Arthur
A court martial had been convened by order of Sarkota, whose orders were generally not very different from what any ordinary person would do. He could understand much of the cold and powerful attitude of a general.
But he was not one.
He was a merchant.
Sarkota was not a general; his understanding of the art of war was limited to attacking, defending, and retreating. Most of the good tools of war were far beyond his perception.
The attacks he suffered were equally simple; his understanding and comprehension were limited by his tiny mind.
In the hall, his voice resounded like thunder, but his real power was a spark.
His servants, despite some being generals or scholars of war, were also limited by the knowledge of the creator of this world.
Truth be told, if he really trusted these men, logic would lose its meaning and he would simply win the battle.
But how could he trust them when he had already lost this battle once?
Things would only change if he changed.
He needed to lead.
But he was not a leader.
And he know that.
The same could be said of his enemy; his real power was irrelevant. The only thing that was remembered about him was his immense and overwhelming power.
The feeling of helplessness when looking up at that figure from below.
The feeling of subjugation.
The feeling of humiliation.
The boy could be even more powerful than he actually was, simply because of his carelessness. The soul had never forgotten the terror he had inflicted. The mind could not see reality, it only remembered how it felt.
Traumas were fed by the very person who possessed them.
The being placed them and gave them power.
They were chains that were placed by oneself, with real consequences.
And yet, despite having placed them, a person alone could not get rid of them. At least not easily.
How ironic it was!
...
Casually, a boy walked through the scorching desert, his figure hooded with an unmistakably dark and shiny fabric. His clothes were very different from any worn by the peoples and tribes of the desert.
The natives often wore lighter, thinner fabrics, often without any dye or detail. They did not have the luxury of this boy, nor even the insanity to wear something so hot.
The climate was the greatest enemy here.
Adapting was a necessity.
And yet he walked calmly in his suffocating, hot clothes. Not affected in the least.
He hummed radiantly in the middle of nowhere, with light and serene steps.
On the horizon, a city seemed to grow slowly. Its enchanting view, like an oasis in the desert. The great Rathora, a paradise city in the middle of the desert. A large commercial center, envied by many.
He then stopped in the middle of nowhere.
His strangely deep lime-green eyes made it impossible to tell if he was admiring the landscape or seeing something beyond it all.
Those eyes seemed to penetrate lies and illusions and ultimately probe and reveal the truth.
"So you chose to come find me, bold one. I like that." He laughed softly, his eyes and lips twisting with joy.
In the void, a sigh was heard.
"I didn't think it would work, but it's always worth a try, isn't it?" As if a veil had been lifted, an invisible army manifested itself.
A myriad of soldiers surrounded the boy, who stood at the center of a complete formation filled with spears and archers.
Shields were not seen in the surroundings, an important choice for battle. After all, they saw no good way to defend themselves against the boy's powers. So they chose to kill him in a single charge.
If defense is impossible, attack before your opponent!
"This is your only warning. Barrabás! Return to the desert, return to your home! Rathora will not be shamed by a boy who has barely left his diapers." Barrabás continued to laugh at the army's reaction.
His laughter sent chills down the spine of every man in that army.
Those who knew Barrabás' identity feared him even more, his stubbornness and insanity terrifying them to their very souls.
The children of the Satans ruled only by force and power.
The more powerful they were, the more freedom they had, and the more freedom they had, the crazier they were.
And this one was completely insane.
"Please spare me the drama. Your legs are shaking, and I can already smell piss from a mile away. You humans and those lesser demons were too arrogant, and now I'm going to make you pay the price for that arrogance. You will pay the price for thinking you could be more than humble servants." Sarkota frowned deeply, conflict seemed inevitable.
"Kneel, bow before me. Shower me with praise and tell me how much I am above you, how you cannot see that I am so superior, how blind you have been."
"Say these words, Sarkota of Rathora, and I will keep you alive as my servant. I can make good use of you. Likewise, I will make use of these women and children. Children can be used as slaves in the future if disciplined, and women, though useless and weak, serve to satisfy me for some time."
"The rest of the men I will kill in front of their families, not before, of course, defiling them in front of all those dear to them. I will use them as an example for all hell, for paradise, and for the fallen angels."
