apter 8 – The Weight of Hope
Igetis stood firm, his golden armor glowing beneath the raven fire that wrapped around him like a suffocating shroud. The black flames hissed and struck like snakes, each one leaving scars across the air itself as they slashed toward him. Yet, no matter how fiercely they burned, his body remained untouched. Not a single ember pierced his radiant armor.
Skotadi's eyes narrowed, his gaze sharp and calculating.
"The Phoenix Soul…" he muttered, realization dawning. "It grants fire resistance. That's your advantage, Mister Igetis." His tone hardened, lips curling into a grim line. "Then I have no choice. Forgive me… but I need to rid myself of you faster than I planned."
Igetis smirked faintly, his hand tightening around his sword hilt as golden sparks danced along its edge.
"You seem full of hope for a Chaos Seeker, Mister Skotadi."
Skotadi's voice remained steady, but his eyes brimmed with storms.
"Hope? Hope is all the weak have. It's all I had… all I was given. When you have nothing, you cling to it like an animal clings to prey—using everything you can to survive."
He stepped back, his aura surging. The raven flames roared higher, stronger, the heat devouring the ground itself. Cracks split the earth beneath his feet, molten light spilling out as he raised his arms and whispered:
"Chaos is the only way… the only cure for this world's sickness."
A dark wave erupted. The wild fire twisted, thickened, and collapsed inward, transforming into something far more dreadful. Black shadows wrapped around his body, hardening into an armor darker than night itself. The raven flames ceased to burn—they were consumed.
From within the black armor, Skotadi's voice deepened, calm yet chilling.
"Mister Knight… I'm tired of suffering. Everyone is tired. This world needs to be reshaped. Nothing in it is easy… but I will bear the suffering, and I will reshape reality—to make it easier for everyone." A twisted smile tugged at his lips. "Laugh at my childish dream, if you wish."
Igetis said nothing. Words weren't needed. His grip tightened, his stance sharpened, and his eyes alone spoke his will.
---
A Memory of Hunger and Despair
Once, long before despair hollowed it out, Skotadi's village had been alive with quiet resilience.
Golden wheat fields swayed under gentle winds. Children ran barefoot along dirt paths, their laughter echoing like bells. The square bustled with life—blacksmiths hammering steel, bakers filling the air with warm bread, and elders beneath the grand oak, weaving stories of kingdoms and heroes.
Hope thrived here.
But hope is fragile.
War didn't come with banners or armies—it arrived as whispers. Merchants stopped visiting. Farmers woke up to find their stores emptied. Starvation crept in silently at first—an extra skipped meal, a thinner bowl of stew. Then it sank its claws deep.
Bandits came next. Not fabled marauders, but broken men—soldiers stripped of war, scavengers sharpened by hunger. They took what remained with merciless efficiency, leaving behind hollow-eyed survivors too weak to resist.
Skotadi, still a boy, watched as his mother's warm face withered, and his proud father became a ghost of rage.
One night, his father's rough voice tore through the dark.
"Go find me food, brat!"
The kind father he remembered was gone, replaced by hunger's cruelty.
Skotadi staggered through the ruins, an empty shell wandering a world reduced to ash. Every day ended the same—finding nothing, returning to punishment. Over and over. A loop of despair.
Hope was not enough. Yet it was all he had.
Then, she came.
---
The Arrival of Chaos
Chaos descended upon the village like a living void. Draped in shadows, her eyes glimmered with the abyss itself. With no hand raised, the bandits who ruled the ruins collapsed one by one, their screams swallowed whole.
The villagers watched in silence as salvation wore the mask of destruction.
When the silence finally fell, she spoke—not with pity, but with promise.
"Chaos is the only way. In chaos, everything becomes easy. Follow me… to our I GITIS EMPANGELIAS. Only those who abandon everything can obtain everything."
Among the ashes, Skotadi listened.
Hope had failed him.
Chaos, however, had saved him.
And like every desperate soul, he believed. He had to.
From that day, he vowed: no matter the path, no matter the price, he would embrace even the forbidden arts if it meant saving others from suffering.
---
Back to the Present
The battlefield was no different from those ruins. Chaos had always ruled.
Skotadi stood clad in armor of living shadows, raven fire crackling around him, consuming all it touched. His past weighed heavy on his shoulders, yet it was the very fuel of his resolve.
Igetis stepped forward, his blade gleaming with golden fire, eyes unyielding.
This was no longer a contest of strength.
It was a clash of ideals.
The fight had only just begun.
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