Godslayer's Legacy

Kael tore through the thick undergrowth of Blackwood Forest, his feet pounding against the damp earth. Branches snagged at his clothes, and the sharp claws of brambles scraped his skin as if the forest was conspiring to slow him down.

The forest's silence pressed in on him, broken only by his ragged breathing and the occasional snap of a twig beneath his boots.

Every muscle screamed for rest, but fear drove him forward. He had been running for hours, and though exhaustion weighed heavily on his limbs, he knew stopping wasn't an option. Not with the Divine Chosen on his trail. If they caught him, there would be no mercy.

"Godslayer..." he muttered under his breath, the word a bitter echo in his mind. It felt foreign, like a title that didn't belong to him. "What does that even mean? What am I supposed to do?"

There were no answers—only more questions clouding his thoughts as the trees pressed tighter. He had no plan, no direction. All Kael knew was that the Divine Chosen would be relentless, and if they found him, he would be hunted like an animal.

His thoughts drifted to Edrin, the small village he had fled just hours before. Had the Divine Chosen already descended on it? Had they punished the villagers for his escape?

A knot of guilt twisted in his stomach. He could only hope his flight had drawn their attention, leaving his Uncle Gregor, Aunt Rhea, and Amna safe behind him.

"I won't let them suffer for me," Kael whispered, gritting his teeth. "Come on... come after me. Leave them alone."

He pushed through the pain, ignoring the burn in his legs and the stitch in his side. The fear gnawed at him, but his determination kept him going.

With each passing moment, his resolve hardened. He had to lead them away, buy himself time to determine what came next. But the question lingered: What was his purpose now?

"Titan..." The word tasted strange on his tongue, as though it carried an ancient weight. "Why me?"

The forest deepened around him, the trees growing taller and denser, their branches intertwining like a canopy that swallowed the last traces of sunlight.

Only faint slivers of light broke through, casting long shadows across the path. The air grew cooler, and the earthy scent of moss mixed with the dampness of the soil.

Panting, Kael glanced over his shoulder, half-expecting to see the Divine Chosen emerging from the darkness. The images of their divine warriors filled his mind—imposing figures sent to enforce the gods' will. But the path behind him was empty, only shadows moving with the wind.

Still, his instincts screamed that they were close. His heart raced faster with each passing second.

'What do I even know about the Titans?' he wondered, a cold chill settling into his bones. 'Barely anything. Just stories. Old tales that even Amna treats like fantasies.'

And yet, he had seen the truth. Felt the power. The visions of the ancient battle, the betrayal, and the fall of the Titans seemed like a dream, but the power coursing through his veins reminded him it was real.

But how was he supposed to live up to that legacy? He didn't know how to wield this newfound strength, and every second he hesitated, the danger loomed closer. Failure wasn't an option.

Kael's thoughts flickered to his family—his Uncle Gregor at the forge, his Aunt Rhea in the village square, and Amna, always at his side, always with a story ready. What would happen to them if the Divine Chosen caught him? He couldn't let their lives be destroyed because of him.

The weight of that responsibility pressed down on him, suffocating in its intensity. He had to keep running, but where? Where could he possibly go to escape the wrath of the gods?

Exhausted, Kael stumbled to a halt, leaning against the rough bark of a towering oak. His chest heaved with every breath, his vision swimming from fatigue. Bent over, hands on his knees, he felt the tremors of fear run through his body.

The forest was too quiet. Even the birds, which usually called the woods their home, were absent. There wasn't so much as a whisper of wind through the branches.

"You can't stay here," he whispered to himself. "You have to keep moving."

But as he pushed himself away from the tree and staggered forward, a sound stopped him. A soft rustling from the bushes—barely audible, but there. Kael froze, his blood running cold.

The rustling came again, louder this time. Something was moving, creeping toward him through the underbrush.

