Chapter VI

“Do not mock Rage, for she is no friend but a facade of Justice trying to avenge her wounded Pride.”

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Benedict had gathered scouts to inspect the sacred lands of the Custodian. He could feel the bile rising up through his throat, He knew deep down what they were doing was wrong and had prayed to his deity for forgiveness, asking for her compassion as to why the lands had to be theirs.

Through research, it had been known that the Sacred Grounds were blessed, that a special tree was residing within, that even its soil was worth a thousand riches, and yet no man had ever tried to place their feet on such sacredness. The title was never official; it had only been rumored and through stories had they been told that deep within those grounds had been his deity’s resting place. That the wind had carried the wails of the unborn children, some had said the wind would also sing their laughter and yet when the world was asleep the voices of the damn would scream, such wild rumors had never been confirmed but the one thing that was always true to those different versions of the story. That, after the war when the continents were split and pulled, creating a division. For 3 years the Custodian had buried the dead that littered the battlefield while the rest had celebrated the war that they had won. That, when the survivors were cheering and crying. Their Deity had been digging graves; and by the end of it she had buried her body amongst the dead, and from her chest sprouted a Tree and with it the Land had bloomed giving its fair share to the other plague lands from the war.

“My High Rank, There seems to be no living near the river, no boat or any indication.”

His scout said.

“Did you pass the river to the Sacred Grounds yet?” Benedict questioned.

“Yes, The 1st team has yet to report back.” The scout replied.

“Tell them to wait and be ready for me. I’ll lead.” He barked.

Passing the river had taken them an hour to cross. He was expecting his 1st team to have waited for him.

Irritated he asked.

“Where...the fuck are they?”

“My High Ran-”

Benedict had cut him off. Marching through the dense forest, He sniffed for his scouts.

Realizing that he was now officially in the Sacred Grounds, He sent a quick prayer to the Custodian. Slightly feeling exhilarated and mildly annoyed.

Benedict took a deep breath and assessed his surroundings. Ignoring his troops following him.

He thought being born in such a luscious continent after the war was a privilege for him to take his first breath and fresh air had greeted his infant lungs, and yet here the air had smelled pure, untainted.

Taking a step forward he had almost tripped and had caught himself, uprighting himself from the tree. His hand had grazed a large and deep set of claws that was so severe it had passed through the sides.

He froze.

“My High Rank! Are you alright?” The Scout asked as he tried to catch up with him.

Stating the good news he said.

“Sir we found the Scouts trail, and it seems the soil here is rich…”

“Where are they?!” He frantically yelled.

He felt a sense of dread.

Fear had gripped his heart.

He gripped his scout’s arm, slightly shaking him.

“I-in the Northeast… Our troops are picking up our scouts..”

“No...NO! TELL THEM TO ABORT AND GET BACK HERE!”

He said frantically. Shifting in his form he ran towards the northeast. Leaving his scouts that had stayed besides him, ignoring their yells. He wanted to run away, and yet stupid braveness had impulsively pushed him into trying to save them from impending danger.

Dodging and running through the forest he couldn’t shake the feeling and the smell he caught on the tree. The monstrous scratch didn’t faze him. It was the faint smell of blood and piss that scared him.

Ceberus was alive.