2025-10-14 15:12:43Pitch black! That was all I could see. We hardly ever experienced night time here on Vxxrrtoea, and if we did it was for a very short period. In fact, we referred to those periods as The Noir. None of us really knew what it felt like to be in complete darkness. It was a strange feeling. The darkness was so complete, it swallowed all sound, leaving only a hollow ringing in my ears. I tried to open my eyes but they felt very heavy. The massive blow must have done a number on me. Time seemed to have paused and everything was moving in slow motion.
So, I harnessed the power of time, and tried to pull myself up. But, the air was heavy and thick, pressing in on me with an immense weight. Just then, my eyelids opened up a little and soon, sight! I defied the wind, struck my eyelids wide open and braced myself up for the next impact. “Next impact?” I thought to myself. “How about I become the next impact?” I looked Dallaxxs Blaxskn straight in the eye as a derisive smirk formed on my face. He was bigger than me alright and I had lost to him countless times but I wasn't going to let that happen this time.
So, I picked up my vxx-spear and positioned my right leg in front of my left. I could feel the anger growing from within me as I felt the intense heat of the soil beneath my bare feet and then with a very loud cry I charged at him as I held on tight to my vxx-spear. Everything happened so fast. The next thing I remember was a loud thud. Dallaxxs Blaxskn had fallen to the ground. It was a fight to the death and I won.
“Am I dead?” I asked myself. I was so sure that I was or at least that was what it felt like. I had passed out for a moment and in those moments every single second of the last three hours of my life flashed before my eyes. Eventually, I regained consciousness but everywhere went quiet for a few minutes or maybe it was I who had lost my hearing due to the intensity with which Dallaxxs landed on my body. With the last atom of strength in my bones I pushed his lifeless body off from mine and to the ground. He sure generated lots of dust—my whole body was covered in it.
I smiled to myself, “I won!” I couldn't believe it. I actually beat this large overbearing beast. The crowd was still silent, not a single sound could be heard. It was almost as though they had been frozen in time. I guess they thought I was dead as well. I mean that was the school of thought then. No one could ever beat Dallaxxs Blaxskn in a combat. It was either he crushed you to pieces or you both end up dead—and of course you'd be considered more dead than him. It was then I realized that I had to stand up.
I tried to get on my feet a couple of times but my strength failed me. After a lot more attempts, I finally stood up. I pulled out my vxx-spear which was locked between Dallaxxs’ eyes and deep into his skull, swiped a good quantity of his blood with my right hand and smeared it across my forehead. In Vxxtorrea, nothing spells victory more than the mark of your opponent’s blood on your forehead. We believe it carries with it their fear and eventual defeat. With a loud roar I lifted the spear towards the sky and immediately the crowd went wild.
I had never heard anything more melodious than the chants of a happy crowd and the continuous beating of drums in my honor. The rhythm of the drums—deep, resonant and thunderous—throbbed in my chest. The chants rose and fell like waves, each voice joining a chorus of praise. It was a language of triumph, a powerful, rhythmic cry that echoed off the cliffs and across the jungle canopy, turning the very air into a living thing.
The happiness of the crowd was indeed a palpable force. I saw it in the ecstatic smiles and the flashing eyes of the people and my fellow young male vxx as they beat their hands against their chests and their spears against their shields.
This wasn't just any combat; it was the penultimate trial of four wicked trials. At the end of which a number of us, young male vxx would be chosen to join the Liberated Liions. It was every boy's dream growing up—to be among the glorified ranks of the Liberated Liions.
The Liberated Liions are not just an army; they are the living embodiment of Vxxtorrean honor, a fighting force composed of the most resilient and formidable warriors the planet has to offer. They are the Vxxtorrean elite, forged in the fires of the Crucible of Vxx, and the sole guardians of their people. They are the pride of every clan, the stuff of legend, and the future of Vxxtorrea.
This particular trial had just ushered me and the rest of us who had successfully passed this stage into our final trial. The chants began again, a thunderous rythmic pulse that rose from the crowd. Only this time, it was my name. Kaelen! Kaelen! Kaelen! As they chanted my name, I couldn't help but recount every detail of my most recent victory. The feel of the soil beneath my feet as I charged at Dallaxxs, the triumphant smear of blood on my forehead and the deafening thud as his body hit the ground.
