhaustion and pain, yet there was a semblance of peace in her unconscious state.
Meliae’s gaze darkened as she took in the sight. The giants had done this. There was no need for a second guess. The deep, indented footprints, the half-eaten bodies of men scattered like discarded meat, and the carnage of those left alive—it painted the story vividly in her mind. Her lips curled in disdain. These beasts had left no mercy in their wake, not even for the innocents.
The little girl’s soft sobs filled the air, cutting through the eerie quiet like a mournful dirge. Her eyes, swollen from tears, were filled with confusion and desperation. She couldn’t have been more than six years old, yet her world had already been destroyed beyond repair. The woman who had once protected her, the mother who had cared for her, was now lying helpless and broken in the aftermath of unspeakable violence.
Meliae descended from her root with caution, her steps light and deliberate as she approached the girl. For a moment, the dark, sadistic edge to her personality softened, replaced by something almost protective. As she neared the child, her usual cruel smirk faded, and her sharp eyes softened.
"Little one," she said, her voice calm and gentle, though still holding an undercurrent of power. The girl flinched, startled by the unfamiliar presence, her grip on her mother’s hand tightening. Her tear-filled eyes widened in fear, but something about Meliae’s presence kept her from fleeing.
Meliae knelt down beside her, careful to make herself less imposing. "You’re safe now," she reassured, though the devastation around them said otherwise. "I won’t hurt you."
The girl blinked through her tears, her sobs slowing, though her little body continued to shake. She stared up at the strange woman before her, her fear still palpable, but there was something calming in the way Meliae spoke, something almost maternal despite her cold appearance.
"What’s your name?" Meliae asked softly, her voice laced with curiosity. The girl hesitated before whispering through trembling lips, "Yuki." It was a name that meant "snow," but in this context, Meliae couldn’t help but think of the irony. This girl, named after something pure and peaceful, had been left in a world so far removed from such innocence.
Meliae gently touched Yuki’s shoulder, her touch light but firm. "Yuki," she repeated, her voice softening even more. "Your mother... she’s resting now. But we’ll make sure she’s okay, alright?" She didn’t mention the reality of what had happened to these women, the unspeakable trauma they had endured. That knowledge would only come with time, as would the healing—if healing was even possible.
Yuki’s sobs began to quiet as she clung to Meliae’s words, the desperation in her small body slowly giving way to exhaustion. Meliae watched her for a moment longer before her gaze shifted back to the ruined village, her eyes narrowing with cold fury.
The giants would pay for this.
With Yuki still clinging to her mother’s hand, Meliae rose to her feet, her once-soft demeanour returning to one of cold determination. The forest stirred around her, the roots shifting, ready to move at her command. But for now, she stayed, allowing the moment of quiet to settle between them, her mind already calculating her next move.
In the end, she was a force of nature—unstoppable, unyielding. And the giants would soon know the full extent of her wrath.Meliae stood, eyes darting between Yuki and the smoldering remains of the village. The world was broken, shattered beyond repair, and a child like Yuki had no chance of surviving in it alone. The thought of leaving the girl here, vulnerable and helpless, gnawed at her, stirring something deep within her—a rare sense of concern. She wasn’t accustomed to feeling that, but there was something about Yuki’s innocence amidst the carnage that made her pause.
An idea slowly formed in her mind. She could save the girl, in a way. Not from the immediate horrors of the world, but from the long, drawn-out suffering that was inevitable. Yuki wouldn’t survive on her own, but Meliae had another option—a final act of mercy.
She knelt down again, her expression softening as she leaned toward Yuki. Her voice, usually edged with malice, became warm and gentle, a stark contrast to her true intentions. "Yuki," she whispered, stroking the girl’s tear-streaked cheek. "Do you want to see your mother again?"
The girl's tear-filled eyes blinked up at her, wide and filled with desperation. She nodded, hope rekindling in her heart at the sound of those words. Meliae’s smile widened, though inside she knew the cruel truth of what she was about to do.
"Close your eyes," she said softly, "and when you wake, you’ll be with her again. I promise."
Yuki didn’t hesitate. Trusting, naive, she closed her eyes, a fragile smile forming on her lips. She believed Meliae, as any desperate child would. But Meliae knew better. She was well aware of the lie she had just told. The girl would never see her mother again in this life—or perhaps ever. But for her soul to find peace within Ygdrana, she needed to be free from fear, from the anguish of this cruel world. Meliae had no choice but to deceive her.
With a gentle flick of her fingers, Meliae whispered an incantation under her breath. The words, ancient and sacred, were lost to time, yet they carried the power of the forest itself. Yuki’s body slackened almost immediately, her small form crumpling as she fell into a deep, dreamless sleep. She would never know the truth, and perhaps that was the kindest thing Meliae could offer.
As Yuki lay peacefully on the ground, a faint rumble stirred beneath their feet. Meliae straightened, her hand lifted as she called upon the sacred tree. The ground cracked and shifted, ancient words echoed in the wind, and from beneath the earth, a massive glowing root began to emerge. It pulsed with life, its surface gleaming with an ethereal light, the very essence of Ygdrana’s power coursing through it.
With care, Meliae lifted Yuki’s limp body, cradling the child in her arms as she approached the glowing root. The air around them shimmered as if the world itself was watching, waiting. She gently laid the girl’s sleeping form onto the radiant surface, her body instantly responding to the magic of the tree. Slowly, as if drawn by an invisible force, Yuki’s form began to sink into the light, her small body being absorbed into Ygdrana’s embrace.
Meliae watched as the glowing root enveloped the child, her soft features disappearing within the radiant glow. "Sleep well, little one," she whispered, her voice almost tender. "May you awaken when this world finds peace, if it ever does."
The forest around her hummed in response, as if Ygdrana had accepted the offering. Yuki’s body was now one with the tree, her soul preserved in its eternal grasp, safe from the horrors that plagued the world above.
With a heavy sigh, Meliae turned her attention back to the village. The sight of the devastation—half-eaten bodies, the broken, unconscious women, and the bloodstained earth—was a stark reminder of the cruelty of life. She couldn’t leave it like this, not with the risk of scavengers or worse creatures coming to defile what remained. The village had to be purified, cleansed of the destruction wrought upon it.
Raising her hands, Meliae muttered another incantation, this one darker, heavier with intent. The wind shifted once more, carrying her words across the ruined village. A spark ignited in the distance, and within moments, the flames began to spread. They licked at the crumbled buildings, the fallen bodies, and the unconscious forms, devouring everything in their path.
As the village was consumed by fire, Meliae stood tall, watching without remorse. "This is the nature of all living things," she murmured, her voice cold again. "Greed, hunger, lust... It is the way of the world. But nature will always prevail, even if it must burn everything to restore order."
The flames roared, reaching higher into the sky as the village turned to ash. With one final glance, Meliae turned away, the forest roots lifting her back into the air, carrying her away from the devastation she had left behind. She had done what she could—perhaps not out of kindness, but out of necessity. Nature would always come first, and in this world of chaos and destruction, it was the only force that truly mattered.