Chapter 13 Ashes Don’t Stay Buried
Darius stood in the middle of the village square, black mist swirling thickly around his towering frame. The surviving kingdom soldiers had fled into the trees, leaving behind their dead and wounded. The crackle of burning buildings filled the silence, mixing with the soft sobs of the villagers who remained on their knees.
He took one slow step forward. Several people scrambled backward in terror.
“Stay back!” a young mother cried, shielding her child behind her. “Please… we’ve suffered enough today.”
Darius stopped. He looked down at his clawed hands, still dripping with fresh blood, then at the frightened faces staring up at him. “I am not here to harm you,” he rasped, trying to soften the unnatural double tone in his voice. “The soldiers who did this are gone.”
Rhen appeared at his side, wiping his blade. “Easy, Commander. They’re scared half to death. Can’t blame them.”
Vael stood a few paces back, a silent wall of muscle and bone, his presence alone making some villagers press themselves against the ground.
Darius tried again. He knelt slowly beside an injured old woman who had been struck by a soldier earlier. “Let me help you up.”
The moment his clawed hand reached for her, she shrieked and crawled away. “Monster! Stay away from me!”
Children burst into loud crying at the sight of his skull-like face and glowing green sockets. One little boy pointed and screamed, “Demon! The demon killed the soldiers!”
Darius froze. The words cut deeper than any sword. He had saved them, yet they feared him more than the men who had come to execute them. He rose slowly, black mist curling around his bone-plated shoulders.
“I was once like you,” he said, voice low. “A commander who fought for this kingdom. They betrayed me. Left me for dead. I crawled out of their grave to stop this kind of slaughter.”
A few villagers exchanged fearful glances. One man, braver than the rest, spoke up with a trembling voice. “You… you look like death itself. If you’re truly here to help, then leave us. Your kind brings only more curses.”
Rhen stepped closer to Darius. “See? They don’t want saviors who look like nightmares. We should move before more soldiers come.”
But Darius didn’t move. He scanned the square, taking in the bodies of executed villagers, the burning homes, and the terrified survivors. Something inside his hollow chest twisted. The old commander’s instincts were still there, fighting against the growing hunger of the System.
\[Massacre of Holy Crown forces recorded.\]
\[Necromantic reward unlocked.\]
\[New ability: Soul Echo – Temporary resurrection of recent dead (limited duration).\]
\[New ability: Aura of Dread – Passive fear amplification on living beings.\]
The messages flooded his mind, bringing a cold rush of power. Darius felt the new abilities settle into his core like fresh ice. He could feel the lingering souls of the dead soldiers around him, waiting to be called. The power felt good. Too good.
He extended his hand toward one fallen villager, testing the new ability. Dark energy flowed from his palm. The corpse twitched once, eyes flickering open with faint green light for a few seconds before collapsing again.
The villagers gasped in horror.
“See?” a woman wailed. “He raises the dead! We’re all going to be cursed!”
Darius clenched his fist and stopped the flow of power. “I’m trying to help,” he growled, frustration bleeding into his voice. “I slaughtered the men who burned your homes. I gave you a chance to live.”
A young girl, no older than eight, peeked out from behind her father and started sobbing uncontrollably at the sight of his face. “Make the monster go away, Papa…”
The words hit Darius harder than he expected. He turned away, shoulders tense. Rhen placed a hand on his arm.
“Commander, this is what you are now. They’ll never see the man you used to be. Only the Hollow King they’ll tell stories about.”
Vael remained silent, but his massive presence seemed to press the fear even deeper into the villagers. Some began praying desperately to the Radiant Veil for protection from the very being who had saved them.
Darius walked slowly through the square, his aura causing more people to shrink away. He stopped near a dying elder leaning against a broken well, blood staining his simple tunic. The old man’s breathing was shallow, but his eyes were sharp with recognition.
Darius knelt beside him carefully, keeping his claws away. “You don’t have to fear me. Tell me what happened here. Why did they attack your village?”
The elder coughed weakly, blood flecking his lips. With surprising strength, he reached out and grabbed Darius’s wrist. His fingers trembled against the cold, hardened skin.
“If you truly are Commander Voss…” the elder whispered, voice barely audible, “then they lied about your wife too.”
Darius’s glowing sockets flared brighter. “What? What do you know about her? Tell me!”
The elder’s grip tightened for a moment, his eyes desperate, but then his strength failed. His hand slipped from Darius’s wrist and fell limply to the ground. His chest rose once more, then stilled forever.
Darius remained kneeling, staring at the dead elder. The words echoed in his hollow chest, stirring the locked memories and the pain that always followed.
Rhen stepped closer. “Commander?”
Vael watched silently, waiting.
Darius rose slowly, black mist thickening around him like a storm. The villagers’ fear, the new powers, and now this dying man’s final words, everything was pushing him forward.
The legend of the Hollow King had begun.