HTG - Chapter 157

Kalon

Chapter One-Hundred-Fifty-Seven: Jutarak - Part Two

Galactic Quadrant: Darna Quadrant

Ruling Government: Talum Merchant Federation

Solar System: D-447

Location: Orarak City, Colosseum

My eyes move from Adonius over to Adona who stands near him on one of the floating pods, adorned with seats and protective shields high in the sky in defiance of gravity. She told me it is where the upper-class dwells, the ones who my blades sing the loudest for.

Her face ripples with a smile as she presses the device in her hand. The same one that Solara gave me to use in case of an emergency.

A blast of energy erupts from it, the lights in the Colosseum go off, leaving it cloaked in the shadows the suns light casts. The energy field which protects the crowds ruptures. My plasma blades light fades, it does not matter though. Because I see the pod begins to rapidly descend from the air towards the sands below… encroaching on my domain.

“T’Akor!” I yell in the old tongue – We Rise. Imbued with the darkness it carries across the entire Colosseum, seeping into the bones of the masters who will soon know the blade of my people’s wrath.

It takes them a few moments, but they all begin to yell it back.

I move with a swiftness towards the snake as my people take to the walls, climbing into the crowd, the thousands of metal soldiers in the Colosseum stands are stuck inside their suits turned coffins.

The demons howl with laughter, save one, Amon. He follows close, becoming my shadow. His eyes are fully open now, a spark of purple ripples in the crimson. The shade is intimately familiar to me.

The pods crash to the ground, shaking the sands, sending plumes of dust into the air. There are screams in every direction as the crowds try to flee, but cannot, for my people are upon them. Their massive metal doors hang closed, barring them from escaping the justice in my people's blades. From the tunnels more of my people begin coming, carrying with them the wrath of vengeance.

Adona has succeeded in more than just bringing the snake to me. Perhaps the dead were right to entrust her with their hope. Perhaps I was right to listen to them.

As I approach the downed pod which the snake dwelled, the first I see amongst the wreckage is Marcus the announcer for the Grand Hunt. I pull him from the debris and slam him upon the ground on his back. He puts his hands over his face and squeals, begging for mercy which will not come from these hands forged for a singular purpose.

“You whose words bring about the suffering of my people, speak no more.”

My fists smash into Marcus’s face again and again until he is choking on his teeth. Reaching into his mouth, I grab his flailing tongue, and pull with all of my might, the strength from passing the bounds floods me as the tongue tears from his flesh. Leaving him gurgling upon his own blood, clawing at his face in a panic.

As the life leaves his eyes, mine turn for my next prey. I hear him before I see him.

“You dare!” Adonius yells, “Father should have put you down years ago, feral…”

“You,” I growl, my voice carrying to his ears.

He turns his head slowly, his eyes growing wide as he takes in the inferno of wrath that swell in mine. In his eyes I see something primal… in his eyes I see fear.

My legs move like the first ray of light come dawn. Leaping through the air, tackling Adonius before he can strike Adona who bleeds from the head. We roll in the sands exchanging blows with our fists. He tries to knee me in the groin, but I shift my body and slam my fist into his underarm nerve bundle, he lets out a shriek as his arm spasms. He is stronger than me, Adona told me he has passed the fifth boundary.

If we were at the same level of skill, I would be dead… but we are not. My skill was not forged upon a feathery bed with a silver spoon in my mouth like his. My skill was forged in the fires of oppression, made sharper by adversity my entire life. He is a novice stepping into a world he does not understand. The blood from his face that wets my fists is a testament to this.

I strike again at his other nerve bundles until he writhes on the ground, trying to throw me off. My fists do not stop as they pummel him over and over, again and again. Each strike for a soul that cries for justice. He is dazed now, his eyes rolling back and forth as my fists change the anatomy of his face. The wrath swirls with focus as I stand over him, grabbing his hair in my hand, pulling him up.

“You won’t get away with this…” he sputters, there is a mixing of fear and anger in his face as he says, “father will…”

I slap the words from his pathetic mouth.

“My people will rise,” I declare, the fire in my eyes grows brighter as I pull his head to look upon the blood that flows in the stands of the Colosseum, “They will burn your entire house to the ground.”

“Fool…” he begins, I slap the words from his mouth again. He thrashes, spit and blood flying from his mouth, “You dare!”

