"You cheated!" Stephan shouted at his comrade Ricky, who had just beaten him for the third time in a row at the card game they were playing.
Ricky only smiled mischievously. "I can't help it that you're so bad, Stephan. But don't be a sore loser and call me a cheater. That's not something you do among friends."
Stephan just snorted and tossed the cards aside. "I'm going to take a piss," he muttered and stood up.
Ricky glanced after him, watching Stephan's figure lit by the glow of the fire slowly leaving, then he leaned back laughing and gazed up at the starry sky. He looked at the bright full moon that bathed the clearing, where they had set up camp, in a soft blue light. Many tents were pitched, and here and there he heard the murmurs of people who were not yet asleep. There were dozens of campfires all over the place. A hundred or so soldiers were camping beside them.
Stephan stumbled back, sniffling loudly. Ricky immediately saw how drunk his long-time friend already was.
"You really need to drink less, otherwise you'll keel over long before we reach Gloris, or worse, you'll shit yourself and embarrass me in front of our 'fair' maiden," Ricky said, pointing at a soldier nearby.
It was a scrawny young lad who sat at the edge of the fire. His face seemed unnaturally pale in the glow of the fire. The armor was far too large for him, hanging loosely from his frame.
"Save it, or I swear by the sun god, I'll thrash you," the boy muttered angrily without looking up.
"Oh, come on, you couldn't hurt me even if i was lying naked in front of you. Your arms would break before you could land your second hit," Ricky laughed back.
"But seriously, Stephan, lately you've been staring into the bottom of the bottle far too often. You'll fall out of the saddle at this rate."
"What else is there to do?" Stephan grumbled. "We've been trudging through this cursed forest for two weeks."
"You should be protecting people, as is your duty as soldiers of Gloris," a female voice suddenly said. At once, Stephan froze and straightened. The boy snapped to attention. Only Ricky remained lying on the ground.
"M'lady, shouldn't you be asleep?" he asked with a yawn.
A beautiful woman, barely twenty years old, stood there clad in shining golden armor. Blonde hair fell over her shoulders, and her eyes shone with a bright blue light. Freckles dotted her nose, and a single beauty mark graced her cheek.
She looked at the three soldiers sternly. "And you call this representing the city of Gloris? A drunken fool, a slacker, and a boy who couldn't win a swordfight against a tree? Do you feel no shame?"
Ricky laughed heartily. "No offense, Lady Sophie, but we're just foot soldiers. We represent nothing at all, except maybe how little a soldier actually gets paid."
Sophie stared at them in disbelief. "But money doesn't matter. You fight for Gloris, you fight for the Sun God himself!" Her eyes shone with deep conviction. "Doesn't that fill you with pride?"
Stephan grunted and dropped back down without answering. Ricky only shook his head, still laughing.
"Of course you think that way. Forgive me my rudeness, but as the daughter of the great Gerald—" Ricky and Stephan hit their chests at the name of their general, "—you were born with a golden spoon in your mouth. But we come from poor families. The reason we're soldiers is not honor or glory, it's because we couldn't afford an education, and only the army takes everyone."
Sophie had no answer to that. "Be that as it may," she muttered, "behave yourselves. We are here to bring hope to the people. You haven't seen the demons that are coming for us. The people are panicking. So if not for glory and honor, then at least do it for them. Understood?"
This time, Ricky gave no retort but only nodded. He turned his gaze to the young lad. "Hey boy, what's your name?" he asked.
"You are mistaken, M'lady," the boy said to the girl instead of answering Ricky.
Sophie looked at him. "Oh, really? Mistaken about what?"
"I have seen them, the ones you call demons." Slowly, he removed his helmet. Black hair spilled out, and his dark eyes locked directly on Sophie.
She shuddered when she met his gaze.
Ricky laughed. "Don't talk nonsense, boy. You'd be dead if you'd run into them."
But the boy said nothing, only smiled. Nero raised his arm, and darkness fell over the camp.
Ricky's eyes widened at the sight. He jumped to his feet, drawing his sword, Stephan doing the same beside him. Shouts rang through the camp as the other soldiers reacted. Orders were shouted.
