Elliot's POV
"Each step forward feels like a betrayal of who I once was, yet I cannot stop walking."
–– Elliot Starfall
Every fiber muscle in my war-torn body is exhausted. My divine red blood, boiling beneath my cracked and blood-stained skin, seeps from my wounds. My vision is blurred, my breath heavy.
I was a fool.
Yet I keep running. My trembling legs move at an inhuman speed, faster than leopards, carrying me over the remains of those I once despised. My comrades, my friends, my family.
Different-blooded—only the red within me remains truly red.
I was a fool.
Spitting a mixture of saliva and clotted blood, I wince at the sharp pain in my chest as I scan the once-black continent.
Now it is red. Crimson like the blood that runs, for the most part, through my veins. My blue eyes flicker as greasy, dark blond strands obscure my vision. Once, they had given me hope in the night of betrayal. I cannot forget that grotesque laughter. My joints feel rusty, locked, as if I were an old cog in a long-forgotten machine.
Still, I keep running through the multicolored puddles of blood. Red, black, white, brown. In this continent of pestilence, where the moon shifts its color and the sky is bathed in endless darkness, people die with every breath. The blue-blooded have it easy. I envy them. My torn toenails bleed into my shredded black boots. I'm clad in tight black clothing—a gift from Echo, my unit. I am one of the twelve Echo's.
Biting the inside of my cheek, I take in the endless skulls scattered across the imperial battlefield. Years—this has been going on for years. Death is as omnipresent as breath amid battle. Everything feels surreal. All I hear is the deafening roar of explosions. Sometimes, the sky flickers in blinding white. I don't know if it's from our side or the enemy's. Cold sweat drips down my cheek. My arms swing frantically as my body pushes itself to its absolute limit. A strange sensation spreads through my fingertips, as if needles are piercing them, as if my bones are ready to burst from my skin.
Numbness overtakes my body—but it is merely the divine blood in my veins. My limbs feel stiff. Arrows, light beams, swords, axes, even magic beyond my wildest imagination cut through the air in the distance. The sharp clash of iron and elithran steel fills my ears. My heart races like a rollercoaster, yet I have been trapped in this ever-expanding loop for years. I stumble, crashing face-first into a thick pool of black blood, surrounded by the severed remains of both allies and enemies—people I never knew. My forearms slam into the viscous liquid after my face. My strength is completely drained. I remain in the pool, unwillingly inhaling the putrid stench. But I linger longer than I should.
I must get up!
My cracked fingernails dig into the hollow sockets of a black-blooded corpse, yet I slip again. I must!
All I see is the black night, the writhing maggots within the thick flesh twinkling like stars. They remind me of the times when they were my only source of protein. Damn it, even the flesh of the different-blooded—even that of the red-blooded. My own kind. Humans.
Once, my stomach would have turned at the thought, but the endless loop has hardened me. I try to push myself up, my teeth gritted, but the black blood only smears across my swollen face. My torso lacks stability, and my arms tremble in their feeble attempt to lift my body—over ninety kilograms of dead weight.
I can cleave mountains in two. I can leap thousands of meters with sheer strength. My reflexes are fast enough to dodge the attacks of false gods. I possess the power of the gods. And yet, in this moment, I am helpless. Helpless like a newborn. I could scream. But my lungs fill with the coagulated blood that must have been lying here for weeks, if not months. I can feel the clumps, the writhing maggots.
I have been in this situation countless times before. And every time, I have survived—even death itself. I attempt to roll to my side, but I fail miserably. In the corner of my eye, I see rods. Small, but moving faster than sound—racing toward me.
I was a fool to believe that a red-blooded like me could change the world…
My pupils constrict as my life flashes before my eyes.
I was a fool to think I could play God.
And now, I lie here. Drenched in the blood of those I once hated, who became more of a family to me than my own ever was. My irises shift—not by my will—from azure blue to crimson red, like the moon hanging over my back in the night sky. With the divinity in my veins, I see everything in slow motion. But I am not fast enough. This is no divine gift. It is a curse. Chains that bind me, a swamp that drags me under, the weight of the world pressing down on my shoulders. I see the rods hurtling toward me at supersonic speed—mere silhouettes against the red eclipse.
A bitter laugh escapes my lips, but only a weak gurgling sound emerges from the blood beneath me. Bubbles rise, and then the pain comes.
The rods pierce through my flesh, stabbing through my clothing, my skin, my muscles, my veins, my bones. Only my joints and non-vital organs are targeted. My head and heart remain untouched, as if my executioner is toying with me. As if the butcher enjoys slaughtering his cattle—not with a swift cut to the throat, but with relentless strikes meant to prolong the agony. I groan into the blood, memories flooding my mind—the past years, the life I had before this nightmare began. A blissful, carefree life on Earth.
I remain still. My entire body trembles, yet I do not move from the impalement. I am like meat on a skewer. Tears mix with the thick blood, and I struggle to breathe. My lungs burn, my throat feels as if I have swallowed razors. At first, I try to scream. But then, I let it wash over me.
My brow had been furrowed in rage, but now it rests, relaxed, over my closed eyes. My entire being has never been this still. I have always been on guard, my existence forged under conditions beyond human comprehension. I have lived through other lives, conquered death, played god to fight against false gods. Not a single breath since the red eclipse has been one of peace.
Has my time finally come?
I stare into the endless darkness—the familiar void within myself—and think of only one thing.
Ren.
My brother.