thief of fate-Chapter 60: Diros

The roar of the waves was constant, unlike the clamor of battle. On the deck of the great ship, Commander Darim stood, staring at the horizon.

"This cursed sea is too long..." he muttered, running his hand along the hilt of his sword. "If it were only the battle, it would be easier."

"Sir?" said one of the soldiers behind him.

He turned toward him. The soldier was young, maybe not older than twenty, but his eyes were filled with the tension of silence.

"Are we close?"

"Yes, sir. The watchman says we’ll arrive within an hour or less."

Darim nodded, then looked again at the sea. He did not fear combat. He wasn’t even thinking of it. He had fought all his life. What occupied his mind now was what awaited them on the shore.

"The savage barbarians..." He spat on the wooden floor, then pulled his cloak tighter around his chest. "We’ll send them all to hell."

At that moment, in one of the villages near the eastern borders of Ozria, the corpses were piled on top of each other. Broken bones, black blood, and torn limbs. There had been no resistance.

Commander Elina stood on a small hill, her face stained with blood half of it from enemies, the other half her own sweat. Her large sword still dripped. Around her, her unit was finishing off the remains of the corpses.

"Kill even the pups!" she shouted. "Don’t leave even those who can’t crawl!"

One of the soldiers hesitated. A small Arkanis child, barely able to walk, was crawling toward the shadow of a burnt tree. The soldier looked at him, then took a step back.

"Did you not hear me?!" Elina roared.

"He’s... a child, my lady."

She approached him, snatched the dagger from his belt, then walked toward the crawling creature. The child wasn’t crying, not even afraid. He looked at her with hazy red eyes, and in a voice resembling a growl.

"They don’t grow to be men, but monsters." She plunged the dagger into his neck. The choking sound faded quickly. "He could’ve torn your throat out in a week."

Then she turned to the soldier: "Hesitate again, and I’ll leave you among them to devour you."

He nodded, trembling. "Yes, my lady."

On the ship, Darim finally sat down, surrounded by some of his officers. Most of them knew the real reason for being sent now: pressure from Elyria, and the delay in response.

"If we had delayed one more day, they would’ve thought we didn’t care," said one, flipping a cup of cheap wine. "Thank the gods they didn’t withdraw their invitation."

"Invitation?" Darim said mockingly. "They only sent us to spill our blood before theirs."

Then he added in a low voice: "But it’s fine. Better to die in a foreign land than to die without the honor of battle."

Suddenly, one of the guards above shouted: "Land! We see it!"

Everyone moved toward the edge. The shores of Ozria were finally in sight.

In another village, Elina walked between the burned houses. The Arkanis lived like beasts—skins hanging, bones floating, women giving birth without pause, and children attacking anything that moved.

"Scum," she said as she stepped on the head of a slaughtered Arkanis female. "Even the humans who worship fire are more merciful than them."

One of the female soldiers approached: "My lady, we found a cellar beneath one of the huts."

"Blow it up."

"There are children screaming inside."

"I said blow it up!" then she whispered: "I won’t risk them coming out a year from now to attack our cities, gnawing at children’s throats."

At the shore, Darim was the first to step into the water. The soldiers lined up behind him, weapons raised. The air was suffocating—not from the heat, but from the smell of ash and blood.

"Where are the hosts?" one of them asked.

"They said Ozria’s units await us inland."

"Good..." said Darim, then growled: "Move! We don’t want them saying we’re hiding."

After hours of walking through scorched forests, the forces met at a crossroad, where Elina was waiting, surrounded by dozens of exhausted soldiers and piles of Arkanis corpses behind her.

Darim looked at her for a long moment, then said coldly: "I thought we would share the battle, not the corpses."

She replied, wiping dried blood from her neck: "You arrived after everything was over."

"Is it a massacre? Or cleansing?"

"A duty."

A heavy silence fell, until Elina broke it: "You’ll see what they left behind here... You’ll see why they can’t be treated as humans."

The next day, she led them to a vast cave in one of the small mountains. Inside were human corpses hanging from the ceiling, mutilated, some without skin. Among them were children, mothers, and even soldiers.

"Are those from our villages?" one asked, trembling.

"They were," Elina replied.

Darim looked at one of the altar-like structures. Bloodstains, parts of a skull, and faint sounds coming from the depths.

"We should’ve burned everything," he said, then in a low voice: "Even the land."

At sunset, Darim sat in his tent, writing a letter to King Yaram:

My liege,

We have arrived in the lands of Ozria, and found them drowning in the fire that didn’t wait for us. The enemy is not an army, but a vile savagery unmatched by any race we’ve known. I have seen children biting soldiers, and women with fangs leaping onto horses and tearing them apart. The Kingdom of Ozria did not exaggerate... if anything, it was merciful. I will lead my forces in support wherever we are required, and we will do what must be done. In the name of blood, justice, and the kingdom.

