Sugar, Secrets and Upheaval

This feeling again. That falling sensation. I was summoned by dream Raphael, once more.

Well, where am I? I found myself in the middle of a dense forest. Strangely, I was clad in a military uniform, and stood in a rigid line with ten other figures. In front of us, there was a perfect circle drawn in white chalk. Young Levi, perhaps sixteen now, stood within that boundary, a practice sword held in his hand. His frame was lean and agile, his black hair falling slightly over his eyes.

And there he was. The Conqueror.

“Move,” Ragnar ordered, a rumble that vibrated through the very roots of the trees, directed at the first soldier in the line. The soldier obeyed without hesitation. He lunged forward, attempting a swift strike towards him. Levi moved with fluidity, deflecting the blow.

“Your stomach is open! Bend your elbows!” Ragnar boomed, a thunderous command that shook the very ground beneath us, sending a chill down my spine. His eyes, even from this distance, were the same lightless, unsettling voids I knew.

Levi, without hesitation, obeyed him, his body coiling as he moved to protect his stomach, bending his elbows tighter to his sides. The soldier pivoted on his feet and delivered a strike, aimed squarely at Levi's midsection. Levi was able to block it with his sword, but the force of an adult's strength made his legs flail. His jaw was clenched, gritting his teeth in, his eyes narrowed, but no grunt or sound of exertion escaped him.

“You weakling!” Ragnar boomed, his voice silencing the birds. “Hold your ground!”

What weakling? He was a teenager trying to block the brute force of a fully grown, trained soldier. Levi gritted his teeth, his arms trembling as he took the full impact of another strike. His feet scraped against the chalk-dusted earth inside the circle, struggling to maintain his footing, but his face remained a mask of determination, refusing to yield, refusing to make a sound.

“Are you going to take this utter humiliation? Stop with your pathetic defense and tear him apart!”

Levi took a swift step back. With a shift, he took a step to his left, attempting to use his agility to create an opening. He gathered his momentum, twisting his body as he tried to strike the soldier’s arm with his sword, aiming for a quick blow. But the soldier parried it with ease, their swords clashing with a sharp clang.

Oh...

“You are predictable!” Ragnar roared. “Do not think to outmaneuver what you cannot overpower! Apply force!”

Levi closed his eyes for a brief moment, and for the first time, a flicker of pure agony was etched into his youthful face. He placed his hand to the very edge of his sword's hilt, leveraging every ounce of his weight and strength, and started to push, trying to drive his opponent back. The soldier remained completely impassive, only grunting in return, his boots digging into the earth — even though Levi was straining, his veins bulging in his neck.

It was evident to everyone — the silent figures in the line, and to me, watching in helpless despair — there was no way a sixteen-year-old could ever win a fight against a seasoned soldier.

“Where is your rage?” Ragnar roared, leaning forward, his voice stripping the very leaves from the trees. “Do you think he pities you? No. He is waiting for you to bleed!”

The soldier, seizing a momentary advantage, took a swift step back, escaping Levi’s sword’s pressure. He then placed his left foot forward, shifting his full upper body to deliver a strike, aiming for Levi’s exposed side. Levi was able to escape it by barely a centimeter, throwing his body off balance, his foot slipping slightly on the earth.

Oh Gods…

The soldier, noticing the precarious loss of balance, raised his sword high. He lowered his arms, bringing the weapon down in an arcing strike aimed directly at Levi’s young frame. Levi, nearly crouching down, was able to block it. But it was taking absolutely everything for him not to fall.

This is torment. He's pushing Levi to be something he fundamentally isn't, all to satisfy some twisted ideal of strength.

“Look at this trembling leaf!” Ragnar’s voice, a whip-crack of disdain, pierced my ears. “Where is your intent to kill?!”

I wanted to take a step forward, to shield Levi from that assault, but I couldn't. My feet were bolted to my place, as immobile as those other eight silent soldiers lined up beside me. It was like trying to move through thick, invisible glue.

Levi was losing his strength; I could see it. His arms buckled, and his frame quivered. He could no longer push back. He was still in that crouch, sword barely held aloft, but he was seconds away from collapsing. I could almost hear the gasp for breath that he refused to make.

