Chapter 4 The Beginning (1)

Chapter 4: The Beginning (1)

The guard’s quarters lay frozen in silence: every torch had been extinguished, and not a peep could be heard. Though they spent their days deep in the chasm, doing their jobs of keeping the humans in their places, the Elven guards returned to the surface each night to rest.

To the untrained eye, the building the guards called home was nothing more than a large, simple wooden cabin in the middle of an expansive plain littered with steep hills. Yet within lies a cozy home to the twelve Elves who manage the slaves within the Mining District. The walls were decorated with an assortment of items, paintings, and memorabilia from their homes in the capital, serving as a reminder to them of what they are protecting.

At the center of the room was a staircase spiraling into the ground, gently reflecting the moonlight that filtered through the single window in the room. Yet, inside a certain inspector’s room, a single Elf tossed and turned in his bed. Despite the chilling night air, Inspector Liadan sweated profusely in his sleep, thrashing about and discarding his bedding onto the floor.

“No… Take me, not him…” he mumbled in his sleep, fingers gripping the sheets.

For several minutes, Inspector Liadan tossed and turned from his nightmare, before jolting awake, eyes bloodshot, heaving profusely as he adjusted to the darkness.

“That damn dream again?” Inspector Liadan wondered aloud, wiping the sweat from his face. “It’s been over a century, why can’t I forget that damn battle?”

As Inspector Liadan was catching his breath, there was the sound of a floorboard creaking outside his door. A chill ran down the Inspector’s spine as his mind began to race. He knew instinctively that none of his colleagues were awake at this hour. Something (or someone) had made its way inside their cabin.

“Who’s there?” Inspector Liadan questioned, retrieving the whip from his nightstand as he rose from the bed.

Yet the only response was silence. He approached the door with bated breath, letting his whip unravel and slither behind him like a snake. However, when he edged it open and moonlight seeped in, the sight defied his every expectation.

‘There’s nothing?’ Inspector Liadan thought as he gazed about the empty room.

Not a single chair, decoration, or painting was out of place, yet the eerie feeling within him did not ebb. The door creaked as he opened it fully, but in that same moment, something in the room shifted in the shadows.

“I said, who’s there!” Inspector Liadan exclaimed, swinging his whip into the shadows.

Snap!

The Inspector’s whip stopped mid-strike, fully extended as if pulled from the other end. And from within the shadows, a single wolfish smile began to gleam against the pitch black background.

“You! State your identity!” Inspector Liadan shouted like a broken record, struggling to maintain control over his whip.

Only then did it dawn upon him, that he had been shouting for a few minutes, yet none of his colleagues had come to investigate the commotion. The colleagues he knew were anything but heavy sleepers; only one conclusion remained.

“You’ll pay for this, you bastard!” he shouted, yanking his whip out from the shadows and unleashing a flurry of strikes at the shadowed being.

Yet the sensation of flesh rending never reverberated through his whip, only the tug of a stronger force as the whip was grabbed by the shadowed being once more. But that was the least of the Inspector’s concerns, as the moment they clashed, over a dozen more smiles began to glimmer in the darkness.

Although the Inspector tried to regain control of his whip several times, not a single attempt worked. It was only in the silence of defeat that a cold, stoic voice answered his previous questions.

“You don’t remember us? You’ll have to try harder than that, Inspector Liadan.”

A primal terror seized Inspector Liadan as the voice faded, and time seemed to stop for the Elf as he turned around slowly. His whip fell to the ground, his body locking itself in place, refusing to move as he watched a single individual emerge from the shadows.

Although his outfit was different, the bleached white hair, red eyes, and brilliant blue pickaxe over his shoulder was a presence he couldn’t forget. 

“Ralogo-” 

Before the Inspector could finish speaking, he felt his body being yanked downwards from behind. As he hit the floor with a sickening crunch, Inspector Liadan noticed the five humans who had dragged him down and now pinned him to the ground without a chance of escape.

“Shhh,” Ralogolar hushed, stepping over Inspector Liadan’s pinned body. “You keep my name out of your mouth, you filthy vermin.”

Inspector Liadan tried his utmost to scream as Ralogolar gently rested the pickaxe on his chest. Yet any sound he made was quickly muffled by a cloth rag being stuffed into his mouth. 

“Now now, Liadan, I believe some answers are in order,” Ralogolar said calmly, pushing down slightly on his pickaxe. “You see, the other guards aren’t dead yet, they’re just outside waiting on the dirt.”

Confusion washed over Liadan as Ralogolar continued to press down on his pickaxe.

“You see, they are all going to suffer for what they've done to us for a century.” Ralogolar paused, lifting his pickaxe off Liadan’s chest and raising it high in the air. “But you, you’ll get to suffer from knowledge, knowledge that nobody but you and I will know.”

Before Liadan could process Ralogolar’s words, the brilliant blue pickaxe vanished, and a searing pain ripped through him, shredding through the terror and confusion he had felt only seconds before. Despite the gag in his mouth, Liadan’s screams rang out through the cabin and the stench of blood began to fill the air.

