Asdras Awakening (XI)

It was chaotic, and everything went black for Asdras. He neither saw nor heard when Second assisted him with Fifth, who lay on a makeshift table, barely moving as if he had already found peace.

Fifth's heart pulsed in rhythm with the sword's iron vibration, and he opened his eyes, grunting. It was his way of thanking them; his dream of escaping his physical and mental cage was coming true.

Fifth had once been a rich merchant, traveling far between villages and cities, bringing goods, tales, and money to his pocket. His eyes had tasted the world, the different cultures, and the variety of beautiful things.

His mouth had savored the women of the north, and he had despised the gossips of the east. His belly felt warmth in the west, but he loved the stew from Ravenwood.

His pockets reached further than his hands or legs could, allowing him the freedom of choices yet making him pay dearly to the watchful law and local rulers.

He had met his fair share of bandits, creatures, and dreadful nights, but on the day he came to Ravenwood to stay for the summer, he realized that everything he had done in his life was an illusion. It was his mind's way of coping with the hellish nightmare he found himself against.

He tried to buy his way out, yet no amount of money could save him. For the first time, he learned that his freedom was powerless against absolute power. He tried to run, but his legs felt short, and when he tried to stay and fight, he lost everything.

Life was fair, and in a twist of fate, it didn't take his life early to spare him suffering. Instead, it kept him in this state for years. He felt that he had taken much from life, yet the installments and taxes he paid each year for the empire paled in comparison to his suffering.

In his last bit of strength, he glimpsed vaguely at Asdras's face. He swore that if he could, he would pay the young man with the trembling sword so much gold that Asdras could live comfortably without ever lifting a sword again, like a retired merchant.

Second tried to speak, placing his trembling hands on Asdras's shoulders. His lips quivered as if the words were about to explode from within, yet nothing came out.

He couldn't express himself to Asdras. He felt that, with time, he would become a better person and learn to understand himself and others. It was what his father had expected from him, despite ignoring him for most of his life. And, as if trying to redeem a sliver of kinship, his father schemed for Second to become Ravenwood's leader.

Second never wanted to be a leader; he wanted to study. He was fascinated by the creatures of the world and once dreamed of becoming a biologist, tagging along with hunters to travel the land and study every creature he could.

He sketched and daydreamed about it whenever he was free. When he became Ravenwood's leader, his only solace was his crow. Since his love for animals was greater than his love for humans, he dismissed any thoughts of rebelling against his father's scheme, just to avoid harming his crow or any other crow in the village.

He was about twenty-five when he was established as their chief. He was well-studied, had a way with words, and possessed an energetic aura that attracted the villagers' whispers and good mornings.

However, Second's nature wasn't like that; it was only his public mask. Alone, he was an introvert who enjoyed silence and his imagination. He thought he would be like that forever, with only his crow understanding him.

When he met a daring woman who seemed to enjoy invading his private space, Second thought he was doomed. He tried to hide, but the woman, like his crow, was good at spotting her target.

Days turned into months, and her presence changed with it. She enjoyed tagging along with him in silence, looking at the leaves, the animals, and some of the creatures they found and tamed in the wild.

He learned to like her, and they became one, soon becoming three. He was in his prime, his mood improved, and word spread that he was a good leader.

Yet he thought that no matter how good a leader he was, he couldn't help as much as he wanted when tragedy struck. He tried every other way to fight against the creature.

He despaired and blamed himself for being incompetent. He thought back to his dream of becoming a biologist and felt it was as distant as childhood.

His only hope at the time was when they sent a group to seek help from the city, and his wife and child were with them. He wished for them to live a better life and to be happy, but he knew how broken he was. Thoughts consumed him: Are they okay? Are they eating well? Are they missing me? Are they trying to help us? Are they alive?

These thoughts ate away at him bit by bit, and the only thing that held him together was his burning desire for revenge. He revived his notepad and started studying the creature in every way he could.

Following the protocol from the academy, he documented its rank, its tier, its characteristics, and so on. He planned and schemed, yet nothing worked.

Months turned into years, and his hope diminished while his desire for revenge turned to dust scattered in the wild. But as if in answer to his prayers, Asdras appeared.

He was skeptical, thinking it was nothing but a sick joke, a mockery of himself. He, who was their leader, couldn't succeed, and it seemed the world thought a young teenager was better than him.

Denial plagued him, yet that spark of hope to at least achieve his desire to destroy the beast never died. So he made the decision, further fueled by the message the boy carried.

It was the boy's trial and his trial too. The dream of every biologist was to help a hunter dominate a beast, and fate gave him a chance to make that dream come true.

He read over and over his notepad and found the only way to do so. It demanded so much of him, but it was nothing compared to the weight Asdras would need to endure to use his findings and slay the creature.

Tears streamed down his face as he looked at Asdras. He felt a complex mix of relief and anger, emptiness and accomplishment. In his mind, he believed that Asdras wouldn't fail and that the monster would be slain, even if he wouldn't be there to witness it.

"Please," he said, gripping Asdras's shoulders firmly. "Live for us. Kill that thing and survive. You must live!"

Asdras felt as if a thunderbolt struck his veins. His vision became turbulent, and his head nodded uncontrollably, as if not understanding the reason yet knowing it needed to.

He could no longer feel Second's presence. He stood trembling until his knees gave out, and he fell to the ground hard enough to crack the earth. His sword burned with energy and vibrated, but his hands were numb to the sensation.

It was akin to a mirror shattering into countless fragments, each shard reflecting a distorted piece of their faces. He felt a disconnection, as if the cohesive image of who they were had splintered, leaving him to navigate a maze of self-blame and self-doubt.

The will to reclaim what was lost became a torturous goal, as the very act of searching deepened the wounds. His lost gaze struggled to turn, fearing what he might find, yet he found nothing but dust scattering.

Fate seemed to take pity on his efforts and spare him from watching their bodies. A glaring flame danced on his skin, making him feel surreal. He watched as his own body walked, step by step, toward the rotten trees surrounding the campsite, using an unnatural force to cut them open.

He thought he heard a soft sigh, like someone was learning their beloved was safe. But the distortions and fragments of reality clashed in his spinning vision like thunder.

He moved mechanically, thinking only a minute had passed since he saw Second, yet the day darkened and the night became day. There were times when he found himself playing the lute that Sixth had left for him, ignoring the note and playing from memory.

He wished it would bring peace, to at least free him from his own mental cage, but it didn't work that way.

Other times, he found himself setting the traps Second had designed for him in his notepad. Wood beams with ropes organized in a maze of sorts, each with a length of space among them.

He tried to eat the fresh bread Third had made, but it tasted foul in his mouth, and his stomach turned. He tried to train with his sword, but his movements were erratic, and he saw cuts on his skin because of it.

Yet none of that brought him physical pain. It was as if his body was stronger than before, yet numb to pain. Alas, his mind and emotions deepened in turmoil and confusion.

It was only when he heard the heavy chains clashing against the ground that he finally found himself free from his trance-like state. And when he saw that creature, a burning desire to kill it sparked within him, becoming akin to a raging forest fire.

He gripped his sword tightly, planting his feet firmly, nearly cutting his veins from the pressure. He let out a primal yell that made the creature pause, as if noticing him for the first time, recognizing a potential enemy, almost understanding fear.

"COME!"