“This is what undoes you?” Ragnar roared, his voice laced with an incandescent fury that felt like a hand at my throat, choking me. He started to walk towards the soldier, and without breaking stride, grabbed the man by the nape of his neck, pulling him away from Levi. “This mere flesh and bones? You covet beneath this?”

“I have… reached my limit, Your Excellency,” Levi said, his chest heaving with ragged breaths. He stumbled, falling onto one knee within the chalk circle, his sword scraping against the earth.

“Limit?” Ragnar echoed, his lightless eyes widening with rage that consumed the very air around him. He shook the soldier’s entire frame, the man rattling like a puppet in his massive hand. “This,” he spat, “This pale imitation of a strength made you reach your limit?”

“My muscles are fatigued, Your Excellency.”

“Muscles, yes,” Ragnar replied. “Let me show you muscles.”

He shoved the soldier, sending the man sprawling onto the floor. The soldier landed with a muted thud, grunting, but Ragnar was already moving. He placed one massive boot squarely onto the soldier’s shoulder blades, pinning him. He grabbed the soldier’s left arm just below the shoulder, his grip like iron. He started to pull, his immense strength evident in the straining muscles of his own arms.

“First, muscles tear,” Ragnar said, his voice flat, as he kept pulling the arm, a low riiiiiip sound barely audible. The soldier was digging his fingers into the dirt, his legs kicking weakly, trying to escape, but it was completely futile.

“Then the bones, the joints expand,” he kept pulling, a wet pop echoing faintly. “When they both reach their breaking point,” he exhorted himself, a single, powerful tug, “Finally, the skin tears off,” he said, his voice punctuated by a tearing CRACK, and he yanked the fully severed, torn-apart arm from the soldier’s body, holding it aloft in his hands. The soldier gave one choked, gurgling cry, then went still.

This content has been unlawfully taken from NovelFire; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

The air was thick with the coppery tang of blood, making my stomach churn violently. Levi, for his part, was frozen. His face was a mask of shock, paler than usual, his wide eyes fixed on the trophy in Ragnar’s hand, but he made no sound, no movement, simply breathing in shallow gasps. The other soldiers in the line were equally rigid, their gazes fixed straight ahead, refusing to acknowledge the atrocity that had just unfolded before them. The only sound was the drip, drip, drip of blood.

The smell of the blood is burning the back of my throat. I can taste it, even in this dream.

Ragnar threw that severed limb to the ground. It landed near the soldier's prone form, a lifeless thing. “Do you see it now? It is merely a bag of flesh and bones,” he said, his voice flat. Without a moment’s pause, he gave a stomp to the discarded limb, the sound of bone and cartilage crushing under his boot sending a fresh wave of nausea through me.

“What is that pathetic look on your face? Are you scared? Good. Next time, there will not be any limits.”

“What was the reason for this?” Levi whispered. “There was no need to do this…”

“Don’t tell me you’ve become a sentimental traitor now,” Ragnar replied, laced with contempt. He took a step towards Levi, his lightless eyes scrutinizing his grandson’s pale face.

“You… You are not even an animal.” His eyes remained fixed on his grandfather. “At least animals do it for sustenance; you only did it because it was entertaining for you.”

Ragnar’s massive hand shot out, not to strike, but to snatch Levi’s chin, his fingers digging into Levi's jaw, forcing his head back to meet his eyes.

“What? You felt something for this,” he spat, gesturing with his free hand at the mangled soldier lying lifelessly on the ground. “That weak blood that poisons us? It seems I have been lenient with you.”

“I did not feel anything, beyond disgust,” Levi spat back. “And it was not for the blood, it was to you.”

“You truly have not learned your lesson, boy,” Ragnar said. With a shove, he released Levi’s chin, sending him stumbling backwards. Levi swayed, but he did not fall, his eyes never leaving Ragnar. He then started to walk towards us, his heavy boots crunching on the damp earth, his massive shadow stretching before him like a harbinger of doom.

Gods, no. He is going to butcher us, one by one.

He took the second soldier in line and, with a push, sent him sprawling into the chalk circle. The man landed with a choked gasp. “If the blood disgusts you, I can certainly be clean,” Ragnar said as he pressed his massive boot down onto the soldier’s neck, pinning him to the bloodied earth.

