Conquerors Will 

Chapter 6: Chapter 6: Unveiling



Black wisps covered his eyesight as Jahad pawed at his eyes trying to rip away the fiery dark serpents, the alarms wailing and screeching, piercing the back of his head. His eyes jolted open, a cold sweat clinging to his clothes as he gasped for breath like a wild animal. Over the gated fence, he spotted Jayce's face emerging, lacking the confusion that had once clouded it. With a resigned sigh, familiar with Jahad's nightly terrors, he tossed a stone at the alarm clock, silencing it for yet another day. His eyes lit up, jumping over the gate he shook Jahad, shaking any feeling of tiredness away from him. "We're getting unveiled, we're getting unveiled!" he shouted into Jahad's ears jubilantly. His eyes wincing at the booming voice of Jayce but the excitement was contagious. He pushed Jayce off his side and stood up, stretching into a loud exaggerated yawn. He returned Jayce's eagerness with a small smile, "let's kit up."

The two wore the trenchcoats, marred with dirt and grime but the utility was unmatched. Within a side pocket, Jahad picked out a slim black and gold card, resembling a business card of some sort. Lepic had given one for the both of them to share; it stored the silver and gold they earned, only accessible by the two of them. Jayce blew a whistle, the distant galloping edging closer and closer. A horse carriage arrived, this time not driven by any mythical beasts but just two muscular horses and a man who wore the same uniform as the one who had tamed the beasts. The two jumped into the back. Jayce excitedly exclaimed, "Sector 1 main warehouse please!"

The black card in Jahad's hand glowed an ambient gold, runic symbol swirled amidst the small galaxies and stars contained within this small card, it suddenly flashed. Jahad took out 20 silver and handed it to the driver's outstretched hands. The hands closed tightly onto the silver, he counted it in a whisper, the voice seemed inhuman. His dark face looked at Jahad and nodded before whipping the reins. The two arrived at the warehouse; it wasn't too far from their home, however, with the money coming through, a cheap horse ride seemed charming. Jayce knocked rhythmically at the door but before it would open Ron's voice boomed, "over here." He stood in the alley to the side of the warehouse, his humongous frame standing against the wall. Lepic was there also.

"Big day, with the unveiling it will happen one at a time. Jayce, you'll be first, we have a small place to stay there. As soon as your unveilings are done you go there, Jayce. No waiting for Jahad." Jayce nodded eagerly. "Unveiling always takes place in the overworld but we don't control any of it so it's important you do as we say, no lingering around. In and out." And so they made their way to sector 8, the unveiling process taking place in a church of some sorts in the overworld, not the underground. Both boys had never been to the overworld and had no idea what to expect. Sector 8 was a stark contrast to the more vibrant areas of the underground i.e sector 2 and 1. The air was thick with an unsettling haze of god knows what, a mix of smoke and despair that hung over the narrow streets like a shroud. The stone buildings loomed overhead, their jagged edges casting long shadows that seemed to swallow the flickering lights from the few neon signs that dared to flicker in this forsaken place.

As the four moved deeper into the sector, the sounds of violence echoed around them—distant shouts, the clatter of something heavy hitting the ground, and the unsettling laughter of those lost in their own worlds. The denizens, gaunt and hollow-eyed, shuffled through the streets, their movements jerky and erratic as they scratched at skin marred by neglect and addiction. Graffiti splattered the walls, telling stories of desperation and rebellion, while the smell of decay lingered like a ghost. The continuous scratching of skin only stopped to avert their inhuman gazes at them. Ron said, "don't look back at them." And so they heeded his advice.

Before long, they reached a massive gate, guarded by two gruff men. Both were clad in military-style uniforms, stained with grime and dirt, giving them a rugged, battle-worn appearance, with spears at the side of each of them. Piercing eyes struck daggers into the boys' hearts, it was an unfathomable presence that twisted their guts with fear that the two guards held which seemed to steer away the rabid citizens. Lepic stepped forward, unfazed by the men, their gazes shot like an arrowhead towards him. Ron's hand was placed relaxingly on his hammer, a slight sense of caution but he seemed calm. Finally, cutting through the tension, Lepic's hand extended, a file in his delicate grasp. One of the men stepped forward, his chest held high as he snatched the paper, but Lepic shot him a look that caused his attitude to flicker. The man read the file briefly then nodded to his comrade. "Lepic Whitethorne eh? I thought the Whitethornes were gone," he snickered to himself. Lepic ignored the comment.

