Veldra moved through them passively, dispassionately, unknowingly. With every unknowable step, every blink, every pulse of the world itself, another person died.
It was not that no one tried to fight back, to resist, or even to cry out for help. They did all of that. They screamed, they struggled, they prayed. But it was rendered meaningless by Insanity. Insanity crept, destroyed, devoured, and erased. Even if help was called for, even if hope was grasped with bleeding hands, it dissolved into misfortune and silence. Once Insanity fixed its gaze upon someone, the ending was already written.
Then others arrived.
They were different.
Twenty-six figures descended, clad in white-golden armor that reflected the world like polished divinity. Swords hung at their sides, blades sharp enough to fracture sunlight itself. Halos hovered above their heads, radiant and orderly, brilliant enough to blind mortals, yet painfully visible to Insanity.
The leader stepped forward.
He had purple eyes, clear and cold, and white hair that fell neatly upon his shoulders. His face was beautiful in the way only those far removed from humanity could be, refined, distant, untouchable. The armor he wore fitted him perfectly, as if the concept of authority itself had been shaped into metal.
"I order you to stop at once," he said.
They formed a wall before Veldra, cutting off his path, their presence heavy with judgment and absolute confidence.
Veldra tilted his head, unknowingly, sorrow flickering faintly through the void. For a heartbeat, perhaps a fragment of his consciousness stirred, fragile and fleeting. Then it vanished, crushed beneath something far deeper.
He spoke.
"Mortals of futile origins and purposeless fate, remove your eyes and feet from this place, if you fear death."
The leader froze for a moment.
Then he laughed.
It was loud, unrestrained, and sharp enough to wound the air itself. The others followed, laughter cascading behind him, not joyful, but final, the laughter of those who believed themselves untouchable.
Insanity drifted beside Veldra.
It was invisible, unseen, yet its presence warped everything around it, bending thought, distorting intention. It leaned closer, attentive, almost amused.
"Oh please," the leader scoffed, wiping a tear of mirth from his eye. "A madman like you dares to stand against the Holy Order?"
"Madman, prepare for death!" he shouted.
They all charged at Veldra, blades screaming as they tore through the air, cruel speed folding distance into nothing as swords aimed for his throat, halos blazing with borrowed divinity, white-gold armor flashing like false stars descending upon a silent void.
Veldra tilted his head again, this time filled with disappointment, a quiet, almost gentle sorrow passing through his empty gaze, and then-
Insanity moved.
It crept into their thoughts first, scattering them like blasted pieces of a shadowed mirror, each fragment reflecting a different nightmare, a different lie, a different memory that never existed, then it slid deeper, coiling into their minds and filling them with disastrous words that had no language, no meaning, only intent, feeding upon their sanity, upon every fragile hope they had ever clung to, upon the certainty that they were chosen, righteous, protected.
They stumbled, yet still ran.
Their halos began to dissolve, melting into dark, smoky water that dripped upward instead of falling, and soon their bodies followed, armour, flesh, and bone losing distinction as everything turned slick, gelatinous, unanchored by gravity, unable to hold shape or purpose, while a sickening scent washed over the battlefield like perfume, sweet and rotting at once, bleaching them of reality itself, stripping away memory, identity, and the very idea of form.
Then the spirit came next.
It twisted into spiralling vortices of disorder as black, swelling worms elongated and crawled from where souls should have been, blood flowing smoothly from bodies that no longer knew they were dying, calm and steady like a quiet river beneath a starless sky, until even that motion lost meaning, until the soul itself vanished.
And for three seconds, only three, they experienced false joy, impossible hope, radiant victories, imaginary futures that favoured them, worlds where they were still holy, still alive, still triumphant.
Then it all went silent.
The leader himself was swallowed whole.
His purple eyes collapsed inward, light draining from them as his vision blurred, his consciousness folding in on itself like a dying star, until at last his lids closed, slow and heavy, and he fell with a deep, hollow thud that echoed far longer than it should have.
Veldra laughed.
It was hysterical, almost maniacal, an evil sound bursting from him unrestrained, soaked in the full glory of Insanity.