Then he signed his name and sealed it.

Deep in the forest, beyond the ruins of the villages, a number of fleeing Arkanis hid. Some were wounded, some small, breathing with difficulty. They panted, watched, crawled.

Suddenly, they appeared from behind. Swords. Fire. Screams.

"Cleanse the land!" shouted one of Ozria’s soldiers.

"Cut off their heads!" shouted another from Yaram’s army.

And the night filled with howls... then silence.

A week passed, heavy like hell.

The earth no longer absorbed blood.

Even the birds had abandoned the skies above the eastern plains of Ozria.

The soldiers were exhausted, their voices hoarse, and their eyes saw nothing but shades of corpses, even in their sleep.

In one of the villages declared "cleansed," Commander Darem sat in the middle of his camp, holding a map covered in red marks and smudged lines.

"How many left?" he asked in a low voice.

"Only two villages in the southern forest, sir," his assistant replied. "Then we declare final victory."

Darem laughed a dry laugh, then said:

"Victory... what kind of victory is it where you find no one to fight? We slaughter children and burn clans dying of hunger?"

Then he fell silent.

Inside, he knew that peace was a lie, and that the calm which preceded that day... was unnatural.

In the southern forest...

The wind whispered among the branches, warning, warning of something.

In one of the dark pits, between piled bones and sticky mud, a pair of eyes opened.

Then... another pair beside them.

"Hmmmm... hungry, hungry, hungry..."

said the first head in a childlike tone, smiling and wagging its tongue out.

"Everything is dead... they have no taste..."

muttered the second head, with pale, sad features and sunken eyes.

Diros rose. He stood over two meters tall.

His arms were long, his claws dirty with blood.

He moved as if dancing, twisting his body like a snake then freezing suddenly.

"There are many people here... their blood is warm, their blood is fresh..." said the first head cheerfully.

"And they will die quickly," added the second in a sorrowful voice.

A patrol from Yaram’s army was passing along the forest’s edge.

Six men, led personally by Commander Elina. She had just begun to feel relief after the long week.

"We’ll finish the inspection within the hour," she said, adjusting her armor.

"Thank the heavens, I’m sick of this rotten air," said one of the soldiers, kicking a charred stump.

Then... silence happened.

The birds stopped.

The sound of wind vanished.

And then... he appeared.

He emerged from between the trees, his body covered in gray skin, his eyes glowing with a dark red light.

He crawled at first, then stood upright. The first head smiled widely and laughed, while the second wept without tears.

"They’re here!" the first shouted.

"Yes... yes... we’re hungry too," said the second.

Elina looked at them, then raised her sword.

"Defensive formation!" she yelled, then roared: "A large Arkanis, possibly a commander."

"Commander? No no no..." said the first head as Diros approached.

"Master..." said the sad head.

"I... am Diros!"

Suddenly... he vanished.

He appeared behind the first soldier, his hand piercing through the chest and pulling out a heart.

He was insanely fast. His movement was strange... as if he was teleporting, leaving behind a phantom trace then reappearing elsewhere.

"Watch out!" Elina shouted as she backed away, but it was too late.

He slashed another soldier with his claws, slicing him in half, then leapt to grab a third by the neck.

"Tastes like candy!" laughed the first head.

"But he screams too much..." moaned the second.

His ability: "Dual Echo"

It allows him to create a copy that fights alongside him simultaneously, which enabled him to kill with peak efficiency.

Elina was fighting him alone, knowing that death was closer than victory.

"Fall back! We need reinforcements!" she screamed, but no one responded... they were all dead.

"You are strong..." said the first head as he danced lightly in his attacks.

"But everything in you will die," added the second.

Elina blocked several strikes, her sword barely grazing his skin, then received a kick that hurled her into a tree behind her.

"There is much food... but we choose the best," they said in unison, a double echo that made her hair stand on end.

Then... he stopped.

His body flared suddenly, emanating a dark energy like the murmur of thousands of Arkanis who had been slaughtered the past week.

Elina looked, half-conscious, to see him turn and say:

"We’ve eaten enough for today."

"We’ll return tomorrow."

"Tomorrow... we rain blood."

The next night, Elina wrote her report with a trembling hand:

A new entity has appeared... one we’ve never seen among the Arkanis. Two-headed, speaks and attacks with incredible skill. Killed my entire unit within minutes. Moves with speed beyond comprehension, and uses a phantom copy of himself to double his attacks.

His name... he said it was Diros. And it seems... he’s only begun. I request immediate reinforcements. If we don’t stop him, everything we built will collapse.

Then she signed.

Knowing... she would not sleep that night, and would never forget the two voices

One laughing, the other crying...

Both killing.