The men slammed the pommel of the spears into the ground in sync at a rhythm, chanting "apertus." Runic symbols glowed onto the gate, it groaned into life, gears and cogs spinning and whirring as if it had not been opened in centuries. The metallic clangs finally halted as the gigantic gate fully opened. The four entered; it was a massive empty square space, a dingy light fighting to illuminate the enormous room. The gates groaned and shut once again. Silence filled the room. Jayce broke it, "uh is this it?" Ron chuckled, "nah we're going up." As if to emphasise his point, they started to ascend; the room was an elevator of some sorts. It took almost an hour to arrive at the top. It awed Jahad how far down the underground was compared to the overworld. The gates opened with a ding. Two guards of the same military uniform stood there, however with pristine immaculate wear, there was no soot or dust to be seen on the two. All four stepped out, Lepic flashing the paper briefly and they allowed them to continue.

Stepping outside was truly breathtaking. The air felt almost pristine, each breath invigorating Jahad's lungs, while a radiant light enveloped his entire being. Two resplendent suns adorned the horizon, casting a warm, golden hue across the landscape. As they finally emerged into the overworld, leaving the underground, they were greeted by a fantastical sight. The architecture around them was reminiscent of a medieval dream, with towering spires and intricately carved stone structures. The streets bustled with kind-hearted folk, many of whom were sorcerers, knights and summoners, their robes flowing gracefully as they mingled. Mystical beasts roamed the thoroughfares, pulling carts laden with exotic goods, their vibrant colors and whimsical forms adding to the enchanting atmosphere. Above, some creatures soared through the sky, their wings glimmering in the sunlight, creating a mesmerizing spectacle that filled Jahad and Jayce with awe and wonder.

This world was alive with magic and companionship. Ron and Lepic moved forward, but the two boys remained dumbstruck at the mesmerising sight. A small smile escaped Ron's face as he said, "come on, no time for sightseeing." The two boys trailed alongside the figures, their eyes darting and averting to each new spectacle that entranced them.

After an hour's walk, they arrived at a small structure of stone and wood. Red glittering cloth covered the windows, there was no door but an open frame which dangled lines of gem and rock. Lepic and Ron stopped and looked at the two. "Jayce, you're first. Remember, me and Ron will be there with you. Jahad, you wait outside. It's important no one interferes with this process. After Jayce is done, there's a back exit which he will exit from. Jayce, you will stay there till Jahad's done." The two boys nodded their heads vigorously. It felt weird to have these feelings of excitement, Jahad thought to himself. All three walked in, leaving him outside to grapple with his own tumultuous thoughts.

A relentless killing machine like him shouldn't be permitted to experience happiness or even a flicker of excitement. The life here moved at a lightning pace, and he had almost forgotten the darkness that defined him. But now, with the sudden solitude, it all came crashing down like a devastating revelation. Waves of despair washed over Jahad, filling him with an overwhelming sense of unworthiness. He felt as if he didn't deserve the beauty and joy surrounding him, haunted by the shadows of his past actions. The vibrant world around him seemed to mock his existence, a stark reminder that he was a man forged in violence, unworthy of the peace and kindness he now longed for.

A long sigh escaped his mouth. Was he just to forget his past life and move on? Dwelling on it would do him no good. He was always used to distancing himself from these thoughts in order to march forward and do what needs to be done. He drummed his fingers on his knee as he slouched down. He knew it was no good to get hung up on this, but his mind was in a disarray of thoughts. Suddenly, cutting through his trance, Lepic and Ron came back out. "What you doing down there, misery guts? We didn't take that long, it's your turn," Ron tutted, smacking the top of Jahad's head. What Ron thought was gentle nearly sent Jahad's head into his shoulders. The dark cloud that seemed to antagonise Jahad sifted away as he stood up to follow the two into the establishment. For now, he had to look forward, not back.

The lines of gem and rock seemed to be strewn everywhere, the reflective glitter off of the gem illuminating the dark area. In the middle of the room was a circular wooden table, a book gilded with bronze scribings lay there. Robe gleaming with gold and white, long luscious white hair dangled from a man who sat at the end of the table, greeting the three with a warm smile. His face seemed youthful, however, the white-gray hair seemed to say otherwise. There was one chair opposite him to which his hand guided Jahad to. Lepic gave Jahad a friendly nudge, "it's safe." There was a brief silence before Jahad tucked himself into the empty wooden chair. He glanced at the man, inspecting his face further, bristles of white and black peppered onto his chin, he had a deep blue gaze. His cheeks seemed pink, an opaque glass bottle at his side.

