Chapter 25: ?_The Overlord of the New World

Observe.

What do you see?

A forest.

Branches covered with leaves separated the heaven from the earth.

Of all forms of nature, Evasha's forest was the most conducive place for novelistic fiction and the secret encounters of lovers; with its depth and mysterious caverns, it favored penetration into the mystery that banishes all boundaries between reality and enchantment.

A light.

The moon shone high in the sky.

Supreme star of dream and mystery, torch destined to illuminate earthly nights, always its charm attracted gazes and thoughts.

It seemed that reigning over the empire of silence, of peace, was more mysterious, more solitary than any other kingdom; its icy white light always returned to renew the first impression. It remained in the mind while representing the night itself.

Close your eyes.

Listen.

What do you hear?

Absolute lack of sound or noise. Silence.

Language of all strong passions, from the purest to the most boorish. More powerful than any speech, any name, any word. The same was true of any image that, in its figurative and symbolic idiom, represented an appearance, a specification, a delimitation of the indistinct.

Hidden in the bush, elves and beasts waited for the girl. Until a few months before, mortal enemies. Now, slaves to the same will.

Antilene knew.

She was ready.

After this, no turning back.

No hesitation. For delay was akin to death.

The sound of the ground shaking from the pressure of her footsteps was the herald foretelling her arrival.

That earthquake, which had not ceased to travel in all senses of the earth, was a kind of refreshment for the lands sick of life.

She was spotted.

There were so many of them that they could dry up the rivers with their passage. Make the flourishing prairies barren with their march.

And they were not alone. In every corner, in every crevice they surrounded her. The generosity of darkness concealed their existence.

"Surrender," ordered the half-elf. One last chance before it all began. "Surrender, or you will all die."

Her words concealed neither malice nor superiority. Yet, neither compassion nor sympathy could be heard.

A shower of arrows, the few moonbeams struggling to enter the forest obscured by the passage, was the answer given.

Antilene remained unmoved.

The elves, watching from their hiding places, believed they had won.

A certainty that collapsed in seconds, like a sand castle bathed in sea waves. A daydream from which reality wakes you up with cruel thoroughness.

The Wind God's armor continues to glitter with that pure white, slicing through the obscurity of the night.

Antilene kept waiting.

A second attempt. The noise of the firing bows breaks the silence that until just before would have been called sacred.

Differences? Yes, now the soil was covered with arrows. The wood from which they were made, the same as the trees in Evasha's Forest, had come home.

Mother Nature always collects her debts.

Now, imagine.

Picture that you are an elf.

All your life, you have lived in fear.

You curse yourself, because you cannot protect those you care about. Your friends, your children, your lovers, everything you give your heart to could be snatched away from you at any moment.

You hate yourself, others, your enemies, the gods, anyone who can give meaning, however trivial, to your suffering.

Finally, that monster you contemptuously call "King" decides to end the source of your hardships. Putting an absolute halt to your sorrows.

You believe, you hope, that the war is over. And that peace can finally return to your life.

And hope is born, so faint as to appear unreal. But it is there.

And the thought that things might get better begins to make its way into your mind.

When you realize that all this could be ripped away from you again, how would you react?

Would you show the courage of a lion, and throw yourself to the defense of your newfound happiness? Or would you let despair take over your body, too tired to muster new strength?

"Let's begin," Antilene leaped, landing in the center of a group of enemies.

The neural activity in the brain involved in word processing takes an infinitesimal fraction of time to elaborate the inputs that are received from the surroundings and emit a sound that is commonly called language.

"...A..."

A single letter was all the elves managed to communicate before Charon's Guidance cut through their bodies with such diabolical precision that it would seem utopian.

"...ttention..."

The rest of that warning never reached the other companions. Nor did Antilene hear anything.

A normal man has a reaction time of close to a second. The dangers of the forest, the pitfalls that lurk in the shadows, had led Evasha's inhabitants to develop their senses and be able, unconsciously, to reduce to an even shorter time the responses their bodies could make to signals that foretold an imminent threat.

The neuronal system started to emit a spasm, a contraction moments after the connections we call life had already been severed.

Antilene was already far away when the muscles began to move.

Leaving behind a trail of blood and death, the half-elf continued her run. Trees moved from her view, though they remained motionless.

She climbed the trunk of one of those plants.

The bows were pointed toward her and the arrow shaft stowed in the space provided on the bow.

