Genesis (Prophecy Rock Series, Book 1)

  Pain. The pain was excruciating, his neck burning from the unexpected attack. Arges stabbed the possessed soldier in the stomach, hoping he would release his grip. He did not. Arges drove the falcata deeper now, twisting it in circles. The soldier groaned at the wound, finally releasing his mouth from Arges’ neck. Arges backpedaled to safety, grabbing at his throat, the blood gushed out profusely. He was losing blood quickly, and at this rate he would not last much longer.

  The rest of the Third Unit had completely transformed by now. Their faces a ghastly pale white, eyes bloodshot red, and their mouths protruding forward with massive fangs. They moved exceptionally quickly, some even galloping on all fours. Leaping about off the trees, attacking anything that stood in their way. Renzai and Vicedonian soldiers suddenly found themselves fighting against a common enemy. Their possessed forms were too strong for any soldier from any army to defeat. Some soldiers decided to deliver themselves to their respective gods on a one-way trip off the cliff. It was a cleaner and quicker death, preferable to being eaten alive.

  Steropes watched as the imminent Vicedonian victory slipped away into a sea of chaos. Nobody stood a chance against these possessed soldiers. Even the last remaining Oni was easily defeated as four Krakens swarmed him in a matter of seconds. His Fourth Unit was dropping one by one. They were so close to ending this battle, he could taste the victory, but now he needed to refocus on mere survival.

  He made a mad dash for the Wild Woods, hoping the darkness would camouflage him from the crazed enemy. He was almost at the edge of the woods when something caught his leg and threw him to the ground. He turned back to see a possessed soldier standing over him. It grabbed him with two hands, lifting him high into the air. Steropes had never encountered such an enemy before. But it didn’t matter; he told himself he would not die today.

  “You will not be the end of me, demon.” Steropes kicked the soldier in the face, forcing him to release his grip. Steropes spun his double-ended spear into the air, slicing out the enemy’s legs, followed by a slash across the chest, and ending it by sending the soldier’s head off into the distance.

  “You die just like every other foe I’ve faced before. Possessed or not.” But Steropes spoke too soon. Three more soldiers had now surrounded him. They launched their attack immediately. Steropes slashed one out of the air; he spun quickly, unleashing an arrow from the crossbow on his forearm into the second soldier. The arrow pierced through the soldier’s neck, sending him to the ground. In that brief moment, Steropes had lost track of the third soldier. Suddenly, he heard the clashing of steel behind him.

  “You need to watch your back at all times, Steropes. First lesson of the academy, or did you forget?” Arges disemboweled the soldier, turned around, and offered Steropes a hand.

  “I owe you one, Arges.” Steropes caught sight of the wound on his neck.

  Arges brushed it off. “It looks worse than it is. Burns, more than anything.”

  “I knew it. Your unit didn’t look right coming out of the Dark Forest.”

  “I know.” Arges lamented. “I thought they would’ve recovered by now, but the experience was too much, even for them. Mentally, they never truly left that place. It was only a matter of time.”

  “Must be torture to have to kill your own men.”

  “It would be, but these are not my men anymore.”

  Their conversation was cut short as a burning tree crashed violently to their right. Fires were blazing everywhere now. The possessed soldiers tossed torches haphazardly about the battlefield. The sounds of arrows cutting through the air prompted them to move quickly. A horde of possessed soldiers gave chase, quickly catching up to them and blocking them off. The two generals stood back-to-back, weapons at the ready, prepared for, perhaps, their final battle.

  After helping Titan kill the Oni, Aric had remained within the debris of the watchtower. The battlefield was more frightening than he could’ve imagined. It always sounded so heroic to him as a child, listening to his father tell tales of his many victories during the Second Great War. Fighting alongside General Constantine, they were an unstoppable pair. Aric even envied the many scars his father had. The one across his cheek, especially. It made his father seem so strong, so heroic to have such a battle wound. Aric was ever eager to show off his own someday. But the day had finally come, and he was terrified.

  More than the sights and sounds, it was the stench. He couldn’t have imagined the stench would be this foul. He gagged as he watched soldiers being killed, their flesh burning in the raging fires, the fumes shooting straight up his nostrils. The filth of the Oni still covered him in a wet, slimy substance. All of his senses were bombarded by the overwhelming nature of actual battle. He gazed across the battlefield, frozen by the chaos he was witnessing, his mind becoming paralyzed by doubt. He was beginning to give into the fear again, but that’s when he saw his generals in action.

