We were ready to fight. We weren't the strongest team to drive them out and wipe them out, but it had to be done—and with Lesky and Deepa both wielding fire, we could at least deal some serious damage to our enemies.
Before attacking, we had scouted the area. I went with Amr, who erased the memories of a few raiders patrolling around their base. We circled the village at a safe distance to avoid being noticed. A barrier made of wood and steel surrounded the center of the village, where the raiders had holed up. We counted about thirty of them, armed to the teeth—mostly with firearms.
We returned to the group, shared what we'd discovered, and drew up a plan. Lesky and Deepa would attack head-on, blasting flames to distract them, while Deodat, Amr, Senga, and I would strike from the rear. Everyone agreed.
We all took our positions. My hand rested on my sword, Amr's on his, while Deodat gripped his pistol. Senga held a scythe, but it looked unlike anything I'd ever seen—probably something futuristic, conjured thanks to her Deadhorse heritage.
In the distance, smoke rose into the sky. Lesky and Deepa had already begun turning the camp to ashes. That was our signal to enter. I drew my sword, Amr did the same, staying close beside me. Suddenly, we ran into a few raiders fleeing from the burning side of the base. They didn't last long—I ran one through with my blade. Amr struggled against a bigger opponent, but Deodat saved him with a bullet between the man's eyes. Senga was terrifying—her scythe's blade had transformed into a beam of pure energy, slicing through bodies with ease.
We cut down more enemies without much trouble. I didn't know how Lesky and Deepa were faring, but I imagined they were holding their own. When we reached the center of the village, two figures stood before us—Sylvaris, elves from Dalfor. That wasn't what I expected. They looked too old to be participants. One was a male elf with cyan-blue hair, dressed in a rich uniform, an eyepatch covering one eye. The other, a female elf with a rather full chest, wore maid clothing.
They didn't look dangerous—but something felt off. I glanced at Amr.
"…Something's wrong with them… don't you think?"
Senga nodded, gripping her scythe tighter.
"Sonya… deal with the two troublemakers and their fire magic…"
The elf maid nodded obediently—like she really was his servant. The older Sylvaris stepped forward.
"My name is Gleb… and I'll be your opponent. You dared attack us—now pay the price."
Deodat raised his pistol at Gleb, ready to fire, though I sensed his hesitation in the way he held it. I had seen my aunt Mikki hold a pistol with true confidence—this wasn't it.
"You killed so many people!" he shouted, outraged.
Gleb only chuckled arrogantly. "Sonya and I are not just anyone. Don't underestimate us, children."
Deodat pulled the trigger, the shot aimed straight for Gleb's head—but the elf dodged. In the same instant, he drew his own pistol and fired back, hitting Deodat in the stomach.
"Deo!" Senga cried out, panic in her voice.
Gleb raised his voice, calm and cold. "…I hereby declare you… guilty of murder. Face judgment."
An aura flared around him, unnatural and menacing. He drew a long, elegant sword and lunged at me. I managed to block the first strike, then the second, but he didn't let up—blow after blow, no time to breathe. How could someone this old be so powerful? Elf or not, this was brutal. Amr rushed to my aid, but Gleb kicked him in the stomach, sending him sprawling with a cry of pain.
I barely held my ground under Gleb's relentless assault. Then, from the corner of my eye, I saw Sonya return—with the battered bodies of Lesky and Deepa. They'd been utterly defeated. How? Both of them wielded fire—how could they have lost so badly?
I didn't know how Deodat and Senga were faring, but I assumed Senga was tending to his wound.
Suddenly, when Gleb struck again, he hesitated. I didn't know why, but that tiny lapse gave me the opening I needed. I destabilized him, seizing the advantage, and for the first time I pressed the attack.
"Master!" Sonya cried, moving to assist—but Deepa, barely standing, hurled a fireball at her face, forcing her back. Lesky rose to her feet too, weak but unyielding.
Even so, Gleb began to push me back again. But once more, something distracted him—another lapse. I seized the chance, severing the hand that held his sword. Disarmed, he staggered. I drove my blade into his chest. He collapsed.
This time… it was real. I had killed a conscious being. No vanishing corpse—just a body, pale and lifeless, blood soaking through his chest. My sword slipped from my grasp and clattered to the ground. My vision blurred. Why? What was happening to me? I fell to my knees, gasping for breath, my eyes fixed on Gleb's corpse.
It felt like hours passed as I stared at him—until Amr's hand touched my shoulder.
"…Roxy? Are you okay?"
I shook my head quickly. Of course I wasn't. This wasn't a game anymore—it was reality, brutal and raw. I swallowed back a sob and looked around. Sonya lay dead, burned to ash. Lesky and Deepa stood nearby, shaken.
Behind me, Deodat had gotten back on his feet, his wound bandaged.
