Chapter 1: Alcurd
Alcurd walked through the busy streets of Morisia, the main city of his homeland, Ethos. This place had been his sanctuary for so long—perhaps twenty years, though he could no longer recall the exact time. He admired the sight: the towering stone buildings, the various shops flourishing on every corner, and the great townspeople engaging in casual interactions around local carts. This life, this peace, was what he fought for; to keep these people safe, to ensure his home remained untouched.
But the longer he walked, the more his path inevitably led toward the city's underbelly—the lower-income parts of town, the "slums," as some dismissively called them. Here, businesses did not thrive, buildings looked half-abandoned, and most of the able-bodied men, and some women, were gone, fighting wars against enemies they never knew and had no personal quarrel with.
Seeing these withered streets and broken families fueled Alcurd's deep-seated anger. If Vile and Necros had simply kept to themselves, there would be no reason for war. People could live in peace, and fathers could raise their families.
He saw a young girl huddled in an alleyway, knees tucked to her chest, her face hidden between her legs. The sight plunged him immediately into his own childhood memory.
The scenario was the same: a broken, dirty, withered, abandoned town. There wasn't enough food to go around, and there was no family to raise him. Young Alcurd sat on the street, scared and alone, not knowing where his next meal would come from. He had been on the streets for a year now, barely surviving.
All he could think about was the family he had lost. His father and eldest brother, who ran the family business. His mother, who kept up the house and the farm. He and his middle brother had helped out where they could, and his mother had been so proud.
That stability shattered when war was once again brought upon their land. His father and eldest brother were drafted into the King's army. He remembered the look on his mother's face when his father gave her the news; she broke down as if she knew their fates were already sealed. His father picked her up, kissed her forehead, and told her everything would be okay. "The wars never last long," he'd promised.
His father and brother said their farewells and marched off. But nothing his father said was true. Within six months, both his brother and father were killed in action. And this was no short war; it had been going on for twenty years.
Alcurd was lost in the memory of his family when a tall man approached him. He had graying hair, wore beautiful silver armor, and had two guards flanking him. "What's your name, boy?" the man said, looking down at the malnourished child.
Alcurd just looked up, mesmerized. He couldn't speak; even if he could, he wouldn't have known what to say.
"Do you want a better life, boy?" the man asked.
Alcurd managed only a silent, desperate nod.
Alcurd snapped back to the present, shaking the persistent memory away. He had a mission to complete. He grabbed a rice ball and a piece of meat jerky from his pack and tossed them gently toward the young girl in the alley. She looked up, eyes wide with a mix of excitement and surprise.
"Oh my, thank you, Mister! I don't know what to say—"
But before she could finish, Alcurd was gone, vanishing down the street.
Pushing through the dense forest outside the city walls, he moved at blinding speeds, making his way out of Ethos and across the border into Morsoph. The northern border was already alive with combat, Silver's forces slowly pushing back the enemy. He knew taking the eastern route would be his best option for stealth.
Alcurd was pleased to have a mission, but he missed his team. While confident in his own abilities, he always felt more at ease with Bella by his side; her healing and keen tracking skills were perfectly suited for this type of infiltration. Alcurd considered himself a jack-of-all-trades warrior, but with his heavy cloak and the large, bladed gauntlets strapped to each arm, he felt cumbersome for true stealth work.
He began to slow as he approached the research and development lab. Alcurd was immediately surprised by the lack of visible security. After a recent scout platoon had been eliminated, he'd expected the guards to be tripled. Necros is a crafty and cunning bastard, he thought, but perhaps his ego has made him sloppy.
Morsoph's land was not unlike Ethos, filled with lush green forests and beautiful landscapes, but Necros was known to corrupt his territory. He would tear down swaths of forest, replacing the rich soil with dirt and fire pits, setting booby traps in random areas for sneak attacks.
Worst of all were the casualties. Any enemy soldier his army caught alive would be strung up by their feet from posts and trees to hang until death.
The sight made Alcurd physically sick. Just ten yards from him, a young man no older than sixteen hung upside down, barely clinging to life. Alcurd could hear the faint, wheezing fight for breath coming from his mouth. He longed to put the boy out of his misery, but that was not what King Silver had sent him to do.
About one hundred yards ahead was the ominous laboratory. Alcurd pulled his hood over his head and silently approached the structure, scaling the rough concrete wall in search of an entrance.
Thirty feet up, he found a small, rusted passageway—a ventilation duct. Alcurd placed a hand against the sealed vent shaft, closed his eyes, and focused. He could feel the flow of natural energy forming within his body; he felt it drawn from the sky, the wind, the trees, the grass, and even the cold metal of the building.
Slowly gathering this raw energy into his palm, he released it into a controlled, silent burst. The latch to the vent popped open quietly and effectively, and Alcurd made his way inside.
Crawling through the stifling air vent, Alcurd could smell something horrific—a stench of death, suffering, and burnt chemicals. To truly describe the smell was impossible, but Alcurd knew nothing good had ever happened behind these walls.
Closing his eyes again, he focused his acute senses, searching for a signature of natural energy that would give him a lead. He had never failed King Silver, and he didn't plan on starting today.
Suddenly, he felt a powerful, concentrated presence. He inched his way through the shaft toward this energy. It was unlike anything he had felt before: simultaneously human yet distinctly inhuman. It was chaotic, as if it had no control over its output or purpose. This has to be it.
Peering down through a grate, Alcurd looked into a giant, bleak observation room. There was nothing special about the room itself, but what stood in the center demanded attention. It looked like a person, but it was far from it. What stood there was a grotesque animal-human hybrid—its claws sharp, its teeth long and wicked, its skin a sickly, gray color. An energy flowed from it that felt alien and overwhelming.
Alcurd's eyes fixed on the creature, wondering what in the hell he was looking at. For a moment, he forgot his mission and was transfixed on the abomination below him.
Suddenly, giant double doors opened, and twelve men stumbled forward. From the look of their tattered, bloody uniforms, they were a mixture of Ethos and Krimlin soldiers. They looked half-dead, barely able to stand, clutching various makeshift weapons, shaking and scared.
God, what is this? Alcurd thought, his stomach turning.
The men screamed and charged forward, but it was of little use. Within seconds, the creature rushed at blinding speeds, slashing the throats of multiple men in a single strike. It spun, punching a hole clean through another man's chest. One desperate soldier managed to rush the thing and slash his sword across its back, but the blow did little to slow it. The creature simply turned, bit the man's arms right off with a wicked smile on its face, and tossed him aside.
The remaining soldiers stopped dead in their tracks, shocked and paralyzed with fright by the horror they were facing. Alcurd watched in stark disbelief as this thing tore these men apart. This was a squad of trained soldiers, obviously hungry and injured from battle, yet this thing was ripping them apart as if they were helpless children.
Alcurd stared wide-eyed at the carnage. What was this thing? Where had it come from?