The Call For Hatred

[September 21st – Elpida's Border, Clogwyn Area]

Nion stepped into the dense forest marking the border between the two nations, her footsteps muffled by the thick undergrowth.

"You are leaving Lands of Alexithymia's premises. Return immediately," a mechanical voice ordered through the operator.

She ignored it.

"You are now on Lands of Elpida. 'Mitera System' is unavailable. If you do not reestablish the network connection within 15 minutes, a rescue signal will be sent to your last known location," the operator continued, unyielding.

Nion pressed on. A sense of urgency—an instinct she never thought herself capable of—drove her forward. Her only focus was the child's safety.

The acrid scent of burnt wood and flesh filled the air, growing stronger with every step. Distant screams echoed through the trees, mingling with the sound of her rapid heartbeat. As she crossed the metallic fence marking the border, she encountered the remnants of destruction: ravaged camps and lifeless bodies scattered across the damp ground. She stopped at each corpse, desperately searching for any sign of the child, but fear tightened its grip on her with every passing moment.

The forest thinned, and the air grew warmer, drier. As the trees gave way to open fields, the blazing horizon revealed itself—an inferno swallowing the village whole. Flames licked the sky, their fierce red and yellow hues reflecting in Nion's wide, unblinking purple eyes. The wind carried the agonized cries of the villagers, urging her to move faster.

The heat intensified, enveloping her like a suffocating embrace. The fire's mesmerizing dance was both beautiful and horrifying, its crackling rhythm interrupted only by the symphony of human suffering. As she moved closer, the devastation became clearer—homes reduced to ash, streets littered with charred remains, and the heavy stench of death hanging in the air. Yet she carried on, calling the child's name into the chaos, her voice swallowed by the roaring flames and despair.

She emerged into the village square, where a towering bonfire raged at its center. Hooded figures swarmed the area, dragging prisoners toward cages or executing them in gruesome ways before casting their bodies into the fire. The flames leapt and roared like a living beast, consuming everything offered to it.

A few meters away from the fire stood a man, his silhouette stark against the blaze. Unlike the others, who remained hidden beneath their hoods, he had revealed himself—partially. His long black coat bore an imposing yellow crest emblazoned across the chest, an emblem of power or defiance. Though he had pulled back his hood, his face remained a mystery, concealed beneath an odd, rectangular mask that swallowed any hint of expression. Even with the firelight dancing across his form, his features remained hidden, his aura of authority undeniable.

The sight turned Nion's stomach, but she forced herself to focus. She scanned the square for any sign of the child, her determination unshaken despite the horror surrounding her. The smell of charred flesh stung her eyes, and the heat made breathing laborious, yet she crept closer, keeping to the shadows.

Eager to put an end to the barbarity unfolding before her and spare the villagers from their imminent demise, Nion weighed her options carefully. A direct attack could expose her, leaving her vulnerable to the rest of the group. She had to act with precision. Then, a sharp drop of water struck her face, it was about to rain.

"Look at that monkey! Ugu-ugu-ugu!" The man imitated an animal sound with a sadistic grin, as he shoved the cage containing a young man into the roaring bonfire.

The victim's screams pierced the air as the flames hungrily consumed him, dancing over the metal bars and searing his flesh. He thrashed against his confinement, the cage rattling with every desperate movement, but there was no escape.

"SHUT THE FUCK UP! YOU PIECE OF SHIT!" The aggressor heartlessly yelled at the poor victim, while his other colleague was in tears of laughter.

"Where is my banana!!" laughed the other man.

"Ugu-ugu-uga-uga," his colleague mocked a barely conscious victim.

"Wanna bet how long this one is gonna scream?" He asked his colleague who was almost rolling on the floor with amusement.

"Oh man... that was a good one!" The other man chuckled as he began unloading the last body from the cart. He examined it briefly, his gloved hands gripping the frail limbs. "Well, I'd say four minutes… maybe bit less. This one's too skinny—these burn quicker."

With practiced ease, he mirrored the actions of his companion, securing the near-lifeless body with rough knots. Then, without a second thought, he hoisted it up and hurled it forward—toward the flames that hungrily awaited their next offering.

"Wanna bet some cash on it?" replied the other man.

"Right on!"

The helpless victim, his hands and legs bound tightly together, could barely move, trapped in the unrelenting grip of his tormentor. His eyes, wide with terror, locked onto the aggressor's with an unspoken plea for mercy, but none was forthcoming. His skin, scorched and blistering, began to melt away, the agony unbearable. His desperate cries for help turned into shrill, hysterical screams of pain. The terror in his eyes remained, but it was quickly silenced as the life drained from him, suffocated in the haze of his suffering.

