Icariel's instincts were already kicking into full gear. "She will kill me. She will kill me. I will die like them. No… I refuse to die!"
"Voice! How can I survive? How can I escape? Tell me, please!"
Icariel pleaded with the voice in his mind, his breathing ragged, his body aching from the bruises that covered him.
[Dislocate your smallest fingers. Force your wrists through the slack. Do not scream. Then run.]
He grabbed his left pinky and twisted. Crunch. A wet snap echoed through his bones. The second finger followed—cracked sideways like dry wood. Agony flared up his arms, sharp enough to make him gag. His throat burned with the urge to scream, but he clamped his jaw shut, biting down until his gums ached. Not a sound escaped. Not a whimper. Not a gasp.
Silence. Silence or death.
He could see Elektra's back before him, just a few paces away, as she watched the Crimson Bears tear into the last of the villagers. The crackling flames drowned out the villagers' final cries—but not his. He wouldn't give her the satisfaction.
Tears streaked down his face, hot and furious, but his body remained still. His breath came in shallow, controlled bursts. Even as the pain threatened to swallow him whole, he refused to betray himself.
"Shit, it hurts so much."
But the pain didn't matter. The rope loosened, and with a final struggle, his hands were free. He fell forward, gasping, his shoulders screaming from the strain.
He was finally free.
His gaze darted to Elektra's back. She hadn't noticed yet. Or maybe she had and simply didn't care. On the ground, just within reach, lay a knife—gleaming, blood-stained, as if it had fallen on purpose. As if it were calling to him. Avenge your people. Kill her.
But Icariel didn't spare the weapon even a single glance. Not once. Let alone twice. He turned his back on it and ran—never daring to glance over his shoulder.
His feet pounded against the dirt, each step a scream from his body. "Escape. Get away. Run. Run. RUN!" That was all that remained. There was no stopping—only surviving.
Behind him, Elektra didn't even need to turn her head fully to see him fleeing. A slow, twisted smile curled on her lips.
"What a little fucker," she mused, watching him go. "I left that knife on purpose to see what kind of brat he really is... and he chose to run? To abandon any thought of vengeance just to survive?"
She picked up the knife, running a finger along its sharp edge before bringing it to her lips and licking the cold metal.
"Hmmm... interesting indeed. The more he resists, the more fun I'll have. It's not like I have anything better to do tonight. Until he comes... I will let all of my rage out on him."
She started walking, slowly, deliberately, behind Icariel—the boy who ran for his life, terrified.
Icariel was running, never turning his head back. He followed the single path down the mountain, his breath ragged, his heart pounding like a war drum.
[Left. Now.] the voice in his mind told.
Without hesitation, he obeyed. Not a single thought, not a single word—just instinct. His leg was wounded from the tree that had fallen after Galien's self-destruction, but pain was insignificant compared to the fear coursing through his veins. He kept running, ignoring everything else.
The world slowed.
For a moment, only the sound of his breath was heard. The pain, the fear, all dulled beneath the moonlight. Was this safety? Or surrender?
Icariel dropped to his knees, chest heaving. Maybe she had let him go. Maybe she was never serious—just toying with him. A trick of mercy.
Then, cold breath slithered into his ear.
"What fast legs you have."
Icariel's body tensed. His eyes widened in horror. He turned his head, and there she was—Elektra, her smirking face only inches away from him.
"Ahhh!" he screamed, forcing his legs to move even faster.
Elektra chuckled, slowing her pace. "Run, run. I'll give you time. Go ahead. In the end, it won't matter."
Icariel didn't waste time thinking. He just ran. He barely saw anything in the darkness. Branches lashed at his skin. Roots tripped him. Pain surged through his body, but he refused to stop.
"I'm going to die." A cold, sinking feeling clawed at his chest—paralyzing and raw.
But no. Not yet. Don't stop.
Gritting his teeth, Icariel forced his legs forward, even as his lungs burned and his vision blurred.
Survival was all that mattered now. Run. Survive. Live.
[Run forward. No matter what. Do not stop.] the voice in his head instructed again.
And so he did.
After what felt like an eternity, the dense forest gave way to an open field. The trees were behind him now, but before him was no path—only an edge. Below, an endless river, its waters rushing violently in the moonlight.