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CHAPTER 14: EXILE FROM THE HEARTH
My aunt’s door remained shut, but I could feel her disappointment pressing on the wall like a physical force. Then I saw my uncle. He stood outside his workshop—a grizzled, quiet man whose rare approval meant everything to me. He watched me approach, his face a desolate mask of grief. As I drew level with him, his eyes, usually kind, hardened into chips of black granite. He met my gaze for a long, aching moment. Then, slowly, deliberately, he turned his back on me, walking into his workshop and pulling the heavy wooden door shut with a resounding thud.It was a physical blow that staggered me, a pain worse than any venom. He hadn’t just turned his back on me; he had extinguished my presence. I couldn't endure it. I couldn't live with the guilt and the unanswered condemnation. Ignoring the armed guards and the cold command in JD’s posture, I broke ranks. I ran to the back of my aunt's house, my legs burning with a fresh, desperate adrenaline. I shoved the familiar door open and stu
CHAPTER 13: EXECUTION BY JUDGMENT
The transit vehicle was a cage, armored and utterly black inside. I was slumped on a cold, unforgiving bench, fighting the constant urge to vomit. The metallic, bitter taste of the venom residue still coated my mouth like old pennies. My muscles were in revolt, not just tired, but actively spasming—a relentless tremor beneath my skin, like a thousand trapped needles. The ringing in my ears wasn't just loud; it was a high-pitched, mocking whine that blocked out everything real. My head felt like a bruised melon, thrumming with a headache that felt capable of splitting my skull.I tried to breathe—a simple, basic function—but my lungs burned. Every cell in my body felt violated, scraped clean. The swamp hadn't just drained my strength; it had stolen my ability to feel anything but this raw, awful emptiness. I was a man held together by pure, desperate, exhausted will. JD Blaxskn sat across from me, motionless and immaculate. He didn't look at me, but I felt his scrutiny, cold and clin
CHAPTER 12: UNTETHERED
We were moving out of the tent, heading toward the temporary storage area, when a body slammed into mine, sending a shockwave through me that nearly knocked me off my feet. I looked up and was met by the cold, unforgiving eyes of Jax Anvil. His stare had always been distant, but this was different. This was a message. And I understood it perfectly, without a single word being spoken. He blamed me for Titus's death. Jax let out a low, gruff huff, then looked away. A chilling feeling ran down my spine, confirming the unspoken accusation. He’s right. I am responsible for his death. My guilt twisted the moment, telling me Jax's pain was proof of my treachery.I found myself near the storage sacks, unable to move. I was lost in thoughts. I could not lift a finger to pack anything. All I did was sit still and observed an ant try to drag a grain of millet over to its layer. The ant struggled, slipped, righted itself, and hauled the grain again, its tiny effort immense. I saw myself in its
CHAPTER 11: A LINE ON THE LEDGER
I didn't run. I couldn't afford the panic. I walked, rigid and cold, toward the faint, sickly green glow of the trial marker. Every step was a forced act of will, driven by the ruthless core of the Silurix discipline: cunning ensures life. My boots squelched on the fungal mat, but the sound was distant, muffled by the ringing in my ears—a fading echo of Titus’s final agony.The marker was an ancient, rough-hewn stump, its wood covered in bioluminescent moss and the crudely carved sigil of the Liberated Liions. I reached out a trembling hand and pressed my palm against the cool, damp surface. The sigil flashed, a brief, silent affirmation that the trial was complete. I had survived. I had won.The moment the sigil flared, the oppressive silence of the swamp was ripped away. The heavy, sweet, intoxicating mist began to thin, pulled back by powerful, unseen vents hidden in the canopy. The sounds of the outside world—the distant, metallic hum of Victoria's machinery—rushed back in, ra
CHAPTER 10: TITUS! (II)
The Crucible was engineered to break you down, not just with impossible physical feats, but with relentless, gnawing hunger. Every meal was the same tasteless, lukewarm protein paste. They wanted us hollowed out, easier to fill with their dogma.But Titus was the only one who fought the hunger with laughter.“Look at that slop, Nox,” he’d grumble, kicking his boots in the dirt. “If I fed this to a stray dog back home, my mother would whip me.”Titus came from the wealthy Anvil clan; I came from the Silurix alleys, raised by the back of the palms of my aunt and uncle. Yet, the hunger made us equals. And the Instructors’ Mess Hall, forever wafting the rich, forbidden scent of spiced meat and dark sugar, became our common enemy."We need a distraction," he whispered that night in the barracks, the hunger making his voice tight. "They’re too paranoid to let anyone near that kitchen. They guard against strength, but they don't anticipate cunning."The mess hall ran on a main methane l
CHAPTER 9: A FINAL STEP SIDEWAYS
The sound arrived like a physical blow.It wasn't a roar of battle or a challenge; it was a pure, high-pitched shriek of sheer agony and terror, instantly recognizable, instantly wrong. It cut through the insulating silence of the swamp like a razor across velvet.Titus!The name tore through the haze of the hallucinogenic venom. All the spectral images—the disappointed faces of my aunt and uncle, the silent, judging figure of Titus—vanished. The mist, for one terrifying second, cleared enough for brutal reality to flood in. Titus was close. Too close. And he wasn't fighting the hallucinations; he was being torn apart. I had seen the sign. I had seen his image but I thought it was the swamp playing tricks on me. I ignored it.Now that I had realized how reckless I had been, my feet moved before my mind could process it. A rush of pure, raw instinct—Friend. Danger! Save him! I plunged forward, heedless of the terrain, ripping through hanging moss that stung my skin. I could hear
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