His heart raced as his hand instinctively touched the small knife at his belt. It wasn't much—just a crude blade he had carried for years—but it was all he had right now. His fingers tightened around the hilt, his knuckles turning white as he slowly pulled it free.

"What do I do if it's them?" Kael muttered, his voice barely above a whisper. "I can't fight them. I'm not even sure I can keep running."

The rustling grew louder, and Kael's eyes darted through the darkness, trying to pinpoint the source of the sound. But the dense trees and shadows made it impossible. Whatever was stalking him, it was hidden well.

A chill ran down Kael's spine, and the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. He wasn't alone.

"Please, don't let it be them," Kael whispered, his voice trembling.

His body shook uncontrollably, a mix of fear and exhaustion making it hard to focus. Every instinct screamed at him to run, but where? There was no clear path, no way forward or back.

Then, the rustling stopped. Silence returned to the forest, thicker and more oppressive than before.

Kael held his breath, gripping the knife so tightly his hand ached. His eyes scanned the trees, his heart pounding in his chest. And then, out of the darkness, a figure emerged.

At first, it was nothing more than a shadow, barely distinguishable from the surrounding trees. But as it moved closer, stepping into a faint beam of light, Kael saw a tall, slender figure draped in black, a sword gleaming at its side.

The figure moved with an eerie grace, each step silent as it glided over the forest floor, more shadow than substance.

Kael's heart skipped a beat, his stomach knotting with fear. He instinctively took a step back, his thoughts racing. There was something deeply unsettling about the figure, something unnatural in how it moved.

"Who... who are you?" Kael stammered, his voice barely a whisper. He didn't expect an answer, but the question slipped out in desperation.

The figure stopped, its head tilting slightly as though listening to Kael's trembling words. For a heartbeat, Kael hoped it might pass him by, that he could somehow remain hidden. But the hope was fleeting.

"You can't hide from me," the figure said, its voice cold and smooth, like silk wrapped around a blade. "I know you're there."

Kael's heart pounded in his chest. The voice sent a chill through his veins—a calm, predatory sound dripping with malice. The figure took another step forward, its eyes fixed on Kael.

"Come out," the figure taunted, a twisted smile playing at its lips. "It'll be easier if you don't make me chase you."

Terror gripped Kael, freezing him in place. His hands shook, the knife trembling in his grip. He could feel his pulse racing, his breaths coming faster and shallower. There was no way out.

But before the figure could close the distance, something changed. The rustling returned, but this time, it wasn't the enemy. A smaller figure, faster than the shadows themselves, emerged from the darkness with lightning speed.

Kael barely had time to register the newcomer before a blade cut through the air, striking at the figure stalking him.

"What—!" The figure recoiled, barely able to react as the newcomer lunged forward, delivering a powerful strike.

The clash of swords rang through the forest, a sharp metallic sound that shattered the oppressive silence. Kael watched in stunned disbelief as the two figures moved with blinding speed, their blades a blur of motion.

The newcomer—a woman, smaller but just as swift—pressed the attack, her movements fluid and precise. Her opponent struggled to keep up, his defenses faltering under the relentless onslaught.

"He's not yours to take!" the woman shouted in a defiantly sharp voice.

The enemy, gritting his teeth, tried to regain control, but the woman was too quick. She struck with a swift twist of her blade, the blow landing with precision.

"Arghhh!" The figure gasped, stumbling back as blood dripped from the wound. He clutched his side, his sword slipping from his grip.

The woman didn't hesitate. With a final, powerful strike, she drove her blade deep into the enemy's chest. The figure collapsed to the ground with a strangled gasp, his body going limp as his last breath escaped him.

Kael stood frozen, his eyes wide with shock. He had never seen such skill, such speed. His mind raced, trying to process what had just happened.

The woman turned, her gaze falling on Kael. "Get up," she said, her voice calm but firm. "Run now.

Kael swallowed hard, still gripping the knife as if it could protect him. But he knew, deep down, that this was just the beginning.