As he reached the inn, Erik leaned against the wall, the sword still clutched in his hand, blood dripping from the blade. His vision blurred for a moment, the adrenaline still coursing through him, making it hard to think clearly. He had made it. But the battle wasn't over.
His eyes darted around the room as he quickly noticed the change in the room. The old woman who had tended the bar earlier was gone. In her place stood a pair of young adult twins—a boy and a girl—both possibly near his age.
"What happened to the old woman?" Eirik demanded, his heart pounding like a war drum.
"She… she left suddenly," the girl stammered, her voice quaking slightly. "We just took over. No one's told us what's going on."
Eirik's gut twisted. They were blissfully unaware of the turmoil raging outside. He could already hear the distant shouts and the crack of breaking glass. The chaos was closing in, and time was running out.
"Listen! We need to barricade this door now!" Eirik shouted, urgency spilling from his words.
Without waiting for a response, he lunged toward the entrance, adrenaline surging through his veins as he dropped the bloody sword he had stolen the ground, its blade glistening ominously in the low light. Fresh crimson stains marred the metal, a grim reminder of the chaos he had just escaped. The twins exchanged frantic glances, then scrambled to follow him.
"Help me with this!" Eirik barked as he grabbed a heavy wooden table, its surface marred with years of neglect. He dragged it across the floor, the sound echoing ominously through the inn.
The girl hesitated for a moment, eyes wide, but then joined him, her face flushed with fear and determination. "what is going on outside ?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper as she pushed against the table.
"People are rising up against the government! It's a bloodbath out there!" Eirik's voice was sharp, filled with urgency. "We can't let them inside."
The boy nodded, fear etched into his features as he hurried to grab chairs and barrels, piling them against the door with shaking hands. The sound of chaos outside intensified—shouts, the clash of metal, and the unmistakable rumble of a crowd in turmoil.
"Do you think… do you think she's safe?" the girl asked, glancing nervously at the door as if it could provide answers.
Eirik felt a pang of guilt, knowing he couldn't reassure them without risking their focus. "I don't know," he admitted, breathless. "We have to concentrate on securing this door."
As the door slammed shut , Eirik and the twins hastily reinforced it with heavy furniture. Their hearts raced, their hands trembling from the tension. The pounding and chaotic noise outside faded slightly, leaving an eerie silence inside the inn.
As Eirik turned his back, his hand trembled for just a moment before steadying . The chaos outside the inn—the screams, the pounding, the distant sounds of destruction—was nothing compared to the storm that was about to unfold inside. His mind raced as the silence of the inn became suffocating, thick with the tension that hung in the air.
The door was secured, but the real danger stood right in front of them.
From the shadows, the two men stepped forward where they had been hiding. Their presence was as foul as their intent, and the glint of malice in their eyes was unmistakable. The taller one, a brute with scarred knuckles and a lecherous grin, cracked his neck as he eyed the female twin, hunger burning in his gaze.
The atmosphere shifted, the tension inside the inn far more dangerous than the chaos raging outside. The pounding of fists on the barricaded door was nothing compared to the threat that had slithered out of the shadows. Eirik's heart thundered in his chest as his eyes locked onto the two men. He instinctively placed himself between the twins and their would-be attackers, his body tensing like a coiled spring.
His eyes fell to the bloody sword lying on the floor beside him—the weapon still slick from the fight outside. He hadn't had a chance to clean it, and now its gruesome edge glistened in the dim light. Eirik's hand hovered over the hilt, fingers twitching with the need to act.
The taller of the two men, a hulking brute with a twisted sneer on his face, stepped forward. "Looks like someone's already been busy. But that just means you're tired, doesn't it, boy?" His gaze darted to the female twin, lingering on her trembling form with vile intent. "And after we're done with her, we'll take everything you have."
The other man, wiry and wild-eyed, chuckled darkly, "Maybe we'll let you watch."
The shorter man smirked, his lips curling into a sneer as he stepped forward with his knife raised, "I see someone trying to act like a hero," he taunted, the malice in his voice clear.
Eirik's chest heaved, his grip tightening around the hilt of his sword, now slick with blood. His mind raced as the adrenaline surged, but beneath the chaos in his thoughts, a single focus burned: protect the twins.