"I will remind everyone what it means to be a true devil. I, Barrabas, son of Beelzebub, heir of the blood of true devils, will show the world our power and how we will deal with all those who have challenged us in the past and in the future."
Sarkota sighed once more, even more deeply and disgustedly.
"I imagine you feel the same way about your bride, don't you?" Barrabás just laughed in response.
Closing his eyes, he then took one last deep breath.
And then, with a roar, he advanced with his saber.
The spearmen advanced simultaneously in a suicidal charge. The archers set their arrows on fire and shot without concern for friendly fire.
Thousands of flies and mosquitoes were summoned and spread like a wave of death to contain the advance of the soldiers. Death advances across the battlefield.
Each of the insects is several times larger than normal.
The flies entered the soldiers' mouths and desecrated their insides until they found exits in any of the orifices.
The mosquitoes, at the same time, sucked all the blood from the vanguard, reducing them to a pile of dry, malnourished corpses.
Larvae were left on the corpses and quickly devoured them, generating even more insects and multiplying their combat power.
Each of them was the size of an adult man's finger, growing at a fast pace.
At the center of the chaos, Barrabás laughed madly, unable to see anything in front of him.
Hundreds and hundreds of soldiers tried to advance and died, their bones trampled by their allies who continued to try to advance.
Flaming arrows struck at every moment. The pain of the indistinguishable bites of hundreds of insects attacking simultaneously.
Only pain and death existed.
The same disaster seemed to repeat itself, the past returning to the future.
It was then, amid the darkness and desolate cries, that a radiant saber advanced in fury.
Its heat incinerated the insects and took advantage of the path opened by the dead soldiers.
Barrabás couldn't stop laughing before the incinerating blade fell on him, blue tendrils surrounding it.
In the devil's eyes, only Sarkota's reflection was seen.
A king did not stay behind.
A king fought with his people!
Courage filled the king's heart.
Pure Fury motivated him.
And then the blade connected with the flesh, cutting from shoulder to waist, the shocked Barrabás.
The insects then fell to the ground, the few soldiers still alive looked hopefully at their leader who had won.
"I told you, boy... I told you I would win this time." He could finally smile, satisfied that he had finally overcome his greatest trauma.
He was alive.
He had power.
He had hope.
He had revenge!
He had overcome his trauma!
And then a whistle was heard from afar.
"Wow, what a mess you guys made here, you devils are really scary when you want to be."In the sky, a new figure appeared with black wings.
"I heard there was going to be a little devil party around here, and I came eager to meet someone named Barrabás. I had some scores to settle with his father, and I thought I could take care of it today." Sarkota looked anxiously and helplessly at the sky. Fear crossed his gaze.
"It's a shame I couldn't meet him, but since I've come all this way, I can't go back empty-handed, right? Actually, looking closely... I think I know you from somewhere... Sarkota, right? I think I also need to settle some scores with you."
"Azazel..." Sarkota stammered.
The will to fight died.
Light fell from him.
The sky cracked.
The earth break.
The world died.
Hundreds of bodies fell into the void created by the soul, all of them soulless and lifeless. Looking like puppets whose strings had been cut.
Each half of Barrabás' body fell into infinity.
Azazel fell into infinity.
Only I was there at the end.
"I won." Laughing in the void with no one to applaud my victory, I gathered my power once again. Pure energy flowed through me, ready to rebuild this world in my own image.
I did It!
Now I can return to the normal world!
I won!
"Well done, congratulations on your victory. It was a very difficult journey, but I'm glad you made it." Strangely, in the hole of the soul, a series of applause was heard.
"I know It's not the best time. But, where are we?" I slowly turned my head to look toward the sound, and a man was looking at me with interest and curiosity.
With black wings and an intelligent gaze, he investigated me.
Shit...
"You know, that's a good question. I think it would be good for our great champion to start talking. Where the hell did you bring us, and why the fuck is my body younger?"
On the other side, Barrabás simply appeared, the two halves reconnecting once again.
Damn...
Apparently...
I summoned the real ones…
Fuck!!!
"How strange. You won't believe it, but I don't know either.I have no idea where we are or how you guys got here either." I smiled sympathetically at both of them.
"Yeah, you are right. I don't believe in you." Azazel aimed at me.