“Are you going to suffocate him, to prove that you are strong?” Levi shot back.

“No,” Ragnar replied calmly. He raised his leg from the soldier's shoulder blades, then with a savage swiftness that defied his massive size, he pressed his boot down squarely on the soldier’s neck. A CRACK echoed through the forest, and the soldier’s body went completely limp, his eyes staring blankly.

The sound alone was enough to make my stomach clench into a cold, hard ball.

Levi’s chest was heaving with a steel fury that seemed to emanate from him. “Why? How many people are you going to kill? You… You serve no purpose… You just enjoy it. You relish in this bloodbath.” His eyes were now almost black, fixed on Ragnar with an unblinking, furious stare.

Ragnar, with a gesture of indifference, gave the lifeless body of the second soldier a casual kick. The corpse slid across the earth, coming to rest just outside the crimson-stained chalk circle.

“I get bored,” Ragnar replied, his voice flat, his lightless eyes devoid of any emotion.

“But it is more boring when they turn into these… things,” Ragnar added as he gestured with his foot towards the two mangled corpses. He then clenched and unclenched his massive fists. “That is why you are going to learn how to wield power.”

He began to walk towards Levi, his heavy boots crunching on the bloodied earth, his towering shadow stretching ominously before him.

Please, god, gods, deities, goddesses, stars, skies, planets, galaxies, make this dream stop.

“You…” Levi hissed. “You repel me.”

“Where was that fury before, boy?” His thin lips stretched upwards in a cruel, predatory smile, revealing a flash of teeth.

“So far,” Ragnar said, “I have been toying with you.” His lightless eyes swept over us. His right hand flickered. “Now, you will either kill or be killed.”

He walked out of the chalk circle, his back to us, stepping onto the clean earth beyond the bloodied arena.

I… I can not do this anymore. I want to wake up.

All of us started to walk towards Levi. My muscles screamed in protest, my will fought against the insidious compulsion, but I could not stop. My body was moved with a marionette-like obedience. We fanned out, circling Levi, forming a ring around him.

“What if I yield?” Levi asked, betraying no tremor of fear.

“Then I kill them, right here, right now.”

I am going to cry.

He would kill us all, without a second thought.

I want to sob, to scream, to wake up from this nightmare. I am so, so scared for him.

A soldier lunged forward, attempting to land a punch on Levi’s jaw. But Levi deflected it with his elbow, the soldier’s fist glancing off his arm with a dull thud.

“Stop them,” Levi growled. “I do not wish to continue this barbaric ritual anymore.”

“Cease your whimpering,” Ragnar replied, tinged with a boredom that seeped into the forest air. “Wake up at five tomorrow.”

“I understand,” Levi replied, his voice a flat, hollow echo in the silence.

Levi lunged not at a soldier, but towards the discarded swords. I thought he was going to grab one and attack, but no. He snatched one of the metal blades and placed its cold edge directly against his own throat.

“I wish to not wake up at all,” he whispered.

Ragnar’s eyes widened. “What are you doing?!” he roared, his voice a thunderclap that echoed through the blood-soaked clearing. “Stop it!”

“Ten…” he whispered.

Ragnar tried to walk towards him, but Levi responded by pressing the metal blade further down his own throat, a thin line of red beginning to well up. "Nine…" he continued, his voice steady.

“Eight…”

“Stop him!” Ragnar roared, directed at the soldiers. “Now!” His command shattered the paralysis, and the soldiers lurched forward.

“Seven…” Levi croaked, as if the effort of speaking, of counting, was becoming immense.

The first soldier reached him, a hand closing around Levi's wrist, attempting to disarm him. Levi twisted his arm, using the soldier's own momentum to spin him away, sending him stumbling into the next.

"Six…" Levi's whisper was lost beneath the scuffling of the soldiers as they closed in.

Ragnar watched, his eyes blazing. The audacity of Levi’s defiance paralyzed even the Conqueror.

"Five…"

I… I have to stop him.

I lunged at Levi, my body finally moving against Ragnar's invisible leash. "Stop, Levi, please stop!"

I connected with his elbow, my hand brushing against the fabric of his sleeve, but my heart lurched as I saw it: a crimson thread, slowly oozing from the skin where the blade pressed.

“Levi!”