Aria's fist slammed into the creature's mandible, the bone-shattering force sending cracks through its jagged exoskeleton. A harrowing shriek tore from its maw, reverberating through the icy battlefield.
Her vision blurred, blood streaking down her face as the insect lunged again. Its claw raked across her shoulder, slicing deep. She staggered, pain flaring as ice crept over the torn flesh, sealing it in a frostbitten embrace. [Arctic Resilience] dulled the worst of the cold, but the wound throbbed with every movement.
She swung at the creature, her punch glancing off its claw with a dull thud. Her arms felt like lead, her muscles screaming in protest with every strike. Each movement was slower than the last, exhaustion pulling her down like an anchor. Only [Strong Bones] kept her upright, her body refusing to give in even as her strength waned.
It's massive jaws snapped at her. Aria reacted on instinct, ducking beneath its lunge. Her fist shot upward, driven by sheer will and the burning force of [Frost Warrior]. It struck true, piercing through its chitinous armor with a nauseating crack.
The beast writhed in agony, its limbs flailing wildly as she pulled her fist free. Her heart thundered in her chest, each beat a pounding drum in the silence of her focus. Finally, the creature's body went limp, collapsing into the blood-stained snow with a lifeless thud.
[You have slain a dormant beast, Crysalynth's spawn.]
She wanted to scream, but only a faint, broken murmur slipped past her lips.
"Goddam bastards..."
A cold breeze swept past, tugging strands of hair away from her face. The relentless assault had ceased. Standing there alone like an unyielding boulder, she gazed over the snowy field littered with corpses.
The wall had been destroyed, massive sections torn away, and gaping tunnels burrowed beneath it. Everyone had retreated towards the second wall. The village beyond was nothing more than a ruin, its remnants echoing with the wails of despair. The battle still raged in the distance, but the knights had taken over so she couldn't be bothered.
Exhaustion clawed at her, a desperate pull to collapse where she stood, but she forced herself forward toward the second wall. Each step was a struggle. Her breath hitched in her chest, legs trembling under the weight of fatigue. The ice clinging to her cracked and splintered with every movement, sending shivers through her battered frame. The air felt thick with the stench of death.
Even through the haze of fatigue, her eyes locked on something amidst the wreckage. They widened in shock,
"No... no, no, no," Aria whispered, her voice breaking with each word.
her chest tightening as her heart plummeted into her stomach. The world around her seemed to tilt, the pain and exhaustion momentarily forgotten.
"This—this can't be real. This isn't happening."
Her legs gave out, and she collapsed to her knees, the icy snow biting into her skin as her gaze fixed on the grotesque sight before her. Tears welled in her eyes, blurring her vision even more, but she couldn't look away.
Garran's dismembered head rested in the snow, his expression eerily unchanged—calm, steadfast, just as it had always been. No remnants of his body to be seen. The sight of it felt like a dagger twisting in her chest.
She had already know that death could come for anyone, but not Garran, not here.
He shouldn't have died, not in this meaningless, insignificant battle. It felt wrong, like the world had twisted on its axis.
The weight of his death crushed her chest, suffocating and unrelenting. It was her fault—at least, it felt that way. She should have done more, should have fought harder. If she had, maybe Garran would still be standing.
Maybe he'd still be alive.
Aria had never beaten Garran before—not in sparring, not in wit, not in anything. He was a mentor, a pillar of strength, someone to look up to. In just two weeks, he had become more than a comrade. He was almost like a father to her, steady and dependable in a way she hadn't realized she needed.
Sniffling softly, she wiped the tears from her face, steadying her trembling hands. She crawled over to where Garran's head laid in the snow. Her stomach churned, but she forced herself to reach out, closing his eyes carefully.
"I'm sorry, I should have been there." she whispered, her voice barely audible over the howling wind. Her lips trembled as the words escaped, fragile and laden with guilt.
Grasping the bloodstained cloth of a fallen guard nearby, she tore a strip free and used it to cover his head. The motions were methodical, almost reverent, as if it could somehow honor the man.
Guilt formed in her heart as she cradled her fallen comrade's head. Guilt that quickly turned into rage. She wasn't strong enough to save him, but the knights—their so-called protectors—certainly were. Why hadn't they acted? Were the guards truly nothing more than cannon fodder to them?
