Aerovind's eyes narrowed, his brow furrowing in genuine concern. His hand clenched into a fist as he spoke through gritted teeth, "The Lord of Flies...when I lay my hands on him, he'll know the true meaning of fear."
"And yet you stand here, wasting time with this broken puppet," Typhon snarled, gesturing towards the still-crawling Zellrid.
A wicked grin spread across Aerovind's face. "Oh, Typhon. When have my plans ever led us astray? Trust me, our one-eyed friend here might just be the key to unraveling this whole mess."
Zellrid rose to his feet, his body a canvas of pain and determination. Blood trickled down his face, mingling with sweat and grime. His singular eye blazed with purpose as he scanned the devastation around him. The air was thick with dust and the acrid smell of destruction.
As he stumbled through the rubble, his breaths came in ragged gasps. Each step sent waves of agony through his battered form, but he pressed on, driven by a singular purpose. The weight of his mission, the contract that bound him, seemed to press down on his shoulders with each passing moment.
Aerovind watched from a distance, his usual smirk replaced by a look of genuine interest. He made to step forward, perhaps to intervene, but Typhon's massive tail blocked his path.
"Let the mortal have his reckoning," the dragon rumbled, ancient eyes fixed on Zellrid's determined march.
Aerovind raised an eyebrow but acquiesced, settling back to observe the unfolding drama.
Zellrid's keen senses, honed by years as a Nightstalker, picked up a faint sound – the ragged breathing of someone trying desperately to remain hidden. He approached a fallen pillar, its once-grand form now reduced to rubble.
There, cowering in the shadows, was Joseph. The man who had once commanded such fear and respect now looked pathetically small, his eyes wide with terror as they met Zellrid's gaze.
Zellrid's approach was slow, deliberate. Each step echoed with finality. When he spoke, his voice was a low growl, barely containing the storm of emotions within.
"Why, Joseph?" The question hung in the air, heavy with the weight of countless ruined lives. "How many? How many lives did you destroy? Your own sister..."
Joseph's response began as a chuckle, but it quickly devolved into a manic laugh, tinged with the edge of madness. Blood bubbled at the corners of his mouth as he spoke, his words interspersed with wheezing gasps.
"You want to know why?" Joseph spat, eyes wild. "You, of all people, should understand. You were there that day, in the forest. When the wendigo hunted me."
Zellrid's eye narrowed, memories of that fateful rescue flooding back.
Joseph continued, his voice taking on a fevered intensity. "Everyone turned their backs on me. A peasant's son, not worth the effort to save. But Mammon... the devil didn't abandon me. He offered me power, a chance to never be weak again."
His laugh turned bitter. "And you, Zellrid. You saved me that day, only to leave me to face a world that cared nothing for me. Do you know what it's like? To be saved, only to realize you're still nothing?"
Zellrid's fists clenched, knuckles white. "That doesn't justify what you've done. The lives you've ruined. Your own sister, Joseph. Your flesh and blood."
Joseph's eyes gleamed with a mix of madness and tears. "Sacrifices, all of them. Necessary steps on the path to power. Lira... she was the hardest. But in this world, it's devour or be devoured. I chose to devour."
Something snapped inside Zellrid. With a roar of anguish and rage, he lunged forward, hands wrapping around Joseph's throat. The man's eyes bulged as Zellrid's grip tightened, his feet kicking weakly against the rubble.
"Monster!" A child's shrill cry pierced the air. "The monster's awake again!"
Zellrid's head snapped towards the sound. A young boy, no more than seven, stood trembling amidst the ruins. His eyes were wide with terror, fixed on Zellrid's blood-streaked form.
For a moment, Zellrid's grip loosened. The innocence in the child's eyes, the fear... it cut through his rage like a knife. But the weight of the contract, the memories of all Joseph had done, surged back.
With a sickening crack, Joseph's struggles ceased. His body went limp in Zellrid's grasp.
As Zellrid released the corpse, letting it slump to the ground, he turned. And there, standing amidst the rubble, was Lira. Her eyes were wide, filled with a mix of horror and disbelief. Tears streamed down her cheeks as she took in the scene before her.
"I..." her voice was barely a whisper, "I hired a monster to kill my brother."
The words struck Zellrid like physical blows. He took a step towards her, hand outstretched, but Lira recoiled, a scream of terror tearing from her throat.
The weight of it all – the contract, the kill, the fear in Lira's eyes – came crashing down on Zellrid. His shoulders slumped, his singular eye dulling as the realization of what he'd become washed over him.
Without a word, he turned away from the scene. His black blade lay nearby, half-buried in debris. He retrieved it, the familiar weight offering no comfort. With heavy steps, he began to walk away from the town, each footfall feeling like it might be his last.
Behind him, Aerovind watched with interest. He glanced down at the small figure beside him – Ela.
"Well, little one," Aerovind mused, a hint of his usual smirk returning, "shall we follow our brooding friend?"
Ela looked up at him, then at Zellrid's retreating form. She nodded solemnly.
As they set off after Zellrid, the true cost of the night's events became apparent. The town, once bustling and alive, now lay in ruins. Survivors emerged from hiding places, their faces etched with shock and grief.
An old woman wept over a collapsed storefront, decades of her life's work reduced to rubble. A group of children huddled together, calling out for parents who might never answer. The air was filled with the sounds of mourning, of lives irrevocably changed.
Zellrid's path took him past these scenes of suffering, each one another weight upon his already burdened conscience. He had come to end a tyrant, to fulfill a contract. But in doing so, had he become the very thing he sought to destroy?
As they reached the outskirts of town, Aerovind finally broke the silence. "Quite a mess you've made, my friend."
Zellrid didn't turn, his voice a low rumble. "I'm not your friend."
Aerovind chuckled. "Perhaps not. But you are interesting. And in my experience, interesting people tend to be at the bringing of a new age."
Ela tugged at Aerovind's coat. "Is the scary man sad?"
Aerovind glanced down at her, then back at Zellrid's hunched form. "Sad? No, little one.
I think our one-eyed friend here is experiencing something far more profound. The question is, what will he do with it?"