The will to live reinvigorated his fatigued body, pumping fresh adrenaline through the thin veins, opening his latent magic reserves, his magic aura thundering into the world like a wild unbound inferno, causing a shock wave which rippled through the ruined Bereticum and intimidated the frightened survivors even more.

The earth was beginning to crack, the air heating up dramatically, Astraeus’ grey eyes darting around furiously, even though slower than during the fight against the Kashmar. A silent rip should have signalled Astraeus that the scar running across his left eye had torn open, but his concentration was fully fixated on the beast emerging from the maw of the world.

Giant teeth were digging through the earth, breaching the thin surface effortlessly, sharp as blades and each as large as a bottle. Green scales and yellow malicious eyes were emerging from the ground as Astraeus no longer looked at solid ground but rather at the thing piercing it.

A fiery maw, ever consuming, ever hungry, threatening to swallow the exhausted boy, greeted Astraeus whose eyes returned to normal as the beast’s greedily devouring mouth began closing with the mage inside, fright and terror contorting the child’s expression.

Hand rapidly darting towards the pommel of his sword, Astraeus switched his fighting style tremendously to the unfavored melee.

Upon grabbing Eversor, he was fully devoured by the monster, encompassing his body in the prison of fire. Screams of pain and agony filled the beast’s body since Astraeus felt excruciating torment as his skin was incinerated by a horrible heat.

It felt as if his skin was being ripped out by sharp pincers, as if his body itself was crumbling to ashes, sucking itself into a black hole and dissipating into nothingness only to return to feel the torture again.

It felt as if death itself was touching his body, scratching at his life, piercing his soul and sending it into the afterlife, happily waiting for the poor boy’s demise to claim his body as a price and trophy.

Darkness filled the boy’s world, his mind shutting his body off, repulsing the outer impressions completely and knocking it unconscious to prevent further mental damage.

Astraeus opened his eyes and was greeted by thousands, by millions, by billions of stars, each and every single one of them shining stunningly in the dark.

Wandering his gaze across the obscure landscape of mountains and craters, the Domitor prince tried to escape the horrific and brutal reality.

Feeling his magic reserves being restored, his fighting spirit fully returned, yet weaker than ever, but still resolute and determined to beat anything and everything that stood in his way.

Yet, even in his realm, the painful memories and pictures of Bereticum followed him, haunting his thoughts, a memorial of his guilt.

In this false reality the scenes of his actions played themselves like in a theatre telling him of his faults, of his weakness.

As if in trance he walked over to a large pillar. Contrary to the rest of the universe, it looked grey. Was it really there or was it Astraeus’ imagination which created it?

As he closed in on the gigantic pile, he realised what it was.

The contorted faces of his victims clad it in corpses and blood, in intestines and organs, in agony and death.

Suddenly it turned red and a large wave of blood swept over him, ripping him with it towards the deep pit of misery like a current dragging away a fish right into the preying jaw of a bear.

Desperately fighting against it, Astraeus found truth in this terrible situation. He desired to live. He hadn’t forsaken his life yet. Hope wasn’t lost, as he jumped out of the blood , flying high into the sky.

With a last look of contempt and sorrow he looked at the pillar of his weakness. A red glow inside the corpses attracted his attention, drawing him in, tantalising him.

Stepping across the skies, he neared the obscenely and unnaturally protruding stick. He gripped it with all his might and ripped it free, looking at his sword, in which an important message was engraved: “Saviour of Humanity,” read Astraeus aloud.

Right. I’m cursed to save the ones who hate me. I’m a true hypocrite, just like father would have wanted. Let’s fight, Eversor!

Opening his eyes, the beautiful sky filled with stars was gone. It had vanished and was instead replaced with total darkness.

Obliterating the darkness, Astraeus opened his revitalised magic aura, allowing his pure unrefined magic to flow into Eversor, fueling it with his power.

Let’s burn this cursed world to the ground, he thought nonchalantly.

Igniting the sword with his immense magic, a wave of infernal flames was unleashed inside the beast’s stomach, encompassing Astraeus fully.

Unsurprisingly, the heat didn’t injure the fire spewing monster.

