Urath's fists clenched so tightly, causing blood to pour from his nails into his palms. The metallic aroma permeated the air, blending with the earthy moisture of the forest clearing.
His crimson eyes burned like coals, seething with wrath as he stared at the spot where the vine had vanished into the darkness.
"Bastards," he screamed between clenched teeth, his voice deep and gruff. The single phrase hung in the air, heavy with the promise of vengeance.
The tension burst like glass with a high-pitched, guttural cry full of horror. The boom cut through the night, jarring Urath's concentration.
He turned suddenly, his attention flashing to his right, where one of his men lay on the ground, clutching an unseen wound. Around him, mayhem erupted.
"On your feet!" Urath yelled, his voice piercing the panic like a blade. "Draw your weapons and your surroundings!"
His men scrambled, drawing their swords with shaking hands. Shadows danced frantically as if the land was alive and mocking their dread.
"We're surrounded!" one man exclaimed, his voice hysterical.
"Calm down!" Urath barked and stepped forward. His commanding presence exuded authority, but even he couldn't hide the unease in his gut. "Move! Into the trees right now!"
His last command halted the men in their tracks. They cast nervous glances into the forest, where the darkness felt like a ripple, alive with an eerie presence.
"But Lord Urath," one soldier muttered, his knuckles bone-white around his sword's hilt, "what if they're waiting for us in there?"
"Dakar is right!" another interjected, his voice barely audible. "They'll take us out one by one! We'll get slaughtered!"
Urath's patience dwindled. "Do you want to die here, then?" he demanded, his voice like thunder. "Move now, or end up like Kelesh!"
A shiver ran through the assemblage when Kelesh's name was mentioned, and they looked at his body.
The memory of their comrade's torn corpse, lifeless and discarded only moments before, remained fresh in their minds.
They reluctantly obeyed, their boots crunching on the dry leaves as they rushed for the trees.
The air became cooler as they reached the forest's edge.
The first two men, eager to escape the area, accelerated into the darkness. For a brief period, it looked to be the right decision.
Until the cries began.
"No! No! Please-!"
The pleading was immediately cut off by a horrible crack, followed by the hideous sound of flesh connecting with steel.
Then, a body was brutally thrown back into the clearing. It landed with a wet thud. Its limbs twisted strangely. Blood flowed beneath the motionless figure, its eyes wide and fixed on nothing.
The men reacted in horror as the body crumpled like a broken doll.
One murmured, "Dakar…" as if naming him would change his fate.
"What did this to him?!" another exclaimed, taking a step back from the forest's edge.
Urath stepped closer, his jaw tightening as frustration rose within him. The anxiety among his men was heavy and oppressive, threatening to crush all sense of order.
He pushed his hand forward, summoning the void. Tendrils of shadow curled around his arm, forming a blade of dark steel. Its surface glittered brutally in the moonlight, a manifestation of his rage.
"Everyone! "Regroup back at the center!" he said, his voice commanding compliance. "Prepare to hold your ground!"
The men paused, their faces pallid with indecision. Urath's crimson eyes heated as he moved closer, his presence imposing.
"Now!" he exclaimed. "Or die where you stand!"
The group acted quickly, retreating back to the center of the clearing. They crowded together, creating a precarious defensive formation.
Urath followed, holding his blade aloft while his piercing gaze searched the perimeter.
What had been a well-organized group of individuals now looked like a terrified flock of sheep. Their movements were awkward, and the weapons shook in their grasp.
One man buckled and nearly tripped over his own feet. Another mumbled a frenzied prayer beneath his breath, his voice shaking with despair.
Urath's lip twisted in disgust.
Such a fall from grace, he reflected bitterly. From elegance to pathetic.
"Keep the formation tight!" Urath exclaimed. "Keep your eyes on the forest! We will not die crouching like animals!"
Urath's strong tone prompted the men to stand up straighter.
But, beneath their flimsy determination, Urath could feel terror crashing down on them. It permeated the air, dense and oppressive.
Part of him also felt some modicum of helplessness, which he detested.
He couldn't let it show right now.
So, with a roar, he raised his blade to the skies as rage consumed him.
Its dark edge glints ominously.
"Heed my word, you wretched cowards!" he yelled, his voice echoing across the clearing through the trees. "Is this how you plan to finish us? Lurking in the shadows, like cowardly vermin? Pathetic! Come out and face us! Show yourselves or be labeled cowardly scum!"
The dense forest seems to hold its breath. Then, the shadows moved.
A rustling sound resonated through the clearing, quiet at first but becoming louder. The darkness at the forest's edge began to writhe and twist strangely.