Between gasps for air and his agony-filled cries, Liadan registered one final sight: Ralogolar’s once-pristine blue pickaxe was lodged deep in his chest, its blade slick with his blood. Only then did it dawn upon Liadan. As his strength waned, his body growing colder in a pool of his own blood, a final thought wormed its way into his brain.

‘He’s been playing us right from the start…’

As the last ounce of life drained from Liadan’s petrified eyes, a brief smile flashed across Ralogolar’s face. Without any wasted effort, he yanked the pickaxe out of the dead Elf’s chest, letting the blood drip from its head and seep into the wooden floor. 

“Take him outside,” Ralogolar commanded, stepping past his fellow humans and over the Elf’s corpse. “We don’t have any more time to waste.”

Ralogolar made his way through the dark living room with the dead inspector in tow. With each step he took, some weight was lifted off his shoulders, as if he had been carrying more than just himself for an extended amount of time. As he arrived at the front door with his followers behind, he pushed the door open and stepped out onto the dewy evening grass.

The starry night sky was reflected in Ralogolar’s eyes like diamonds, yet now wasn’t the time to admire such a sight. As he directed his gaze back to the plains in front of him, ten thousand humans in perfect formation filled his line of sight, with each person armed to the teeth with swords, pickaxes, and whips. At the front of the crowd, two people stood out from the rest, as they stood proudly over eleven hog-tied bodies.

Upon noticing Ralogolar exit the cabin, Rolozuthen spoke up as she placed her foot triumphantly atop the bloodied and hog-tied Ascal Sanev Zylnan.

“Welcome back, Ralogolar,” she said excitedly, grinning from ear to ear. “I take it everything went well? I heard that bastard screaming like a newborn.”

“See for yourself,” Ralogolar replied, stepping aside to let the three men dragging Inspector Liadan’s mangled corpse through.

Yet before Rolozuthen could respond, Ascal Sanev Zylnan’s muffled grunts began to fill the air. His bloodshot eyes stayed locked on Ralogolar, even as Rolozuthen’s foot ground his head into the dirt.

“Oh?” Ralogolar asked, noticing the Chief Inspector’s tantrum. “When did he wake from your sleep spell, Ralozojin?”

“Only a moment or two ago, when Inspector Liadan first started shouting,” Ralozojin replied, stepping forward with his hand outstretched. “My spells barely work on him in the first place. I’m surprised he hasn’t yet broken free from the binding spell.”

“I see,” Ralogolar replied, kneeling down mere inches from the Chief Inspector’s face. “Well, don’t worry, Master, we slaves will see to it that you will be treated better than that dog Liadan.”

Ralogolar’s mocking tone set Ascal Sanev Zylnan off like fireworks, as he continued to grunt through his gag like a rabid dog. Yet before he could cause any more of a scene, Ralogolar’s fist connected squarely with the back of his head. The ground beneath Acal Sanev Zylnan’s head gave way as the force from Ralogolar’s fist passed through him, leaving the once great Chief Inspector unconscious at the hands of those he once lorded over.

“Now then,” Ralogolar said, standing up and focusing his gaze to the army awaiting his command. “We commence our march now! Make haste and follow closely!”

Ralogolar’s words sliced through the quiet night air like a serrated blade through a vine, yet were soon drowned out by the roar of the ten-thousand-strong army cheering in response. Their cries, cheers, and hollers filled the starry sky as Ralogolar shifted his attention to Ralozojin.

“Ralozojin, stay behind with a thousand of the men, make sure these vermin don’t come to and attack from the flank.”

“Right,” Ralozojin replied with an earnest nod before stepping toward the army. “Ralozenji, gather your squad around me, we’re staying here!”

With the final preparations complete, Ralogolar turned to Rolozuthen, whose eyes gleamed with more passion than they ever had before. Excitement welled up inside her as Rolozuthen’s mana began to run wild outside her body, her fiery red aura illuminating the surroundings as it winked across her form.

“Rolozuthen, lead the way,” Ralogolar said, tamping her down from her combat-ready state. 

“You hear that, men? Follow my lead!” Rolozuthen shouted as a brilliant red magic circle filled the ground beneath her. “Spirits of Flame, heed my call! Summon forth the brightest of Flames at my control! Pale Inferno!”

As Rolozuthen’s chant materialized from her lips, a pale blue flame flickered from the magic circle, and the next instant, a towering inferno of blue flames erupted into the sky. Atop the spire of flames floated Rolozuthen, her hair fluttering gracefully in the wind. Had it not been for her Skill, Absolute Flames, she would have been burned to a crisp, just like the grass that were once underfoot.

Without wasting another second, Rolozuthen raced around the army and across the hilly plain like a fiery tornado, leaving a path of charred grass in her wake. Like clockwork, the now nine-thousand-strong army turned in unison and began to march along the path forged by Rolozuthen, albeit in a broken and disjointed manner. Although many were still weak from years of torture and malnourishment, the burning desire for revenge was evident in the eyes of every single one of them.

A desire that could not and would not be extinguished, not until their revenge had been satiated. Or until they died trying. 

All except for one, whose eyes remained cold as ice despite their fiery red color.