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The Reign of Chaos

In Basilia Palace, chaos erupts as Christos, driven by a hunger for power, usurps the throne, imposing tyranny upon the realm. King Themis, sensing the imminent danger posed to his daughter by Casimir, a man fixated on a prophecy foretelling his demise at the hands of the king's child, flees into hiding. As Christos tightens his grip on the kingdom, the plight of the commoners worsens. Meanwhile, King Themis grapples with a difficult decision: to flee with his vulnerable daughter and ensure her safety, or to confront Christos and reclaim his rightful place on the throne, despite the risks it entails. Caught between his duty to his people and his paternal instincts, the king finds himself torn. With danger lurking at every corner and the future of the kingdom hanging in the balance.

botbw112 · Fantasía
Sin suficientes valoraciones
52 Chs

Beneath the Tyrant's Gaze

As arrows rained down from above, the soldiers of Themis swiftly moved into formation, their shields forming an impenetrable barrier against the deadly onslaught. Amidst the chaos, Mike and his companions remained steadfast, their resolve unwavering as they prepared to face the enemy.

"This is it, everyone. Stay together and watch each other's backs," Mike shouted over the din of battle, his voice filled with determination.

Avra nodded in agreement, her eyes scanning the battlefield for any signs of weakness in the enemy's defense.

"We can do this. Just stay focused and trust in your training," she called out to her fellow soldiers.

Zagan, always ready for a fight, grinned confidently as he tightened his grip on his sword.

"Let them come. We'll show them what it means to face the warriors of Themis," he declared, his voice tinged with excitement.

The soldiers of Themis charged forward, meeting the enemy head-on with a ferocity that sent shockwaves through their ranks. 

Their swords flashed in the sunlight as they pushed back against the relentless tide of battle. Despite the overwhelming odds, Mike and his companions refused to back down. With every swing of their swords and every clash of their shields, they fought with all their might, knowing that the fate of Ayira and Lucius hung in the balance.

A fierce duel unfolded between a warrior of Themis and one of Christos's most skilled fighters. Swords clashed and sparks flew as the two adversaries locked in a deadly dance, their every movement fueled by the desire to emerge victorious.

With each strike, the Themis warrior fought with unwavering determination, his sword flashing in the sunlight as he sought to overcome his opponent. However, the Christos warrior proved to be a formidable foe, matching him blow for blow with skill and precision.

As the battle raged on, Themis warrior found himself growing weary, his strength waning with each passing moment. Despite his best efforts, he knew that he was fighting a losing battle, yet he refused to give up hope.

With one final, desperate lunge, he launched himself at his opponent, his sword aimed true. But as he struck, Christos's warrior countered with a swift and deadly blow, striking him down with a single, devastating strike.

As he lay on the ground, mortally wounded, the Themis warrior looked up at the sky, his vision growing dim as he whispered his final words.

"Mother... I'm coming home," he said, his voice barely a whisper as he succumbed to his injuries.

Around him, the sounds of battle continued to rage, but for the fallen warrior, the fight was over.

"So, you're the best Christos has to offer?" Zagan taunted, his voice dripping with arrogance as he parried a blow from his adversary.

The Christos warrior, undeterred by his bravado, responded with a fierce attack, his sword whistling through the air as he aimed for his throat. But Zagan, ever the skilled swordsman, deftly dodged the strike, his grin widening as he countered with a swift riposte of his own.

Zagan maintained his trademark smirk, his demeanor unshakeable as he faced his opponent.

"Is that the best you can do?" he mocked, his tone laced with amusement as he effortlessly blocked another series of blows from his opponent.

Christos warrior, growing frustrated by his taunts, redoubled his efforts, launching a relentless assault in an attempt to break through his defenses.

But try as he might, he found himself unable to gain the upper hand against the cocky swordsman.

With a flourish of his blade, Zagan delivered a decisive blow, disarming his opponent and sending him crashing to the ground in defeat.

"Maybe next time, try picking on someone with comparable abilities as you," he quipped.

"You think you can intimidate me with your size?" she stated after overcoming one soldier and she was now faced with a muscular male.

"I've faced far worse than you and come out victorious," she added. 

Christos warrior lunged forward with a fierce attack, Avra met his blow with swift precision, deflecting his strike with a skillful parry. Undeterred by the intensity of the battle raging around her, she maintained her focus, her movements fluid and controlled as she countered each of her opponent's moves with calculated finesse.