Urath's men tightened their hold on their guns, taking shallow breaths.
And then they emerged.
Ten individuals emerged from the shifting shadows, each taking their time emerging into the moonlight. Their movements were unsettlingly silent, and their presence oppressive.
The power emanating from their aura pressed against Urath and his men like an unseen force, sucking air from their lungs.
"It's them," one of the men said quietly, his voice barely audible. "Death's angels…"
Another nodded, his face paler. "Reapers…"
Urath leered as he examined the figures before them.
Death's children, the Reapers of fire, water, air, ice, earth, sand, lightning, shadow, plant, and poison.
Of all the enemies Urath had faced, few would dare to hunt his kind. Fewer still had the strength or conviction to succeed.
But now he stood in the presence of his greatest adversaries: hunters known to slaughter without hesitation, whose existence was dedicated solely to purging those marked by Death - purging his kind and others like them.
And tonight, it appeared that Death had marked him and his brethren.
The chances did not look promising for his outcome.
Urath's men gradually crumbled in hesitation and worry. Their swords were held in shaky hands, their faces paled like ash, and their breathing became shallow with fear.
Urath detected a palpable sense of desperation.
His eyes moved from one Reaper to the next, memorizing their features with cruel determination.
Though he had never encountered them before this night, he knew their faces. Everyone who went against the Grim Reaper did.
These were his arbiters - his instruments.
Urath shifted his focus to the center, where the Reapers' leader, Agni of Fire, stood.
He glared at her.
Her presence was overwhelming even without her brethren, an unrelenting force that exuded dominance.
Her eyes met his back, uncompromising and piercing.
"You've run far enough, Urath," she said, her voice cutting and bitter. "You can't escape Death. You and your pack of Incubus have been judged. And by his will, we've come to collect your soul for Infra."
Urath could hear his men stumble in front of him.
"We're going to die," one whispered, his voice trembling. "One of them alone is a nightmare. "How will we possibly fight all ten?"
"Silence!" another shouted, his voice shaking. "Lord Urath is with us!" He has never lost a fight! He will see us through this!"
"He's right!" "We also outnumber them," a third said, his tone frantic. "Isn't that advantageous for us? "Right, Lord Urath?"
All eyes were on him now, begging for any sort of reassurance.
However, Urath did not look back. Instead, he raised his blade and leveled it toward Agni.
His voice remained firm, but his knuckles whitened around the hilt. "Proud Incubus of the Urath Pack," he said. "Hear my order: we will hold the line. And if they want us for Infra, then they'll have to bleed."
A murmur rippled through the assembly, faint at first but rising stronger like the flame of renewed strength.
Urath smirked. "Let us show them the power of an Incubus!"
One Incubus, a younger one with wild, defiant eyes, came forward, gripping his blade fiercely. "I've already bled for this pack, and I will bleed again tonight. If we fall, we will make them pay for every drop."
Another member, older and beaten, put his hand on the young one's shoulder. "Spoken like a true warrior," he remarked sternly, nodding at Urath. "With Lord Urath at our side, we've faced worse odds than this."
A third, crouched low with his twin daggers ready, gave a piercing, angry laugh. "Ten reapers? That is merely a challenge, not a death penalty. They bleed just like us." His grin, though wobbly, was filled with grim determination.
Others prepared, some silently checking their weapons and others muttering words of support.
"Don't falter," one hissed, adjusting the shield strapped over his arm. "Remember, Kelesh! We owe it to him to hold our ground."
"Kelesh died a warrior's death," another exclaimed, his teeth bared in rage. "If we're next, then let's die the same way."
Urath turned, his gaze sweeping over his soldiers, proud of their growing determination.
Agni stepped forward, her head cocked slightly. Her crimson eyes never left his as she surveyed him, completely unimpressed. Urath was aware of that.
"You've chosen your fate, Incubus," she whispered, her gaze narrowing. "Let it be known that we will savor every moment of ending all of your miserable existences."
Urath smirked. "Perhaps," he replied. "Or perhaps this is the night a Reaper dies!"
Agni could only scoff. "Then do not disappoint me."
The tension in the clearing snapped tight like a bowstring. Urath inhaled deeply, bracing himself as the Reapers prepared their weapons.
His guys followed suit.
"Take solace, my brothers," Urath mused, adopting a combative stance. "For no matter what happens this night, remember that The Betrayed will return, and all shall beg for forgiveness!"
Urath turned to his men a final time, smirked, and issued the order. "Attack!"
Both sides charged, and the battle was on.
Death's judgment had arrived.