Requiem Of A Failed Hero

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The air was filled with a symphony of crackling ice, its haunting whispers blending seamlessly with the howling wind. The tinkling melody resonated with a cold, mournful beauty, as if the very essence of the landscape lamented its metamorphosis. Once-mighty rocks now stood imprisoned in a shimmering coat of ice, their contours frozen in eternal surrender, transformed into delicate works of frozen art in a mere instant.

Raith stood in stunned disbelief; it had happened so quickly that he hadn’t been able to intervene.

Based on Raith’s previous response to Noir when the question arose about eliminating their pursuer, Noir had assumed it was not permissible as long as the individual posed no threat. However, the moment Curtis sprang into action, he had crossed a line with Noir. What further infuriated Noir was the unmistakable intent to kill.

Even now, Noir, an embodiment of darkness, emitted cold vapor from his nostrils, a stark contradiction to his nature.

Raith’s eyes widened in disbelief. “Why on earth did you do that?!”

“He was a threat,” Noir responded.

Raith’s hand connected with his own face as he slapped it, realizing that the blame rested squarely on his own shoulders. He had failed to consider that his subordinates could be unwavering in their adherence to his commands, even if those commands were sometimes mere words.

Wham

Noir’s wing separated, but seeing that Raith’s eyes were not widened or particularly surprised, he was expecting it– Seconds later, his impassive face transformed into a smile as a figure emerged from the ice mound before them, which shattered into multiple fragments as if cleanly sliced by invisible blades. Each piece disintegrated into smaller shards, scattering through the air before settling on the ground.

A distinct clicking sound reverberated as Curtis slowly sheathed his sword and approached them. His long hair, concealing his eyes, added an air of mystery to his presence. His aura fluttered like a sharp blade, and Raith could feel it brushing against his skin, as though it could cut him at any moment.

“This bastard has grown even stronger since the last time I laid eyes on him,” Raith muttered under his breath.

Throughout his life, Raith had always been compared to his brother, a prodigious talent. Despite the constant comparisons, Raith held a deep admiration for his brother’s unwavering determination to grow stronger, his brilliance, and his exceptional skills.

It was this admiration that drove Raith to seek his brother’s company, hoping to train alongside him. However, Curtis never minced words when it came to expressing his disdain for Raith. He never considered him a worthy opponent and had a knack for belittling Raith whenever he approached him for a duel or training session.

It would often go something like this: “Don’t delude yourself, you’re weak. No matter how many years you spend training, you’ll never amount to anything. And why should I waste my time training a failure like you? I’m a world-class hero, and associating with you would tarnish my honor.”

But now, the expression on Curtis’ face hinted at a burning desire to clash swords with Raith. This realization brought a wicked smile to Raith’s lips. He was truly going to relish this moment.

“Master…” Noir’s deep voice interjected, breaking Raith’s focus.

The smile faded into a clenched jaw, and Raith regretfully smacked his lips, realizing that he had to let this opportunity slip through his fingers. There was something more important to him than slitting his brother’s throat.

He sighed, stealing one last glance at the dark-haired young man who was finally looking up at him.

“Let’s go, Noir.”

“Yes, Master,” Noir responded.

In an instant, the wyvern’s wings unfurled, and it shot off into the distance like a jet.

Curtis’s expression contorted into a deep frown. Even if he gave chase, he knew it would be futile to try and catch up to them. Moreover, the speed at which the wyvern had just soared away surpassed anything he had witnessed before. It possessed an unmatched reserve of speed, even though its initial velocity was already astonishing.

But damn it all if he would give up.

WHISTLE!!

Keeeeeeerrrrr

A shrill sound pierced the air as Curtis let out a resounding whistle. Within seconds, a piercing cry echoed through the skies, reaching his ears.

Emerging from the clouds was a massive black hawk adorned with golden armor on its wings, head, and legs. Descending closer to the ground, the hawk snatched Curtis with its talons, lifting him into the air. Curtis spun through the atmosphere and landed gracefully on the hawk’s back, patting its head as it swiftly charted a course toward Noir’s direction.

Beasts were not uncommon in Therut; even on Earth, though rare, there were tales of hunters capable of taming monsters. But in Therut, there existed life forms that willingly submitted themselves to individuals they deemed worthy, such was the mythehawk Curtis was riding.

***

“Finally, finally, after so much time of waiting in distress, I am here, face to face with it,” he whispered, his eyes gleaming with an intensity as he fixated on the crimson gem floating above the altar.

The altar had materialized in the desert upon his awakening, leaving a trail of devastation in its wake.

His eyes, dark and somber, matched the unsettling visage of his canine-like countenance, a sight that would unsettle any ordinary human. This hound archon, known for being the shortest among his kind, stood at a height of 6’5″.

Wrapped in tattered, mummified garments that clung to his black skin, he slowly extended his hands toward the radiant red crystal. His gaze, filled with avarice, reflected his insatiable desire as his fingers made contact with the gem and he pulled it away from the altar.

“Yes, finally, at last… I have obtained it. Now, onto the main event–”

Thud!

Thud!

Thud! .𝘤𝘰𝑚

The hound archon turned his head towards the left, his attention captured by distant but approaching heavy footsteps that reached him the moment he turned his head.

“What do you think you’re doing with that?” the sword archon demanded.

Cocking his head, the hound archon narrowed his eyes, a slight smile curling on his lips. “My, my, I was just about to ask you the same question…” He opened his eyes wide, fixing the sword archon, with a lethal glare. “…Why are you here, Siphis? No, how are you even awake? How are we all awake?”