He tries to stand, I take up the blade tucked in my boot, slashing his Achilles tendons and sending him to the ground howling in pain. He tries to crawl, I cut the tendons of his arms, careful to not sever his arteries… he has not earned the right to die yet.

Some of my people are gathering now, carrying weapons from the armory on the thirteenth floor, Adona’s part of the plan. Among them I see Arrum and Nekam, his children Neeba and Nevari are not far behind. Nevari does not meet my eyes, the wrath in them is primordial. Behind her is Henek, he gives me a nod after pausing to take in the darkness on my skin and eyes.

Henek, Barnak’s grandson, the one who once tried to kill me, begins pounding his chest and starting the chant that he carved into stone until his hands bled.

T’Akor – T’Akor – T’Akor

The words soon echo within those slaying the crowd. My eyes turn back to Arrum, Isola’s spirit close to him still, my jaw flexes for him. The pain calls to the wrath in my heart. Refocusing me on the sniveling coward upon the ground who has caused it.

How has this coward passed the fifth boundary… what a waste. Solara had told me that some nobles use restricted and unconventional ways to gain power. Perhaps that is how he gained it. Looking upon him, he certainly did not earn it.

“You will beg them for mercy,” I say looking down upon him, grabbing him by the hair, forcing him up to his knees, “Because you will receive none from me.”

He looks at me with fear and disgust. His arms hang uselessly at his sides.

“I am a Noble of the great House Helenius…” he begins, but I do not let him finish.

Moving behind him, I carve my blade into his back, splaying the skin, making the same motions as the scars upon Isola’s body. He screams, trying to fight against it. Arrum and Nekam come first, holding him as he thrashes wildly. Henek comes next, even without full use of his arms and legs, this snake Adonius is strong.

As I carve his flesh, I see Adona stumbling through the crowd. Her right eye is swollen, her left arm is bent unnaturally, and one of her legs drags behind her, probably broken from the pod falling or Adonius attacking her. She is supported by… Korra. I have not seen her since before the Grand Hunt began, she nods to me, there is a strange smile upon her lips. Her green eyes sparkle in the sun as she brushes her green hair from them.

My neck spasms as I feel Krotha placing her hand on my shoulder. Whispering into my ear.

We The Nine are hungry, my blade

I turn to her with a snarl on my face, she will wait until I am finished. My blade rips down Adonius’s back further.

“Please!” Adonius cries, his face twisted, “Please I beg you, spare me.”

The crowd does not stop its chant, hollow eyes look upon him as he screams in agony. Adona stands before him now with Korra’s help, looking down on him.

“Mercy!” he yells, tears streaming down his face.

He will find none here among my people, neither the dead nor the living look upon him with pity.

“Father! Please, someone… anyone,” his eyes are wide. For the first time in his rotten existence he is receiving the pain he gives.

Now he begins to understand what my people have felt, their cries always falling on the deaf ears of the masters. My blade carves further.

“Helenius, my god…. please answer my prayers… save me,” he cries out, sniveling like the coward that he really is.

My blade drives deeper as I say, “Yes, call your god of cowards.”

“Please Helenius… please…” he whimpers.

Arrum looks upwards to the skies.

“Brother, time is short,” he says, “We should leave this place, he has suffered enough.”

Would that Arrum knew what I knew. If he knew that Isola was tortured by him, he would not leave until every fiber was stripped from Adonius’s bones. I have not tortured him for myself, but for Arrum, so that when he learns the truth he can have some contentment in knowing this man suffered greatly.

That is all I can give him. That and the false hope that Isola is already aboard one of the ships escaping. It will be the only lie I have ever told him. There is peace with it. For I know he will not truly leave here without her.

Above us in low orbit is a ship cresting the sky. I recognize it, Thorn, the flagship of House Helenius.

Vek.

There is no more time to exact revenge, my people must start fleeing this place before the soldiers rain from the skies. I nod to Arrum. Though I know if he knew of Isola’s suffering he would not care if lingering meant death. It is why I do not tell him. I want him to survive past this tragedy. To thrive once he heals his heart’s wounds.

Pulling my blade from Adonius’s flesh, I turn the handle to Adona. Her eyes look up to me, uncertain if she has the right. I grasp her hand and place it in her palm. It must be her that does it. To balance the scale, so that maybe she has a chance to not be murdered by the hordes after I am gone. They must see that it is she that helps free them.

“Juga ta Heka,” I say in the old tongue.

It’s meaning is simple… Release your chains.