It made no sense. Most of the population lived behind the outer wall. Sure, there were probably bakers, builders, and craftsmen in the inner layers, but could they afford to lose so many people, so much farmland, and so much territory? The sheer scale of the loss would cripple the kingdom. Was the king truly so indifferent, so blind, as to allow this vast expanse of land to fall to monsters?
Her jaw tightened. She needed answers, and she would get them—even if she had to fight her way through.
But first...
'Where are Tarin and the rest?' Her stomach twisted at the thought of what she might find.
Resolute, Aria stood up and began her slow march toward the second wall again, Garran's head wrapped carefully in cloth and tucked beneath her arm.
-------
Arriving at the second wall, Aria saw the aftermath of the knights' intervention. The battle was over, though not without its cost. But Aria couldn't bring herself to care. Her focus was singular as her eyes darted through the crowd of injured soldiers.
Then, she spotted them. Tarin sat on the ground, his arm being bandaged by Lyra, who worked with steady hands despite the chaos around her. Blake and Reese stood nearby, bruised and bloodied but alive. Relief flooded through her, warming the icy dread that had gripped her since the battle's end.
Her legs wobbled beneath her, every step a painful effort, but she pushed forward, her gaze fixed on them. When she reached them, her voice came out hoarse and uneven.
"You're alive."
Their faces lit up at the sight of her.
"Beth! You survived!" Blake called out, a mix of relief and surprise in his voice.
Aria lowered herself to the ground with deliberate care, every movement a reminder of her battered body. "Barely," she muttered, exhaustion thick in her tone.
As the brief joy of reunion faded, her expression darkened. She reached into the crook of her arm and gently placed the bloodied cloth-wrapped bundle on the ground before them.
Lyra's brow furrowed as she glanced at the bundle, her voice cautious. "What is that?"
Aria looked up, her vision blurring as tears threatened to spill again. Her breath hitched, and her voice cracked as she forced the words out.
"It's Garran... He didn't make it."
"What!!?"
Their collective gasp cut through the air like a blade. Relief turned to horror in an instant, their faces crumpling under the weight of her words. The pain of finding Garran had been brutal, but sharing the truth with them? That hurt even more.
The guilt clawed at her chest as she watched their reactions—Blake's hands clenched into fists, Lyra's lips trembling as she whispered a stunned prayer, and Tarin's expression hardening into a mask to hide his pain.
Aria wanted to disappear, to retreat into herself, to wake up and discover it was all just a terrible dream. Well, technically, it was. But no amount of rationalizing could dull the ache. She could tell herself it didn't matter, that none of this was real. Yet she knew, deep down, that even if these people were illusions, their emotions weren't.
She could have tried to keep her distance, to avoid forming bonds. But the truth was, attachment wasn't something you could control. It crept up on you, silent and inevitable.
-------
The crackling fire was the only sound in the room as Aria sat in front of the smoldering flames, the warmth of the flames a comforting presence. Sitting in front of her fireplace she stared at the runes before her. A couple of new lines had been added.
Memories: [Winter's Grace], [Mandible Brooch], [Chain of Tenacity].
[Winter's Grace: A delicate bracelet adorned with a small, radiant blue gem. Warmth seems to accompany it's wearer.]
[Mandible Brooch: A small protective charm with a sinister sheen to it. It's effect are subtle but not less important.]
[Chain of Tenacity: A sturdy chain embodied with a relentless drive.]
The battle had yielded new memories, three at that. Winter's Grace, a silver bracelet with a blue gem at its center, was pretty straightforward. Its effect was simple but effective: it made her more resistant to the cold. While not crucial to her because of [Arctic Resilience], it was a small boost that would certainly help.
The Chain of Tenacity was a black chain, about sixteen feet long (5m), sturdy but unremarkable in its appearance. It didn't seem to offer any immediate effects, so she was a bit stumped on that one.
Then there was the Mandible Brooch. A small, dark brooch that gleamed when caught by the light. At first, it didn't seem to do anything, but after she'd worn it for a while, she could feel a difference. There was a subtle increase in her speed, a sharpness to her senses that hadn't been there before. It was quite the boon, one that would prove invaluable.
Aria sighed softly, feeling the warmth of the fire seep into her bones as she reflected on the past three days. The battle had left its mark on her—on all of them. So many had fallen, and the group had grown quieter, more somber. But for Aria, the change ran deeper. She had grown stronger, not just in body but in mind. Her perception of battle had shifted—what once felt like chaos and confusion had become something she could read, anticipate, and even control.
