Unconditional Suffering

“I couldn’t understand. I couldn’t understand why I was dressed in striking yellow. I couldn’t understand why the fire burned so bright. I couldn’t understand why they were so obsessed with this ceremony until the gilded knife was firmly in my back.

Next thing I know, I wake up inside of a coffin. The coffin is tight. The fanatics are horrified. I was supposed to be dead.

They did not know the suffering that would befall them next.”

Lenn.

Unstoppably, Chya raced forward, lance brutally piercing enemy innards. Lenn, one of the major temples of the Pyrrics, was being razed down to earth by her army. Chya had formed an entirely non-fanatical army out of many factions: remnants of Leothen’s antitheistic faction, skilled swordspeople of Aethelier, crystalline-armored Tarithanians, and the horsemen of Braxyl.

This great army had been crafted through a single purpose: prevent the tumor of the Pyrrics from spreading outwards from Gallance, creating an unstoppable holy war. Ferociously and mercilessly, the warlord’s army destroyed the temple complex and massacred numerous Pyrrics.

This is what they deserve for what they’ve done.

Lumiere.

Chya burst out of the coffin, hysterically strong from the near-death experience. Surprisingly, they had been foolish enough to leave the ceremonial knife on the coffin. Chya grabbed it, and screamed a crazed war cry.

She began to hack away at the priests, and when she recognized the one who stabbed her, Chya used the same knife to drive it far down his neck. Blood spurted onto her face, painting a terrifying red onto it. Soon, however, she knew that if she were to survive today, the knife wound in her back would need to be healed.

I will make you all suffer until you cannot anymore.

Lenn.

More fire. More bloodshed. More screams. Chya knew nothing other than enemy gore as she continued deeper into the temple. She and a small legion of others had reached one of the deepest layers of the temple, where the walls were the purest white.

The enemy’s viscera erased that purity. Chya reveled in it, destroying as much of their sacred fire as they could. The legion desecrated as many Pyrric relics as they could, leaving nothing standing.

If we leave anything, they’ll just come back.

Lumiere.

Chya’s agony grew as she finally hauled herself down to a hospital. Frightened faces surrounded her, obviously dreading her bloodied appearance. Dredging up what remaining voice she had, Chya requested only one thing.

“Doctor,” she rasped, before slumping onto the nearest surface.

The pain was unbearable. The stab wound in her back reached a crescendo of absolute agony, and Chya silently prayed to the Twin Gods, saying that if this was her end, she did not wish to be punished for her actions.

Don’t let me die to the shameless brutes that are the Pyrrics.

Lenn.

Even deeper the legion went. Now, the only light was from sacred pyres (destroyed by the legion), and their own torches. Instead of pure white, now the darkest black became the dominant color. They still went along, now only ravaging, as there were seemingly no Pyrrics to be found.

Eventually, the legion came across a great door with an inscription above it. It read: “ONLY ONE WILL ENTER.” When they opened the door, the entire legion tried to enter, but they only exited outside of the door. Sighing exasperatedly, Chya turned to her legion.

“I’m entering,” she solemnly declared.

“What?” one of the legionnaires questioned. “Why risk yourself like… like this?”

“Because I’m going to destroy whatever is in this room,” Chya concluded, before entering.

Twin Gods, bless my hands with strength and nimbleness.

Lumiere.

Now healed, Chya fled the city. She knew that running was a coward’s move, but sometimes, the coward’s move was the only move that wasn’t foolhardy. She traveled out into the landscape of Gallance, walking until Gallance faded into the horizon.

Chya entered a forest, now searching for the greatest tree in the forest. Her soul needed rest from killing, from the lunatic catharsis of annihilating the enemy. The enemy was large, but Chya could be larger. She needed a coalition. She needed an army, devoted but not fanatical, all unified to eliminate the Pyrrics.

They had caused unconditional suffering for long enough.

Soon, I will feel the warmth of enemy gore once more.

Lenn.

Inside the chamber where she was alone, a figure appeared to her. A meditating silhouette, growing clearer and clearer as she drew closer. Chya drew her dagger, the one she had preserved from when she killed those original few priests.

“Your temple is destroyed,” Chya boomed, drawing closer. “Give up.”

The figure stood, and Chya could perceive its appearance: they were old, gaunt, and their eyes were totally blank. For the first time in this battle, Chya shuddered.

“Why give up?” the elderly man stated.

“Because there’s no hope for you now!” Chya shouted, drawing even closer.

The elderly man held his palm up, and suddenly, Chya burst into a brilliant flame. She screamed her crazed war cry, now driving the knife deep into the elder’s neck, before driving it up into his brain. Instantly, he collapsed, and Chya screamed in agony.

However, a voice came into her head. Do not give up yet.

“Twin Gods, help me!” Chya shrieked.

Do not give up yet.

Finally, the rest of the legion opened the door, but they could not get to Chya, no matter how hard they tried. Chya continued her agonized cry, before her voice left her.

Do not give up, Chya.

Now.

Chya looked at the coalition army ravaging another major temple. She had left her mortal form, now a cold spirit of vengeance helping her army in every way she could. Her soul refused to rest, not until her quest was complete.

I will not sleep. Not until the fire of the Pyrrics has gone out.

Ref: Chya