"Hero?" Eirik spat, his voice low and seething with rage. "I'm not here to save anyone. I'm here to kill you."
The memory of the last battle, the screams, and the bloodshed roared back into his mind. These men were no different from the monsters he'd fought before—they deserved no mercy.
The wiry thug's smirk faltered for just a second, uncertainty flickering across his face. But he pushed forward, waving his knife in front of him with false bravado. "Big talk for someone for someone like you."
Eirik barely had a moment to catch his breath, but instinct flared as he caught movement from the corner of his eye. His body was battered, muscles burning from the previous fight, but he didn't hesitate. His grip tightened around the bloodied hilt of his sword, and with a surge of desperate adrenaline, he lunged toward the twins' attackers.
This was no ordinary scuffle.
The moment he closed the distance, the larger of the two men grinned, his eyes gleaming with something unnatural. With a sickening laugh, the man's body flickered and warped—a wave of energy radiating from him as he unleashed his power. In an instant, he split into two, then four, then eight, each clone mirroring his every move with sinister precision. Each one bore a grotesque resemblance to the original, their faces twisted into malevolent grins that sent a shiver down Eirik's spine.
"Welcome to your nightmare," the original taunted, his voice echoing from every direction. "I'm the harbinger of chaos. You can't fight what you can't kill."
Eirik's heart pounded, senses screaming at him to retreat, but it was too late. The first blow came from behind—a clone's blade slicing across his back, tearing through flesh with savage precision. Eirik grunted in pain, spinning around just in time to deflect a second strike from another clone in front of him, but his movement was sluggish, his reaction too slow.
A sharp pain exploded in his ribs as a third clone's fist crashed into his side, the impact like a sledgehammer. Eirik stumbled, blood spraying from his mouth as he struggled to keep his footing. Before he could recover, a fourth clone appeared out of nowhere, slamming a dagger into his thigh and twisting it with brutal force.
Eirik roared in agony, but he fought back with sheer will. His sword lashed out, cleaving through one of the clones—only for it to dissolve into thin air, dissipating like smoke in the wind.
"Big words for a dying man," the original taunted, laughter echoing around the room. The clones closed in, circling him like vultures waiting to tear the flesh from his bones. "You think you can kill us? Each of us is a part of me, and I am many."
Eirik's vision blurred, blood pouring from his wounds, breath coming in ragged gasps. Each of the clones moved in perfect sync, their attacks coordinated with brutal efficiency. The flickering images created an illusion of being surrounded on all sides, the very air thick with tension as Eirik fought for survival.
Then the larger man grinned again, his clones advancing like an army. Their movements were fluid, a nightmarish ballet of violence that threatened to overwhelm him. Eirik was at the center, the eye of the storm, but even as he fought valiantly, he could feel the tide turning against him.
With a defiant snarl, Eirik surged forward again, slashing wildly at the clones, his blade cutting through the air with deadly intent. But for every clone he struck down, two more seemed to take its place. His movements grew more frantic, more desperate as he fought against an endless tide of enemies, each attack only bringing him closer to the edge of collapse.
Suddenly, a searing pain ripped through his shoulder as the second man, the one who had remained silent until now, appeared beside him with lightning speed, his dagger buried deep into Eirik's flesh. This man didn't need tricks. He was a warrior—a skilled, precise killer who moved with the fluidity of a predator.
Eirik gasped, his knees buckling beneath him, but he twisted his body, using his remaining strength to shove the man away. The warrior barely flinched, wiping the blood from his blade with infuriating calmness, a sinister smile creeping across his lips.
"You're weak," the warrior sneered, circling Eirik with the grace of a panther. His eyes, cold and calculating, flicked to the pool of blood forming around Eirik's feet. "You were never going to win this."
Eirik's world narrowed down to the two men—one with the power of the gods to create endless copies, and the other a deadly adversary skilled in combat. Each was a nightmare in their own right, but together, they formed an overwhelming force.
Then, without warning, the clones converged. The air thickened with their presence as they attacked in unison, blades flashing like lightning, each one aiming for Eirik's vital spots. He moved with instinct, dodging and weaving, but their numbers were too great. A clone's blade slashed across his abdomen, another struck his leg, and yet another sent a fist crashing into his jaw, sending him spiraling to the ground.