Rising to her feet, she paused, gazing at the fireplace as if it might be the last time she'd see it. The comfort it had once offered now felt distant, overshadowed by the quiet ache in her chest. With a final exhale, she snuffed out the fire, the warmth vanishing in an instant.
Her fingers brushed over her new shield. The old one had been shattered in the fight, a casualty of the chaos. This one was bigger, heavier—solid in her grasp. It felt nice.
Stepping outside, the stark reality of the aftermath hit her. Her house had somehow withstood the destruction, but many were not as lucky. The once lively town had become a grim scene, with people wandering aimlessly—homeless, broken. The air was thick with the stench of blood, the haunting reminder of lives lost—both human and monstrous. Corpses littered the streets, the aftermath of the chaos that had unfolded.
Ignoring the murmurs and the grieving, Aria kept her gaze steady, her focus unbroken. There was nothing left for her here—not until she figured out what had gone wrong.
As she neared the second wall, she summoned the Chain of Tenacity, slowly wrapping it around her arm. The metal scraped against the cold, silent street, its unsettling rattle echoing in the stillness. It was meant to protect her arm—at least a little—for what she was about to do.
Reached the gate she spotted three knights standing guard, their ornate armor gleaming faintly in the dim light, their faces hidden behind their helmets. She approached without hesitation, her footsteps sharp and unwavering, breaking the silence.
One of the knights raised his sword, blocking her path. The voice from behind the helmet was cold and dismissive.
"We do not allow any refugees."
Aria's eyes narrowed, fury flashing in them. "I already know that, you bastard."
In a single, fluid motion, she stepped forward, her fist colliding with the knight's face. The impact was so powerful that his helmet crumpled like tin foil, sending him sprawling to the ground with a crash. Without a second thought, she spat on him, her gaze now fixed on the remaining two knights.
She gripped her shield, a defiant snarl pulling at her lips.
"I am not a refugee."
-------
Jasper had always believed himself to be at the top. A knight, the epitome of strength and honor, destined to uphold the walls of this fortress. To him, the outer district dwellers were nothing more than rabble—barbarians who were beneath him. He'd never thought twice about them, nor about the battles they fought. After all, the knights didn't have to make their hands dirty because of some monsters like they did.
So why was this barbarian still standing? They were knights, they were unstoppable. So why? Why were all 20 of them getting beaten up? Why was his heart pounding in his chest? Why were his legs shaking beneath him?
The woman before him—this barbarian—was nothing like he'd expected. She didn't carry herself like a fighter. She wasn't wielding some gleaming sword or shining armor. No, she was like a wild animal, feral and unstoppable. And her power... he could hardly comprehend it.
His eyes widened as he watched one of his fellow knights—his comrade—fly through the air, his body slamming into the ground with a sickening thud. Blood seeped from the cracked visor of his helmet. The sight of it was enough to freeze Jasper's blood, his pride crumbling under the weight of the fear crawling up his spine.
He couldn't move. His hands trembled, his sword suddenly too heavy, too useless. This wasn't just a fight—this was an execution. And they were all helpless to stop it.
Her shield deflected another strike with ease, the sword gliding harmlessly along its surface before she struck, her fist crashing into the knight's abdomen. He crumpled to the ground with a grunt, leaving Jasper to face her full, unblinking gaze. Her icy blue eyes staring through his soul.
She took slow, deliberate steps towards him. Her shield, now gripped in both hands like a baseball bat, scraped along the ground with every step. She didn't even break her stride. She was coming for him.
Jasper froze, unable to move, his throat tightening as she neared, her shadow swallowing him whole. The next thing he knew, her shield was raised high above her head, poised like an executioner's axe.
"P-please... please don't kill me!" His voice trembled.
The woman looked at him indifferently. "I won't, but this will hurt."
With a single, swift motion, she swung down.
BAM
A deafening ring echoed through his ears, and the world dissolved into darkness.
-------
Smashing the last knight's head in, Aria's gaze shifted upwards toward the third wall, her eyes narrowing at the castle looming beyond it. The knights had been far weaker than she'd anticipated, and there were far fewer of them than she'd expected. Something wasn't right in this fortress. The pieces didn't add up, she wasn't this strong. The fortress was just way too weak, too unorganized.