The sudden spring rain swelled into a relentless downpour. The hooded group scattered, retreating under makeshift shelters while dragging their cart behind them. Hidden in the shadows, Nion observed their frantic retreat.

Unaware of her presence, both men rushed directly toward her. As they crossed her path, she struck with ruthless precision— Two swift slashes. The first man's throat opened in a spray of crimson, his vocal cords severed before he could call for help. The second man fell just as swiftly, his lifeblood pooling beneath him. Blood mixed with the rain, pooling in the mud as their bodies collapsed. She dragged them out of sight, her actions unnoticed by the others in the storm's chaos. The storm concealed the violence, masking the scene from the rest of the group. All except one.

His piercing gaze locked onto Nion.

Mud swallowed her footsteps as she shifted her weight, the thick air tainted with the acrid stench of burning flesh. The final, fading cries of the dying had ceased. Now, only she and the masked man remained in the empty square.

The rain poured relentlessly, as if desperate to quell the raging inferno of death.

"What do we have here... A little mouse sneaking around my domain," the masked man mused, his voice laced with amusement. "I know who you are… But what could possibly be the reason behind this sudden visit my dear Quarta Keeper?" he drawled, his voice smooth yet laced with malice. "Come on out, I know you're there."

Nion moved with caution, each step deliberate as she emerged from the shadows, her figure barely visible against the downpour. The cold rain slashed across her skin, but it did little to numb the fury rising within her. She fixed her gaze on the masked man, her eyes steely with resolve. "So it's you behind all of this?" she demanded, her voice sharp and unwavering, slicing through the deafening sound of the rain, demanding answers.

"This?" The man cocked his head, feigning ignorance.

"This slaughter...All of this!" she announced.

"Oh, you're so sentimental. But sometimes, the world needs a little... tidying up." The masked man chuckled, a low, mocking sound. "Here, we call it… 'The Trash Cleansing.'"

Nion's fists clenched. "Do you even realize how many people have lost their lives because of you?"

"Of course not," he scoffed. "Why should I care in the first place?" He let out a laugh, unbothered, unrepentant.

Nion's jaw tightened. "Trash… huh…" she muttered under her breath.

"Oh, if you don't like that term, we can call them pigs… swine… rats… vermin… whatever suits your fancy." He chuckled again, the sound twisting into the storm.

"What's so funny about that...?"

"Because you are making me laugh my little mouse!" He kept laughing.

"What are you after? Why do you do all this?" she was trying to reasoning with the madman.

"Why...?" he asked himself. "Why...Huh, I've never asked myself to be honest. They just … annoy me, I don't want to see their face around here...I guess?" he replied. "Would you take that as an answer?"

Nion was preparing for imminent combat as she understood that arguing with the man was pointless.

"Well, I guess you don't huh... That's quite the shame, really. Among my people, you've become a bit of a... legend." His voice took on a sinister, teasing tone as he slowly circled her.

The words he spoke only fueled her anger. She narrowed her eyes, refusing to let him provoke her. "What are you talking about?" she asked, her voice cold but steady, masking the fury rising within.

"Hey, hey, hey! So, you don't know huh... Then I'll keep that as a little secret." He laughed again.

 "I have no time to play with you." Nion started walking toward the man in athe ttempt of intimidation.

"Urgh, not cute...Not cute at all and that's a shame because I think you are great!"

"Wait, wait! Do you want to fight me? Come on! Why do you want to kill me?! I am your number one admirer," he laughed.

"Dead men don't admire for long," Nion shot back, pressing him.

His laughter faltered, but he quickly recovered. "I'm not dead yet, but I'll wait for it," he replied with an eerie calmness. "Waiting for you to kill me, just like you killed hundreds of others. Oh, pardon me," he added with a mock bow, "that doesn't count, does it? You didn't know."

Nion's pulse quickened, fury flaring in her chest as she felt his mocking words weigh heavily on her. The tension in the air thickened, as her mind began throwing flashback from yesterday's events.

"Maybe you are trying to 'Forget', but in that case... I am 'Sorry' for that reminder; I don't want you to forget," he amplified her guilt.

"All these raids... These people were running away from, you..." she clinched her fists. "Everything because of you!" Nion began heating up in temper.

"Touché!" He laughed. "Come on, don't get mad! Can't you see the irony of how similar we are you and me, and you know what? I have to say that I am disappointed seeing you here... Do you want to know why?" he asked.

"Enough with that nonsense," yelled Nion "I will cut your shameless mouth-"

"BECAUSE NOW YOU WANT TO BE A FUCKEN HERO!" he shouted out of nowhere. "Look at them!"