Instead, Astraeus pushed his sword into the flesh above his head, piercing through it effortlessly, emerging into sight some layers of flesh, bones and scales later. A burning sword poked out of the beast’s back, unleashing flames into the air, cutting easily through the beast’s natural armour.

The blazing sword increased the intensity of its flames, cladding the whole dragon into fire until even the fire resistant scales were incinerated, until nothing but dust was left. The burning shell of the monster was rapidly descending to the ground. Astraeus inside the infernal carcass eyed the trajectory wearily.

Children!

The ball of fire and death was heading straight towards a group of crying children, probably made orphans by the man who was currently heading towards them, threatening to erase their bodies from the mortal realm and send their souls to their parents.

Either intuition or rapid decision-making caused Astraeus to try and steer his tumbling prison away from the innocent children.

He once again looked at them, but his actions stopped upon settling his gaze on a specific girl.

Imagining it to be the blonde little girl which he thought to have seen dead, Astraeus was stunned, unable to escape the illusion.

Time was running.

The chance to evade disaster was nearing absolute zero.

The children’s non-existing hope would be replaced by an absolute non-existence.

Terrifying roars filled the air, tearing Astraeus out of his trance.

The girl who resembled the deceased had vanished and Astraeus painfully realised that he had wasted too much time and that diverting the beast’s trajectory wouldn’t suffice to save the children.

Which forced him to an unpleasant and nearly suicidal action.

Eyes darting around, he and the dead lump of flesh reached a critical vicinity to the children whose cries of fright and terror determined Astraeus even more, his eyes accelerating their speed inside their sockets.

Finally! Yelled the boy in his thoughts.

Reaching out his hand as if to wave goodbye to the children, he released his refined specialised magic, extinguishing Eversor’s flames.

Time seemed to slow down as Astraeus prayed his last prayers, thinking of his most precious as well as worst memories.

The harsh training. The bloody punishments he faced for failing. The way his teachers demanded from him to kill defenceless people. And above all that. The cursed bells. He remembered them and asked himself whether it would be better if he survived this day or if he didn’t.

Callida, Irus, mother … forgive me.

Closing his eyes, Astraeus braced himself for collision. He had made peace with his mind and the world.

But then the impact happened.

Both he and the carcass brutally crashed into the invisible barrier, the burning corpse splattering all over the place, setting fire on the buildings, creating a rapidly spreading inferno.

Just like the fire, its scales and intestines spread across the neighbouring buildings and already bloodied ground, painting the whole area in an ominous crimson.

Upon impact, all air was driven out of Astraeus’ lungs, the organs compressing from the immense pressure from the speed with which he landed, nearing agonising bursting.

An audible crack in his back revealed to him that his back was either sprained or fractured. Or in the worst case broken, which would leave any normal human a cripple for life … if it didn’t kill them directly.

Either way, he would need to heal, to regenerate in his consciousness from the physical torment of reality. In this condition he couldn’t fight on.

This thesis was reinforced a moment later when he released the barrier since he saw that the group of children had dispersed.

They’re safe, he happily determined.

However, falling down the spare metre towards the ground turned out to be a horrible idea since the probably fractured back would hit the ground first and when it did, it shot a ripple of agony through the boy’s body, declaring his body as unable to fight.

Crawling across the crimson ground, Astraeus groaned, his limbs aching awfully, teeth clenched, yet this couldn’t prevent him from coughing up blood and spit.

Desperately reaching for air and salvation, he grabbed the top of a wall, attempting to heave himself onto safe ground, onto unsullied, unbloodied ground.

But he was too weak and slumped down onto the filthy ground, crying due to the pain from the fall.

The last thing he witnessed was the special pattern of the scales. They belonged to a dragon.

no, he silently commented before passing out.

Opening his eyes, Astraeus once again looked into a sky filled with countless stars, with infinite light and possibilities, with immeasurable hope for the desperate child.

Looking around he saw the place where the pillar of corpses had previously been, empty.

Reminding him of his deeds, it materialised from nowhere, as if to defy him the pleasure of being innocent, as if to denounce him as a human being, as if to declare him guilty.