He gasped for air, his breath ragged. "Why… why did you bring me here? The Zogonio River—"
Before the voice could respond, a heavy presence loomed behind him.
Elektra had arrived, one of her Crimson Bears at her side.
She tilted her head, her amusement growing. "I guess this is where it truly ends. This is how far your legs could bring you."
Icariel stood frozen. Trapped.
The abyss of the river below.
Death before and behind him.
"No, no, no…" Icariel's eyes widened, panic setting in. "What should I do? What—?"
Elektra spoke, stepping closer with the Crimson Bear beside her, forcing him toward the river's edge. "Fun while it lasted. Watching you run—leaving your people behind, selfish to the last breath." She stepped closer, eyes cold. "Pathetic."
Her evil smile deepened. "After what you did to me, this much is enough. I'm satisfied, having seen you crawl like a puny dog."
"Voice… what should I do? Tell me! Tell me! I'm going to die—I don't want to die!"Icariel called desperately to the voice in his mind, but it didn't respond immediately.
Elektra summoned her twin-edged, strange sword into her hand like a magician. The blade pulsed with dark red energy. "I'll kill you and feed you to my pet. Hehe."
Icariel's eyes darted everywhere—up, down, right, left—searching for a way out.
"I mean, look at you." Elektra tilted her head, amused. "So desperate. Even in this situation, you're still searching for a way to survive, despite having nothing left. I really envy that about you—so young and so obsessed with living."
She pointed her sword at him. "But it's not your fault for wanting to live."
Pressure crushed down on Icariel as he realized how powerless he was. Now, he was at her mercy.
"Voice… Voice! Answer me! Tell me something!"
Silence.
Then, a response.
A certain death.
[Leap. Into the river. It's the only path left.]
"Huh?" he muttered. "What are you saying?"
Elektra frowned. "Did you lose your mind? Who are you talking to?"
The Zogonio River—it was worthy of Icariel's fear. Even more than Elektra before him. Jumping there or waiting for her—it was like deciding how to die. By water or by steel.
In the village, Chief Helos had once told all the villagers a legend—a rumor passed down for generations in Mjull and beyond the mountain. The Zogonio River held something. Something terrifying. Something so feared that even monsters and demons of Iliriana dared not approach.
That was why the village was built here. Even in an era of swordmasters, mages, and superhumans. Even with monsters, dungeons, and unthinkable horrors. This place was safe, and it was true. Icariel, having lived here for sixteen years, had never encountered extraordinary monsters or demons—until today. Elektra and the Crimson Bears were the first.
Something protected this place. Or something within the Zogonio River terrified them.
Chief Helos had once joked: "As long as we stay here, our only problem will be how to not get tired of eating the same food every day. Not monsters. Not demons."
And now, Icariel faced a choice. Jump. Or die.
"You've been with me forever. You already know what it means jumping there," he told the voice, speaking aloud this time.
Elektra sneered. "You've completely lost it."
The voice responded. [One percent if you jump. None if you stay.]
Elektra took a step forward. "The curtain falls now, little runner. I've had my fill of entertainment."
"Damn it, damn it, damn it!" Icariel cursed. "1% is way more than 0%. Of course, I'll take it! If I have a chance to survive, even if I die by water or by myself—it's better than being food for your ugly pets!"
He jumped.
Arms open, falling backward, but not with the thought of dying. With the hope of surviving. "Fuck you! I hope you have the most gruesome death imaginable!" Icariel spat at Elektra.
Shock flashed across her face, quickly giving way to seething rage.
Things hadn't gone as planned. She had intended to kill the boy who had forced her to abandon her armor's ability. She had wanted to make him suffer. To personally end his life.
But the brat had denied her that satisfaction.
A bitter taste filled her throat. She had won. She had accomplished her mission. And yet… because of Icariel, she had lost something far more valuable.
Her armor. Her honor. Her revenge.
Because of a sixteen-year-old mountain boy.
"AHHHHH!" she screamed so hard that even the crimson bear shook its massive head.She had wanted to end the boy with her blade, but he had ended her pride instead.
[End of Chapter 6]