The chains of Fate: Shattered

Valrik was in a pitiful state, wracked with unbearable pain, yet not a sound escaped him. He did not utter a single word. Meanwhile, Louskas continued to hurl harsh words at him, as if his overwhelming rage had blinded him to everything else.

He was unaware of Valrik's flaw, oblivious to the fact that the torment consuming him was not just physical but deeply psychological as well. Had he paid closer attention to his trembling expression, he would have seen the regret haunting his features like a ghost. But he saw only betrayal, felt only rage.

And then…

Louskas fell silent. Valrik did not utter a word either. A suffocating silence settled between them, as if the very air had thickened. It was as though the words had dried up in his throat, and the atmosphere had become oppressive.

Minutes passed—long, agonizing minutes that felt like an eternity.

Valrik finally moved, opening his mouth to say something—anything—but hesitation choked him. He knew that a single wrong word could make things even worse. And yet, he forced himself to speak.

"Louskas…"

But before he could finish, a deafening explosion shook the ground. Thick dust filled the air, obscuring everything from view.

He coughed violently, struggling to see through the chaos. But as the dust began to clear, his eyes landed on a sight that sent a chill through his veins.

There, standing before him, was his father, gripping a black rod that resembled the hilt of a weapon. Behind him stood two figures clad in black robes with crimson lines, their faces concealed by demon masks with long, curved horns.

Demon Worshippers.

Louskas froze. What were they doing here? Why had they suddenly appeared in the clan?

"Who are you, and what do you want?" his father demanded, his voice filled with fury as his grip on his weapon tightened.

One of the strangers smirked faintly, raising his weapon as he spoke in an eerie, quiet voice:

"We are the Worshippers of the Shards. Though, of course, you know us as Demon Worshippers. We came because we heard that someone in this clan possesses one of the Shards of Oblivion."

Valrik stiffened for a brief moment before turning to Louskas with a grave expression.

"Louskas, I'm sorry. I can't continue our conversation right now. Go to the palace—it will be safer there."

But Louskas did not comply. Instead, he shouted,

"Throw me your storage ring!"

Valrik was momentarily surprised, but he did not hesitate. He struck his opponent, closing the distance, and as the enemy staggered back, he delivered a powerful blow with his left hand, sending the man crashing through a wall.

In that instant, Valrik flicked his hand, sending the golden ring flying toward Louskas amidst the intensifying battle.

Their movements were too fast for Louskas to follow. The house trembled under the sheer force of their strikes.

He caught the ring firmly, but escaping through the door was not an option—the battle had centered there. His father was fending off two high-level Shard Masters, preventing them from advancing to protect him, but it was clear he was at a disadvantage.

Louskas glanced upward, spotting the hole the enemy had blasted in the ceiling. Without hesitation, he leaped through it, escaping the collapsing house.

But what he saw outside was far worse than he had imagined.

The entire clan was burning.

Flames devoured the buildings, screams echoed through the air. Soldiers, guards, even the elders—everyone was fighting.

Louskas ran, searching for something specific. His heart pounded, his fingers clenched tightly around the ring. With each step, he saw more chaos, more death.

Then, he spotted someone hiding behind the shattered walls, trembling in fear.

Kailos.

He was crouched between the ruins, his body shaking, his eyes darting between the raging fire and the blood-soaked ground.

Louskas approached him with steady steps.

At the sight of Louskas, Kailos jolted in terror, nearly letting out a scream. But when recognition set in, he froze. Even so, his trembling did not cease, and fear still clouded his gaze.

"Slave… What is happening? Who are they? Why—?"

"I don't have time to explain." Louskas cut him off coldly, then tossed the golden ring at him. "Inject your spiritual energy into it and take out some spirit stones."

Kailos looked at the ring, then at Louskas warily. There was something different about his tone, his stance, his eyes.

"And why would I do that?"

"Do you think you have a choice? The Demon Worshippers are closing in on us. What do you think will happen if you draw their attention here?" Louskas replied icily, his gaze narrowing.

Kailos gritted his teeth, hesitating for a moment. But he was in no position to argue. After a few seconds, he exhaled sharply and infused his spiritual energy into the ring.

The ring glowed, and spirit stones emerged, shimmering under the dim light.

Louskas grabbed them swiftly, crushing them one by one until he felt his spiritual reservoir reach its limit.

He took a slow breath, then looked up at Kailos.

"Now, remove the slave mark."

Kailos stiffened, as if the words hadn't reached him at first. Then, as realization dawned, his eyes widened in shock.

"What? Have you lost your mind? That's impossible!"

"Remove it, Kailos."

"I can't!" he shouted, his voice sharp with tension. "Do you think I can just erase it whenever I want? The slave mark is tied to a blood oath! Even if I try, it will—"

"Try," Louskas interrupted, his voice disturbingly calm. "Try before I make you do it."

Kailos took a step back, sweat beading on his forehead.

"You… You don't understand. If I try to erase it, it could… it could hurt you."

"I don't care."

Kailos stared at him, stunned by his chilling indifference. This was not the same slave he had known. This was not the weak, submissive figure who had lived in his shadow. He was different… dangerous.

After a moment of hesitation, Kailos clenched his fist and cut his palm, letting his blood drip onto his fingers.

"Don't say I didn't warn you…" he muttered, pressing his hand against Louskas' neck, where the mark was engraved into his skin.

He channeled his spiritual energy into it, and the mark flared with a deep crimson light, slowly fading away. Agonizing pain shot through Louskas, but he showed no reaction.

Finally, the mark vanished completely.

Louskas felt as if countless chains had shattered at once. He was free.

But he did not move.

He simply stared at Kailos with cold detachment.

Kailos panted, his hand still trembling. "There. You got what you wanted. Now let me—"

Before he could finish his sentence, he felt something grasp his chest.

His body froze.

He looked down at Louskas, who had raised his hand and placed it against his chest, his gaze chillingly indifferent.

"What… What are you doing?"

Louskas did not respond.

Kailos felt a strange force pulling something from him—something he couldn't see, yet he could feel it being torn away. He tried to move, but his body wouldn't obey. He tried to scream, but no sound came out.

His skin withered, as if aging within moments. His eyes rolled back, his body shrank, and then…He collapsed.

His corpse lay motionless, resembling a husk that had been drained of life for centuries.

Louskas exhaled slowly, his expression unreadable.

And then, he felt it.

The second shard. Or rather, the third.

A violet sword streaked with black patterns materialized in his grasp, pulsating with an ominous energy.

He lifted the blade slowly, his eyes gleaming with a lethal, icy resolve.