INFINIX

CHAPTER 4: AN EVIL PLACE.

CHAPTER 4: AN EVIL PLACE.

Mark—or Xilos, as that annoying bracelet insisted on calling him—got up from the ground and brushed off the dust clinging to the seat of his pants after the fall.

“My name is Lyra, my dear knight. What is your name?” asked the mysterious yet cordial archer who had appeared out of nowhere.

“My name is Mark…” he replied with some irritation, then bit into the fruit Lyra had given him.

“It’s easy to guess you’re new to this world,” Lyra said.

“Because of the fruit?”

“No, not exactly,” Lyra replied. “No one with experience would carry such a valuable sword out in the open for thieves and looters to see.”

Lyra helped Mark hide the sword more securely so it wouldn’t draw attention in such a dangerous place.

“Thieves or looters?” Mark asked.

“Oh yes. There are plenty of those here, and it’s better to keep a low profile if you don’t have much experience,” Lyra explained. “Some people would be willing to kill just for a fruit like the one you’re eating.”

Mark swallowed with difficulty after hearing that. The fruit that had seemed so sweet moments ago now tasted bitter, knowing how dangerous it could be to eat it in plain sight.

“I didn’t know,” Mark admitted.

“Don’t worry. We all arrive here knowing nothing. I’ll help you become a better warrior,” Lyra said kindly.

They barely had time to exchange a friendly smile before strange figures emerged from the edges of the path. It seemed they had been hiding there, waiting to intercept Mark and Lyra.

Lyra quickly drew an arrow and aimed it directly at the face of the one who appeared to be the gang’s leader.

He was a thin man, though more solidly built than his underlings. His face was gaunt, and his clothing was nothing more than a black cloth that covered his entire body. About eight of them had surrounded Mark and Lyra, now threatening them with sharp axes and daggers.

“Thieves…” Lyra muttered under her breath so only Mark could hear.

“System of the gods… Tell me, what should I do?” Mark asked, trembling with fear.

He noticed there were no words coming from his bracelet now—only a single word glowing on the small display.

[ RUN! ]

Mark had never run from a fight, even if he couldn’t win. No matter the odds, he always fought to his last breath, even if he was terrified.

“We want your things—especially the sword of the warrior Xilos you just hid on his back,” the leader of the thieves demanded.

“You can try to take our belongings, or you can walk away without dying. The choice is yours,” Lyra threatened, her gaze locked on her target.

“I’m curious how a pair of novices like you came to possess a millennia-old sword,” the leader persisted.

Mark and Lyra said nothing, simply standing ready.

“Why do they care so much about the sword?” Mark whispered.

“I already told you—it’s a very valuable sword. It belongs to a powerful warrior god,” Lyra replied.

“Bring me the sword,” the leader ordered.

His men began to move quickly. A leader’s order was something they had to obey at all costs.

Lyra released her arrow, but the thief leader dodged it skillfully and charged toward her.

Everything seemed to happen in slow motion. Lyra realized there was no point in firing another arrow, but under no circumstances would she allow these men to steal Xilos’s sword. In a sudden, split-second decision, she kicked Mark hard in the chest, sending him tumbling into the deep ravine nearby.

As he fell, Mark saw Lyra giving him a courteous farewell wave, even as the thieves began hacking at her with their daggers and axes.

Mark struck the rocks, sand mounds, and even some trees on his way down. The weight of his body was a victim of gravity, dragging him to the bottom. He finally hit the ground alive, but badly injured and unconscious.

Back on the path, the thieves wiped their blades with cloths. Lyra’s blood was splattered along the ground, and her corpse was now food for the most savage among them, who devoured her flesh in desperation.

The leader peered over the ravine’s edge but couldn’t see a thing. The fog and depth made it impossible to spot Mark’s body.

“That guy’s probably dead,” one of the thieves said while chewing on a piece of Lyra’s flesh.

“Then I want you to bring me his body—and more importantly, I want you to bring me Xilos’s sword,” the leader commanded.

The thieves quickly finished what they could from Lyra’s corpse and immediately set off to fulfill their leader’s orders. They had to find Mark, dead or alive, and bring back the valuable sword.

In the castle of Oxlander, in the darkest, dampest dungeon in the entire kingdom, there was only silence and darkness.

The sound of water dripping onto the floor was the only thing Prince Xjien could hear. His face was badly beaten from the torture he had endured, and the nails on his fingers had been savagely torn out with rusty metal pliers.

The hallway doors burst open suddenly, and the prince began to tremble with terror. He was so afraid the torture would continue that he couldn’t stop himself from urinating on his own fine silk clothes—the finest in all of Oxlander.

Kronx’s face emerged from the darkness, dimly lit by the flame of a torch.

“I suppose you’re ready to talk now,” Kronx said, accompanied by two of his most powerful demon generals.

Xjien shook violently. The blood in his mouth slid down his throat, leaving a bitter taste in his stomach. His legs trembled as though he were freezing, close to collapsing on the dungeon floor.

“I admire your courage, Xjien. But I want you to know—it’s not worth it. I’ve already had the entire town of Oxlander searched…” Kronx stepped closer to the cell bars, as if to share a secret with the prince. “Sooner or later, we’re going to find Princess Ximena. And I swear, I will personally cut off her head,” he promised, locking eyes with the prince.