He disappeared for a brief second, and when he reappeared, he had dragged a young woman to the scene. Her body twisted violently in his grip as she fought against him, her screams raw with terror. She tried to fight back, but he wrenched her head back by her hair, exposing her throat, before driving sharpened wooden sticks into her legs. The piercing crunch of wood against flesh filled the air, followed by her agonized wails.

"LOOK AT HER, NION!" he roared, his voice thick with derision. "What do you see? Do I look like her?"

"LET HER GO!" Nion's voice cracked with fury.

The masked man cackled, throwing his head back as if savoring the moment. "To me, she is just... Dust! A NOBODY!" His laughter was manic, void of all humanity.

"Let her go!" Nion stepped forward, her entire body poised like a coiled spring, ready to pounce.

He tilted his head, his voice suddenly eerily calm. "I don't understand. Why do you care about them? Tell me." He tightened his grip on the woman's hair, dragging her closer to him. The terrified woman whimpered, her fingers twitching as she struggled against unconsciousness.

"You're insane!" Nion spat, her body tensing as she realized the full extent of the danger she was in. This was no longer a rescue mission—it was a fight for survival.

The masked man scoffed. "Insane? Me?" He tilted his head as if the word itself was an insult. "I don't think you've ever seen anything truly insane."

Without warning, he seized the woman by the throat, lifting her effortlessly into the air. Her feet kicked uselessly, her fingers clawing at his hand, but his grip was unyielding.

"'Insane' is such an ugly word. You shouldn't use it so carelessly."

He struck his prey across the face, her head snapping to the side as a whimper escaped her lips. Her eyes rolled back, panic seizing her as his fingers tightened like iron clamps around her throat.

"Insanity," he mused, watching her struggle, "is an art. A pleasure no one truly understands..."

He watched with sick fascination, every muscle in his body coiled in anticipation as the woman struggled against the invisible grip closing around her. He relished the sight of her body convulsing, the frantic rhythm of her breath, and the way her eyes darted in desperation, flickering with raw, primal terror. He took his time, savoring each agonizing moment, studying his victims' limits.

"So, what now? Are you coming at me yet?" He flashed Nion a malicious grin before glancing back at his victim, studying the young woman's face. His expression shifted. "Huh...? Hey, you! Wake up! I'm not done yet!"

He shook the woman's body violently, his fingers digging into her slack shoulders. Frustration seeped into his tone.

At last, her limbs fell limp, a ragdoll's surrender to the inevitability of death. Her breath was no more, suffocated into silence. Her voice—once a weapon—was gone, lost to the suffocating void. Her will, too, drained, leaving nothing but the hollow shell of a woman who had fought far too long for a battle already decided. The storm raged on, but the silence between them was deafening.

"Hey, hey, hey! Don't tell me you're already dead?! What the fuck... Already?! FUCK—!" His voice cracked with sheer disappointment.

With a snarl, he yanked the woman's lifeless body up by the hair and hurled her toward Nion's feet. The corpse landed with a sickening thud, limp and motionless, a dark pool of blood spreading beneath it. The air thickened with the stench of iron and death, mingling with the distant smoke from the bonfire.

Nion stood frozen, her breath caught in her throat. Her mind refused to process what she had just witnessed. The bonfire raged behind her, an unholy beacon against the night.

The masked man turned to her, his arms outstretched, his face alight with something almost orgasmic. "I'm waiting for you! Why don't you attack me?! Let's end this fuckin' chit-chat and rip each other to shreds!" His voice dripped with ecstasy.

Nion's mind spiralled, her heartbeat pounding against her ribcage as the masked man's taunts echoed through the dissonance of the moment, his words sharp as a blade slicing through the heavy air. She couldn't rid herself of the haunting image of the woman—the desperate mother, her tear-streaked face etched with fear as she clung to Nion's fragile promise of salvation for her children. What had she done? She had made a choice—one that had sealed the fate of the boys in exchange for the mother's life. Now, she found herself ensnared in the madness of a stranger's twisted game, its origins and consequences as murky as the depths of her own disillusionment. Was she truly saving anyone, or had she merely become another pawn in a cruel game, one whose outcome was as uncertain as her own place within it? The weight of her decision pressed down on her chest like a suffocating force, but there was no room for hesitation now. Not when someone else's life hung in the balance.