"I didn't think it would end like this," he muttered, his voice hollow. His hand pressed against his stomach, pain clear on his face—both physical and emotional.
Lesky stepped closer and hugged me. My face grew warm, and I wrapped my arms around her in return.
"It'll be okay, Roxy… we're here for you."
I nodded, then glanced at Amr. He was right—I wasn't alone. That thought dulled the weight of killing Gleb.
"But… they were strong," I said. "Strong like Babylonians."
Senga nodded. "Yes. Very strange."
Amr only shrugged. "We can talk about it later… around a fire."
I nodded silently, but my eyes drifted to Gleb's severed hand. A tattoo was etched into his skin. Something about it tugged at my memory, but I couldn't recall its meaning.
Deodat broke my thoughts. "What do you think, Roxy? Should we camp nearby tonight?"
"Uhh… yeah, good idea…"
We scavenged the village, finding some food and clothes. I felt uneasy—these had belonged to innocent villagers, stolen from them. Weren't we just looters too? No—that was a stupid thought. Really stupid.
We left the raiders' base behind, traveling a few kilometers before making camp. Around the fire, we spoke of random things, letting ourselves forget, if only briefly. I learned more about Amr—who had always seemed so cold and reserved. But here, he was almost… sweet. He spoke endlessly about flowers he loved. I never would have imagined his dream was to become a florist.
I learned more about Senga and Deepa too. Senga had once been a drug dealer, arrested multiple times. Lesky asked if it bothered her to be with Deodat, but she said no—despite hating cops, she thought Deodat was a good one. Deepa, on the other hand, dreamed of becoming an entomologist. She loved insects and nature, and her parents were well-known in the world of biology.
After that long talk, I finally drifted off to sleep.
Then I woke up somewhere else—I was back in the burning village. Sonya and Gleb, the ones we had just fought, stood there, and Dena appeared right behind me.
"Congratulations, Roxy, your parents would be proud of you."
I blinked. "Why?"
"Your alliance just killed two Martyrs!"
"You're telling me… those two Sylvaris… were Martyrs?!"
"I can confirm it. I imagine you recognized the tattoo on their hands."
I nodded. I knew that mark looked familiar. That group—the ones who had kidnapped me and planned to use me as a test subject for who knows what. They were also my parents' sworn enemies: dangerous, scheming, and some of them even capable of manipulating people through strange songs.
"But… Martyrs aren't supposed to have powers like that, are they?"
Dena nodded slowly. "Exactly! Good observation. What you just killed, Roxy, wasn't just a Martyr, but a Disciple."
"A… Disciple?"
"When the First Deadhorse awakened, he granted blessings to the Martyrs: immortality, and the same powers bestowed upon the Babylonians. Now that their original purpose has been fulfilled, they've become independent—but they still serve the Deadhorse whenever they're given a mission."
"So… what did we just fight?"
"The maid was a Disciple of the Sun, and Gleb was a Disciple of Judgment."
I nodded slowly. "Do you have anything else to tell me?"
She shook her head. "No… I understand you're heading toward the Realm of Davidova, but be careful…"
"What could possibly happen that's so horrible there?"
"I'd tell you, but my time is growing shorter and shorter… I'll explain more later. Good luck."
And once again, I fell back asleep.
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Lore informations
Gleb : A 231 year old Sylvaris who is the heir of the Ittelwood family, a noble family of Sylvaris known to have served as a ship admiral. After joining the Martyrs, he leaves for Sano with her maid to control a groupe of pillager. He comes from Leoris and is a disciple of the100th deadhorse : Judgement
Urteel : The deadhorse of judgement. He seek a heir who can stay neutral and judges peoples on their acts. Their heir have the power to judge someone, making them stronger depending the amount of crime they made
Sonya : A 132 year old female from Leoris, she is a disciple of the sun. She is part of the martyrs along with her master and she took on a group of looters with her master.
Sonn : The deadhorse of the sun. They seek a heir who can let the sun shine on their body without end. Their heirs have the power to manipulate fire and they are stronger during the day
Sylvaris : Sylvaris are from Dalfor and they can reach 1m90 and can live up to 1000 years, they have pointy ears, pale skin and they look graceful and elegant.They lives in harmony with the forest and it's animal, they are organised in different caste. Their towns are in very big trees. They have exceptional hearing and eyesights.They are often seen as Artists, poets, philosophers or mages
Disciples : The disciples are members of the martyrs who have been part of helping the deadhorses arises thanks to their schemes. They all got a benediction from a deadhorse and are now immortal beings. They are pretty free to do anything they want but have to obey their deadhorses if they have a mission for them
Martyrs : The Martyrs are a terrorist and secret group trying to revive the deadhorses. They have a firm believe that they are the only gods who should rule the world. After awakening the first deadhorse, they gain power and fought against the heroes sent by the Gods