His massive frame bore down on Avra as he sought to overwhelm her with sheer brute force. But Avra, undaunted by his imposing presence, danced nimbly out of reach, her agility and speed proving to be her greatest assets in the fight.

With a series of swift strikes and deft maneuvers, Avra gradually gained the upper hand, wearing down her opponent's defenses and exploiting weaknesses in his technique. With a final, decisive blow, she disarmed the Christos warrior and sent him crashing to the ground, defeated but not broken.

Amidst the chaos of battle, the soldiers found moments to banter and jest, their camaraderie serving as a brief respite from the grim reality of warfare.

"Hey, you there!" one soldier called out to his comrade, a mischievous grin on his face.

"You fight like a drunken goose!"

His companion shot back with a laugh, parrying a blow from an enemy swordsman.

"At least I fight like something! You swing that sword like it's a wet noodle!"

The banter continued as they exchanged blows with their opponents, the adrenaline of battle fueling their spirited exchange.

"Watch your back!" another soldier shouted, coming to the aid of his fellow warrior as they fought side by side.

"These Christos lackeys fight dirty!"

"I've seen pigs put up a better fight than these lot!" his comrade retorted, ducking beneath a swinging axe.

"I'll have them squealing for mercy in no time!"

"I expected more from Christos's so-called elite warriors!" he stated. 

As Zagan swiftly dispatched another of Christos's warriors, his attention was abruptly drawn to a distressing sight beside him.

There, on her knees amidst the chaos of battle, was Adira, bloodied and injured. 

He noticed a change in her demeanor. There was a weariness in her eyes, a heaviness that weighed down her spirit, contrasting starkly with the fierce determination she had shown earlier.

He realized that Adira looked like she had lost hope, her will to fight slowly ebbing away. 

"What's the point of fighting..." she murmured. 

 "...when your father is dead, your sister is gone, your friends are also gone?"

Tears welled up in her eyes, blurring her vision as memories of happier times flooded her mind. She remembered her father's laughter, her sister's playful teasing, and the camaraderie she shared with her friends. But now, they all seemed like distant echoes of a past that she could never reclaim.

"What's the point of living," she continued, her voice trembling,

"If there's no person you love by your side?"

Her heart felt heavy with the weight of her loneliness, the absence of her loved ones leaving a gaping void in her soul. In that moment of despair, she felt utterly alone, adrift in a sea of turmoil with no anchor to hold onto.

"Adira!" Zagan called out, his voice carrying over the din of battle as he rushed to her side.

Adira looked up, her face pale with pain but still bearing a determined expression.

"Zagan..."

He knelt beside her, his worry etched across his features. 

"You shouldn't have pushed yourself so hard,"

"I'll... I'll be fine," she gasped, her voice strained with effort.

"Just... need a moment."

 "You're not okay," he insisted, his tone firm yet filled with concern. With a gentle hand, he helped her to her feet. But before they could take a moment to regroup, a strike launched towards them, catching them off guard. Zagan moved swiftly to shield Adira, but the blow still landed, injuring him slightly. His focus shifted to the Christos warrior who had attacked them.

With a fierce glare, Zagan faced the warrior, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

"Ah, how thoughtful of you to give us a moment for a little drama conversation," he remarked, his tone laced with mockery.

"But you see, in the movie, the main character always comes out on top in the end."

He surged forward, his sword flashing in the sunlight as he engaged Christos's soldiers in battle. Despite his injuries, his movements were swift and precise, his years of training and experience guiding his every strike.

With each clash of swords and clang of metal, he pushed himself to his limits, determined to protect Adira and their allies from harm. His muscles burned with exertion, but he fought on, his resolve unyielding as he faced their adversaries head-on. He blocked, parried, and countered with expert skill. 

From his vantage point high atop the tower, Christos watched the bloody battle unfold with a twisted sense of amusement. His eyes gleamed with malice as he observed the chaos below, reveling in the carnage and destruction wrought by his soldiers.

As the clash of steel echoed through the air and the cries of the wounded filled the courtyard, Christos remained detached, his expression one of cold indifference. To him, the battle was merely a game, a means to an end in his quest for power and dominance.

However, amidst the chaos, his attention was drawn to a particular figure below – a girl who had caught his eye earlier.

With a cruel smirk, Christos gestured to one of his men, motioning for him to approach.

The soldier hurried to obey, leaning in close as Christos whispered his orders.

"Leave the girl," he instructed, his voice laced with a sinister edge.

"I like her face. It would be a shame to mar it further."