Suddenly, his body slumped, as if feigning exhaustion, a sigh escaping his lips with a deliberate languor. "You see, I find myself in quite the dilemma... A citizen from the Lands of Aleksithimia has ventured into our territory, disturbed our peace, and—on top of that—murdered two of my men." His gaze sharpened, his head tilting as he studied her with unsettling focus. "Do you think I'm a fool? Do you believe I don't understand why you keep your distance?" Slowly, he began to approach. "Or perhaps," he continued, a dark gleam in his eyes, "for the first time in your existence, you've come to realize there are people in this world you'd do well to keep your distance from." He let out a mocking laugh, the sound jagged and twisted, his amusement at his own words unsettling. "Come on," he said, his arms extending wide, his chest open in false surrender, "let's shake hands and return to our little concerns, shall we, I am not a big fan of chit chatting under the rain..." His voice was thick with irony, his smirk widening into something far more malicious. His feet sank into the mud, trampled with the remnants of debris and blood, his presence now a perverse mockery of peace.

"Shake hands..." Nion's body trembled, white-hot fury surging through her veins.

"My little Nion..." His voice dropped to a condescending softness, as though he was speaking to a child. "You must understand, that's just how the world works. These people were never meant to be here. They invaded our lands first." His attempt at sincerity faltered, the wicked smile stretching across his face, impossible to conceal. "I'm merely removing the nuisance. It's my job, just like it's yours." He closed the distance between them, standing less than a meter away now, and Nion felt a chilling certainty. This man was no ordinary foe. His presence alone, his strength and speed, far outmatched any she had encountered before—he might even be stronger than herself. She could feel the weight of it, the oppressive power he exuded. "There is 'nothing' you can do about it," he whispered, his breath hot against her ear, the words laced with finality.

The rain began to pour even stronger, the heavy droplets falling in relentless sheets, turning the earth beneath them into a slick, darkened battlefield. The air was thick with tension, every breath between them charged with anticipation. Nion's muscles tensed, her eyes locked on his with a ferocity that mirrored his own. The world around them seemed to fade, the storm's roar drowning out all else, as if nature itself were holding its breath. There was no turning back now. The masked man stood, arms at his sides, a malicious grin still playing at the corners of his lips, waiting for her to make the first move. It was the calm before the storm, the final moment before everything would descend into chaos. The end was near—each of them poised on the brink of destruction, the rain a grim reminder that this showdown was inevitable.

"What do you feel like doing, my little Nion? Let's do it, now…" He licked his lips, the gleam of excitement in his eyes as he waited for her response. The silence hung between them, heavy and suffocating, before he took a step back, a sudden shift in demeanor that seemed to dismiss the confrontation entirely. "I love how you and I are alike, almost like a bother and sister. Both of us protecting our homelands, upholding our policies." He smirked, the words dripping with a twisted sense of justification. "I did you a favor by burning those swines, so you wouldn't have to get your hands dirty anymore, and yet, you lecture me?" His grin widened, a cruel, mocking edge in his voice. "You killed that 'poor woman' right in front of her children… Tsk, tsk, tsk." He flicked his hand, signalling his men to close in, surrounding Nion with calculated ease. "Tell me, where was your heroic spirit yesterday, huh? How did it feel to kill an unarmed woman, 'lady hero'?" His taunt was venomous, aimed to twist the knife deeper.

.

"SHUT UP, SHUT UP, SHUT UP!" Nion screamed, a desperate fury boiling within her. Reality began to blur at the edges, the world slipping through her grasp as sorrow and sadness—emotions that weren't even her own—suffocated her. Yet, they were unmistakable. She felt them with an overwhelming clarity, the crushing weight of Pipola's last wish to save her children, a final plea that echoed through her like a dark, painful tide. The anguish was so deep, so all-consuming, it threatened to swallow her whole, dragging her further into a storm of grief and confusion.

"Look at you…" He sneered, his voice dripping with contempt. "And you're giving me moral lessons? How dare you?!" His laughter rang out, harsh and mocking, a sound that echoed in the thickening tension of the moment. With that laugh, he seized complete control of the situation, every inch of him radiating dominance as he watched her falter, a twisted satisfaction lighting his eyes.

"ENOUGH!" Nion shouted while covering her ears, her voice shaking with a mixture of fury and desperation.

"ENOUGH OF WHAT?! COME ON, SAY IT!" he taunted, his laughter dripping with sarcasm.

"I AM NOT LIKE YOU!" she yelled back, the words tearing from her throat.

"THEN WHAT ARE YOU?!" he immediately countered, his voice cold, merciless.

"I... I..." Nion stumbled over her own thoughts, struggling to find the right words.