Reaching the top, half a dozen of these arrows tried to center her, but hit only a mirage of what was her residual image.

"...W..."

The free hand sharpened like a blade. The still-surprised heads of the archers were sliced clean off, with the precision of a guillotine. The corpses remained uncomfortably clean as a perverse idea began to take hold.

'Let's frighten them.'

Antilene picked up the still intact skulls and began throwing them on the surrounding ground. After that, she repeated the same action by heading for the nearby trees.

There were two battlefields. The first was where conflict established itself in material reality, where the body could prove its worth. Where recklessness became courage and the prowess to slay a virtue.

The second was much more treacherous, made up of subtext and second intentions. It was the one that comes to life in the minds of warriors and where emotions rule the day. However much one could be trained to achieve a mechanical coolness to stem the rise of the most perfidious enemy, fear will always identify the appropriate vulnerabilities to send the mind into turmoil.

And Antilene, who had chosen war as teacher of life, blood as the water of her body, and death as eternal companion, had a natural gift for understanding what was the right lever to plunge her opponents into despair.

Not even a minute had passed that hundreds of decapitated heads began to roll through the ranks of the elves, spreading panic.

The fighting spirit collapsed faster and faster. It had only taken a few moments to turn a proud army into a fearful band.

The ranks were reduced to a haphazard jumble that spread like splashes of color on a painter's board.

Beneath the fragile crust of what one might have derisively called an army was churning cold chaos.

The chaos broke all semblance of bonding and became the bearer of one idea: that of survival.

The veil of that lie called courage had been lifted, showing the innermost gruesomeness of the mortal psyche.

But the elves were not the only opponents she had to watch out for.

'Oh, now we are going to have fun!' Antilene thought contentedly. Her lips curved into a satisfied expression, filled with a macabre thirst for pain.

Gorilla-like creatures, but immensely larger, began to pour in on her. Their limbs moved in mystical, almost supernatural excitement, recalling what were ancient, ancestral dances that connected with the spirits of the beyond.

They did not even remotely care about their 'allies,' who were swept away by their charge.

The one who looked like their leader, given his size rivaling a giant, approached Antilene, who had returned to the ground.

The beast emitted a scream that froze the blood of almost everyone present. He then began to beat his chest loudly in defiance with an uncontrollable and, seemingly, unharmonious rhythm.

Following his example, all the other members of the species also began, with more disappointing results, to try to provoke a reaction in Antilene, who observed that pathetic display of strength with the same contempt with which one looks at ants.

Disappointed by that impassivity, the leader uttered the words, "Say, are you the one the King is looking for?"

Unexpectedly, he showed an education that clashed with his wild air.

"I think so," replied Antilene, resting her attention on the monster's face. A short, crooked snout with small eyes that looked greedily at her and a pair of dark nostrils as deep as ravines. "You're an amomongo, right? Uglier than I expected."

"Your death will bring us freedom," gaping, razor-sharp canines reflected in the moon's glow. "For our salvation, die!"

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At the forest lord's signal, all the other amomongo began to unsheathe their claws, and twirl their arms like the paddles of a mill.

"Cute," commented the half-elf, as she continued to observe those strange movements. "There will be no need to use Charon's Guidance with you."

Placing the scythe back on her back, she waited for that shredder to come down on her.

"So, are you done?" The splinters of the claws, broken after coming into contact with her, were alone enough to satisfy her curiosity. "Disappointing. Now it's my turn."

The left hand made its way into the beast lord's stomach. First, it touched the thick, armored fur, and then penetrated deeper and deeper. Slipping like a fish through water, she peeled back the various internal parts until she realized she had achieved her goal.

With a single, swift gesture, a hollow, tubular-shaped organ, whose length was close to four meters, was torn from the dwelling it belonged to.

"What...?" The lord's eyes widened. An unfamiliar emotion, a mixture of astonishment and disbelief, could be read in that pained expression.

"[Burning Brand]!"

Activating her martial art, Antilene began to twirl what had previously been the monster's intestines, which watched in his last moments of life what had once been a part it considered inseparable from himself beginning to be coated in fiery sparks.

The half-elf used her new weapon to rip through the air itself and strike with the sonic booms it gave life to both the other remaining amomongo and some elves who had remained nearby.

The excess of that cruelty would have made even the most perverse soul shudder, but the only thing the half-elf could think of was the beauty with which the victims burst forth like little fireworks, radiating glowing flames across the vegetation.