An old man emerged from a great tent in the center of the camp. He bellowed and raised a golden stone into the air. The darkness recoiled from the stone. In the light, Ricky saw the young man lifting the unconscious Sophie.
"Traitor!" Ricky roared in fury and attacked. With sword drawn, he slashed at Nero's back, but Nero dodged easily, even with Sophie slung over his shoulder.
His gaze locked on Ricky. A creature appeared, grabbed Sophie's body, and vanished with her as quickly as it had come.
But Ricky's focus was only on Nero, who was now slowly removing the rest of his armor. He also dropped his sword, still sheathed.
Ricky lunged at him. But how could Ricky, a man with only basic sword training and little real experience, hope to match a monster like Nero?
Nero may have looked like a young man, but he was over eighty years old and had been trained in combat by Shire himself. With ease, he dodged every one of Ricky's blows before finally landing a punch directly in his stomach. Ricky was hurled several steps away, several ribs broken.
Though Nero was a chaos mage, not a physical mage like Shire, his magic still granted him strength. With every stone he absorbed, his body and senses grew stronger. Not to the grotesque extremes of Fril or Shire, but far beyond that of a mortal. Ricky had no chance.
Yet Nero had already lost interest in the fight. Before Ricky could rise, Nero waved his hand, and darkness enveloped the helpless man, whisking him away.
Then Nero turned toward the old man with the stone. Polykenas poured into the camp, slaughtering people. Only a few individuals of interest, like Sophie, were kept alive and captured.
It was against the Polykenas' nature to spare lives, but this was no longer their usual extermination of a species. The humans of this world, particularly in Gloris, posed a real threat. The Polykenas had to proceed wisely, or suffer enormous losses.
So they took every person who might know something useful about Gloris or provide some other advantage.
When Nero discovered Sophie, he knew she was special. The way she strutted about in her golden armor, the way others reacted to her presence as though she were a goddess. Nero had to sneak among the soldiers to find out who she was.
Apparently, she was the daughter of a man named Gerald, the supreme general of Gloris's army.
More than that, the people seemed to revere Gerald as a kind of saint. Even civilians knew his name and honored him. He was their hope against the Polykenas. Some even called him the weapon of the Sun God. Nero knew that was nonsense, of course, but his daughter was undoubtedly a valuable hostage.
It was his fortune that Sophie was still young and full of ambition, eager to follow in her father's footsteps. She had set out with a small army to gather villagers and townsfolk and lead them safely to Gloris.
But Nero had not counted on the presence of the old man. He watched as the man desperately tried to resist the darkness that Nero had unleashed like a wild beast.
Nero exhaled and commanded the magic. Reluctantly, like a wild beast, it withdrew back into his body. Nero had often noticed that his magic felt almost alive, but he always dismissed it as his own lack of control.
He gave it no thought now. The old man, now free of resistance, looked Nero straight in the eyes. He saw how the Polykenas came to Nero, bowing before him and obeying his every command.
"You… you are the leader of these creatures. You are a traitor to mankind, a traitor to the Sun God," he said weakly.
Nero smiled. "How perceptive."
He stepped slowly toward the old man. "I am sure you have much more perceptive wisdom to share with us."
"You will get nothing from me!" the old man said, his voice surprisingly firm for his age.
"Oh, I know someone who can get answers from anyone."
The old man shook his head, "You can't get answers from a dead man!"
Then he did something that even Nero did not expect. Nero froze mid-step. He watched as the man drew a dagger and slit his own throat.
Nero made no move to stop him, did not try to help; he only watched as the old man fell to his knees. His eyes dimmed as life flowed out of him, but there was no panic in them, only peace.
Nero recoiled at the sight, his face distorting. Memories started surfacing in his mind. Memories of a life long past. Memories of someone he had always tried to forget.
He closed his eyes, letting darkness overwhelm him as he forced the memories away. Slowly, he opened them again, staring down at the now-dead man. He hissed. Darkness consumed the corpse in seconds, erasing it.
Then Nero turned and vanished, without looking back even once.