The Spartan's Revenge Story

Chapter 1: The Beginning

Raka opened his eyes to a small burning sensation that assaulted his fingertips. Fire had surrounded him. Struggling, he got up on his feet and looked around. His childhood home was burning down. The body of his mother and the others burned to an unrecognizable crisp. A son would always recognize his mother though, no matter what condition she was in. He knelt before her burnt corpse and let the tears flow. What use was his life now? He had failed to protect everything that a Spartan was supposed to protect. His lands, his people, his family, his comrades. Perhaps it would be for the best if he died now. As the fire closed in around him, he felt a strange dilemma. He would be reunited with his people if he died. He wouldn't be a failure if they were all together.  But his body had other plans. He had put it through the worst situations, hardened it to the peak, it would not allow him to die or give up so easily. His body demanded blood be spilled, it demanded vengeance be paid.

 "I want to make the ones responsible for this pay, I want them to suffer, the likes of which would make Hades cry. ", his body seemed to be telling him. The fires had come dangerously close. He had to make a decision. Everyone he knew had died. Should he live on and avenge them , or give up and die? Seeing everything a man loved come crashing down around him can break the strongest of minds. His pride, however, demanded that his enemies blood be spilled. He got up and wrapped his cape around his nose and walked out of his house. There would be neither honour nor point in his dying here,so he kept walking, ignoring the bodies all around him. He didn't need more reminders of his failure. He soon got to his destination, the medicinal shop in the now-burning center of the city. He walked in and was greeted with even more dead bodies. "A warm welcome", he thought. He started looking for a balm that he could apply on his wounds. Finding one was suited to his liking, he applied some to his shoulder. 

"Ah, that gives some relief, now all I need is some food", he said to himself. The flames were burning bright all around the city, and here he was looking for bread. One might have thought that he was a madman.

He rummaged around until he found some bread and started eating it. All he had with him  was his trusty sword, one that had been with him through countless battles. Once he ate his fill, he got up and left the shop.

"No man has gone seeking revenge on a empty stomach after all", he said to himself. His humour(albeit dark and stupid) was only thing that kept him distracted from the frightening event that had happened around him. The fires had begun to die down, but the smoke was still rising into the dark sky. 

"Where to now?" He asked himself. He had no idea where to go, no idea who had killed everyone in his beloved city, and no idea whose blood he had to spill. 

 " Perhaps I should make my way to the temple of Ares, some people may have taken refuge inside the temple as well?", He thought. Ares was a God after all. He would know something about what happened to his favourite people. He walked through the burnt bodies without sparing them a second thought, sympathy for the dead didn't matter, they were dead anyway. He soon reached the temple.It took his breath away every time he saw it. Spikes adorned the walls around the temple sending out a clear message,"Keep out". As if it only wanted the brave of heart to enter. The temple itself was a large black stone building (hence why it didn't burn down) that had a dome on top. Large designs of dragons and glorious war was etched in outer walls of the temple, with a stone path leading up to the doors. The doors were huge, made of gold with images of brutal death etched in silver. He walked upto the doors and pushed them open, courtesy be damned, the city had burned down. He had no time to spend knocking on doors. The priests were the means to talk to the God of War, Ares. Only the best of Spartan warriors were be allowed to become priests. It would not be easy to get the best of them, by fair means or foul.

Upon entering the temple, he noticed that the temple was eerily quiet. That was strange, even if there were no survivors,  the priests would never leave the temple. He simply couldn't believe that the priests could be bested, they were the best of the best warriors Sparta had to offer. He kept walking. He was currently walking through a passageway which led to the main chamber. The passageway was filled with statues of the greatest kings Sparta had on the right hand side, with their achievements written on a plaque under the statue. The left hand side was filled with statues of Sparta's greatest warriors, most of whom had become priests, save a few who had died in battle.He looked at the statues with respect for their achievements were legend. It was the dream of every Spartan boy to take their place among them, and now , it would no longer be possible. Trying not to linger in the past, he walked quickly past the statues and soon reached the end of the passageway, which ended with heavy stone double doors. A test of sorts. Only those strong enough to open the doors would be allowed to enter and pray at the altar of Ares. (The Spartans kept a large statue of Ares chained near his altar at the temple so that the spirit of war would never leave them. It was believed that praying to the statue would grant them success in battle. They were a crazy bunch)

He was no doubt strong enough to open the doors, however, he hesitated to open the doors because he heard sounds from within. Normally, this would have made him happy, as it would mean that there were survivors. However the language spoken seemed gruttal, not a tongue he had heard before. That meant outsiders. 

"What should I do? Blindly rushing in will simply get me killed", he thought to himself, "perhaps setting a trap would be....."

He didn't have time to finish his thought as the doors were thrown open and he was pulled in. His hesitation had cost him. 

What surprised him the most was that the beings that pulled him in had no bodies. They floated in the air as spheres of light. He jumped up from the floor, sword in hand

"W-Who are you?" he managed to ask them. The beings stayed silent as if deciding on an answer. He was about to ask them again when a tendril of light stretched towards him.........

..... and stabbed him in his heart.

"Gheekkk", was what came out of his mouth along with blood. But the tendril didn't stop there, it sliced downwards and cut him in half. As he fell to the floor, dying, he realised that he had failed , for the second time that day.

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