That action was repeated a few more times before the gut became unusable.

Quickly wiping off the traces of ash that had stuck to the armor, the carnage could resume its course.

"So, none of you are approaching?"

The survivors kept looking at her, not daring to make a move. They were still countless, but that was all right. The night was long and there was time in abundance.

A grunt broke that stalemate.

At great speed, a boar-like creature, but covered entirely with plants of the most diverse species ran toward her.

"And what are you?" Antilene asked, ready to stop its run by raising her right arm.

The strange boar, however, stopped a few meters away from her, causing perplexity. Lianas began to sprout from its body and cling to the girl's body, lifting her in midair.

"Oh, that's new," a genuinely astonished comment highlighted the surprise of that move. "But what are you going to do now?"

The wild boar was not alone.

A Jaguar? That would have been the correct guess, were it not for six snakes poking out of its back. From the feline's motionless face, it seemed the reptiles were the ones controlling the body, in a parasitic bond.

A giant rat, but with its body entirely covered with bird feathers. The sinuous shape brought to mind a chameleon, but much more grotesque. The way his limbs were moving, in the grip of what seemed like constant pain, was plain wrong.

'More lords of the forest? I'm lucky to have received such a warm welcome.'

In unison, the two creatures emitted an acidic substance from their mouths that hit the half-elf full force.

Those irritants and corrosive substances could have dissolved even the adamantium itself.

A few drops landed on some nearby unfortunates, who began to see their skin dissolve, until only bones remained visible.

Yet...

No consequences.

"[Castigating Strike]!"

Spinning around, Antilene's still-held body began to resemble an auger. Breaking the ligaments, she came down like a thunderbolt on her captor's head, piercing his skull and killing him on the spot.

Still smeared with brain fluids she still found herself the target of an attack. But it was not arrows this time, but wind blades that pelted her from the sky.

'Druid magic?'

With a backward somersault, she dodged those blows with ease. A few meters were covered, when she realized that sharp spears were also beginning to emerge from underground, attempting to impale her.

'From above? I see, so there were more elves ready to strike me.'

The two remaining lords began to pursue her. Waiting until they were inches from her position, she made a leap upward just before being run over. The two beasts collided with each other as the half-elf continued to gain height.

Antilene surpassed the height of the most imposing trees, bursting into the starry sky. The moon, with its circular shape so perfect, was unnaturally beautiful.

But the girl was not lost in its splendor, as the knowledge that she was not alone was her companion.

Riding on giant eagles, some elves kept bombarding her with magic, taking advantage of her little mobility given by being suspended in the air.

"[Rising Phoenix]!"

They were guilty of naiveté, however, if they truly believed that the half-elf had no way to be able to remedy that disadvantage.

Hot wind swirled about her feet, lifting the girl skyward as flames began to flicker below, enabling her to reach the nearest enemy.

"Dismount!"

With a kick, she pushed away the elf standing on the eagle she had chosen as the cornerstone of her plan. After being left alone at the head of the animal, she let out a mighty cry into the ears of her new mount.

"Yield!"

The raptor's senses began to go mad with terror after hearing that fiery command. In primal fear, he began to flap his wings faster and faster, colliding with the other birds in his vicinity.

'That will do.'

Antilene went from eagle to eagle, knocking down the animal riders. What became of the elves? Perhaps it would be better not to know.

Continuing on until she approached a specimen that towered above the others in size.

'The lord.'

The elf at its command this time tried to mount a stouter resistance but, as happens when an unstoppable force meets an object that is all too easy to move, met the same sad end as her companions.

Antilene easily disarmed her from the knife that had been pointed at her throat and stabbed it into the elf's forehead, leaving her to bleed out.

Left alone on the eagle, the Scripture's ace took the two ends of the creature's beak in her hands and began to pull until it snapped.

They began to plummet. Exactly a moment before impact, Antilene swung away from the soon-to-be-corpse, landing gracefully on the earth that by now had taken on the scarlet color of blood.

The eagle collided with one of the two remaining lords, the rat-shaped one, crushing it on impact.

Death on the spot for both of them.

The jaguar tried to attack, but the girl had already re-sheathed Charon's Guidance and with a quick scythe cut the beast into two perfectly symmetrical parts.

At this point, it would be fair to expect that the battle was over. Instead, it had just begun.

