Chương 50: The Storm

The elven camp no longer existed. Where, only a few hours earlier, there had been firelit tents, muffled laughter and families gathered around braziers, there now stretched nothing but a battlefield drenched in blood, screams and trampled snow. The smell of smoke mingled with that of iron. The white snow was no longer recognizable, transformed into an expanse of reddish mud and bodies sprawled across the ground. The goblins were outnumbered, yet with Xarath behind them, they seemed endless.

Every time a group was cut down by the elves, more emerged from the chaos, screaming and brandishing their weapons with animalistic fury. Some elves suddenly exploded, torn apart by a mere gesture of Xarath's hand, as though their very existence were nothing more than an annoyance to be erased. There were no visible spells. No incantations. No light. One moment they were alive. The next, they became a rain of blood and flesh.

Other goblins managed to overpower the elves: shattered skulls, severed limbs, bodies left writhing in the snow. The cries of the wounded blended with the goblins' savage roars. One elf saw his wife surrounded. He tried to reach her, shouting her name. His voice broke amid the chaos as he desperately ran toward her. He was too late. The goblin chief struck him in the head with his mace. Once. Then again. And again.

Until his skull was completely crushed beneath the blows and the mace was coated in blood and fragments of bone. The elf's body collapsed into the snow like a puppet whose strings had been cut. His wife was soon reached by the goblins, whose intentions were anything but friendly. Her screams echoed for a few seconds. Then they were swallowed by the noise of battle. Ethan pierced a goblin that was about to kill a young elf. His sword drove straight through the creature's chest. The goblin spat blood and collapsed.

"Run!" Ethan shouted to the boy. The young elf did not need to be told twice. Ethan immediately turned in search of other survivors. That was when he saw Elrohir. He was on the ground. The snow beneath him was completely red. A deep wound had torn open his abdomen. Stolen novel; please report. For a moment, Ethan felt his heart stop. He rushed to his side.

"Elrohir! Are you alright?!" The elderly elf coughed up blood. His hands trembled.

"Don't…don't worry about me, fool…save the young ones…save my children". Ethan tried to lift him.

"We can still heal you. Hang on!" Elrohir resisted with what little strength he had left.

"For me…it's over, Ethan. Please…save my children…" His voice was little more than a whisper now. He looked Ethan in the eyes. Eyes glistening with tears. Filled with pain. Not for himself. For his people. For the young elves he had guided all his life. Then he drew his last breath. His body went completely limp.

"No… Elrohir… no…" Ethan remained motionless for a moment. He remembered the first time they had met. His advice. His patience. The trust he had placed in him. The blessing he had given him to be with Renlin. Gone. All of it gone. Erased. But he did not even have time to grieve. He heard Renlin scream. He spun around. She was surrounded by two goblins. Their blades struck relentlessly. Ethan ran toward her. The world seemed to narrow. He saw no one else. Only Renlin. Only the danger surrounding her.

He thrust his sword through one goblin's back. The tip burst out through the creature's chest. But before he could react, a violent pain exploded through his head. A mace slammed into him. His vision blurred. He fell to the ground, dazed. The goblin raised its weapon to finish him. Renlin stabbed it from behind. The creature let out a muffled grunt and collapsed. She held out her hand. Ethan grabbed it. Their fingers tightened around each other.

For a moment, that grip felt like the only real thing amid all the chaos. He got back to his feet.

"Elrohir…" he murmured. Renlin lowered her gaze slightly.

"I know. But we have to save the others now. We'll mourn him later". Ethan nodded. They advanced together, killing every goblin they encountered. Moving almost by instinct. Covering each other. As though their bodies already knew what to do. Then Ethan heard footsteps. Slow footsteps. Calm footsteps. Completely out of place amid such a massacre. He turned. Xarath was walking toward him. He was not running. He showed no urgency. He looked like a man taking a stroll through a garden. Ethan's blood ran cold.

The memories returned instantly. That day. That encounter. That overwhelming presence. Back when he still wielded the legendary Sword of Fire.

"No…it can't be…" Renlin looked at him in confusion.

"What is it?" Ethan gripped her hand tightly. Too tightly. As though he feared she might disappear.

"We have to run. Now".

"What? I can't! I have to save my brothers and sisters!"

"I'll take care of it. You go. Get as far away from here as possible".

"Not without you".

"Renlin, you have to listen to me, you-". He never finished the sentence. Invisible cuts sliced through the air. There was no sound. No light. No warning. Renlin's body was divided into ten perfectly clean pieces, separated with unnatural precision. The pieces fell randomly onto the snow, staining it red. For a moment, the world seemed to stop. Ethan stood frozen. Completely covered in her blood. Xarath stood before him, one hand extended toward what remained of Renlin. Ethan looked at Renlin's corpse.

Looked at his hands stained with her blood. Then he felt an inhuman rage erupt within him. A rage so intense that it smothered every other emotion. He screamed and charged at Xarath with his sword. Xarath crushed him to the ground with spiritual pressure alone. His knees buckled. His bones creaked. Even breathing became difficult. Xarath stepped forward and picked up Renlin's severed head.

"I've seen you before, human. You were that golden knight with the legendary Sword of Fire, weren't you?"

"I'll kill you…bastard…I'll tear you in half…"

"You really cared about this beautiful elf". Xarath spoke with absolute calm. As though he were commenting on the weather.

"I suppose you thought you had found a purpose. Living among these elves, building a future with her. Perhaps even having a child, half-human and half-elf". He stepped closer.

"But you shouldn't hate me. When an earthquake or a storm kills thousands of people, no one insults it. No one hates it. They simply accept that it happened". He stared at him. His eyes were empty.

"And you must do the same". Ethan broke into sobs. Tears mixed with the blood on his face.

"Kill me…please…kill me…"

"Kill you? No". A faint smile appeared on Xarath's lips.

"I'll let you live. I want you to keep living, knowing there is no purpose waiting for you. No goal. And when you become happy again, when you find someone else to protect, you'll know how fragile it is. How easy it is for it to be taken away". He leaned closer.

"This is real life, human. Kill or be killed. Nothing else". Ethan stared at him for a few seconds. Renlin's face kept appearing before his eyes. Her smile. Her voice. Their awakening that morning. Her last words. Then he lost consciousness beneath the weight of the spiritual pressure. Xarath tossed Renlin's head aside and returned to the goblins. As though nothing important had happened. As though he had merely crushed an insect. Elrohir's tribe had been exterminated.