From the very beginning, this conversation had been nothing but a cruel game of one-sided emotional abuse. Nion, still too young, too naive to see it, had been slowly drawn into his manipulation. The stranger knew exactly what he was doing, his every word calculated, savoring each moment as he twisted the conversation in his favor. He was playing with her, shifting topics, turning her into the villain, stripping her of her agency without a trace of empathy or remorse. In truth, he was nothing more than a bully, weaving fear and guilt into her heart, clouding her mind with confusion to twist her soul. And he was good at it.

"Poor kid, what was his name again..." He took a pause and looked Nion straight in the eyes before mentioning his name "Asta... poor kid would not stop crying in my arms, so innocent... Mother, mother, she killed my mother – he cried", The masked man mocked, a twisted grin curling at the corners of his lips.

The moment he uttered the child's name, something in Nion snapped. Her aura darkened, shifting into something sinister, something raw and untamed. The air around her grew thick, suffocating, as if the very world recoiled from the change. Murderous intent radiated from her like a wave of heat, pulsing with every breath she took.

The man flinched—an instinctive reaction, his body recoiling before he even registered it. Then, catching himself, he let out a low chuckle.

Nion's fists tightened until her nails bit into her palms. Her voice, when it came, was no longer shaken. It was something deeper, something hollow, "If anything happens to him..."

"Oh wow… Scary, scary!" he mocked, his voice laced with amusement. With an exaggerated motion, he shrugged off his long jacket, letting it fall to the ground. Beneath it, a large, yellow crest-like ornament gleamed on his chest—an armor-like emblem, a symbol of power and authority.

In that moment, Nion's world seemed to shrink as she realized she was surrounded. More than fifty soldiers, armed to the teeth, encircled her, each waiting for a single word from their leader. Her focus narrowed on them, the weight of their presence pressing in on her, when, in the blink of an eye, the masked man closed the distance between them. She hadn't even seen him move, the speed of his advance leaving her startled and vulnerable. Before she could react, he was standing beside her, sharp golden dagger on her throat as the aggressor had finally removed his mask and revealed his long, black hair cascading in thick waves down his back, the strands reflecting the faintest light. His features, sharp and defined, with high cheekbones and a strong jawline that only enhanced his mysterious aura. His eyes would have been the most captivating part of his face—dark brown, deep, and unyielding. They burned with a mix of calculated malice and cold detachment. His presence exuded an unspoken authority, his body language controlled, as though every movement was part of a grand plan.

He slowly pressed the tip of his dagger against her chin, tilting her head back so that she was forced to meet the cold and heartless gaze. His breath was hot against her ear as he began to whisper, his voice a low, dangerous murmur.

"Our lovely discussion ends here…" he mused, a smirk playing on his lips. "I must say, I truly admire your resolve, woman. Most would flee at the mere sight, yet here you stand—alone—facing me and my soldiers."

"I can see why he wants you back so badly…" His voice dropped to a near whisper, taunting, before reaching out to gently brush his fingers against her soaked silver hair.. Then, straightening, he spread his arms in mock generosity. "Now, allow me to present you with two possible outcomes for this beautiful evening."

"One: You slink away, tail between your legs, never to return to my lands ever again, and maybe I'll conveniently forget about your trespassing and, more importantly, the men you've killed. Or two: We end this right here and right now, as real warriors should, but I doubt you'll choose that..." He leaned in, his breath brushing against her skin as he took in her scent. "You reek of fear..."

"Know this," he sneered, his voice dripping with cold menace, "if you try to harm me, make sure you kill every single one of us. Because if even one of us escapes, our nation will see it as a declaration of war." He paused for a moment, his smile twisted and triumphant, before continuing, "Actually, it does not matter... Regardless of today's outcome, tell your big boss to be ready - a new era is about to begin..." His words hung in the air like a threat, a promise of chaos. With that, he slid his dagger back into its sheath and turned, walking away with casual disdain.

Nion's voice rang out, sharp and defiant. " Next time we meet, there will be only one outcome!"

He chuckled, unphased. "Eh... we're all going to die one day, but you know what? The difference is, you could die tonight." His laugh echoed, cruel and mocking.

The rest of his men, deprived of the chance to sate their bloodlust, began jeering at Nion, hurling insults and whistling like a pack of hyenas circling their prey. Their eyes glinted with anticipation, waiting for the moment when they could finally pounce.

Nion could feel the weight of the situation pressing down on her. Outnumbered and outmatched, she knew that she stood no chance against so many enemies, let alone their leader, whose presence was more intimidating than any opponent she had ever faced.

As she turned and sprinted away, the group's gaze never left her, their hungry eyes tracking her every move. She stepped into the forest, her heart pounding in her chest, knowing they would be waiting—waiting for her next move, the next encounter. But for now, she was free of their grasp, disappearing into the shadows where they could no longer reach her.