Time!
What a funny thing it is. From the moment you are born, you are one second, one minute, one hour, one day, one month, one year closer to death.
People react differently to their mortality. Some make use of every moment they have, determined to live life to the fullest. Others, knowing that death is inevitable, waste their time idly without a care."If I'm going to die anyway, what's the point?" they would say.
Well, they can't be blamed—time is like the wind. No matter how wide you spread your hands, no matter how tightly you try to cup it, it always slips away.
Then there are those who fear that their time is running out. That fear—terrible, consuming fear—maketh a man into a monster. Those who dread death so deeply spend their lives trying to cheat it, caring nothing for the consequences of their actions. And when all else fails, they steal the time of others.
People who fear being forgotten fight hardest to live.
That fear, that insatiable greed for life, is what has brought us to this situation now.
The scent of burnt wood choked the air, curling through the town square. Above, the sky shimmered in shades of orange, purple, and blue. White clouds rolled in, pushed by a northern breeze. Had it not been for what was happening below, it would have been a perfect day for sky-gazing.But alas, no one would enjoy such pleasure today.
"What did you just say, Cerci?" Herald snapped, his hand clamped tight on the haft of his axe, ready to strike.
Screams erupted behind him. When he turned, horror unfurled across the square: the grotesque king had turned on his own people. The first to fall was the old woman who had shouted she would rather die than submit. The king's hand closed around her throat.
"Grrr… haa…" she gurgled as her air failed. The creature tore out her windpipe; blood sprayed like a burst spring.
Her eyes rolled back turning white and her neck dropped sideways.
"Haaa… Aahhh!" The crowd scattered, shrieking.
She had said she would rather die true — but the Empire had no such mercy. Killing her was the kindest thing they could have done. And since they had been deemed heretics, they chose something far worse.
The woman did not die.
Crack. Crack.
Her bones snapped and twisted beneath her skin; flesh bulged and stretched. Her color drained to a ghostly grey.
"GRRRRRR!" she howled — a sound no longer wholly human.
Her mind remained, trapped inside a mangled body the will that had been hers was gone, and what was more, she felt all the pain from her wound. In a frenzy, she lunged at a child no older than ten and struck. The boy collapsed, and in moments the same monstrous transformation began.
"Hahaha…" the commander laughed, low and cruel. "Let the harvest begin."
The commander turned away from the platform like a man enjoying a performance.
"Make sure no one escapes," he ordered. "If anyone comes your way, strike them down."
"Is this truly the will of God…" one of the soldiers whispered, his hands trembling as he watched another child cut down by a sword.
Herald stood frozen in torment — his people or his family. Every strike, every death, birthed another monster.
"So what will it be?" Cerci taunted, his grin stretching wide across his face. "Come after me… or save your precious people?"
Herald's silence was answer enough. Cerci laughed softly and turned away, heading toward the Centrum — the sacred chamber where the Jewel was kept.
And as Cerci had predicted, Herald chose. With a roar, he swung his axe, severing the heads of the transformed citizens one by one.
"I'm so sorry…" he murmured, each word breaking between blows, blood staining his armor and face.
"Captain!" one of the Warriors of Cellist shouted, pushing through the chaos toward him.
"Go for their heads!" Herald barked back. "They won't die otherwise!"
He carved his way through the horde until he stood before the source — the King himself. Half his face remained human, the other twisted into something monstrous, the curse clawing through his flesh.
"Herald…" the King rasped, his voice trembling, "you have to kill me… I can't watch my people die by my own hand any longer."
A single tear traced the ruined half of his face.
"I am… so sorry," he stammered, his head twitching as the monster within tried to take over. "So sorry… for being such a useless ruler…"
"You… were great," Herald spoke softly, stepping forward. "You were no failure. If there is a failure… it's me—for I failed to protect our people."As he moved closer, his eyes began to glow with a faint silvery light.
"Great was thine who gave his life for his people…" Herald began, his voice low, almost a prayer."Ash to ash, dust to dust… let flesh return to dust."
He raised his axe high and swung with such force that even a building behind the King shattered from the impact.A silvery arc of light burst forth, striking the King dead center in the chest.
"Damn it… damn it all…" Herald cursed, his voice breaking as his dearest friend breathed his last.They had known each other since their nursery days—as close as brothers, though they didn't share the same blood.
As the King collapsed, a faint green light escaped from his body, drifting toward Herald before settling into his hands.
"I am sorry I never told you this…" the King's fading voice echoed faintly, carried by the wind. "This is the Jewel of Cellist. Only through the death of its wielder can it pass to another. Don't blame yourself, old friend. I foresaw this… it was the only way. Your son—he will be our future…"
The Jewel pulsed once, then dimmed.Without hesitation, Herald concealed it before anyone else could glimpse its light.
"I understand…" he murmured, turning away—his heart heavy—as he began his climb back toward the mountain, where his wife and child awaited.
"Sapphire! Sapphire!" Herald shouted, his voice hoarse as he climbed the mountainside.No answer.Then—his heart froze. A trail of blood led from the house, winding down toward the forest.
He broke into a sprint, bursting through the doorway. Inside lay the bodies of the birth maids—every one of them slain, save for one who was missing. The air reeked of iron and smoke.
"F********ck!" Herald roared, his voice echoing through the valley as he charged toward the blood-soaked trail, axe in hand and rage burning behind his eyes.
"Please… please be alive."