WARRIOR OF THE NAMELESS GOD part 1

His head felt like it was about to explode, and then the pain vanished. He rose from the floor, knowing that if he didn't get a commission soon, the pain would return. His god was growing impatient, demanding sacrifices. Once again, he realized he was paying a high price for what he'd received by signing the pact. And things could have turned out differently. He hadn't always been a mercenary warrior. Once, he'd been an ordinary peasant, content with his life, with a wife

and two children, and thinking the gods were kind to him. One day, his world collapsed, and he was changed forever. Even though he was exhausted from work, he smiled and whistled a cheerful tune he'd heard from an old woodcutter. He wondered what Jasmin and the children were doing at that moment. He couldn't wait to see their faces when he showed them the gifts he'd bought. For Wenna, a colorful ribbon she'd loved so much; for Lancis, a wooden sword he'd been talking about since he'd seen it a week earlier, and a magnificent silver bracelet that his wife couldn't take her eyes off. These gifts cost him dearly, but he didn't worry; he knew the joy on his family's faces would reward him a hundredfold. He was about five miles from home when he saw smoke rising from the spot he was heading for. A foreboding feeling gripped him; no bonfire except the one lit for the solstice could produce so much smoke, and it was still many days away. He broke into a run toward home, his exhaustion fading away. He didn't remember how long he'd been running; concern for his loved ones overwhelmed his thoughts, pushing everything else away. He only knew that something terrible had happened. These suspicions were confirmed when he crested the last hill that obscured his view of the valley and the village within. A sea of ​​flames raged below, consuming everything in its path. Although it seemed impossible, he accelerated even faster. He was just passing his nearest neighbor's house when the sight before him brought him to his knees. Before him, in a pool of blood lay the corpse of his wife. She was naked, with a wound from a sword or dagger across her chest, and her legs were spread wide, suggesting she had been raped before her death. Most horrifying, however, was her face, a grimace of terror mingled with pain and blood, creating a macabre mask. Amdar vomited. It took him a few moments to recover from what he had seen. The thought of his children brought him back to reality, though he had anticipated what he would see when he found them. Nothing, however, could have prepared him for what he saw. They lay a few meters away under a bush, holding hands. Their throats had been torn open, and their half-eaten entrails lay scattered around their small bodies. The roar that escaped his lips was more befitting a beast than a human.

"Why?"

The word, spoken with incredible despair, struck the sky, demanding an answer—an answer that never came. He glanced around, gazing at the fire, at death, and something within him died. Something that made him a good, just, and merciful man. The next sentence, though spoken with cold calm, would have been more terrifying than any nightmare for most:

"I call upon you, gods old and new, good and evil; all is indifferent to me. Help me punish those who took what I loved most, and I will give my life. Grant me vengeance, and I will keep my oath."

With these words, steeped in pain and hatred, he turned away from the bodies and walked back the way he had come. He stopped only a few hundred paces beyond the village, on a small rise, sat down on a stone that had stood there for as long as he could remember, and sank his thoughts into infinite regret. If anyone who knew Amdar had seen this, they would have been shocked by the indifference he showed in leaving the bodies of his family as they were. But he knew better. His wife and children were dead, and what remained were mere shells, meaningless. The only thought that gripped his mind was revenge!

He stared into the distance with unseeing eyes until night fell and he heard quiet footsteps behind him. It made no impression on him; whoever it was couldn't have hurt him any more. His fear burned away like a fire in the village, leaving only pain, suffering, and utter indifference. Words spoken with a soldier's firmness brought him back to reality:

"Your voice is strong, peasant, and someone heard it .

" "I don't know what you're talking about, sir, but leave me alone. I don't want to talk to anyone." "

You called, so I came.

" "I don't understand. Who are you?

" "Your chance for revenge.

" "Are you one of the gods?

" "I wish I could, but I'm only one of the soldiers of a god.

" "Which god?"

- Does it matter? I don't know his name, you won't know him either. All you need to know is that he wants to help you.

- But how?

- Before I tell you more, know that the price will be high, perhaps more than you're willing to pay.

- I'll do whatever he wants .

- You offered your life

, and I'll give it up without hesitation. - And

your soul?

- Everything!

- Think about your words, farmer, so you won't regret anything later.

- I don't have to think about anything, I've already decided

. - So sign this pact sealing the agreement between you and your new master.

Amdar signed it without even considering the consequences of his action

. - And what now?