She holds the blade, her hand trembling as she brings it to his throat. Dragging it slowly across. Blood sprays from his carotid artery onto her, she does not even blink as the sacrament of blood coats her. The others release him, sending him to the ground. Kneeling down next to him, I whisper in his ear.

“Tell your God of cowards, I come for them in the afterlife.”

His body twitches for a few moments before his eyes glass over. Adona lets out a breath, dropping the blade onto the sands. Her attention is far away now, I can tell she wishes to rest, but there is no time for it. I grasp her face, drawing her attention to my words.

“Take them from this place.”

She nods to me slowly, remembering her promises to me. She will help them as she helped the young mothers and children. This is her penance for her sins.  

“What about you?” Arrum asks.

“I will hold them back as long as I can,” I say, looking up to the sky, there are transport ships coming through the clouds. The demons howl with laughter, save Amon, he is focused and still walks in my shadow, silent, eyes looking skyward. Krotha comes to my shoulder again, her crimson eyes sparkling with malicious intent as she twirls strands of her deep black hair with crimson tips.

More souls for the slaughter

Give us your body

You have had your revenge

“When my people are safe,” I lie under my breath.

She hisses at me, sending pain into my shoulder from her hand.

It was not a request

Pain floods me, nearly bringing me to my knees. Amon knocks Krotha’s hand from my shoulder, stepping between us. The other demons hiss and begin circling us.

You forget your place, Amon

You are the last of the Nine

Amon turns to Krotha, his voice less distorted now, defiance echoes in it. His figure swathed in darkness rippling as though something within him is fighting to break free.

I do not fear you like the others, Krotha

Do your worst

The two demons begin fighting, flashes of light crossing my vision until all the Nine demons disappear from it entirely. For what reason he helps me, I do not know. Perhaps it is because he sees my cause as worthy. Perhaps it is his penance for failing the Kuwathi.

“What’s wrong?” Neeba asks me, coming to my shoulder with Arrum.

“We need to go,” Nekam says, trying to grab me.

I pull from him, shaking my head.

“We cannot delay,” he says as the first of the crafts begins to descend onto the field.

Metal soldiers jump down to the sands now from the crafts, firing upon my people. Those of my people that are armed fire back, but they are not trained in these weapons. Their shots often missing their mark. I feel the raging of the demon’s battle. The Cursed Edict calls to me again, so much that it breaks my focus for a moment.

“I cannot go with you,” I say, my heart heavy. I will not risk the demons using my body to kill them.

“You will die if you stay,” Arrum says, grasping my shoulder, “We can figure out whatever is wrong with you. We always figure it out, brother.”

Opening the weaved armor that Solara gave me, I show them the lines that trace my body. It is a tapestry of darkness.

“I am already dead,” I say putting a hand on his shoulder, “Do not dishonor my last request.”

Arrum’s eyes glow as he looks upon the lines that swirl with darkness.

“Kada…” Arrum begins, but Nekam grasps his shoulder firmly to silence him.

“You must live, so you can rise up, and carry the torch, break the chains that bind our people.” I force a smile, giving him my will, “Thrive.”

I do not want my last moments of sanity to be mired in sadness. I feel the demon Amon is losing to Krotha and the others. The darkness from them is seeping back into me. The shadow of their figures are in the corner of my perception.

My eyes widen as I feel something in the air, something I recognize. Not from the demons, but from something else.

No…

“Go… go now,” I say, but to my frustration they do not leave.

Lightening cracks and thunder booms in the skies above. I have felt this before, it is not like the normal stirring of Maka. A false god meddles in the affairs of mortals.

The winds howl as lightning strikes Adonius’s chest again and again. Runes of light appear on his body. His flesh sucks back the blood that flowed, his lungs take in the air loudly as he gasps awake. Clutching his chest. The tendons in his arms and legs form back together, the wounds on his face heal. He pushes up from the ground, taking to his knees.

“Helenius has seen my worth and blessed me,” he says, kneeling to the heavens with his hands outstretched, “I accept your divine blessing, my God Helenius. Grant me one of your Edicts, and I will slay the blasphemer.”

The air ripples and cracks as an object smashes into the ground sent from the belly of the flagship Thorn. A tremor shakes through the sand. My jaw flexes as I see light coming from the dust cloud.

The outline of Adonius grasps the object. As his body becomes clearer, and the dust starts to settle, I see the object changing shapes in his hand. Runes of light flow up his arm.

Sekat.