As I strode deeper into the fortress, my desire for fresh blood grew stronger, burning within me like a wildfire out of control. I tried to calm myself down, but it was no use. My body acted on its own, ruthlessly slaughtering any vassal who dared to cross my path. Their throats were slashed and their bodies pierced, all in the name of my insatiable thirst for revenge.
Meditation was supposed to be my refuge, but even that failed me. During my fight with the Admirals, I had been in a deep slumber, and now I was paying the price. I was a mere puppet to my desires, unable to restrain myself. As I charged through yet another gate, I was consumed by a strange memory, one that I had never experienced before. It led me to the congress room of the Admirals, a place I knew I had to destroy. I had to find a treasure there, I would need to confront Helios. My newfound strength, fuelled by the absorbed owners, urged me on as I approached the door.
With a single, brutal blow, I destroyed the door and stepped inside. The room was empty, but that didn't matter. I had to remember this place, for it was part of my journey to reclaim what was mine. I took a few steps forward, counting each one as I went.
One.
Two.
Three.
But before my foot could touch the ground for the fourth time, a sudden wave of dizziness overcame me. It felt like poison coursing through my veins, and my body gave out beneath me. The last thing I saw before I succumbed to the darkness was the room spinning around me, and then I was lost in a dream.
As Hyas drifted off into a deep slumber, his mind took him back to a time long before the Titan war. He found himself standing in a vast training ground, surrounded by other young warriors, all sons and daughters of Titans.
He looked down at his hands, realizing he was a young warrior once more, with everything ahead of him. But something felt different, as if the air was charged with a sense of foreboding.
It was a brutal and merciless place, where the weak and the slow were left to die recklessly. Hyas watched as his fellow warriors engaged in fierce battles, their faces twisted in pain and determination. He could feel the bloodlust and egoism coursing through their veins, driving them to fight harder and harder.
Hyas himself was not exempt from this training. His father, Atlas, was one of the cruelest and most demanding of all the Titans. He taught his son how to survive under the harshest of circumstances, how to use his strength and his wits to overcome any obstacle.
The atmosphere was dark and bloody, the air thick with the scent of sweat and blood. Hyas watched as one of his fellow warriors fell to the ground, a spear sticking out of his chest. He could see the pain and fear in the young warrior's eyes, and he knew that it could just as easily have been him lying there.
Hyas' heart was heavy with sadness and despair as he watched the endless cycle of violence and death around him. He knew that this was the world he had been born into, a world of war and chaos, where only the strongest and the most ruthless survived.
Suddenly, his father Atlas appeared before him, towering over him with his immense size and power. He felt a surge of fear and adrenaline as Atlas called him to battle, demanding to see what kind of warrior his son was becoming.
The two clashed, with Hyas using every trick he had learned to try and gain the upper hand. But his father was a cruel and merciless opponent, and soon Hyas found himself wounded, bleeding from a deep cut across his chest.
As he lay on the ground, gasping for breath and feeling his life draining away, Atlas showed no mercy. Instead, he reached down and placed his hand over the wound, his power surging into his son's body. Hyas cried out in pain as he felt his wounds healing, feeling his strength return.
Atlas stood over him, his face twisted in a cruel smile. "Again," he said simply, and the training continued, with Hyas forced to fight on despite his injuries, forced to push his body to the brink of exhaustion and beyond.
The dream was a vivid reminder of the cruelty of his father, and the harsh world he had grown up in. It was a world where survival meant embracing the bloodlust and egoism that his father had taught him, a world where weakness was not tolerated, and only the strong survived. It was clear for him, his transformation into a maniac was based on his child hood trauma.
I woke up in the conference room, feeling groggy and disoriented. The dream was still fresh in my mind, and the pain from the wound inflicted by my father was still throbbing. I took a moment to collect myself and remember why I was there.
The treasure chest. That's what I was after. The chest held the spoils of the Admirals, and it was said to contain many valuable items. I knew I had to act fast before I was caught.
I scanned the room, searching for the chest. There it was, in the corner, gleaming in the dim light. I walked over to it and opened it up. Inside were many treasures, but I didn't have time to look at all of them. I quickly grabbed a small, transparent bottle and whispered to myself, "For emergency only."
I heard footsteps coming up the stairs and knew I had to move quickly. I didn't want to be caught by Helios or his vassals. I made a split-second decision and broke the window, climbing out onto the ledge. I looked down and saw that it was a long way to the ground, but I had no other choice. I took a deep breath and started climbing down, using the ledges as handholds.
As I descended, I heard shouting and commotion from inside the fortress. The Admirals must have realized that someone was stealing their treasures. I knew I had to move faster.
Finally, I reached the ground and landed with a thud. I looked around, trying to orient myself. I was in a courtyard, surrounded by walls. I knew I had to find a way out, and fast.
I heard more shouting from behind me and started running, trying to find a way out of the fortress. I didn't know where I was going, but I knew I had to keep moving.