- Now you will follow me to the place where I will make you a soldier of God

. - But those who murdered my family will escape!

- For a while.

"You lied to me!

" "No, your revenge will be complete, but not yet."

Amdar accepted this answer with resignation; he would achieve nothing this way. He decided to be patient.

"Can you at least tell me your name?

" "Call me teacher or master, because from today on, that's what I will be to you. In

the meantime, get some sleep; tomorrow the journey towards your new destiny will begin." Obediently, though angrily, he went to bed, his dreams filled with pain and torture. In the morning, instead of the usual "Good morning, my love!", he was awakened by a sharp kick in the back.

"Get up, we have a long way to go.

" It took a few moments for him to understand who this warrior was and what he wanted from him. Revelation came quite quickly. As quickly as the pain and anger. One glance at the ruins of the village where he had spent his entire life was enough. He quickly realized that all the questions he asked would remain unanswered. The warrior looked resolute, the kind who wouldn't repeat a word twice. Ignoring him, he saddled his horse and slowly set off down the southern road, followed on foot by his new apprentice, lost in sad memories. The sun was already setting when the warrior finally stopped and dismounted. Amdar didn't fall to the ground for the same reason he hadn't asked for a rest during his journey. He resolved that he would never again humble himself before the silent warrior, either with a request or a question, and would obey all orders without complaint. After all, it all boiled down to revenge, and that was all he needed.

A hard voice shook him from his thoughts:

"Go to the forest and gather wood. We'll stay here for the night."

He simply nodded and went to carry out the order. That evening, as they sat by the fire, eating a rabbit the warrior had killed, he thought he didn't even know where they were going. A moment later, he decided it didn't matter anyway. With one last glance at the stranger staring into the flames, he rolled onto his side and fell asleep with a thousand questions that would remain unanswered. The next day began like the previous one, with a sharp kick in the back and a march to who knows where. The march stretched on endlessly until the sun reached its zenith, and in the distance loomed the ruins of some old castle, towards which, judging by their direction of travel, they were clearly heading. Upon reaching the ruins, the warrior leaped from his horse and turned to the surprised Amdar:

"This is where our journey ends, and your training begins. We'll begin training tomorrow. Today, try to find a place to sleep and gather some wood, while I try to fill our bellies with something."

The castle, or rather the watchtower, was strategically placed in a magnificent location, which was clear even to a peasant like Amdar. The hill on which it stood dominated the surrounding area, and more importantly, the single road that wound along its foot. On one side, the road bordered a lake, beyond which could be seen the towering snow-capped peaks, and on the other, the tower, beyond which stretched the vast wilderness. Anyone traveling this route would have to bypass it or risk crossing the mountains or wilderness, which would have been fatal given the dangers they held. The next day, he woke up quite early, avoiding the kick in the back he had received on previous mornings. Upon entering the courtyard, he found the warrior already waiting for him. Surprised, he shrugged and approached, expecting him to give him a sword and begin training.

"See that boulder

?" "Yes, it's just a stone.

" "Are you sure?"

Amdar began to examine the piece of rock as if it were about to come to life.

"Is it magical?

" The warrior laughed in a booming voice

. "Only if you enchant it."

The laughter ended as suddenly as it had begun, and the warrior's face returned to a mask of indifference

. "This is your training companion for the coming weeks. Lift this boulder above your head and run around the courtyard until I say enough."

With a look of doubt, he added,

"I wonder if you'll even lift it."

The passion that gripped Amdar allowed him to lift the boulder effortlessly. After two laps, his hands began to tremble, but rage prevented him from giving up so quickly. After the fifth lap, pain burned like fire not only in his hands but throughout his entire body. After another two laps, his arms couldn't handle the strain and fell backward with the boulder, dragging it to the ground with them. The warrior didn't scold him as he expected, but pierced him with that soulless gaze of his blue eyes, then picked up his bow and walked away toward the forest. Amdar realized he was furious, not because he had fallen, but because the stranger hadn't shouted at him, as officers sometimes did with ordinary soldiers in the army. This silence was more accusing than a thousand shouts. After lunch, he ran to the lake below the castle, just to fetch two buckets of water. This task proved to be not as simple as it initially seemed. Halfway back, he tripped over a root and had to return to refill the buckets with water. Upon reaching the castle, exhausted but with a sense of mission accomplished, he collapsed to the ground. He lay there for an hour, trying to regain enough strength to drag himself to the stone hole he called his room and fall asleep. For the next two weeks, he performed the same tasks every day, with the only difference being that the stone and the buckets seemed lighter each day. One day, as he stepped out into the courtyard and tried to lift the stone, he heard a warrior's voice:

"Today we will try something new. I see you have recovered somewhat, but you still lack the speed and flexibility that distinguish an ordinary warrior from a master. At the edge of the forest, I have built an obstacle course that will improve your reflexes.