Eirik gasped, pain radiating through his body, but there was no time for despair. Drawing on the flicker of divine power deep within, he forced himself to rise. With a primal roar, he slashed his sword in a wide arc, cutting down two clones, but the others pressed on, relentless in their assault.
Blood sprayed the walls as the clones continued their assault, their laughter a maddening chorus. Eirik was outnumbered and outmatched, each strike pushing him further toward the brink of collapse. He could feel his strength waning, but one thing burned brighter than his pain: a determination to protect the twins.
Fueled by desperation, Eirik unleashed a surge of energy from within, momentarily disrupting the clones' formation. He dashed forward, dodging the clones' blades, and with sheer ferocity, he managed to strike down another clone. But as the body fell away, he caught sight of the original, who laughed, seemingly unfazed.
"Is that all you've got? I can keep this up forever!"
Eirik fought through the haze of pain, focusing on the clones' movements, searching for a weakness. Each clone flickered like a flame, a cruel mimicry of the man's original form. The original was the key; if he could take him down, the clones would vanish.
Eirik's instincts kicked in, and he lunged at the original with newfound determination. But the warrior sidestepped, a predatory smile on his face. "You're too slow!" he taunted, striking at Eirik's already wounded shoulder, blood pouring down his arm.
In a moment of clarity, Eirik remembered a combat move he had perfected in training—a deadly combination designed to overwhelm an opponent. He feigned a left swipe at the original's head, baiting him to raise his guard. As the man reacted, Eirik pivoted and struck low, sweeping his sword toward the original's legs.
The warrior, caught off-guard, leaped back, but Eirik was ready. He followed up with a powerful upward slice, forcing the original to block with his arm, the blade cutting deep into flesh. The original howled in pain, staggered by the blow, but Eirik didn't stop there. With fluid motion, he transitioned into a spinning kick that connected with the warrior's midsection, sending him crashing into one of the walls.
The clones paused, their expressions shifting from arrogance to concern. Eirik seized the moment, summoning all the energy he had left. He charged forward, his sword raised high, the blade shimmering with divine power.
But just as he prepared to deliver the final blow, the second man, the skilled warrior, rushed in, blade poised to strike. Eirik braced himself for the attack, but before the warrior could reach him, a loud crack echoed through the room.
An arrow shot by the male twin, piercing the skilled warrior's shoulder, causing him to stagger back in shock. He turned toward the source of the shot, eyes wide with disbelief. In that instant of distraction, Eirik lunged forward, determination coursing through him.
With a roar, he swung his sword in a powerful arc, the blade connecting with the original's neck, severing the head from the body in one clean motion. The moment the head fell, the clones around him flickered and vanished, leaving only a hushed silence in their wake.
Eirik stood over the fallen body, blood dripping from his sword, chest heaving as the last remnants of the chaos faded into the shadows.
But as he stood there, victorious yet battered, Eirik knew that the fight had taken everything from him. The injuries coursing through his body were reminders of the brutal struggle he had endured. He staggered back, fighting to remain upright as the adrenaline began to fade, leaving exhaustion in its wake.
Behind him, the female twin stared in shock, their faces pale with a mix of fear and gratitude. The female twin, her voice barely a whisper, spoke, "You… you saved us."
As Eirik stumbled backward, the world around him began to spin, the adrenaline finally giving way to the overwhelming pain that coursed through his body. His vision blurred, and the ground felt unsteady beneath his feet. Just as he felt himself teetering on the edge of unconsciousness, he felt a gentle hand reach out and grasp his arm.
"Eirik!" the female twin exclaimed, her voice a faint whisper, laced with concern. Her eyes were wide with fear as she caught him before he could collapse entirely.
Eirik's breath came in ragged gasps, his body heavy and unyielding. He could barely keep his eyes open, but he forced himself to focus on her face. "Is Freya okay?" he managed to ask, his voice barely audible, each word a monumental effort.
She hesitated for a moment, the weight of the question hanging in the air between them. "She's safe," the twin replied, her voice trembling slightly. "She's safe; she should be upstairs hiding in the room."
