Ekhros (English version)

The soldiers marched out of the city in rows, equipped with their armor. Their weapons consisted of swords and spears, and their shields were created by energy emanating from steel wristbands. On the wall, the soldiers equipped with bows and arrows followed Corman's orders. He walked in a straight line behind the archers, ensuring everyone was in position. He stopped when he saw the black clouds covering the purple sky overhead, bringing with them a cold wind and a stench of decay. He felt a tingling in his body, clenching his hands into fists. He could feel his brother's presence; only the Ekhronians who were sorcerers, members of the Kums family, or twins could sense the presence of others.

Vyrkon's presence had always been somewhat volatile, sometimes weak and insecure, and other times, as now, strong. In contrast, Corman's presence had always been tenacious. He took several deep breaths to calm his emotions.

The soldiers at the front formed a line like an impenetrable wall, awaiting the enemy's arrival. Cork, mounted on his horse and addressing his soldiers, raised his voice to be heard.

"Ten years ago, an enemy that none of us expected tried to assassinate our king. His life was spared because that enemy was none other than Prince Derkno! He escaped from his prison on the Dark Island and returns to do the same as in the past! This time, his life will not be spared again! This time, it will be final!" he exclaimed, causing a stir among his soldiers.

King Satír, along with his family members, arrived on horseback. Satír did not wear armor, only a chainmail made of metal under his royal robes and his sword. The sword that his ancestors once held in battles bore the royal emblem on the hilt, a silver bird flying over the palace. The sword of light was the sword that only the king could wield.

Standing before his soldiers with his imposing figure and steely gaze, he said:

"Our enemies believe it will be easy to defeat us, but they are mistaken," he surveyed them all. "We will not allow them to destroy the peace that has been maintained for centuries. They will not destroy our city!" As he said the last words, Satír felt a sharp pang in his chest. His brother was there. He looked ahead, hearing the lightning like the roars of caged beasts. Slowly, the mirage spell dissipated, revealing Derkno along with his army.

Just by looking at their clothes, he knew they were all prisoners from the Dark Island. Among them were also merchants and soldiers, probably encountered at Aranka port. There were soldiers with the custodians' seal, the officers who guarded the Dark Island. But the question was, why had they allied with Derkno?

As if Ternon had read his thoughts, he said:

"The curse of eternal obedience," the sorcerer said, looking at all those innocents with sorrow.

Satír sighed. Once again, Derkno was causing pain wherever he went. All those Ekhronians who were entirely innocent were now cursed, and the only way to free them from the curse was to end their lives. Among the criminals were Garluts, and everyone knew how strong they were. Even when his father was still alive, Satír had to search for a group of ten Garluts that were destroying entire villages. During the fight against them, he lost more than twenty soldiers, and the Garluts lost only two. Among Derkno's army, there were more Garluts than he could count.

Derkno looked at his brother with a disdainful smile. The past ten years hadn't changed his physique, whereas the years in prison had slightly worn down his own. However, that didn't mean his power had diminished. On the contrary, during his journey, he had regained all the strength he had lost during his imprisonment. He raised one of his hands and, with a motion, ordered his army to attack.

Satír raised his sword to the sky, inciting his troops with a roar that echoed across the field. The armies, unleashing furious roars, charged into combat. Both armies clashed with devastating force. The sound of metal against metal, war cries, and the thundering of horse hooves filled the air. Satír and Derkno made their way through the chaos, each seeking the other with relentless fury.

Finally, the two brothers faced each other in the center of the battlefield, their eyes locking. For a moment, time seemed to stand still. Hatred and disappointment were reflected in their faces. Satír galloped on his horse to approach him, but he was thrown to the ground when an arrow pierced his horse's eye. The horse writhed for a few seconds before dying. With some difficulty, Satír stood up, raising his head to see his brother approaching.

With his sword shining, Satír prepared to end his brother's life. Letting out a war cry, their swords clashed with a force that shook the ground. The battle between the two was fierce and ruthless, each blow a manifestation of years of resentment and pain. At one point, they looked directly into each other's eyes.

"How dare you! After I spared your life," Satír exclaimed angrily. He extended his left hand towards Derkno, who reacted too late to his elder brother's attack. Satír launched a bolt of pure maná. Derkno took the blow to his chest, the force sending him spinning through the air before crashing to the ground. He rolled several meters back before stopping himself with his sword.

Derkno quickly stood up despite the strong blow. He ran towards Satír and retaliated with the same attack. A blast of black maná struck Satír's sword, making him stagger back. A second energy bolt hit him, knocking him down.

"That was a big mistake, brother. You should have killed me when you had the chance!" he shouted forcefully.

Satír got up as quickly as he could, staring at his brother wide-eyed.

"What have you done?" he asked, slightly perplexed.

Derkno curved his lips into an arrogant smile.

"Did you know that harboring so much hatred can consume your soul? That's what happened to my powers; their color turned black because of it. And, of course, there's another way to gain more power." He extended his arms to the sides, taking a deep breath, showing Satír how his maná flowed around his body.

"I see," Satír looked at his foolish brother with a mix of rage and sadness.

He gripped his sword again, tightening his hold on the hilt, and launched another attack on Derkno. Their fighting styles, with the iron of their swords and the silver and black lights in the form of whips, seemed like a deadly dance between them.