Everything was dark.
Not the darkness of night. Not the darkness of a room with no windows. It was complete darkness. Absolute. A blackness so deep that even the concept of light seemed distant.
Gertran stared beyond the wall.
He had been there for more than a thousand years.
After so long, he had grown accustomed to the darkness.
He had also grown accustomed to waiting.
Sometimes, months would pass without anything happening. No screams. No footsteps. No shaking beneath the ground.
Peace.
It never lasted.
Gertran knew what came next.
The storm always came.
The first tremor ran through the ground.
Then another.
And another.
Gertran closed his eyes.
He already knew.
The armies of Dmet were coming.
Hundreds of thousands of creatures emerged from the darkness, rushing across the prison as if they had been waiting for that exact moment. Demonic beasts, twisted bodies, claws, teeth, horns and weapons.
They came to kill.
There was no reason.
No conquest.
No territory to take.
Only slaughter.
Gertran raised his weapon as the first creatures reached him.
He fought.
They all fought.
Those who could still stand tried to defend themselves. They formed lines, raised shields, swung swords and screamed orders that were quickly swallowed by the noise.
It did not matter.
There were too many.
Hundreds of thousands.
For centuries, Gertran had watched this same nightmare repeat itself.
Long ago, during the Great War of the Gods, he had fought alongside the followers of Dmet, the Lord of Carnage.
When Dmet was defeated and imprisoned in the Cárcere, many of those who had served him were dragged into the prison with him.
Gertran was one of them.
Here, death had lost its meaning.
The dead returned.
The wounded healed.
And then they died again.
Dmet needed them.
He fed on slaughter.
On the screams of agony.
On the smell of blood.
On the terror of those who knew exactly what was coming.
Sometimes Gertran fought alongside the creatures.
Sometimes he fought against them.
It made no difference.
The cycle always ended the same way.
And then it began again.
In the distance, two red eyes opened.
Gertran stopped.
Something enormous stood beyond the battlefield.
More than ten meters tall.
He could not see its entire body. The darkness swallowed most of it.
But the eyes remained.
Red.
Watching.
Waiting.
Then the screams began.
Torches appeared in the distance, carried by those who could not see through the darkness. Their flames barely illuminated the battlefield.
For those who could see in the dark, the torches were unnecessary.
Their eyes reflected the red glow.
Dozens.
Hundreds.
Thousands.
The sound came next.
Paws striking the ground.
Boots.
Bare feet.
The endless march of those who had come to kill.
Everyone knew what awaited them.
Everyone feared the pain.
Everyone feared the ritual.
The first wave arrived.
Gertran met it head-on.
He swung his weapon with everything he had.
Steel tore through flesh.
Bones broke.
Blood sprayed across the ground.
He screamed.
Not from fear.
From rage.
His fury echoed through the battlefield, loud enough to reach the ears of his lord.
Dmet heard every scream.
The cries of the dying drowned the sounds of battle.
The dead fell.
More came.
Gertran continued.
Until a blade pierced his body.
The impact knocked him to the ground.
He fell onto his back, the air leaving his lungs in a single violent gasp.
He tried to pull the weapon free, but another creature was already upon him.
It looked like a wolf.
Only looked like one.
The beast opened its jaws and sank its teeth into his chest.
The metal of his armor groaned.
The bite tore through the plates and found flesh.
Gertran screamed.
The teeth ripped through skin, then muscle. The creature shook its head, tearing chunks of flesh from his body while its claws pinned him against the ground.
The second attack opened his abdomen.
Gertran felt the beast’s jaws crush and tear everything beneath his flesh.
The pain was blinding.
He tried to strike it.
His arm would not move.
He tried to scream for help.
What came out was a desperate howl, almost unrecognizable.
More creatures closed in around him.
Gertran still tried to fight.
Still tried to breathe.
Still tried to live.
But the beast sank its teeth into him again.
His scream disappeared beneath the noise of the battle.
And for the first time that night, Gertran wished for death to come quickly.
It came.
Everything went silent.
For a moment.
Then Gertran opened his eyes.
He was whole again.
His body had been restored.
There were no wounds.
No broken bones.
No blood.
But he could still feel the pain.
It lingered beneath his skin, like a memory his body refused to forget.
Gertran remained still.
He knew the pain would pass.
It always did.
And when it did, he would wait.
For the next tremor.
For the next army.
For the next slaughter.
For the next death.
The darkness surrounded him once more.
And somewhere beyond the wall, two red eyes were still watching.