"You can give up if you want. It would save me a lot of time."

Tiredness was still an alien concept. It was just that it all seemed so ... futile. There was no trace of satisfaction in her soul or any other emotion that had justified continuing to fight.

The elves hesitated. They knew they were surrounded by two fires.

On one side was a seemingly invincible warrior, who did not seem to feel fatigue or pain. The difference in numbers was nothing more than an easily overcome annoyance.

On the other was their king. The personification of all that was perverse in the world. The very idea that he could direct his fury toward them was enough to shake any form of reason.

Who to choose?

Was this not unfair?

Thousands of lives depended on one choice.

Thinking back to their families remaining captive in the capital made finding the solution easier than it would have been normal to expect.

Having someone to fight for is a source of unexpected strength, but that same strength can easily turn into a curse that drags its beneficiaries into the abyss.

"So, you want to continue." Disappointment? Rather, a realization.

Antilene resumed her slaughter.

What is the most efficient way to kill? The scythe continued to reap victims, again and again, and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again.

Was it an act of charity to guarantee a quick death, free of suffering? Or was it just a lie told to keep those from whom the most important thing was being taken from them from continuing to burden their consciences?

Another lord tried to stop her race. It had the body and head of a rooster, with a large red crest, thorn-filled wings, and a snake-like tail.

Initially very small, reaching to the half-elf's knee, it quickly grew to cover her with its height. A glow started from his eyes, blue as the sky.

'A Galateo Bisso? If I'm not mistaken, they are related to the basilisk, so...'

Turning on her side, she was grazed by that ray, which struck a nearby elf. The unfortunate man immediately turned to stone, without even having time to realize what a sad fate he had been condemned to.

Antilene did not wait for a second attack. Seeing that by now it would be impossible to save him, she grabbed the new piece of rock and hurled it like a javelin at the monster.

A shock wave cleaved the sound barrier and spread through the air. Fragments of rock scattered to the four winds, sticking into the still-living bodies of the elves.

The Galateo Bisso Lord was dead.

What is the cruelest way to kill?

To leave someone bleeding to death, in pain? Or not even give the future victim time to realize the harsh reality that had been inflicted?

Was there one particular organ that provoked a more intense reaction than the others? The heart was considered the most important part of the body, the source of all life and, especially, of love.

Antilene tore up many of them, but she could not understand what was so special about that hollow-shaped mass of muscle that had inspired so many poets and bards over the centuries.

Veins and arteries joined in a form devoid of elegance, enclosed in tissue so fragile as to be ridiculous. No sentiment capable of inflaming spirits or moving the most hardened souls.

The brain?

The center of knowledge and emotion. The Minotaur Sage claimed that it was from it that feelings such as fear, joy, and sadness originated.

But every time she smashed a skull, or cut off a head, no difference was seen. Was it because death brought each of those poor minds to a state of origin? Or was it because the changes were so imperceptible that they could not be noticed in the heat of battle?

The arms? The legs? No, even without them one could survive. What was it then? The soul? But what exactly was the soul?

Was it present among all those limbs, those broken bones, those piles of butchered flesh? Hidden in some burrow, where it could not be seen?

Why couldn't she see it?

'All these lives…'

Why was she doing all this? She wanted to kill her father. Why did she want to kill him? Ah, because she hated him. Of course. But why did she hate him? Because her mother had forced it on her. Of course. But why did she listen to her mother? Because she loved her. Did she love her? Of course. Or was it an illusion? That day when she had seen her dead, she had not cried. Of course.

'…Are mine to tread on. Mine to toy with!'

Now there were two Antilene.

The first there, in that dirty and poisonous forest. Where the smell of blood mingled with the scent of plants and flowers. That iron aroma, so penetrating, awakened primal instincts, believed buried in the arc of evolution. They knocked at the door of the soul, with violent insistence, finally claiming the longed-for freedom.

If before there was methodically in her execution, now they were like hail spinning at a whim, and whoever it touched, it touched.

The other observed the former from afar, in a space where matter and dream blurred. She did not judge or comment. Trivial excuses such as "they are my enemies" or "it is the nature of war" were hypocrisies distant from her conception of sanity.

She recorded, that she did. And memorized. In such a way that someone, over the years, would be able to remember what had happened exactly that day.

The shapes became blurred. Men and women, young and old, lost their differences after there was nothing left of them.

She had become Death.