In the Wake of Fury
Wrath was gone.
He hadn't fled—he had finished.
The cyclops had claimed what he came for. Crushed Sloth, drank its power, and walked away without a glance backward—leaving the city behind like a battlefield no longer worth burning.
He wasn't retreating.
He was consolidating.
And in the silence that followed his departure, the city of Delrest was still once more.
No wind. No sound. Not even the stones thrown about by Wrath's destruction shifted.
Then—
Thoom.
A single, low thud.
The heart still beat.
The scar still pulsed.
Koda turned slowly.
The others were still gathering themselves, quiet, rattled. But the fight hadn't come. Not yet.
"We close it," Koda said, voice steady. "Before anything else."
No one objected.
Maia stepped beside him, silent. Terron nodded once, expression grim. Junen raised her shield again—not in defense, but out of ritual, a gesture of respect for what they'd just survived.
The group approached the edge of the scar.
Koda stared into it one last time—the slow, exposed beat of the heart suspended in a world with no sky.
He didn't flinch.
And with both hands, he reached in—
And crushed it.
The moment Koda's fingers closed around the quivering heart, the flesh resisted—not with force, but with a strange, cloying reluctance. Like it didn't want to be crushed, but couldn't summon the effort to stop him.
The moment it broke beneath his grip, a black pulse rippled outward—no sound, no light. Just presence. The scar shivered, convulsed inward like a wound breathing its last, and then collapsed in on itself with a sound like exhaled breath.
And in the quiet that followed, Koda felt it:
A pulse inside his mind.
A system notice.
---
You have absorbed a Minor Shard of the Dead God.
Fragment: Sloth (Corrupted)
The Will resists the instinct. The war continues.
You have unlocked a new Skill Slot.
Please choose one of the following:
Grave Rest (Passive) – Your wounds are dulled when still. While not moving, restore HP and mana at triple the normal rate. When unconscious or asleep, regeneration is amplified further.
Burden Breaker (Active – 80 mana) – Channel the weight of despair through your weapon. The next strike applies Crushing Lethargy, slowing enemy movement and thought, reducing all enemy stats by 25% for 10 seconds. Does not stack.
Weight of the Forgotten (Aura – Toggle – 30 mana/sec) – Enemies within 15 feet feel the drag of deep fatigue. Lowers their attack and cast speed significantly and causes delayed reactions. Effect weakens the longer it remains active. Cannot be stacked with other auras.
---
The choices hung before him—etched not in light, but in shadow. Cold, subtle things that spoke not of violence, but of erosion. Of wearing down. Of apathy made into a weapon.
Sloth's touch lingered.
The system pulsed once more.
A choice must be made.
Koda stood still, the remnants of the scar fading before him—his team watching quietly behind.
And within his soul, the echoes of Sloth whispered,
"Why not rest? Why not wait?"
And the system asked:
> Choose.
Koda stood frozen as the skill options pulsed before him, heavy and slow, their weight dragging at the edge of his thoughts.
"Rest."
"Let go."
"Be still."
Sloth's whispers lingered, a soft, numbing lull.
But something else began to stir.
A warmth—subtle at first, like a breath on his neck. Then deeper, firmer. Steady.
A presence.
A familiar one.
Koda's vision shifted—not outward, but inward.
The system paused.
Flickered.
Shuddered.
And then—
Divine Interference Detected.
Patron: The Eternal Guide
Override Authorized.
The corrupted shard trembled—its form warping, no longer dark and lethargic, but edged with light and rhythm. As if a current was running through it now, not to weaken, but to fuel.
The voice returned.
Not Sloth.
Not the system.
The Guide.
"Even shadows can be reshaped. Let this one stand upright."
A new prompt appeared—clear, sharp, resolute:
Sloth cleansed. Minor Shard reclassified: DILIGENCE.
Three new skill options available:
Stalwart Rhythm (Passive) – Your steps become unyielding. Continuous movement builds momentum. For every five seconds in motion, gain a stacking 2% boost to Strength and Endurance (max 10 stacks). Reset upon stopping.
Relentless Drive (Active – 80 mana) – Restore 50 stamina instantly and cleanse one debuff affecting your movement. Cooldown: 60 seconds. For 10 seconds, movement penalties are ignored and terrain hindrances nullified.
Burden to Purpose (Aura – Toggle – 30 mana/sec) – Allies within 15 feet gain increased resistance to exhaustion, fear, and magical suppression. For every ally nearby, you gain a 1% boost to Endurance and Willpower (max 5 stacks). Effects persist 5 seconds after they leave range.
Koda felt the shift not just in his mind, but in his soul.
The lethargy had been rejected.
Its weight converted.
Its inertia turned into momentum.
Diligence.
Not the absence of rest—but the sacred act of rising again.
The system pulsed with clarity.
A choice must be made.
And this time, there was no whisper urging him to sleep.
Only the quiet certainty:
"Keep moving."
The moment the options crystallized, Koda didn't waver.
His gaze locked on the first line:
Stalwart Rhythm.
A skill not rooted in rest or reserve.
But in movement.
In momentum.
In never stopping, even when the world begged him to.
He didn't need to think.
He chose.
Skill Selected: Stalwart Rhythm (Passive)
"The will to move is the will to live."
The moment he accepted it, something clicked deep in his chest—an invisible chain winding through him, tying every heartbeat to every footstep. It was subtle… but it felt right. Like his body had been waiting for this tempo all along.
The system flickered again.
