Chains of Vengeance

Chapter 75: Bravery

Amidst the shadowy Silk Cradle Forest, in front of the temple of war, Narinder was engaged in a fierce battle with the corrupted form of Focalor, a massive spider twisted by the black ichor emanating from its body. The sky above them was covered in dark webs, and the dense fog turned the environment into a field of moving shadows, as if the place itself wanted to devour it.

Focalor, furious and deformed, lashed out with his multiple sharp legs, his body flickering with a dark energy that shook the ground with each movement. Black ichor dripped from his mouth, and his eyes flashed an empty light, consumed by corruption.

Narinder, with a serenity that only a god could have, swung his sickle with deadly precision. Each cut was quick, clean, dividing Focalor's black flesh into pieces that flew through the air like scattered shadows. Smaller spiders tried to ambush him from dark corners, but Narinder, with feline agility, tore them apart with precise movements, each slash releasing an echo of power.

Focalor let out a visceral roar, charging towards Narinder with overwhelming force. The ground opened under the creature's weight, but Narinder, with implacable coldness, leapt to the side, letting the enormous spider crash into the void. The spider, enraged, fired a torrent of black venom that darkened the air. Narinder raised his hand, projecting a barrier that dissolved the venom before it could touch him.

With an intense, cold gaze, Narinder delivered the final blow. He leapt onto Focalor's back, burying his sickle deep into the putrid flesh, releasing a heart-rending scream from the beast. Black ichor began to flow like a tide, but Narinder remained steadfast, not taking his eyes off the dying monstrosity. With a violent swing of his weapon, the battle ended, and Focalor collapsed, his body collapsing into darkness.

With his breathing calm and his face serene, Narinder approached the spider's corpse and, with a delicate but firm movement, took the god's tear that was forming on Focalor's chest. The small jewel shone with a divine glow, contrasting with the dark scenery around him.

Without wasting any more time, Narinder vanished in a flash, returning to the temple. Back in his cult, with the tear in hand and the air of victory around him.

Narinder, after the exhausting battle at Silk Cradle, walked straight to his house. He was mentally exhausted, his mind filled with noise. He wanted to rest, just for a moment, to forget everything and stop thinking about his revenge, about the battles, about his destiny. He closed the door behind him with a heavy sigh and dropped into a chair. He felt the weight of the fight crushing him.

However, not even a minute passed before the door swung open again. Kallamar, his figure hunched over and his bandages bloodied, entered. His walk was slow, but firm, as if he had made an irrevocable decision.

Narinder, startled by the sudden interruption, looked at him with tired eyes. "Get out," he said in a hoarse voice, almost a growl. "I'm tired."

But Kallamar didn't move. His eyes, normally filled with nervousness, shone with unexpected bravery. "I'll tell you where my relic is," he blurted out.

Narinder stared at him, his body tensing instantly. His thoughts began to race. Like that? Out of nowhere? Just like that? He immediately thought of a trap, but Kallamar approached slowly, with a resolve Narinder hadn't seen in him before.

"For over a thousand years," Kallamar began, his voice breaking as he spoke, "I lived in fear and anxiety, fighting to keep you from being released. But... what was the point of it all? The truth is that I lost happiness since I heard the prophecy... no... it was before, long before... since we sealed you away."

Narinder felt a deep rage in his chest as he remembered that day, that moment when his own brothers betrayed him. He clenched his fists, his eyes burning with fury.