Walking up to it, he placed a hand on one of the contorted blurred faces, feeling its cold skin beneath his fingers, tracing the outline of its facial features until suddenly it gained colour and he retreated frightened.

The face began to unblur itself, taking the form of the girl he murdered.

No, No, I didn’t, I-I I didn’t murder her. GO! This is my realm.

“GO!” The young boy yelled at the inhumanly morphing face.

Obscenely transforming and twisting itself to look at Astraeus, the facial structures began to clearly mirror the girl. Blonde hair was sprouting out of the bald head, emerging from the grey faceless mass of heads.

A terrifying and unfitting smile began to form, creeping the scared boy out.

Unfitting because it invited him, it was warm, it wanted to help him.

All an illusion, he was certain of it. Or at least he persuaded himself that he was.

The creature wasn’t his friend, nor did it want to aid him. It served a sole purpose.

To destroy him mentally and consume his fright and soul as food.

“Kashmar occur in various forms. Don’t let them deceive you. Don’t befriend them. Don’t fear them. Kill them. Kill all of them,” recited Astraeus his father’s words.

Reaching behind his back to grab his sword, the boy found nothing.

Right, this isn’t real.

Another attempt of his was needed. Forming a sign with his fingers, depicting a cross, he pointed it at the little girl who he desired to protect. His expression blank, detached from reality, as if in trance.

Sometimes he wondered if all the pain he endured was simply an illusion, simply unreal. If he imagined all of this pain as atonement for his sins.

I don’t have anything to atone for. I’m innocent. I only wanted to do good.

Slowly the pillar of corpses was dissipating into the dust from which it had formed, vanishing from Astraeus’ conscience as was his guilt.

Closing his eyes, Astraeus fled from his responsibility and his own doubts. Since he wanted to save the people of Bereticum and prevent further pain, he released his magic, the finger sign emitting an ominous aura, causing the Kashmar in the appearance of the girl to flinch in an alien manner, bones breaking backwards, twisting around in the muscles, a cruel groan emerging from the ripping flesh, rather than walking like a human would.

Its smug smile didn’t leave its hideous twisted face, which it couldn’t even hide beneath the innocence and purity of the girl, when its body was split in two.

Both halves of the monster slowly tumbled to the ground, after swaying for a moment, desperately trying to keep standing.

Unlike the previous dead monster, this beast didn’t turn to dust, but remained as a stinking and eventually rotting corpse, black goo leaking onto the ground.

Still, Astraeus wasn’t happy.

He may have overcome the tremendous guilt he felt but he wouldn’t forget.

He never would.

For all the people who have died today.

For all the lives he destroyed.

For the girl whose dreams he had crushed.

Opening his eyes, Astraeus pushed himself off the wet ground, ignoring his soaked clothes and dirty face. He couldn’t get any filthier nor guiltier.

But he accepted it.

It was part of him.

He was raised that way.

To be a monster.

Created by ambitious men, by aristocrats whose only desire is power, by monsters themselves.

But guilt wasn’t easy to wash off. Especially when a familiar voice reminded him of his failure and weakness.

Agonisingly slow he turned around, already dreading the sight which would greet him.

Running around the ruined buildings, screaming for his brother, pleading for a saviour, praying for a miracle, Astraeus recognised the poor boy who revived his spirits, who revived hope inside the dead prince.

Yet here they were.

Astraeus, ready to fight, presumably ridden off his guilt.

The boy, severed arm still in hand, vomit and blood drenching his ragged clothes.

They mirrored each other. Both a shameful symbol of the true nature of the cruel world.

Just the time was wrong. In the right place and time, they’d been twins, victims of fate, doomed by higher powers, by things they couldn’t influence, but they weren’t.

Each one was fated to a life in misery and pain yet both felt different about it and both felt different kinds of pain.

Seeing his own reflection inside the horrified boy Astraeus wanted to return the favour the boy had done him earlier. He wanted to fill the shell of a former human with hope, revive him from the pits of misery and desperation, just like he had been.

Reaching out with his spare hand, the other one still tightly encompassing the enchanted sword, Astraeus tried to close the distance, trying to encourage the boy who had done the same for him.

