Chapter 21: The Crimson Eclipse
The destruction of Oakhaven was not a ripple; it was a tidal wave that crashed against the marble gates of the Iron Spire. In the Capital, the smell of burning wheat was felt not in the air, but in the panic of the stock markets and the fury of the Emperor.
Alexander Milov didn't wait for them to recover. He was already deep in the Black Woods, a forest where the trees were petrified by centuries of dark magic and the soil was perpetually damp with something thicker than water. He sat in the center of a clearing, the Black Amulet hovering inches above his palm, radiating a Void-Black Aura that sucked the very moonlight out of the sky.
"They are coming, Alexander," Elena whispered, stepping out of the shadows. Her aura was jagged, flickering like a dying candle. "The Emperor has unleashed the 'Hounds of Silence.' They aren't men anymore. They are biological weapons, fed on the blood of traitors and bound by iron spells."
Alexander didn't open his eyes. Through his Aura Vision, he could see them—five miles away, moving with a speed that defied physics. Five streaks of Vomit-Grey and Blood-Red energy, cutting through the forest like saws through bone.
"Let them come," Alexander's voice was a tectonic shift, deep and terrifying. "The Emperor thinks he is sending hunters. He doesn't realize he is just delivering more souls to my furnace."
[The Slaughter in the Woods]
The first Hound arrived not with a sound, but with the scent of ozone and rotting meat. It was a creature that was once a man, now encased in a rusted iron exoskeleton, its eyes replaced by glowing blue lenses. It carried a jagged chain-sword that revved with a demonic hunger.
Without a word, the creature lunged. It was a blur of steel and malice.
Alexander didn't draw his sword. He stood up, and as the chain-sword reached his neck, he caught the blade with his bare hand. The silver aura around his palm shrieked as it ground against the vibrating metal, sparks flying like dying stars.
"Is this the best the Empire can offer?" Alexander hissed, his eyes glowing with a predatory Silver. "Mechanical toys for a godless throne?"
He tightened his grip. The iron blade shattered into a thousand shards. With a brutal efficiency, Alexander plunged his hand into the creature's chest, ripping out the glowing core that powered its suit. The "Hound" collapsed, its aura vanishing into a puff of grey smoke.
Then, the other four arrived simultaneously.
The clearing became a vortex of violence. Alexander was no longer a man; he was a Storm of Vengeance. He used his Aura Vision to see the "Internal Gears" of his enemies, striking not at their armor, but at their souls. He moved with a savagery that would have horrified the Alexander of three years ago.
He caught one Hound by the head and slammed it into a petrified tree with such force that the trunk exploded. He used the shattered sword of another to decapitate a third, the crimson spray painting the black leaves of the forest.
[The Price of Power]
As the last Hound lay broken at his feet, gasping through a shattered visor, Alexander stood in the center of the carnage. He was drenched in the dark, oily ichor of the creatures. His breathing was heavy, and his aura was no longer just Silver—it was streaked with Veins of Crimson Gold, a sign that the Amulet was feeding on the slaughter.
"Alexander... stop," Elena cried out, her voice trembling.
He turned to her. For a split second, she didn't see Alexander. She saw a God of Death. His eyes were void-like, reflecting a world where nothing existed but ash and conquest.
"Why?" Alexander asked, his voice echoing with a thousand overlapping souls. "They wanted a monster. I am merely giving them the masterpiece they designed in that dungeon."
He looked at his blood-stained hands, a flash of agonizing memory hitting him—his mother's soft touch, his father's pride. For a moment, his aura flickered, showing the Deep Blue of Regret. But then, he remembered the smell of the prison, the laughter of the guards, and the cold betrayal of the world.
The Blue was swallowed by a Roaring, Infinite Black.
"The Alexander who felt pity died in the dark," he whispered, more to himself than to her. "The Raven does not weep. He only feeds."
He turned toward the North, toward the Iron Spire that now looked like a tombstone on the horizon.
"Silas! Sokolov!" he thundered.
The two men emerged from the shadows, their faces pale from witnessing the absolute brutality of their leader.
"Prepare the Highland tribes," Alexander commanded, sheathing his blade with a definitive click. "We aren't hiding anymore. We are marching. I want the Emperor to see the sun rise over a sea of his own burning banners. I want the Capital to know... that the debt is due. And I am the Collector."