Orvane walked calmly through the dark and harrowing corridor of Coercion’s church; his expression stiff and unchanging. He walked past countless stained glass windows that lined the sides of the corridor, the ones you would usually find in churches.
They displayed art featuring a battle from a distant world—a world of both gods and humans, before the inevitable Celestial War. The images were sharp and highly detailed, as though etched directly into the glass like a stone carving shaped by a master artisan.
After a few twists and turns, Orvane eventually reached the exit. With the push of a pair of tall and heavy double doors, he stepped into the outside world. When he did, he was t with the sight of the Underworld’s glimring moon, hanging in the dark and artificial night sky.
His hardened eyes softened a little, the tension in his shoulders soothing ever so slightly by the moon’s beauty. When his mind was about to be pulled from the coldness of reality, the whiff of blood awoke him like a cold splash of water.
Surrounding and pressed under his tal boots were small rivers of blood, the sll of iron perating through the air and entering his lungs. He looked around and found himself at the centre of an encirclent of bodies—bodies of his own n...
Their wounds were severe, and the way they died was equally brutal. So had faces filled with fear, so regret and guilt, while others expressed acceptance of their weakness.
Orvane’s heart did not stir in the slightest—his heart having already been tempered from the tragedies of war.
Instead, all he revealed was a look of respect in his eyes—while at the sa ti—a look of disappointnt. He had ensured that only the best soldiers of his family were the ones who ca with him. To think they would be killed so quickly...
Shaking his head, he stepped over one of the bodies of his n.
As the church behind him suddenly began to fade out of existence, he looked ahead; his gaze t the sight of his enemies standing a quarter of a mile away from him.
His enemies numbered close to a thousand and were made up of two sides—one composed of humans, while the other was machines.
The side of humans wore dark-feathered robes and armour that bore the crest of the raven on their left chest; the Nightraven family.
On the side of machines, they all had identical appearances; humanoid, slender and glossy tal bodies, a rose crest on their right chest; the Roselle family.
No matter how intimidating the numbers were, the strength Orvane felt from them was individual and snuffed out the excitent he had for them. That fla was later relit when he settled his gaze on two individuals standing side-by-side at the front.
To the right was a black android with crimson stripes. With the exception of colours and higher-quality material, it had the exact sa design as the machines behind it. However, Orvane knew not to take this one lightly, because he knew without a doubt that this one was the Roselle Patriarch—Marek Von Roselle, otherwise known as the Crown of Roses.
Next, a person stood to the left. He had long, jet black hair with a singular, long streak of dark blue, a youthful and handso face, and luminous violet eyes. His attire consisted of a long and dark indigo coat, slim black armour, a skull pendant, and a crown of dark feathers. He looked no older than his mid-twenties, similar to Orvane.
This man was the Nightraven’s Patriarch, Yamigarasu, or publicly titled ’King of Ravens’.
Currently, they were all standing in a barren wasteland of nothing but tall hills and pointy mountains that dared to reach for the skies. In the past, the creators of the Underworld wanted the realm to resemble the Surface in certain aspects—thus, like gods that were bored with the sa scenery, they modified the terrains to beco horrifically uneven in the sa areas.
The mountainous wasteland they stood in was one of these areas.
Looking between the two Patriarchs and realising there was no third, Orvane chuckled lightly in a mocking tone, "I see that the Dreadthorns are as passive as usual."
He then spoke with a slight sentintal tone:
"Now, how long has it been since we stood face-to-face as enemies?"
Crown of Roses folded his arms at the question, similar to how his daughter would, before slowly answering with a huff:
"Hmph, ten... Twenty... It has indeed been a while, Orvane."
King of Ravens nodded solemnly, agreeing with the robot standing beside him.
"It truly has... approximately nineteen years, give or take. But unlike last ti—when we all stood without allies—it is only you who is alone, Hound of Ruin."
"Hound of Ruin..." Orvane stroked his chin, his gaze still filled with indifference, "Now that’s a na I haven’t heard in a long ti, it brings back a little..."
Shaking his head, he said:
"And after nineteen years, you all remained at your current Tier, what a sha..."
Marek’s cold, robotic face snarled at what he heard, finding the mockery directed at him and the King of Ravens to be undeserving.
"A dog truly knows how to bark when they feel superior. Not everyone can forego the responsibility of protecting and overseeing an entire family just for power."
King of Ravens, Yamigarasu, nodded as well—wholeheartedly agreeing with the Crown of Roses. Compared to the Roselle, the weight of responsibility was much heavier on his shoulders, as his was several tis larger.
Hound of Ruin sighed, shaking his head yet again at the Crown of Roses.
"And that’s why you’re still far behind, Marek. Responsibility over freedom? Family and relationships over power? After the war, I too thought the sa when I t my wife. But after her death, I began to think otherwise. In the face of inevitability, you cannot be passive. To protect not only yourself, but also your loved ones, you must take control of your individual future, so that you can build a better future for others."
Gesturing towards the robot, Orvane asked with genuine curiosity and warmth:
"I’m sure you understand my words, don’t you? In the past, our interests were mutual. By looking past the incident with my youngest son, can’t you understand and sympathise with ? You, too, had lost soone dear to you."
