No Mercy For Monsters
✨🔥 Previously on The Godless Path: 🔥✨
In a village poisoned by false faith, the siblings confronted Tharrox — a prophet turned demon. Beneath a bleeding altar, rituals unraveled, illusions shattered, and the church fell in fire and ash. 🔥⛪
As Tharrox burned, a pale girl smiled from the trees, vanishing as Maevhara whispered:
"Bring her back." 🌒👁️🗨️
Now, the hunt begins. ⚔️?
The battlefield lay still—but far from silent. Distant screams lingered like thick smoke, carried on a wind tainted with blood, ash, and decay. The scent of burnt flesh clawed at the air.
Kael stood at the center—shirt torn, skin smeared with crimson, breath ragged and sharp like a wild animal's. Around him, bodies lay broken and twisted—none untouched by his blade, "none spared the cruel flame that coiled hungrily around his palms.". Some had tried to run. None succeeded.
Behind him, Nyra moved with slow, deliberate grace, wiping gore from her cheek without a word. "Her eyes—violet threaded with inky black—shimmered with eerie calm. Too cold for a child. Too steady for someone who had just waded through a massacre." She hadn't spoken since the last monster collapsed, whispering her name as if afraid.
Aelina perched on a jagged stone like a crow poised to strike, talons gleaming in the dying light. "Her eyes glittered with something fouler than triumph.". She surveyed the carnage, lips curling into a sick, twisted grin that bloomed across her pale face like a bruised flower. The claws at her fingertips still dripped wet blood; she licked one slowly, savoring it. This was art—the beauty of carnage, the poetry of fear—and she never flinched. Never.
"They had come through a rift—a tear, in reality, bleeding colors that felt wrong, ancient. A place no mortal should tread.". The ground beneath their feet was like living flesh, warm and pulsing, woven with veins of ash. Above, the sky throbbed like a colossal heart, pulsing in rhythms of a maddening dream. The air tasted of rot and copper, and whispers floated without mouths to speak them.
It was here, in that shifting nightmare of malice, that they first saw them—
**The Cursed Children.**
Creatures born from nightmares, laughter bubbling with venom, eyes spiraling and shifting, flickering between human and monstrous. Their skin shimmered with an otherworldly glow beneath a starless sky, smiles splitting wide enough to reveal rows of jagged teeth.
Their laughter echoed—high-pitched, layered with something unholy.
One sneered, his voice dripping with malice.
"You think you're cursed? You're just the appetizer — we're the feast."
Another's jaw unhinged with manic laughter.
"A prophecy born of broken gods and bleeding stars," it shrieked. "You're not salvation. You're the infection!"
Aelina tilted her head, fascinated, her grin stretching unnaturally wide.
"Beautiful," she whispered. "Rotten little dreams turned feral."
Kael barked a bitter laugh.
"They made this lie just to scare people. To erase us."
Nyra said nothing. But dark fire flickered at her fingertips.
The demon-children raised their hands, voices rising in a chilling chant—a mockery of sacred verses that twisted the air. Reality began to crack, illusions peeling back like old skin.
**And then the fight began.**
---
##"No Mercy, No Salvation"
Steel met claw. Flame collided with shadow. Blood soaked dirt.
The air screamed.
Kael moved like a tempest—slashing, burning, tearing. His sword sang through the air, cleaving flesh and bone, and the fire coiling in his palms scorched anyone who dared come close.
Nyra was a ghost of vengeance—barefoot, silent, untouchable. Dark fire coiled around her hands like living shadows. A bone blade sliced toward her; she twisted beneath it and unleashed a blast of flame, burning the attacker alive from the inside out. A desperate child clawed at her leg, shrieking, but she calmly plunged a dagger into its eye.
Aelina was a phantom of cruelty, darting between foes, ripping throats and cracking spines with a twisted lullaby on her lips. Her laughter was a song of madness—pure and dark. One moment, her fingers sliced a throat; the next, she vanished like smoke, reappearing behind another, whispering lullabies as she tore out a spine.
