Ash. The Legends of the Nameless World. Progression Gamelit Story by Kirill Klevanski (ink book reader .txt) 📕

monsters battle one another. Half-human, half-wolf, they fought each other as if instead of reason they had only madness left. They gnawed at their opponents, falling under claws and fangs themselves. The grass was red with blood. Guts hung from the branches. The flames hissed, licking wounded heads and arms.

A terrible growl rang out.

Ash jumped to his feet, shivering like a leaf in the wind, and tried to tame the flames, but in vain. The element didn’t want to obey the weak mage, whose hands were shaking as if he was suffering from a deadly fever.

Another roar came, closer and louder than before. Ash raised his head and came face to face with a giant beast. Its muscles were visible even under the thick fur, and its fangs were the length of daggers. He didn’t dare look lower to see just how big its claws were. For the first time in his life, the young mage understood what fear was. The knowledge came suddenly, together with the sweat that wetted his back and vomit that clamped down on his throat.

His heart skipped a beat as the beast snarled and charged, dashing across the blood-soaked ground. He was so confused and scared that he couldn’t even close his eyes to at least spare himself of looking death in the eyes. He stood and watched the black shadow rush toward him like a lead bullet fired from a musket. Another beat skipped, but he didn’t feel the blade-like claws ripping through his chest and stomach.

The monster landed behind him and began to tear at another creature. Ash turned around in disbelief. The fangs, the claws, the maddened eyes… The beast was no beast, but Ergbek.

Even more confused, Ash looked around the battlefield, realizing that it wasn’t werewolves that were fighting around him, but his men.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Someone chuckled behind him.

Ash immediately recognized the voice. He didn’t even need to turn around. A terrible pain shot through his chest and red droplets appeared on the grass. He fell to his knees, coughing as the blade tore through his lung.

A shadow loomed over him. Racker looked down at his general, feeling only disgust. He had once considered him a worthy leader, someone who didn’t suffer from foolish notions such as “honor” and “morals.” He had led the Legion into the craziest of battles, allowing them to fulfill their wildest fantasies, but all of that had changed.

He had begun to feel the general’s cold heart grow soft. He saved the foal, didn’t allow the captive children to be burned, forbade them to level Zadastra with the ground, and then he dismissed the Legion, giving them all a gold each! But all these were trifles in comparison to his biggest transgression.

A fire-wielding wizard could become a force to be reckoned with if they used the Dragon’s Essence. Ash could’ve surpassed the legendary First Master, he could’ve risen above the kings, outshone the epic heroes, could’ve been compared to the Gods themselves! But what did the fool do? He locked the Essence in a chest, determined to blindly follow the king’s orders to the letter!

If Ash was too much of a coward to defy the king, then he, Lieutenant Racker, would be more than happy to get that task off his hands.

Grimacing, he turned Ash’s body over with the toe of his boot. Blood was trickling from his chest. All he needed to do was pull out the dagger and let the mage choke on his own blood and vomit.

“I see you’re not surprised,” he commented, looking at the young man.

Ash was silent but there was something elusive in his eyes. He couldn’t tell which hurt more – the steel in his chest, or the metaphorical knife in his back. He realized that he couldn’t escape death and made peace with the fact that his days were numbered. He had served the king faithfully, following orders to the very end, as he had been taught by his mentors. He had followed all the principles of the religion of the thirteen kingdoms that the high priest had hammed into his head. As per the king’s orders, he had led his men into terrible battles. He knew by heart all the Words that Arthur had explained to him.

As the steel sunk deeper into his chest, Ash began to understand things that he hadn’t realized before. He was suddenly aware of the fact that his entire life had been led and dictated by other people. He finally realized the meaning of the word “to want” – he wanted to live, to live as he pleased!

A ball of fire shot up into the air. Racker, roaring like a wounded beast, tried to put out the flame that had caught his hair and beard. When he finally managed to subdue it, Ash was gone. All Racker saw was a shadow fading away among the burning trees.

“Run as much as you want!” He laughed, clutching the Essence in his hand. Around him, the Legion was dying, not realizing that it was killing itself. The stars continued to twinkle, seemingly indifferent to the chaos happening below them. “Run all you want, but you’re still dead!”

By morning, the king would have learned about Ash’s betrayal. He’d then order that the mage be stripped of all regalia and awards, and that all land and coin be taken away from him. Any mention of the young man would be erased from the scrolls and chronicles. Oblivion will take not only the name of the man he had trusted as his own brother and son, but also all of those who had gone with him. The Seventh Legion will be remembered not for its deeds, but for its transgressions.

Posters would be displayed all over the continent, offering a reward of five thousand gold pieces to whoever brought the head of the murdered whose name could no longer