Eirik's heart swelled with a mix of relief and urgency. The thought of Freya being safe, if only for the moment, provided him with a flicker of hope amid the encroaching darkness. "I need… I need to get to her," he managed to whisper, his voice strained as he fought against the fatigue weighing him down.
"Eirik, please!" The female twin's grip tightened as she sensed him slipping away. "You can't move yet. You're injured—"
"I don't care!" he insisted, his determination rising like a flame in the cold shadows of his pain. "I can't leave her alone… not after everything that's happened."
"Just hold on a little longer!" she urged, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears. "We'll help you. We'll get you both out of here. I promise!"
But as Eirik leaned against her for support, he could feel his strength waning. The wounds on his body throbbed with an unrelenting ache, and every breath he took was a reminder of how badly he had been hurt. Still, he forced himself to nod, as if that small gesture could summon the energy he desperately needed.
"Get her… please…" he murmured, struggling to keep his eyes open.
With a fierce resolve, the female twin turned to her brother, who had been watching the scene unfold with wide eyes. "Stay with him! I'll go get Freya. Keep him awake!"
The boy nodded, his face pale but resolute. "I will! Just go!"
As she dashed toward the stairs, Eirik's eyes fluttered closed for a brief moment, his mind racing. He could feel the darkness creeping in again, but he fought against it, holding onto the image of Freya, her bright eyes full of innocence and joy. He couldn't let her down. He wouldn't allow the horrors of this night to touch her.
"Stay with me, Eirik," the boy urged, his voice steady despite the chaos that had just unfolded. "You need to focus on Freya. She's counting on you."
Eirik's heart raced at the reminder, and he forced his eyelids open. "I… I'm here," he whispered, gripping the boy's arm weakly, needing to anchor himself to something real. "I'll be okay. Just… don't let her be scared."
"Promise," the boy replied, determination lighting his eyes. "Just hold on, Eirik. She'll be here soon."
The seconds stretched into what felt like an eternity, each moment heavy with uncertainty and dread. Eirik fought to keep his eyes open, replaying every memory of Freya in his mind—the sound of her laughter, the way she'd run to him with her arms wide open, the warmth of her small hand in his.
Suddenly, the female twin returned, breathless but determined, Freya tucked protectively behind her. The sight of her brought a rush of warmth to Eirik's heart, but it was quickly overshadowed by the sharp pain in his body.
"Eirik!" Freya cried, her eyes wide with fear as she rushed forward, but the twin held her back gently.
"Wait! He's hurt, Freya! We need to help him first," she urged, kneeling beside Eirik.
Eirik's vision swam as he tried to focus on Freya's face. "Freya," he breathed, trying to muster a smile, but the effort sent a wave of pain shooting through him. "You're okay?"
"I was scared! I thought something bad would happen!" she exclaimed, her voice trembling as she held onto her sister's arm.
"I won't let anything happen to you," Eirik promised, his voice barely above a whisper. "I'll protect you. Always."
Tears brimmed in Freya's eyes as she stepped closer, her small hand reaching out to touch his arm gently. "You look hurt… please don't leave me," she whispered, her voice barely audible.
"I'm right here," Eirik assured her, though the darkness threatened to pull him away. "Just stay with me. We'll get out of this together."
The female twin began to assess Eirik's wounds, her hands moving with a frantic urgency. "We have to stop the bleeding," she said, her voice steady as she tore a strip from her own shirt to use as a bandage. "Stay with us, Eirik. We can't lose you!"
Eirik's heart raced at the thought. He felt the world around him fading, but he fought to stay present, the image of Freya's face grounding him.he murmured, his voice cracking. "I won't let go."
But as he felt the twins' presence around him and the warmth of Freya's hand against his skin, the pain intensified, and he couldn't stave off the encroaching darkness any longer. His eyelids grew heavy, and despite his best efforts to stay awake, a deep weariness washed over him like a tidal wave.
"Eirik!" Freya's voice rang out, filled with panic as he felt himself slipping away. But it was too late; the darkness had claimed him. He fell into unconsciousness, the warmth of his loved ones fading into the abyss. leaving behind only the echo of his last thoughts— a promise unfulfilled.