As the man stood before Jahad, the air around them began to shimmer with an ethereal glow. He opened the ancient book, its pages blank yet pulsating with energy, ready to reveal the truths of Jahad's destiny. The man's voice was slurred as he began to explain, Jahad realised he was drunk. "The process is simple, Jahad. I will grant you a blessing from the old queen. This book will illuminate the path you are destined to take, unveiling the powers that lie within you," he spoke, waving his hands around. With each word spoken, the pages of the book began to fill with vibrant illustrations and symbols, reflecting Jahad's unique abilities and the journey that awaited him. The atmosphere thickened with anticipation as the unveiling process commenced, intertwining Jahad's fate with the magic of the book. The runic symbols seemed to come to life, bouncing across the walls, the book pages fluttering. The man pulled out a small curved dagger with steel engravings. "Place your hand forward, child," his voice boomed. Jahad's hand dripped blood on the book, the runic symbols painted like a canvas.

Something was wrong. The man spluttered, struggling to form coherent words as the symbols that had once danced with life abruptly ceased their movement. The book settled onto a single page, its vibrant colors fading into a haunting darkness, replaced by ominous glyphs that resembled chains binding something malevolent. Jahad's gaze locked onto the man, searching for answers amid the confusion. The old man's face was a canvas of sheer, primal terror, his eyes wide with disbelief and fear. The gliding black symbols returned to the book, swirling ominously as a suffocating silence enveloped the room. Finally, the man managed to spit out the words, his voice trembling, pointing at Jahad as he whispered, seemingly sobered up, "H-he's cursed!" The weight of the revelation hung heavily in the air, each syllable echoing the dread that filled the space between them. Jahad felt the chill of the curse settle within him, a dark power awakening that seemed to rebel against the very essence of divine order. The man's fear was palpable, as if he sensed the impending chaos that would follow in the wake of Jahad's potential. The finger pointing at Jahad shook violently like a leaf, silence filling the atmosphere.

Suddenly, Jahad's vision became blocked. In a split second, he could not see the book or the room anymore, a giant circular object blocked his view which seemed to shake. It was Ron's hammer. A wave of blood gushed out of Jahad's nose, the hammer strike did not land, held back by someone, but the residual force sent a wave of air and pain through Jahad, scrambling his insides. Jahad's eyes widened, adrenaline seeping into him as he panted, aware of how close he was to meeting his maker. "Lepic. What the fuck are you doing?" Ron spoke in a stern, cold voice. Ron's gaze was fixed on Jahad, a tempest of terror and fury swirling within him. His eyes widened in disbelief, the realization of Jahad's curse igniting a fierce anger that battled with his instinctive fear. The air between them crackled with tension as Ron's heart pounded, he snapped away from him to Lepic.

Their eyes locked onto each other with an uncharacteristic intensity. It brought to mind an early memory for Jahad—two hounds on the verge of death, poised to deliver the final strike, sizing each other up. Jahad finally grasped the gravity of the situation. Lepic's hand was firmly clasped around the hammer, halting its swing. The motion had torn his sleeve, and his grip was so tight on the handle that his knuckles turned a pale white and yellow. The hammer trembled from the clash of forces. "He's one of us," Lepic finally replied, his voice laced with cold fury, before he spat, "We don't kill our own." The priest had cowered behind the men, but Jahad focused intently. He extended his palms, beginning to cast. Incorrigible words spilled from his lips; at first, Jahad thought he was praying. However, as runic symbols swirled in a deep magma glow, he realized the truth—he intended to take them all down together. Lepic and Ron were too preoccupied, their steely gazes locked onto each other, to notice the impending doom brewing behind them. The spell was set to tear straight through Ron and strike Jahad; his gut instinct screamed at him to flee. Yet, he found himself rooted in place.

Despite the imminent danger, he couldn't conjure any resentment or anger toward Ron. Though he had only recently entered this new world, he had formed a bond with its inhabitants, and Ron had become almost like a father figure to Jahad, in a twisted sense. He had saved them from that fire, provided food, shelter, and even money. Brief memories of Ron overpaying for the missions they had completed together flooded Jahad's mind. At that moment, time seemed to come to a standstill. The weight of their shared experiences pressed heavily on him, making it even harder to reconcile the threat that loomed ahead. The swirling thoughts halted, and a calm wave washed over Jahad's mind. It didn't matter; he still had some trust in Ron, believing he was acting out of necessity. Jahad didn't mind sacrificing his life to save them. He ducked under Ron's hammer and dove toward the priest's outstretched arms, ready to embrace whatever came next.


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