As the blade full of energy descended on Kellen, time seemed to have slowed to an almost full stop.
His opponent's eyes glinted with the satisfaction of a soon to be victory, while his drained eyes looked above to watch the harbinger of his demise slowly follow a curved path ending at his neck.
'Hey... What's going on?'
'Osiris?'
'You there?'
The only explanation he received was that of silence as if the strange deity had only been a figment of his imagination from the beginning. It was a lonely feeling.
His berserk and crazed state had left him with only a fatigued and a hollow feeling of nothingness remaining throughout his being.
The taunting voices and lucid visions of his past were gone leaving only the cold truth of reality present in these final moments.
'What was the point?'
Kellen wondered as he reflected on his actions in his previous and current world.
'They say that revenge is a one way journey but I didn't realize it would end so soon... Have I deserved this from the start?'
He thought back to all his harrowing and traumatic experiences and became conflicted.
'Were my misfortunes really just bad luck, a shitty hand of cards that I was dealt with?'
In the face of his approaching end, Kellen questioned his purpose, his resolve, and his vengeance. Why was he even fighting and why had he even survived the grueling amount of torture that was inflicted? Was it not better to just accept the inevitable? To throw in the towel and finally embrace the eternal rest he has been longing for.
'No...'
'It's always been a lie...'
Kellen concluded this single truth. From all of his experiences, there was a consistent factor. Lies...
"This is for the salvation of our country."
"Your parents are war heroes who turned the tides while facing the impossible."
"I am gifting you freedom; a new life."
The many promises and sugarcoated words he received were like signals, "death flags", or bad omens of what was to come next.
In reality, Kellen had never expected salvation. He did not think or feel that his parents' and friends' deaths or the torture he endured was fair... But what could he do about it?
"You're weak!"
The words he hated to hear the most and yet persistently shadowed him everyday felt truer than ever now. They had finally hit their mark and uncovered the deeper insecurity.
The sad truth he refused to acknowledge from the first day he had spent in the decrepit orphanage to now was that he was alone. Even in his final moments, the people surrounding him did not feel present. Their existences did not instill a connection he could feel from within. It hurt and it stung, but the covered scar was inevitably and finally revealed and reopened.
A teardrop of blood streamed down the side of his cheek.
The same feeling he repeatedly drowned in while trapped in the secret laboratory, as his old friends surrounding him left one by one, swallowed him whole.
What little remaining energy that had kept him on the brink of losing consciousness dissipated.
"Die!" Screamed Amira in excitement as her opponents body slumped forward towards her blade.
VOOOOOOMMMMM!
A booming sound of thunder shook the throne room. The thick bloody columns supporting the hall cried under the imposing magnitude as cracks snaked around their smooth bodies.
Amira's smug expression shifted from that of victory to a cowering child.
Her blade that was a hair's length away from ending her opponent halted its path as a spear of blinding light flashed down between the two.
The spear impaled the floor resulting in another quake. The blood stained floor beneath Amira's feet began to twitch and move like it had grown a life of its own. A spiderweb of cracks opened up beneath them, destroying the tainted marble flooring and draining the residual pooled blood.
The hell-scape changed shape as multiple pillars and columns finally buckled and gave way after facing the spear's onslaught.
"Damn! The legionnaire!" Growled Amira as she retracted her energy and sheathed her deformed knives.
She took a short pause to stare at her opponent who collapsed face first on the crumbling palace floor before turning her menacing gaze to the supported unconscious Strom.
"I guess your sad life has been extended for a bit... But don't worry, I'm sure this is only the beginning of your end!" She hissed before grabbing a cloak from one of the fallen men on the floor and sulking off into the shadows.
Immediately after her disappearance another thundering boom shook the palace. Dazzling light from the moon illuminated the pitiful throne room from a jagged opening broken into the ceiling.
Like lightning touching down from the sky, a kid half the size of Kellen landed on the tip of the spear embedded in the disgusting floor.
This sudden extra weight added to the spear pushed it further into the cracked floor with a screeching noise as it impaled deeper into the foundation.
In the damaged hell like surroundings, a fragment of heaven and strong serenity permeated the gloomy atmosphere. With the moonlight shining directly upon the child and his pure white armor, it created a scene only found in fine artwork.
His small pure blue eyes calmly scanned the surroundings from beneath his short silvery golden hair, swishing softly in the slight draft of wind caused from his sudden arrival.
In the presence of this childlike figure, Ceric quickly lowered himself to one knee while propping up the limp body of Strom beside him.
"Ceric and Captain Strom of the Slum Squadron salute Legionnaire Axus, commander of the Thunder Legion!" He shouted while bowing his head in utmost respect.
The legionnaire paused his scanning and swiveled his body on the spear to face the man. The face of a lion on his armor fiercely glinted in the refracting light as he turned.
"Do you have the ring?" The child legionnaire asked in a monotone voice with an expressionless face.
Ceric bowed his head even lower.
"No sir, we believe it was hijacked by some strange organization." He said in a revered and apologetic tone.
"Hmph..."
The legionnaire huffed without emotion as he hopped down from the spear to inspect the kid fallen next to it.
"One of ours?" He asked as he easily rolled Kellen over onto his back with his foot.
"Y-Yes sir! A potential!" Answered Ceric promptly.
"Ah, another one of Strom's projects, I see..." The child ticked his tongue before approaching the fallen cloaked men near Ceric and Strom.
"From that organization I'm guessing?" He bluntly asked.
"Yes sir!"
The legionnaire made a slicing movement with his hand as a blinding ray of light engulfed the cloaked men's bodies. Instantly, the cloaks were disintegrated along with the rags underneath. Needles and other forms of weaponry slid to the floor from their exposed bodies.
"It really is them..." Quietly murmured Axus while shaking his head after locating the strange red tattoo of a lock with an eye on their chests.
"What of Yariv? If my memory serves me correct, he was an old acquaintance of Strom here."
"Dead, unfortunately..." Muttered Ceric.
The legionnaire nodded his head in acceptance without the sign of remorse or care.
"Those annoying officials are outside waiting for your debriefing. Take that kid along with you. I'll take care of the situation here."
"What about those strange people?" Asked Ceric painfully as he slowly raised up himself and Strom, careful to not worsen the wound on his shoulder.
"It is no longer of your concern. Get them and yourself some medical attention." Nonchalantly waved the kid as he turned to return to his spear.
Ceric bowed his head and stole another glance at Kellen lying on the crumbling floor before hurriedly carrying his captain out of the throne room.
"You don't seem to be from around here..." Curiously stated the legionnaire as he inspected Kellen closer.
"I think Strom might have found something actually interesting this time..." Axus commented as he watched the different gashes and wounds on Kellen's body slowly begin repairing themselves.
Upon closer inspection, the pool of blood Kellen's body laid in was slowly disappearing as well, as if his body was hungrily yet slowly soaking it up.
"Well… Long live the empire or whatever I guess." Unenthusiastically said the legionnaire, as he shrugged his shoulders before turning and forcefully tugging his spear out of the scarred floor with ease.