Begin (5) 17: Let The Games…
Begin (5) As Neon and Atlas strolled out of the Palace, no one—surprisingly or perhaps not—made any move to stop them.
Instead, the remaining nobles quickly shifted their focus toward devising a plan to restore order throughout the Kingdom.
Yet, while the council busied themselves with strategies, Neon’s thoughts were already drifting elsewhere, plotting something entirely different from the concerns that consumed the others.
He walked through the Palace’s outer corridors with Atlas by his side—Neon, with his short white hair and striking looks, his red eyes catching what little light the hall offered.
Atlas, with his short black hair and green eyes fixed in a hard stare…
as he hadn’t smiled since they’d left the council chamber.
As they headed out, the guards who had always greeted Neon with warmth were…
dead.
They were fixed into the palace gates and the stone around them—some hung impaled, while others were ripped apart into pieces that no longer hinted at a complete man.
Blood had flowed and dried, forming dark stains across the ground.
In that moment, both Neon and Atlas battled the surge of nausea climbing their throats; beneath the sickness, Neon sensed a sharper conflict, one he had no time to dwell on.
These men, though merely guards, had been more like friends to him.
They had opened doors for him, spoken his name like it still belonged to someone ordinary.
Yet now, he didn’t feel an overwhelming sadness—only a deep, tangled sense of conflict.
‘Death…
death, and more death,’ he thought to himself as he stepped through the gates without hesitation.
He knew he should feel sadness in this moment, should let himself sink into a little grief, but instead… he didn’t.
It wasn’t out of any desire to put on a brave face for Atlas, but because he was genuinely doing his best to come to terms with the new reality they now faced.
They walked together into the dim streets of the Kingdom, where lanterns were scarce, and the heavy silence stretched between the shadowed buildings.
Neon’s shoes tapped against the uneven stone at an unhurried pace.
When his eyes met Atlas’s, the red in them held neither conflict nor genuine warmth.
“It’s time we finally face the reality we’re in.” In that moment, Atlas’s gaze hardened.
He didn’t need Neon to elaborate; the meaning was already crystal clear between them.
Without hesitation, Atlas rose from the street until he hovered in the dark air above the stones, green eyes fixed on his companion.
“Then let’s begin.” — About thirty minutes later, the two of them found themselves seated side by side at the crest of a high waterfall, the world below them unfolding into a river valley that somehow remained untouched by the chaos that had claimed the rest of the Kingdom.
Well, that was before the specific mess that had brought them both here.
Even still, under the thick veil of darkness, the place held a quiet, almost stubborn beauty.
Water spilled in a steady, crystal-clear stream over the sheer cliff face, tumbling into the base where a river began its slow journey through the valley.
It wound in broad, lazy curves, its surface mirroring the dark canopy of ancient trees along both banks.
Their branches, still full and untouched, stood as if the newly stirred forces of the world had overlooked this peaceful haven entirely.
Neon and Atlas sat together at the base of a towering stone statue that loomed over the valley, its figure carved with hands clasped behind its back in a stance of calm authority.
There was no mistaking it—it was King Arden, his likeness captured with the same stern dignity he had in life.
The stone eyes stared eternally toward the far-off horizon, as if even in this silent, unchanging form, he still kept watch over the lands that had once been unified and at peace.
“It’s pretty ironic, you know,” Neon said as his voice held a rare touch of reminiscence.
“This is where we’ve always come to as children…
and yet it looks like we will be getting our hands dirty here as well.” Atlas answered with a low chuckle that held little real amusement, the sound rough in his throat as he stared out over the same familiar valley.
“We’re really about to do this,” he said, the admission hanging between them like something neither wanted to claim.
“About to kill…
someone.” The words settled into the air, and both young men fell silent, the only sound the waterfall’s endless pour and the distant murmur of the river it fed.
Neon shifted after a time, attempting a dry joke in the hope of loosening the knot that had formed in his own chest.
“Well, look on the bright side,” he offered, a faint, forced chuckle following the words.
“We aren’t normal humans anymore… maybe it’s like those novels you used to read.
You know…
maybe we won’t feel much at all.” At his words, Atlas didn’t move a muscle.
He sat with his elbows resting on his knees, green eyes locked on the dark water below.
After a long, heavy silence, he finally spoke again, the same truth landing with even more weight.
“We… are really about to do this.” Neon released a slow sigh and rose to his feet.
The motion carried a rare, almost imperceptible tremor, as though his body still argued with the decision his mind had already made.
He walked toward the edge of the cliff in measured steps, the spray of the falls cooling the air against his face, and when he looked back at Atlas, he drew a deep breath that did little to steady the conflict behind his red eyes.
“Come on, dude.” His gaze shifted forward, then settled on the two men far below, tearing at the clothes of a struggling woman, their rough laughter rising faintly through the valley.
“Let’s just get this over with…” Atlas stared at Neon’s back for several long heartbeats, taking in the set of those shoulders and the way the white-haired figure stood framed against the darkness.
He drew his own deep breath, then stood and closed the short distance until they stood shoulder to shoulder at the precipice.
Without another word, they each took a single step from the cliff.
— As they free-fell through the world’s darkness, the absence of light did nothing to obscure their targets; the two men and the struggling woman were close enough that every detail resolved with perfect clarity against the night.
The waterfall’s rush faded into a distant backdrop as the ground rushed upward, yet the scene below unfolded with deliberate, ugly clarity.
One of the men, broad-shouldered and laughing under his breath, gripped the woman’s wrists while the other yanked at the front of her dress, their voices carrying easily through the open air of the valley.
“Stop making this difficult, girl,” the first growled, his voice a mix of amusement and impatience.
“No one’s coming to rescue you out here, so you might as well make it easy on yourself.” The second man chuckled, fingers digging into the fabric near her shoulder.
“Yeah, stop with the screaming already.
We’re just having a little fun.
You ought to be grateful we’re even looking your way.” The woman fought with everything she had, twisting and kicking, her black hair whipping across her face as she cursed them in a voice raw with fury and fear.
“Get your filthy hands off me!” “Help!
Someone help me!
You bastards—let go!” BANGGGG!
She drove a knee upward and managed to catch one of them in the side, earning a sharp grunt, but the hold only tightened.
Tears streaked her cheeks even as she spat another string of curses, refusing to surrender the last scraps of dignity this new world still allowed her.
Before either man could tear a single piece of clothing free, Neon and Atlas landed beside the river with controlled force, the impact sending a brief spray of water and loose stone outward.
“So, how are we going to—” Atlas was beginning to ask Neon as he turned, but he never got the chance to finish.
[Child of Dark (Mythic)] HUMMMMM!!!!!