Marek went silent, looking at the hand that was gently held out to him. He glanced up at Orvane’s face, finding a small and welcoming smile on the man’s face.
"The Cult of Jesters has its worth, Marek. Trust and join us, old friend, as we can work towards building a new world—a better world for all of our loved ones." Orvane’s eyelids lowered slightly, "Your little brother, your little sister, your father and mother... wouldn’t you like them to live in a world where they can do as they please peacefully? A world where they can choose whether or not to accept the inevitability? Freedom from fate?"
Hound of Ruin paused for a mont before adding:
"Wouldn’t you love that for your daugh—"
Marek’s robotic eyes flashed with light as he instantly raised his hand.
He surged a humongous amount of mana to the centre of his palm before releasing a high-speed blue laser that—
BOOM!
—Struck the Hound of Ruin in less than a fraction of a second.
A small mountain-sized smoke cloud erupted from the point of impact, mixed with the dust from the ground.
The Crown of Roses slowly lowered its hand with the departure of the massive smoke cloud.
Like tall black curtains, the smoke parted to reveal the Hound of Ruin, who raised his hand to block the attack; the damage he had taken was negligible.
Ignoring the small tower of smoke rising from the centre of his gauntlet, Orvane sighed.
Seeing that his attempt to convert Marek to his side had failed, he whispered:
"That’s your answer, then, I suppose..."
Sparing the King of Ravens a glance, Orvane didn’t bother to attempt to convert the man, already knowing a man like him with such an abundant family would refuse to forego responsibility.
Summoning a helt in the shape of a wolf’s head, Orvane donned it while—at the sa ti—activating an ability that caused his body to undergo a rapid and bestial transformation.
With silver fur sprouting from his body, his muscles expanding, and his teeth sharpening, the Hound of Ruin assud a partial wolf-like transformation—still keeping his human features.
Seeing this, the two other Patriarchs began their preparation.
The Crown of Roses equipped himself with a slender black sword in his right and an intimidating crimson dagger in his left; runes of enchantnts etched aesthetically in the sides of his blades.
At the sa ti, the King of Ravens equipped himself with an ominous dark blue lance in his left hand, a black buckler shield in his right, and a pair of black, feathered wings.
The army behind them also re-equipped their gear.
Unlike the Nightravens, who were slightly anxious, the Roselle-branded androids remained cold and taciturn; their face incapable of expressing fear or emotions.
Clenching their weapons, the two sides glared at each other.
After a while of inactive silence from both sides, the Hound of Ruin finally moved to take the first step. When he did, the King of Ravens pointed his lance forward, causing a cacophony of roars from his army to resound like war horns as they charged.
With the Crown of Roses’s chanical army, they moved like a horde of stampeding wildebeasts.
And thus, the battle began.
The Hound of Ruin moved with insane speed, able to cross several dozen tres within an instant. With hands shaped like claws, he tore his way through both machines and humans alike.
The attacks that landed on his armour either bounced off or were completely negated due to its enchantnts. As for his own attacks, with just a casual swing of his arms, he was able to clear out tens of mages with ease—eviscerating them.
He was like an invincible hurricane passing through a dense forest, ripping the trees from their roots.
Any intelligent person with a strong grasp of the strength each Tier had would figure out that Orvane hadn’t taken the situation seriously yet.
SWOOSH!
"ARGH!"x50
A powerful gust of wind bellowed from a swing of Orvane’s arm, causing those struck by it to be sent flying dozens of tres into the air before suddenly vanishing.
Orvane, who had fended off about a wave of attacks, felt sothing was amiss.
Ignoring the fact he was still surrounded, he looked down at his hand—flexing it.
’My strength isn’t growing any stronger...’
Looking back up, he scanned the enemy mages around him and managed to catch a glimpse of sothing attached to their bodies: it was a paperslip with an ancient language and had a strong connection with mana.
A talisman.
Hound of Ruin, at this discovery, laughed lightly—having already expected the Nightravens to equip their army with life-saving talismans; an expectation he only had for them, due to their eastern origins.
When the Hound of Ruin was about to attack again, the King of Ravens appeared to intervene.
One by one, the surrounding mages and machines were swept away from Orvane by swift dark blurs, which brought them a safe distance away. The Hound of Ruin, using his superior senses, caught a glimpse of a dark blur speeding towards him from the side.
"CAW!"
He caught it with ease.
Looking down at what he caught, the Hound of Ruin stared into the eyes of a raven, which squawked at him.
"CAW! CAW! CA—!"
Crushing it in his hands, he watched as the bird magically crumbled to dust before transforming into ambient mana. He narrowed his eyes at this, but a mont later, another dark blur appeared in the corners of his eyes, followed by another.
Within monts, he was caught in a flock of ravens that pecked and slamd themselves against his armour.
After rcilessly destroying them with a wave of his arm, he was t with the sight of the King of Ravens lunging at him.
With a gap of fifty tres between them, Yamigarasu swiftly flapped his wings.
And when he did—
BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!
—Four consecutive air cones exploded behind him, signalling he had reached the speed of Mach 4!
The fifty-tre gap between them instantly vanished.
With the King of Ravens now upon him, the Darkhound Patriarch calmly raised his hand to et the lance aid at his head.
BOOM!
Reviews
All reviews (0)