" "Master, how long will this training last?

" "As long as I decide."

Amdar cursed himself for his stupidity; he could have guessed that this would be the warrior's response—enough of this talk. From this day forward, you will begin your day on an obstacle course and end with the tasks you've already completed. Is that clear? Are you too stupid to understand? Amdar held back his anger, guessing the warrior wanted to provoke him so he could mock him even more. He looked the warrior straight in the eye, demonstrating his anger, and ran toward the forest, eager to vent his anger during training. After two months of relentless training, there was not a single ounce of fat on his body, and his muscles had become as hard as the rock he ran with every day, though now he felt no weight. Although his body was becoming an increasingly refined tool, his mind, though sharpened, remained obsessed with revenge, delaying his reactions. Each day spent practicing tortured his soul, but he understood that patience would pay off, and that the murderers of his family wouldn't hide even at the end of the world from his vengeance. He didn't even notice that the warrior was no longer mocking him, beginning to notice his progress. On the first day of the new month, he summoned him to his side.

"Starting tomorrow, we'll begin swordfighting; you continue with the rest of the tasks as before."

Amdar simply nodded, indicating his understanding. The next six weeks were spent taking severe beatings, trying to master the principles of fencing. His teacher didn't spoil him. His body, though still firm, was now covered in a mass of bruises and abrasions. He didn't complain, however. With each day, he pushed himself harder, knowing that this pain was bringing him closer to his goal. His training finally began to yield results. Day by day, the exercises began to turn into breathless duels. The warrior had to draw on all his experience to defeat Amdar, yet it began to become clear to him that the day his defenses would be breached was only a matter of time. The peasant's talent for weapons was becoming more evident with each passing day, and his skills were growing at an astronomical rate. The warrior realized it was time for his final lesson. The next day, before training, he called his apprentice to him:

"Tomorrow you finish your training as an apprentice and begin your life as a warrior. Therefore, today is your day off."

Amdar spent the entire day wondering what he would do after tomorrow and which god he had agreed to serve. Until now, he hadn't bothered with these thoughts. He assumed he would have to undergo some initiation and swear service to a god whose name he didn't even know. These thoughts disturbed him somewhat, but he concluded that he had made his decision when he signed the pact, and now he had no choice. These thoughts overtook him into the night and into sleep. The next day he woke up to find a warrior waiting for him in a square with what looked like a shrine.

"Come here, boy, and learn your destiny."

He slowly but surely approached the shrine, wondering what would happen when he reached his destination.

"Kneel and say the words I told you to learn yesterday ."

Amdar, though a little frightened, spoke loudly and clearly:

"NAUM'OKR MA CHADAR

SARE A'IM EL KABRA

KORE NOUIT ZE WACHTE

IST HOUSTRO MECH'ORDE

I'AM SORTHE AMDAR QUANDIR.

" A stream of green light descended from the sky, striking the kneeling Amdar, and the ground around him turned black as if struck by lightning. The wind roared with a deafening roar, snapping the trees growing on the slope of the castle, and the river grew so large that it flooded the road, despite the embankments protecting it. This situation lasted for several minutes, and then everything fell silent and returned to its former state. The man who rose from his knees was not the same man who had arrived. His face took on a look of determination and composure, reflecting experience and understanding of the situation. But what changed most about him were his eyes. Once brown, they now became blue, burning with icy fire. Anyone who looked into those eyes would know the meaning of fear, and the memory of their freezing gaze would wake them from sleep for the rest of their lives. Thus, from a hot-headed peasant, a composed warrior was born, whose purpose was to serve the nameless god. As if from afar, the voice of his former teacher reached him.

"My task is complete, but before I depart, hear me one last time. We are brothers now. Your former life is over; you are now a knight of God. You may now fulfill your oath of vengeance, and when you have completed it, you will obey your lord's commands. Now, farewell, and may your path be the path of our lord.

" I wish the same for you, brother, wherever you go.

The words escaped his lips before he even understood their meaning. On that day, Amdar learned his destiny, and the day he set out on his journey arrived. A journey that would be marked by the heads of the men who had destroyed his world.