But as the boy saw Astraeus, his meagre hope shattered even more.

Fright and terror crossed the boy’s face who immediately turned around and dashed away.

Away from the person who has brought destruction upon his town, who had killed his parents, who had forsaken the child’s life.

The prince didn’t register, or rather process the situation yet.

But after remaining in the exact position for some time, the boy’s hand slumped down.

Why couldn’t he even return hope to the person who gave it to him?

Why was he such a disappointment?

Why did the people fear him even though he was their saviour?

The only one they had was him.

“People fear the things they don’t know. That’s why it’s our job to eliminate their fear by slaying monsters and by keeping those pesky fucking Kashmar outside.”

These words resonated in Astraeus’ mind. Trying to persuade him of his righteousness while in reality the only thing they did was make him question whether he had become the fear which needed to be exterminated rather than the monsters of his dreams.

For the happiness and trouble-free life the people needed, which they deserved, hadn’t been in danger before.

Yet he took it from them.

He took this boy’s hope.

He took the villagers’ town.

He took the lives of hundreds of people for naught.

He took everything … without returning anything except misery.

A larger pillar of corpses was materialising before his inner eye, obscuring the faintly setting distant sun.

At least Astraeus wasn’t looking at it anymore.

He ignored it. Would this ignorance doom him? Or could it help him overcome his trauma?

However, for this necessary thing called ‘overcoming your inner doubts and demons’ there wasn't any time to spare since tremendous roars filled the evening sky, resonating off the mountains, echoing across the ruins of Bereticum.

As Astraeus looked into the clouded sky, he witnessed the heaving of massive wings, red, brown, black, another red and green.

More dragons were waiting to be slaughtered.

Expression dead and blank, he summoned his weapons and then he exterminated them.

That was his ethos, his destiny.

He was responsible for any destruction those beasts caused. And they did.

Spewing wave after wave of flames into Bereticum and its surrounding villages and woods, the dragons unleashed volley after volley of destruction and despair onto humanity.

Focusing on one particular grey dragon, Astraeus’ eyes began to dart around, the boy slicing the dragon inside his imagination.

Eventually reality complied with the prince’s command and the dragon’s body was split into two parts which rapidly fell from their arrogant position high in the sky.

Astraeus was ready. It was time.

Time to rip and tear. To slaughter and rampage. To kill and slay.

As Astraeus stumbled across the streets, he repeated this process of extermination, slowly a smile was forming on his lips.

Dragon number 2,3,4,5 and 6. Dead.

Split in two, decapitated or cut off wings. Astraeus’ arsenal of executions and torture was plentiful.

Looking at the tumbling corpses and limbs of the protective animals, Astraeus’ smile turned to an insane, mad one, spreading throughout his expression, igniting a dangerous glint in his eyes.

As the last dragon’s head was descending to the ground, the boy realised something.

They have feathers across their heads! They are babies! No no no no NO!

Frantically scanning the sky, Astraeus was confused as to why he couldn’t seem to find the mother of the demonic bunch.

A loud roar shook the sky, accompanied by the arrival of darkness.

Large blue wings obscured the sun, camouflaging themselves in the sky. The scales even mirrored the clouds by forming white spots.

The boy closed his eyes, inhaling deeply to calm his pounding heart and rushing mind.

He needed to be calm to clearly assess the situation. Whether he should retreat or fight.

But alongside the calm entered his conscience’s spite. The mind’s own malice forced him to see the pillar of corpses again, painfully reminding him of his guilt.

Cursing himself for searching the quiet, Astraeus dashed head-first into battle, aiming at the dragon while simultaneously searching for a spell he could use to attack the gigantic beast which easily dwarfed the previous dragons, being at least twice if not thrice their size.

I won’t disappoint you mother. I’ll kill all those monsters in your name.

But how many more lives would his enemies’ take until he was satisfied?

When was his path of vengeance and rage over?

How much larger would the pile of bodies become before Astraeus found his inner peace?

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If sadness and sorrow ever encompass your soul, never resolve to violence and rage, for hatred only brings forth more sadness and sorrow, resulting in a never-ending cycle of pain.