Chapter 10: Descent into Darkness

Frank remembered the warm golden rays that once streamed through the gaps of his humble village home, a stark contrast to his present reality. His village, nestled at the border of Clavis, had borne witness to the heartrending chapters of his life, starting with the death of his mother during childbirth, a traumatic event further amplified when wild beasts savaged his father and elder brothers.

Post the incident, the village, already grappling with manpower depletion due to conscription from the escalating tensions with Arland and strained by the insatiable tax demands of the emperor, chose callousness over compassion. Frank and his younger brother, Durian, were unwanted burdens, leading to their cruel exile.

Hoping for kindness, they reached the gates of Clavis. But the city's vastness only magnified their insignificance. Derisive glances greeted them, and hunger gnawed at their young bellies. Desperation birthed thieves, and soon, the brothers graduated from snatching fruits to pilfering gold.

Such gains brought them temporary refuge—a tiny room tucked away behind a bustling merchant's store. Yet, Durian's dreams transcended their shadowy existence. He yearned for legitimacy, for honest work. But Frank, drunk on their stolen successes, vehemently disagreed.

Time, however, had its own plans. The war with Arland intensified, and its aftershocks were felt even in the city's narrowest alleyways. With most men at war, Clavis was vulnerable, and crime found fertile ground. But the empire's response was ferocious. Durian, snatched during a theft, paid the harshest penalty—public execution. The grief drove Frank further into darkness.

A chance encounter at a dimly-lit tavern led Frank to form an alliance with a kindred spirit. Their shared pain and anger became the foundation of a larger group. As the empire bled from the war, their bandit group thrived on its outskirts, ambushing and robbing travelers.

However, fate had other plans. One moonless night, Clavis's guards, backed by elite warriors clad in gleaming silver armor, descended upon their camp. Battle cries pierced the night. Frank's bandits, though seasoned, found themselves outclassed by the disciplined and relentless onslaught of the city's soldiers. The clang of swords, the twang of bows, and the pained screams of the wounded echoed under the canopy of darkness. Frank fought valiantly, but the shock came not from the fierce combat, but from the soldiers' intent—it was to capture, not to kill.

A sudden blow, swift and hard, cast darkness over Frank's vision. He awoke, imprisoned in a cage, surrounded by familiar and broken faces. The journey was arduous, and consciousness often eluded him. When he finally came to, the sight that greeted him was nothing short of hellish.

The massive dungeon's entrance revealed an abyss of despair—a sprawling, bloody pit filled with the injured, the dying, and the dead. A grotesque mix of severed limbs, congealed blood, and filth formed the pit's floor. Overpowering it all was a nauseating stench of decay and human waste.

Overlooking this grim spectacle stood three imposing figures. Two appeared to be jailers, but the third, draped in a rich black attire, was enigmatic. His aura was unsettling—alien, detached, and chilling.

As realization dawned, Frank felt the ground give way beneath him. The world blurred as he plummeted into the gore-filled pit below, sealing his fate in this new, unfathomable nightmare.