Chapter 22 Supply Line Massacre
Darius crouched on the ridge overlooking the mountain pass, black mist curling around his bone-plated shoulders. Below, a heavily guarded royal supply caravan wound its way along the narrow road like a golden snake. Twenty wagons loaded with weapons, food, and sealed crates. Forty soldiers in Holy Crown armor. Five knights on horseback. Perfect.
“Now,” he whispered.
Vael charged first. The massive thrall burst from the trees like an avalanche, slamming into the lead wagon with earth-shaking force. Wood splintered. Horses screamed. Soldiers shouted in panic as Vael’s axe carved through three men in a single swing.
Darius leaped from the ridge, landing in the middle of the column. His claws flashed. A knight’s head rolled across the dirt before the man even finished drawing his sword. Black mist exploded outward, sowing confusion and terror among the living.
“Ambush!” a captain roared. “It’s the Hollow King! Form ranks!”
Rhen darted through the chaos like a ghost, his blade opening throats with surgical precision. “Told you this route was vulnerable,” he called out, laughing dryly as he ducked under a desperate spear thrust.
Darius moved like death itself. Every strike was faster, harder, more efficient than the last. He no longer hesitated. He no longer calculated honorably. He simply killed. A soldier raised his shield, Darius tore through it and the arm behind it. Another tried to flee, he caught him by the neck and snapped it with casual strength.
The battle was over in minutes.
As the last knight fell gurgling, Darius stood amid the carnage, breathing steady though he needed no air. Blood coated his claws and bone plating. The metallic scent filled his senses. And for the first time since rising, something dark inside him stirred with pleasure.
He had smiled during the slaughter.
Rhen approached slowly, wiping his blade clean. “Commander… you smiled back there. When you tore that knight’s throat out. I saw it.”
Darius turned, glowing green sockets narrowing. “And?”
Rhen hesitated, then stepped closer. “You’re enjoying this too much. The old you fought because it was necessary. Now… it looks like you’re starting to like the killing. That throne is changing you faster every day.”
Darius looked down at his bloodied claws. The thrill of the hunt still hummed in his veins. The predator inside him wanted more. “Good,” he said coldly. “The kingdom taught me mercy once. They repaid it with betrayal. I won’t make that mistake again.”
Vael began dragging bodies into neat piles, preparing them for harvesting. The surviving thralls moved efficiently among the wagons, unloading supplies and checking for anything useful.
Darius walked through the wreckage, inspecting the cargo. Weapons. Armor. Food stores. Sealed crates marked with the Radiant Veil symbol. He tore one open and froze.
Inside were chained prisoners. Men, women, even a few teenagers. Their wrists and ankles were bound with holy-warded manacles. Their eyes widened in terror at the sight of him.
One older man, face bruised and bloody, stared at Darius with sudden recognition. His voice cracked as he whispered, “Commander Voss…? Gods above… you died protecting us at Blackridge Pass. I was there. I saw you fall…”
The prisoner’s voice rose into a desperate scream. “You died protecting us!”
The words hit Darius like a blade to the chest. The other prisoners began murmuring, some crying, some staring in awe and horror at the monster who now stood before them.
Darius stepped closer, towering over the chained man. “I did die. And now I live again. Tell me why the Crown is sending you to the Radiant Veil.”
But the prisoner only stared, tears cutting through the blood on his face. “You… you were our hero…”
Rhen moved up beside Darius, voice low. “They were probably labeled as traitors or sympathizers. The Order collects people like this for their experiments.”
Darius looked at the chained prisoners, then at the mountain of supplies and corpses around them. The predator inside him wanted to raise them all. The fading commander inside him remembered what it meant to protect.
He clenched his bloody fist.
The line between the two was growing thinner every day.