From atop the roof of one of the tallest buildings in the town, stood a mysterious cloaked figure with a mask. His cloak was a deep, impenetrable black with red rune diagrams that shimmered faintly.
The his mask was as striking as his cloak. It was split in two starkly contrasting halves that mirrored opposing elements. The left side was a deep crimson, with an eyehole large enough to reveal an eye as red as blood. The right side of the mask was dark blue, almost black in the moonlight, with cracks spider-webbing out from the center like jagged lightning bolts. Through these cracks, the same deep red glow that adorned his cloak emanated, giving the mask an unsettling, fractured look. The eyehole on this side was small, barely more than a slit, revealing nothing of the eye behind it—just darkness.
The man stood motionless, observing the scene below. His eyes narrowed slightly as he watched Amukelo continue to stab Neclord's corpse. His voice, low and soft but edged with malice, whispered into the night, "This kid can be troublesome. Do you think that's enough or should I eliminate him?"
A response came, though there was no visible source for the voice. It was deep and grotesque. "No. He has his eyes on that kid. If you act now, you'll be seen. It would interfere with our plans. This should be enough for now."
The masked man's gaze lingered on Amukelo for another moment, assessing the boy with an analytical coldness. Then without a sound, he dissapeared from his place.
Below, in the chaos and destruction of the battlefield, Amukelo finally stilled. His rage had burned itself out, leaving behind only a hollow shell. His body swayed slightly as he sat back on his heels, blood and sweat mixing on his skin, the wounds across his body seeping with a slow, ominous trickle.
Amukelo's mind was a void. He finally realized, this was it. The culmination the anger that he felt as if it was with him forever. Now, with Neclord dead, there was nothing but silence and an unshakable emptiness. It was as if the victory he had imagined so many times had dissolved into smoke, leaving behind only a gnawing hollowness.
Slowly, Amukelo forced himself to his feet. Each movement was a struggle, as if invisible chains were dragging him down. His body, covered in torn skin and deep wounds, felt like it was on the verge of collapsing with each step. His arms hung limply at his sides, the dagger still clutched in one blood-slick hand. He took a few shaky steps toward the spot where he had thrown his sword, the world around him blurring at the edges.
Peles, Jezar, and Ri watched with a mix of amazement and disgust. Their expressions were tinged with disbelief at the brutality they had just witnessed. Peles, normally so composed, felt a flicker of unease stir within him as he looked at Amukelo's hollow expression. Jezar narrowed his eyes, his mind racing with questions, the aftermath of the battle not sitting well with him. Ri's face, usually sharp and confident, softened slightly with a hint of something like pity or revulsion.
Eliss, on the other hand, felt a different pull. She watched as Amukelo stumbled toward the sword embedded in the rubble. There was something raw and real in his emptiness that resonated within her, a pain she recognized but couldn't name.
Padrin walked up, his own expression weighted with sorrow. Amukelo had achieved his revenge. But at what cost? Padrin could see that the Amukelo wasn't triumphant.
Amukelo reached his sword and wrapped his fingers around the hilt, pulling it from the rubble with a sluggish motion. He sheathed it slowly, his movements mechanical, lifeless. He began to walk, mindlessly, back the way he had come.
Padrin stepped forward and placed a steadying hand on Amukelo's shoulder. "Amukelo," he said softly, his voice cutting through the silent chaos, "it's over. You don't have to fight anymore."
Amukelo's eyes met Padrin's for a fleeting moment, but then his eyes rolled back, and his body went slack, as he lost consciousness. Padrin caught him before he could hit the ground.
Eliss stepped forward and as she approached, she extended her hands, which began to glow softly with a pale, green light. The healing spell spread over Amukelo's body, mending some of the deep, jagged wounds and stabilizing his ragged breathing. Though it wouldn't bring him to full health, it would keep him from slipping closer to death's door.
Padrin watched her closely, gratitude in his eyes. But before he could express it, Eliss spoke up, looking at him with a mix of curiosity and recognition. "Aren't you that guy who ran up to my gate yesterday, searching for him?" Her voice was casual, but there was an underlying weight to her question.
Padrin chuckled awkwardly. The memory of running to the massive, opulent gates of Eliss's estate flashed through his mind. He remembered how intimidating the place had been, with its massive gates and guards who had looked at him like he was a madman. "Hah… that was your gate?" He glanced at her in disbelief before nodding. "But yes, that was me. Why do you ask?"
Eliss shrugged, her gaze drifting back to Amukelo, who now lay unconscious in Padrin's arms, his face pale but more peaceful than before. "I'm just… intrigued by him. I'd like to join him on his adventure."
Padrin's brows lifted in surprise, and he looked at her with a mix of bewilderment and caution. After what he had just witnessed it was difficult to imagine why anyone would willingly want to join such a person. "Why would you want to join him?" he asked. But then he shook his head, realizing the futility of questioning someone who clearly had their reasons. "Never mind. It will be good for him to have someone by his side. Maybe… maybe it'll help him."
She then asked, "Why did he even wanted this revenge so bad?"
Padrin's expression darkened, the faint smile that had been on his lips slipping away as memories surfaced. He considered whether to tell her or not. This was not a story easily shared, and he didn't know whether he had rights to share it. But if Eliss was serious about joining Amukelo on his journey, she should know at least that.
"It's… a long story," Padrin began, his voice tinged with sorrow. "Amukelo once had friends. And they were trapped in loosong situatio, and Amukelo was the only one that made it out. Neclord was the one responsible." He paused. Eliss was deeply in her thoughts. "That's why he wanted it so much. But it didn't bring him the satisfaction he wanted." His face saddened as he said those last words.
Eliss's expression deepened. "So similar, yet so different…" she murmured. But before she could continue, they heard a voice going through the street.
"Well, well, well," the voice laced with mock amusement. From the top of a building that had somehow avoided the destruction that marred the rest of the street, stood a woman. It was Ivish.
Everyone turned to her as she observed the scene. She tilted her head, her mouth curling into a smile.
"Well, I didn't expect THAT," Ivish said, her tone almost playful as she took in the sight of Amukelo's battered, unconscious form. "I guess this kid is even more interesting than I thought."
Jezar's yelled. "Who are you?"
Ivish ignored him. She was holding the same small ball that she tied Eyvind and Nereid with, but then she slipped it back into her cloak with a dismissive gesture. "I suppose it won't be needed," she said, more to herself than anyone else.
In a fluid movement, Ivish jumped down from the building, landing a few feet from where Padrin stood holding Amukelo. She carefully examined Amukelo's state.
"Just make sure that kid stays alive," she said, as she looked at Padrin. "He's too interesting to die here."
Padrin was take aback by it. "And who are you to care?" he asked.
Ivish's smile widened. "You don't need to know," Before Padrin could respond, she jumped back and in a moment, she was at the edge of the rooftop.
She glanced back once more, and with a final nod, she turned and disappeared into the night.