The demon-children screamed, laughed, cried, pleaded, and bled.
"Mercy!" one howled, voice cracking.
Kael sneered.
"Tell that to the graves you dug for us."
He ignited the creature in a pillar of white-hot flame until it turned to ash.
Hours passed—or seconds—or perhaps an eternity.
When silence finally settled, the siblings stood alone. Bloodied. Breathing. Unbroken.
---
For a moment, the silence felt like the breath before the world exhaled.
And then—light split the sky.
**Then came the Healers.**
The Arrival of the Healers
They came like divine judgment.
Aris, Lioren, and Sylva descended from the sky like shards of fallen stars, cloaked in blinding light. Their silver and gold robes shimmered with celestial runes that shifted like living script—ancient, sacred, and hungry for blood. Each step they took cracked the earth, radiating power.
Beautiful. Radiant. Terrifying.
And they weren't alone.
Behind them, more Healers emerged from the rift in the sky—wings made of light, weapons forged in divine flame. They moved with the grace of angels and the silence of executioners.
The battlefield held its breath.
Then chaos struck.
Sylva lunged first, a blur of light and steel. Kael barely caught her blade, sparks flying as shadows clashed with holiness.
Lioren moved with lethal grace, weaving through the fray until he reached Nyra. He caught her wrist mid-cast, pulling her close.
"Hey, beautiful," he smirked, voice smooth as silk. "Careful—you're starting to make this a habit."
Nyra's violet eyes flared. Dark flames roared.
She hurled him through a jagged wall of obsidian flesh, the blast shattering both stone and bone.
Sylva twisted and struck, fast and merciless—but Kael met her blow for blow, his eyes wild with something dark and ancient. Every strike fed the monster under his skin.
Elsewhere, Aris approached Aelina with measured steps. But the girl only smiled—a crooked, feral thing.
"Are you here to save me?" she whispered. "Or to bleed with me?"
This wasn't just a mission.
The Healers hadn't come simply to kill.
They had been pulled here—by something older than fate. By something that wanted them entangled in the chaos. Bound to it. To them..
---
Aris and Aelina: A Clash of Shadow and Spark
Aelina darted through the chaos like a whisper of death, her obsidian blade aimed for a clean strike—until a blinding light clashed against her steel.
Aris was there, intercepting her mid-attack.
Her blade met his. Sparks flew. Shadows hissed.
Their faces were close. Eyes locked.
For a breathless second, neither moved.
Aris smirked, teeth white, eyes wild.
"You again? Starting to think you like falling into my arms."
Aelina's eyes narrowed.
"I don't fall."
He leaned in, cocky.
"Could've fooled me."
She twisted, broke the lock, and vanished into smoke—only to reappear behind him and drag her blade down his back with elegant cruelty.
"I hunt," she whispered.
Aris winced, more shaken by the pull he felt than the wound itself. He turned to watch her retreat, and for a moment, he wasn't sure if he wanted to strike… or follow.
Lioren and Nyra: Silence and Something Unnamed
Lioren hovered just beyond the clash, their gaze fixed on Nyra.
Not in hatred.
But in awe. And unease.
"You are… not mortal," Lioren murmured, almost to themselves. "Not demon either. What are you?"
Nyra tilted her head, violet eyes gleaming like cursed amethysts.
"Why do you care?"
"I don't," Lioren said softly—but their body said otherwise. They stepped closer.
Nyra didn't flinch.
Lioren's magic—life and death intertwined—fluttered dangerously at their fingertips.
Something about her silence unnerved them more than any blade could.
Kael and Sylva: Dark Words and Awkward Moves
Sylva prowled the battlefield, all sharp edges and cocky grins—until she saw him. Kael.
He stood like a shadow carved from silence, eyes burning with something human but twisted. When his gaze landed on her, it felt like ice sinking deep.