And then displayed his status:
---
Koda of the Eternal Guide
Level: 40
HP: 660 / 660
Mana: 660 / 660
Stamina: 660 / 660
Stats:
Strength: 66
Vitality: 66
Agility: 66
Intelligence: 66
Wisdom: 66
Endurance: 66
Traits:
Balance (Divine) – All stat increases apply equally to all attributes. Harmony is growth.
Temperance (Divine) – "Power not taken, but earned. Strength not dominant, but in harmony." Grants a 50% boost to all abilities, stats, and efficiencies when all core stats are within 1 point.
Charity (Divine) – "To give without keeping. To heal without fear." Convert HP to heal others.
Skills:
Blade of Conviction – Active
Summon a weapon forged of pure will. Damage scales with Willpower and Wisdom.
Mantle of Echoes – Passive
Aura of memory and presence.
+Minor Fear (enemies), +Minor Focus (allies). Strength scales with Wisdom.
Unbroken Vow – Passive
Slowly heals non-lethal wounds.
Reduced bleeding, dulled pain.
Increased effectiveness of healing received.
Aegis Flare – Active (60 mana)
Eruption of radiant energy, damaging enemies in an area, and temporarily protecting allies.
Strength scales with Wisdom.
Stalwart Rhythm – Passive (NEW)
For every 5 seconds of continuous movement, gain a stacking 2% bonus to Strength and Endurance (max 10 stacks).
Stacks reset upon stopping or standing still for more than 3 seconds.
The window faded, but Koda could feel it now—the drive.
A rhythm beneath his ribs.
Not a heartbeat.
A march.
And he intended to keep walking.
———
The scar was closed. Sloth's heart crushed.
But the weight of the city had only just begun to settle on their shoulders.
The stillness hadn't lifted. It had only changed shape.
Where before it had been quiet out of absence—now it was quiet out of grief.
They stood in the broken courtyard of the capital building, surrounded by crumbling stone and empty windows. The streets were still lined with unmoving lives, each home a silent tomb. There had been no violence here. No bodies torn apart. No signs of disease. Only stillness.
Only sleep.
And they never woke.
It was Maia who first spoke the words aloud, her voice soft and cracking:
"We can't leave them."
No one questioned it.
In a world infected by undeath, burial was not enough. Not anymore. Bodies that remained could be twisted. Corrupted. Used. That was the second death—worse than the first.
Koda nodded, and the others followed.
They split into pairs and began the slow, somber walk through Delrest.
It felt wrong to touch the dead.
But it would've been worse to leave them alone.
They worked in silence.
House by house.
Room by room.
They found a woman curled on a couch, her arm still resting where a child's head had once lain. A man sat at a desk, pen in hand, the ink long dried where the final word was never finished. Children in beds, toys scattered around them. One baby still in a cradle.
The group carried them out one by one, wrapping them in sheets, cloaks, curtains—whatever fabric could be found clean and whole. They did not pile them. They did not stack.
Each was laid with care.
The courtyard became a procession of still forms. First a dozen. Then two dozen. Then more.
And still no sound but the echo of footfalls and the creak of carts pulled by hand.
When the gathering was done, Koda looked over the rows.
Over a hundred people.
Maybe more.
And this was only the heart of the city.
The pyres took hours to build.
Terron split timbers from the wreckage of roofs and beams. Junen, Deker, and Wren assembled and layered the wood. Thessa reinforced the edges with support magic, ensuring the flames would stay contained.
Maia, quiet through it all, had prepared the rites. Ancient prayers of guidance and release. Not magic. Just words. Words meant to usher souls on their journey.
When it was time, she stepped forward to the first pyre.
Her hands trembled, but she lit it herself. A single flame cast from her palm. It caught slowly, then all at once—rising up in an orange bloom.
And in the light—
She saw them.
Children.
So many.
Their features peaceful. Their hands folded. Dolls and wooden animals held close, untouched by time.
One had braids, loose now with sleep. Another had fallen asleep in her brother's arms.
Maia dropped to her knees.
Her voice broke without sound.
Tears fell freely down her cheeks, carving clean lines through the ash on her face. She bowed her head, hands clasped over her chest, and wept.
No sobbing.
No screaming.
Just the sound of grief.
Of someone who had dedicated her life to saving others—now surrounded by those she had never been given the chance to save.
Koda stood behind her, unmoving, eyes fixed on the fire. The flames cast shadows across his face like paint—lines of judgment, of sorrow, of acceptance.
He watched as the smoke lifted the last innocence of Delrest to the sky.
Junen stepped beside Maia and laid a steady hand on her shoulder. Wren bowed her head. Thessa folded her arms tightly around herself and whispered prayers between clenched teeth.
Terron turned his back to the fire, staring into the broken city like he could chase away the guilt with his own stubbornness.
But Koda… stayed.
He knelt beside the flames and unsheathed a blade—not the summoned one, not the one of conviction. Just steel. Cold and real.
And in the courtyard stone, beneath the crackling pyres, he carved.
Each stroke slow. Deliberate. Etching the words not for the dead, but for those who would come after. For those who might forget.
He did not look up. He only worked. Until the letters were clean. Until the meaning was sealed in stone.
Here lie the people of Delrest—
who closed their eyes in peace,
and never opened them again.
They did not fall.
They did not flee.
They were stolen by a silence deeper than sleep.
May they never rise again.
And may we never forget them.
Maia rose slowly, her eyes swollen but dry, and stepped beside him.
She placed her hand on his arm.
Not to stop him.
Not to comfort.
But to share in it.
To bear the act of remembrance.
Koda's final stroke rang faintly as it ended.
And for a moment, the only sound in Delrest was the slow, steady sound of fire eating the sky.
Ash spiraled upward in long, thin strands—like the city itself was exhaling one last time.
And the courtyard watched it burn.