A Garden of Graves - Mobile Legends Martis x Lady Shura

Part 1/2: Deadly Grounds

"On your knees!"

The Shuran Slaver cracked his whip, nearly hitting several shackled prisoners. The cowering slaves quickly formed a line, some scampering hunched over while others crawled on all fours. Dirt covered their bruises and flesh wounds; most had completely lost their nails from digging with their bare hands for several cycles.

The slaves threw themselves on the ground as heavy footsteps echoed louder from the hallway.

Clank. Clank. Clank.

The weakened men closed their eyes, fearing to meet the fiery gaze of their subjugator. Stifled weeping and choked mumbles of prayer cut through the thick air.

Clank. Clank. Clank.

From the shadows of the hallway emerged the Ashura King, clad in full armor. He scanned the room with his blazing red eyes and was satisfied to see the serfs - acquired from his most recent campaign - trembling in fear.

The ground shook as the king's soldiers collectively hammered the floor with their weapon or foot. They then struck their chest with their fist before recalling it to the side. Martis raised his hand in acknowledgment, putting his men at ease.

Two Shura warriors dragged an elderly prisoner before the king. The old man clutched onto several scrolls while glaring at Martis with contempt.

"Such scorn burn in your eyes, master-builder. I expected you to be more grateful for my kindness."

"Kindness? You want me to be grateful for the crumbs you feed us? For the horror of watching my people suffer? For the lashings on my back?"

"I could do worse," Martis spoke ominously as he walked around the vast open chamber. The king examined the structures, vegetation, and sculptures designed by the old man. Grass and shrubs were beginning to grow from the foreign earth. Several trees were uprooted from various, exotic worlds and brought to the tower. Buds were beginning to bloom in the section near a small pond.

Despite the promising start, Martis merely scowled at the progress.

"None of this looks as impressive as the roaming grounds of your city. I expected more from your reputation and title. Blessed with the hands of Divine Davon, they say! Hah! Lies..."

"Do not mock my work and my homeland, tyrant!" The master-builder spoke with righteous anger. "Your clan encroached on us like pestilence! All the structures I built have been reduced to rubble! Now you expect me to create beauty in this barren wasteland you call home? You have a twisted mind if you think mourning my dead loved ones would inspire the best out of me!"

Martis darted at the old man, his glare sending a shiver down his soldiers' spine. Despite his resolve, the master-builder shrunk back as Martis loomed over him.

"You test my patience, builder. I can be cruel. If my kindness does not 'inspire' you..."

Deep-crimson energy began to spread on the ground. The prisoners screamed and wailed as they scurried away from the marked earth. The guards laughed and sneered with glee, hoping their king would make good on his threat and feed the feeble slaves to his Ashura Teeth.

"...perhaps fear and guilt will get you to move!"

"Stop! That's enough! There is no need for more bloodshed!" The master-builder desperately cried out. "The structure is meant to be a foundation! Within four cycles, the plants will grow and you will have your utopia in the sky!"

"Four cycles?" Martis growled. "Why must it take so long?"

"The plants need time to flourish," The master-builder spoke with exasperation. "I am no child of Divine Tala! I have no power to give life! You must be patient if you want perfection!"