"Lost?" Kael's voice was a low, rough growl—more a warning than a question.
His words were dark, unsettling, like a threat wrapped in calm.
Sylva's legs bent awkwardly, her boot tapping nervously on cracked earth. Her voice came out shaky, like a kid asking for candy.
"Uh… maybe, like… wanna go out? I mean, not here, obviously, but… you know…"
Her boot shook like a leaf, her stance weirdly vulnerable and strangely bold at once.
Kael's eyes narrowed, disgust clear. He took a step back, voice cold and sharp as a blade:
"You're… annoying. Stay out of my way."
Sylva's cheeks flamed red, but she didn't move. Instead, she fidgeted, voice barely a whisper:
"W-We could… be friends? Or… something."
Kael turned away, shadows swallowing him.
"I don't do 'friends.' Especially not weird ones."
The battle raged, but in that twisted moment, Sylva's awkward hope and Kael's dark dismissal hung in the air—two mismatched souls lost in a war they barely understood
---
## **Kael's POV**
Kael's chest heaved, muscles trembling beneath his torn shirt. His hands, slick with drying blood, clenched the hilt of his sword tighter.
These weren't men anymore—not truly. They were monsters, forged to mock the prophecy. To haunt their every step.
He could still hear the screams. See those grinning demon-children with their unholy laughter and fangs glinting beneath twisted faces.
"They thought *we* were the cursed ones," he spat bitterly, dragging his blade through the dirt. "But they made the monsters fit their lies."
He scanned the empty field, eyes burning with fierce resolve.
"We warned them," he whispered.
No answer came.
Only the cold wind and the lingering taste of carnage.
---
## **Nyra's POV**
Nyra stood barefoot on the scorched earth, blood dripping from a fresh cut on her temple. The air around her buzzed with residual magic.
The demons had screamed her name—mocking, taunting, calling her *sister*.
"You were never meant to be," one whispered. "You were the mistake."
But she had seen the truth beneath the lies—innocence corrupted, corpses wearing masks.
She crushed them all with fire and silence.
Now, the Healers were coming. She could feel their presence—purity edged with harsh judgment.
*Let them come,* she thought, dark fire glowing beneath her skin.
They wouldn't understand. They never did.
---
## **Aelina's POV**
Aelina crouched on her jagged stone throne, black smoke swirling like a cloak around her ankles. Her eyes never left the broken bodies.
The demon-children had cried illusions—turned into sobbing, pathetic things when they died. Lies.
She saw the truth staring back in their empty eyes.
They were meant to replace them. To discredit the prophecy. To twist the story.
"They made cursed children to justify killing us," she whispered. "But we survived."
A distant shimmer of light broke the horizon—divine magic.
"Barely," she murmured.
And cruelly.
---
## **??? POV**
From the shadowed treelined, something watched. Cloaked in darkness, its eyes glowed red—not with heat, but hunger.
It had seen the demon-children rise. The prophecy twisted.
It had seen the siblings survive.
"They are not the cursed ones," it murmured with dark certainty.
"They are the answer."
Then it vanished, leaving only the scent of ash and the whisper of war yet to come.
---
**They thought we were broken.**
**But we are the storm before the calm.**
**The shadow that consumes light.**
**This was never peace.
This was prologue..**
✍️ Author's Note:
Hey everyone! 👋 Sorry for the radio silence these past few days — things got a bit intense behind the scenes 🔥, but I'm back and ready to bring you all the chaos and carnage you deserve. ⚔️ Thanks so much for sticking with me! 🙏
This chapter was all about war, revelations, and prophecy unraveling in real time. ⚡ Which sibling shook you the most? Which Healer gave you chills? ❄️ I'd love to hear your thoughts! 💬
And heads up — Chapter 15 dives deep into what the Healers were really sent for. Trust me, it's not what you think… 👁️🗨️