  He could see Arges and Steropes fending off a swarm of enemies. Still holding their ground, he marveled at their fighting prowess. They worked in tandem, as a single unit finishing off one opponent after another. He could see Titan fending off a group of possessed soldiers by himself, driven by sheer strength and determination. Aric’s focus and resolve began to grow within him again. He imagined his father on this battlefield, defeating his enemies, regardless of the seemingly insurmountable odds. All of these men are true leaders, he thought. He now understood why Vicedonian troops followed them so willingly. Their strength provided courage, from their words sprang inspiration, and their unselfish willingness to risk death for the Vicedonian Kingdom fostered undying loyalty. Everywhere he looked, he saw Vicedonian troops battling courageously to the bitter end. Am I truly prepared to do the same? Am I ready to do what is needed of a prince of Vicedonia? It was time to finally prove to his father, his people, and most importantly to himself, that he was worthy of all the recognition and acclaim he so longed to hear.

  Aric continued to watch the Krakens decimate the battlefield. He was the reason they had become possessed in the first place. Captain Izik tried to kill him back in the Dark Forest, and now the entire unit wanted to have their turn, but Aric refused to let the thought shake his resolve to fight. He was proud that he had helped Titan kill an Oni. An Oni of all things he told himself. The tales to be told comforted him a bit. Aric made his way out of the debris of the watchtower when shouts of pain rang out to his left.

  Aric turned to see a group of Vicedonian soldiers teetering by the cliff’s edge. A possessed Kraken had cornered them, raising a burning log high over his head, ready to send them plummeting to their deaths. Aric picked up a sword and shield from off the ground and charged.

  The demon paused for a moment, sniffed the air, as if reconsidering his target. He turned around to see Aric barreling down towards him. The soldier was about to hurl the burning log at Aric, when Aric unleashed a powerful slash across the demon’s chest. The possessed Kraken dropped the burning log on himself, smashing loudly into the ground.

  “Run!” Aric shouted at the soldiers.

  The troops fled immediately. They seemed to thank him with their eyes as they ran away. Proud of his actions, Aric turned his attention back to the demon soldier he had defeated.

  Aric’s face immediately filled with pain. The soldier’s powerful strike sent him soaring twenty yards across the field. Aric skidded to a stop within a few feet of the cliff.

  “Time to die, my prince,” a gurgled voice called out to him.

  When Aric turned around, he saw the demon soldier already at his feet, inching his way towards him. One step at a time, he pushed Aric right up to the edge of the cliff. The wind howled in his ears, the crashing waves below calling for him to jump, just as numerous soldiers had done before. Aric stood up, heels dangling dangerously close to the edge. On the brink of death, his resolve to fight began to unhinge. He had nowhere to go. There were no options by which he could devise a plan to survive this ordeal. His time had simply run out. Fate had given him the oppor
tunity to become a hero, and Aric had failed… again. He had come to Lake Raphia to conquer, to be the catalyst of change for the Vicedonian Kingdom, but now he stood at death’s door, victory as distant as his father’s love. He felt his emotions shatter within him. Piece by piece he came undone, unable to cope with his failure. Instinct took over, and Aric found himself pleading for his life.

  “Don’t kill me! I’ll give you anything you want. I’m a prince of Vicedonia, name it… it’s yours! Please!”

  “Can you give me my life back?” The soldier asked him.

  Aric was dumbfounded. All the begging in the world could not give him back what he asked.

  “No, Prince Aric. You cannot undo what you’ve already done to me. But there is one thing you can give me.”

  “Name it and it’s yours!”

  “Your life!” The soldier was fast. He slashed Aric across the face, gashing him deeply across the bridge of his nose. He grabbed Aric by the throat and held him over the edge.

  “Say goodbye to this world, Prince Ar—”

  Aric stared as a sword plunged through the soldier’s chest, forcing him to release his grip. As Aric began to fall, something unexpected caught his arm. Aric looked up and found himself staring at his brother’s face.

  “You need to be more careful, little brother. Vicedonia still needs you.”

  Chapter 35