Elite by Maclaw

Chapter 5

**SLAVE CAMP

"Don't move," Jeremiah hissed, pulling Bethel behind him. The sound of chains hitting the ground echoed through the corridor as the main gate swung open.

The prisoners began to stir, barking curses, throwing scraps, anything they could find, out of their cells. The air thickened with fear and anticipation.

In the cold hallway, four Seedsmen strode forward, their presence immediately silencing the chaos. Towering figures in dark robes, their skin gleamed like black pearls under the dim torchlight. Each step they took was deliberate, their power palpable.

Margot, the leader of the Seedsmen, spoke with a slow, mocking drawl, his voice curling through the air. "It's Eve's night. Stop your barking and be grateful. Tonight, you get a taste of life."

Margot stood at an imposing seven feet tall, his dreads falling past his hips. He was more than a man—he was a myth, whispered about in every dark corner of the camp. Some called him a demon from hell. Others spoke of him as a god, a figure of lust and death who had ruled the Seedsmen for over a decade without challenge.

"He is a monster," someone whispered from their cell.

Behind Margot, the youngest Seedsman, Ikena, followed closely. Flanking him were the twin brothers, Goth and Loth, their expressions cold as they prowled the hallway. The tension was thick, the silence heavy.

"Bring me the girls," Margot ordered.

Loth walked slowly past the cells, his footsteps echoing like the ticking of a death clock. He stopped before one cell, his eyes narrowing on a young girl. Without a word, he unlocked the door, stepping inside. His hand shot out, grabbing the girl by her arm.

She yelped, but before she could be pulled from the cell, Jeremiah intervened. He stood firm, pulling his sister back behind him, his gaze locked on Loth's. The air in the cell crackled with the energy of something unheard of—defiance.

Loth sneered, his lips curling in disgust. "Let go of her, boy," he commanded, his voice low, laced with venom.

Jeremiah's heart pounded, but he didn't flinch.
"You will not take my sister," he growled, his voice steady.

Loth's eyes flashed with fury. No one had ever challenged him like this. He glanced back at the other Seedsmen, but they offered no reaction. This was his fight to finish.
In a flash, Loth's hand shot out, seizing Jeremiah by the throat. He lifted him effortlessly, holding him aloft for a moment before throwing him against the cold, hard ground outside the cell. Jeremiah's body hit the stone with a sickening thud, but he refused to stay down.

Bethel screamed, trying to wrench herself free, but Loth dragged her toward the exit.

"I said..." Jeremiah's voice, broken and hoarse, echoed through the hallway. "Leave her alone!" His body lunged forward, and with a burst of primal energy, he struck Loth across the face with a rock he had snatched from the floor.

The hallway fell into shocked silence. Loth stumbled back, clutching his bleeding eye, his breath heavy with rage. For a brief moment, time seemed to slow as the crowd in the cells held their breath, unable to comprehend what they had just witnessed.

Fallen on his back,his hands clutching his bleeding eye, Loth was furious. Veins bulged across his forehead as blood pulsed with rage. He let out a deep, strained sigh.

"You little—" His words were cut short by a swift, violent motion from Jeremiah. The room grew frigid, the air thick with tension as gasps echoed around them. From whispers to panicked cries, the crowd couldn't comprehend the speed of what had just happened. In the blink of an eye, Jeremiah was now behind Loth, his arm raised, gripping a stone-carved blade slick with fresh blood.

Jeremiah crouched on all fours like a predator, his long, wild hair veiling his face. His back moved in sync with his ragged, animalistic breathing. Slowly, he rose to his feet.
Bethel, freed from Loth's grasp, stood frozen for a brief moment before quickly retreating behind her brother. She faced the seedsmen, her body trembling, unsure of what would come next.

—*Dong*—the first bell rang.

A hush fell over the room. Cold silence. Blood dripped steadily to the floor. Loth's hands clutched his neck in a futile attempt to stem the crimson flow. His legs trembled, his strength faltering, before his knees buckled. He collapsed to the ground with a heavy, echoing thud.

Bethel looked at him, her voice trembling. "What... what do we do?"

Jeremiah didn't take his eyes off the Seedsmen. "Run back to your cell," he whispered. "I'll come for you."

The fear in her eyes only deepened, but she but she obeyed, darting back into the darkened corner of the room.

Dong-the second bell echoed through the hall.

The Seedsmen watched their fallen comrade with an eerie stillness. Loth, struggling to breathe, extended a hand toward his brother, Goth, who screamed in anguish.

Goth's scream turned into a roar of vengeance as he charged at Jeremiah, his axe raised high. But Jeremiah stood his ground, gripping the axe that had just felled his attacker. The cellblock erupted in panicked shouts, urging Jeremiah to flee.

"Run!" someone cried.

"He'll kill you!" another shouted.

Jeremiah stood there, frozen, as the world seemed to unravel around him. Voices, distant and desperate, urged him to run, but his feet remained anchored to the ground. Time slowed, every heartbeat pounding in his ears like the distant echo of a drum. He could see them—people scattering, some clawing their way to freedom, others succumbing to the chaos. His mind screamed at him to move, but his body refused, caught in a liminal space between fear and action. For a moment, everything was still......