As she walked through the city, the crowds parted, eyes wide with a mix of fear and disbelief. Aria didn't blame them; she looked like something pulled straight from a nightmare. Her hair was a tangled mess, matted with sweat and blood. Bandages, soaked through and torn, clung to her limbs, peeling away with every step. A black chain coiled around her arm, and in her other hand, she gripped a bloodied shield—its surface cracked and battered from the chaos she'd left in her wake.
She didn't care about their stares. They could see her as a beast, a monster, or whatever they liked. She only cared about getting into that castle.
After a long, tense walk, Aria finally reached the third wall. Her eyes scanned the area, confusion washing over her. Not a single knight was in sight. Was it a trap? Had they retreated? The silence was unnerving. Why weren't they guarding the walls? With no answers, she continued forward, her footsteps echoing through the empty streets as she passed through the gate.
Climbing the stairs, she still saw no sign of life. Not a knight, not a guard, no one. There was only a faint, metallic scent on the air. Blood.
Her pace quickened. Her breath caught in her throat when she reached the top.
She stood in a snow-covered garden, but it wasn't the peaceful, serene place she'd imagined.
It was a massacre. Corpses lay scattered around her, knights torn apart, their bodies cleaved cleanly in half. The sight was brutal, but what unnerved her more was the lack of chaos. No monster's trail, no signs of struggle—just perfect, efficient carnage. This was done by someone... or something with precision.
'What the hell happend here?'
Further in, she saw more bodies. These ones were dressed in the regal armor of the royal knights. A sickening feeling twisted in her stomach. If this was a coordinated attack, then what had happened to the rest of the castle?
Her heart began to race as she stepped through the broken gate and into the palace itself. Inside, the halls were littered with even more bodies, each one telling the same story—no sign of a fight, just the aftermath of something lethal and efficient, not even the servants seemed to be spared. She felt a knot of unease tighten in her chest. Every instinct screamed that danger was looming closer.
What awaited her in the throne room? Was she walking to her own death?
Her steps faltered for only a moment before she pressed on. She couldn't turn back now.
At the end of the hall, two grand golden doors stood, seemingly untouched by the chaos surrounding them. Aria's pulse quickened as she approached. The ornate craftsmanship gleamed in the flickering torchlight, but there was no sense of security in their beauty. Her hand trembled slightly as she gripped the cold handle, pushing the doors open.
The creak of the doors echoed through the empty halls, as if announcing her arrival.
As the doors groaned open, Aria stepped into the throne room, her heart pounding in her chest. The grandeur of the space was overshadowed by a chilling scene before her.
A grand red carpet stretched out before her, its rich hue stark against the cold marble of the floor. But it wasn't the beauty of the carpet that arrested her gaze—it was the lifeless form at the center. The queen, unmistakable by her regal crown, lay sprawled out on the floor. Her two children, no older than young teens, were beside her. Their heads were cleanly severed, blood pooling around their bodies like dark, crimson flowers.
Aria's stomach twisted as she turned her eyes toward the golden throne at the far end of the room. It shimmered like a beacon, yet now, it seemed like the seat of death itself. A man sat there, his lifeless body slumped over. He looked to be in his forties, with short brown hair and a weathered face, the lines of age and hardship etched into his features. He wore a crown, his head hung unnaturally to the side, blood still dripping from his lips, staining the fabric of his regal attire.
But it was the sword that pierced his chest that stole the air from Aria's lungs. The blade was lodged deep, pinning him to the throne, as if mocking the very symbol of his rule. A brutal and final statement.
The king, the queen, the children—they were all gone.
A silence hung in the air, thick with the weight of death. Aria stood frozen, the enormity of the scene crashing down on her. The throne room, once a place of power, was now a mausoleum.
Her mind raced, trying to piece together the puzzle before her. What happened here? The bodies, the blood, the stillness. But as her eyes scanned the carnage, a chilling realization crept in.
'There's still plenty of blood... some of it dried out but still fresh in patches.'
Her thoughts snapped into place. This massacre hadn't happened long ago—not weeks or months, but days, maybe just a couple.
'Like when... the wave of Howlers attacked.'
A storm of thoughts and questions raged in her mind, but only one word managed to escape her lips, a harsh whisper filled with disbelief and dread.
"Fuck..."