[THE TEMPLE]
The cold water swallowed Rael like the ravenous mouth of a forgotten god.
His body, exhausted and broken, was dragged by the subterranean current — the dark blood mixing with the castle's waste, the light fading little by little into nothing.
He still lived. Barely, but he lived.
His eyes opened once, just enough to see the shadows dancing across the surface of the water.
He coughed. Blood. More pain. More darkness.
The current pushed him through one of the tunnels of the ancient imperial drainage — structures long forgotten since the founding of the castle.
The flow carried him to a wider channel, where the water ran more gently. And there, at last, he was spat into a vast circular chamber.
The forgotten temple buried in the entrails of the fortress had not been made for common men. The walls, black as raw obsidian, seemed carved by the hand of a blind god — crooked, colossal, inscribed with arcane symbols that glowed like embers beneath the dim light.
There were pillars cracked a thousand times, ancient roots hanging from the ceiling like petrified veins, and in the center, resting upon a circle of ancient iron — the sword.
It trembled with anticipation as its new visitor entered.
Rael struck the stone step of the gray platform — the temple's central floor — and his body floated for a moment at the edge of the bank, caught in the bend.
A groan escaped from his throat. He knew not where he was. Nor why he felt as he did. But his eyes opened at the warmth radiating from the center. There it was.
The sword. Pulsing with arcane energy. Chained to the ground. A violet glow, magnetic, whispering directly to his wounded soul.
Each beat of its light matched the growing fury within his chest.
Without knowing how, Rael began to crawl — his fingers slipping on the wet stone, blood painting a trail behind him. He had not yet seen the watchers. They remained unmoving in the shadows, observing.
But the sword saw Rael. And Rael felt it understood him.
Bound by ten black chains, each anchored to a magical seal upon the floor, the blade swayed with anticipation.
The metal did not reflect the light — it consumed it.
Its glow came from within, like a fire barely contained, desperate to erupt. It pulsed in perfect rhythm with Rael's breath.
His eyes were fixed upon it — bloodshot, wrathful, stripped of any innocence that once remained.
"I trusted them…" he snarled in thought.
The pain in his flesh had been cast into some shadowed corner. Only the rage remained. A dark and rising heat, shaping itself as the sword shone brighter with every step he took.
All around him, the ten guardians watched.
They did not speak.
They wore black robes and featureless masks. They did not breathe loudly. They did not show surprise. They only observed.
They were the Yokorai, created to guard the weapon and to judge — in silence — all who dared to touch it.
Meanwhile, Rael, near death, staggered without thought, without feeling the weight of his own body across the damp floor of that subterranean temple, leaving behind a trail of fresh, hot blood upon the cold stone.
His eyes remained locked on the sword embedded in the center of the room — wrapped in living chains that pulsed like veins of metal.
But Rael did not see the blade.
He saw only the echoes of all he had endured. Of all the betrayal.
He clenched his teeth.
Nil. My own blood.
The veins in his neck bulged.
The sword seemed to respond to each memory. It was as if it cried for release. As if it felt Rael's rage... and longed for it.
When he drew near, only a few steps from the center, the chains began to tremble.
Then, they moved.
Ten shadows slid forth from the edges of the hall — emerging like specters. The Yokorai, the ten elite guardians, were already in position.
They had waited. They had watched. They had judged. And they had reached their verdict. With perfect synchrony, the ten struck.
Rael barely had time to breathe. Ten blades pierced his body at once.
Ribs, lungs, shoulders, stomach, thigh — no vital point was spared. He did not fall. He did not scream, even as the blood exploded in all directions, as though his very soul had been pierced alongside his flesh.
Even so, he remained standing.
"Not… like this…" he said, his voice echoing through the chamber like dry thunder. The fury of Rael, now mingled with pain, became something beyond the human.
The guardians sensed the danger. But it was already too late.
Rael clenched his fists. The muscles in his body burst through the very wounds they had suffered. The blades inside him began to shake. His eyes burned with a red that was not of this world.
"You will not kill me so easily. I do not die here!"
The sword cracked.
The chains broke.
A cutting snap echoed through the temple. The sword's energy flooded the air, making the stones tremble and the ground quake beneath the feet of the guardians.
The blood pouring from Rael was now darker, thicker, nearly viscous. His skin began to blacken, as if the very light was being devoured into him.
Rael panted like a cornered beast, his teeth clenched, his body trembling with pure wrath. The sword shone like a black sun.
"YOU BETRAYED ME!"
His cry made the bones of those well-trained warriors vibrate, the air ripple, and the ancient stones crack. It was a roar from another era, another realm.
His eyes ignited in deep red. Veins of black energy coursed through his arms, rising to his face, which now twisted into something monstrous.
Two dark wings, torn like aged leather, burst from his back amidst jets of blood and energy. Twisted horns erupted from his forehead, curling back with a grotesque snap. His teeth elongated, sharpened. The wounds on his body closed as though they had never been.
The Yokorai tried to act.
But Rael crushed them.
The first had his head torn off with a single punch.
The second was split diagonally in half, as if his body were made of cloth.
The third had his arm shattered in five places before being hurled against the wall, pulverized into dust.
Rael was not fighting.
He was executing.
They were ten. Ten Yokorai.
Men shaped from childhood. Trained in absolute silence. Subjected to endless pain. Forged to protect that which must never be freed. Each of them had slain a thousand men alone. Each of them bore a name that made nobles tremble.
And none of them had a chance.
There was no technique.
Only raw power — wild, savage, merciless.
One of the Yokorai tried to vanish into the shadows, but was dragged back by a black chain that burst from Rael's arm — and then shredded by claws made of pure hatred.
The fourth was torn in half.
The fifth begged in silence as his arms were severed and his heart torn out by hand.
The sixth died screaming in agony as he was consumed by black fire.
The seventh attempted a strike from behind, but his head was split in two by Rael's wing.
The eighth was impaled by dozens of thin energy spears that rose from the ground — fine as needles, deadly as arrows.
The ninth died without ever knowing he was dead. His body fell in pieces seconds later.
And the tenth…
The tenth tried to flee — for he alone had the good sense to understand that the nightmare before them was too great to face.
He was the only one who hesitated. The only one who turned to run.
Rael roared in his direction, and the force of his demonic voice made the final Yokorai's head explode.
These were the men to whom the kingdom entrusted its deepest secrets.
They were the ghosts in the walls, the eyes in the shadows, the whisper behind the blade.
Now, they were nothing but pieces on the ground.
And so silence returned.
The temple lay in ruin — soaked in blood, thick with smoke, and crowned by flickering black flames dancing in places where nothing should burn.
Rael, after his surge of wrath, fell to his knees. The power consumed him.
He panted, his eyes flickering back to their former state, his flesh struggling to recover from the mutation. Blood ran from his lips. His body trembled.
Then he collapsed to the side, finally losing consciousness.
The sword reacted.
It wrapped him in a dark aura and gently drew him toward the edge, nudging his body back into the water.
As if to say: It is not yet your time. You shall not die here.
Rael fell, unconscious, and was taken once more by the current.
The water now embraced him softly, carrying him through the forgotten channels, as the shadowed temple disappeared behind him.
Something had awakened.
And the world would feel its weight.