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(IC) Chapter 336 - The Sunless Dawn
🕑 Added 2025-10-09 23:00:13 +0000 UTCAshes drifted on the wind, the ghost of fires long smothered.
The air still reeked of iron, though no bodies lay sprawled in the streets—only blackened stains, patches of blood baked dry into stone, as if the city itself had been wounded.
The silence was the loudest thing. A city that once roared with markets, chants, drums, and prayers now whispered only in fear. Doors barred, shutters drawn. Mothers pressed shaking hands over children’s mouths. Men sat with blades they would never raise, waiting not for battle, but for the sound of claws on stone. Protection was a lie; walls and doors hid nothing, only sight. Everyone knew safety was gone—yet still they clung to it, like drowning men to driftwood.
Here and there, marks told the truth. A heel-drag across dirt where someone had been pulled away. A trail of streaked red vanishing into an alley. Fingers, snapped and left behind like broken branches. No one spoke of them, but all saw. All remembered.
And encircling it all—unmoving, unblinking—stood the Xok’al. Sentinels of flesh and scale, their bodies plated in chitin armour, their reptilian eyes cold lanterns in the dark. They did not pace. They did not speak. They simply were. Perfectly spaced, as if measured by unseen lines, tails still.
Four-tailed legions—thousands upon thousands—formed a ring about the capital, an unbroken wall of living blades.
And within the city itself, the Wardens stood—nearly a hundred of them—marking the streets in rigid lines. A cross carved into Ka’tumal’s heart, its black center fixed on the Sun Pyramid, once a monument of fire and prayer, now a throne of silence and despair.
Three sights broke the city’s will. One alive. Two dead.
On the left side of the path climbing the Sun Pyramid stood General Noh—chained to a pillar of stone driven into the plaza itself. His arms were spread wide, wrists torn raw where metal hooks had bitten deep into the flesh. His chest was a ruin of bruises and slashes, blood dried into thick crusts that cracked and flaked with every ragged breath.
His head drooped forward, hair matted with sweat and gore, eyes half-closed yet still flickering, refusing to surrender fully to darkness. Beside him, two Wardens stood silent, reptilian eyes unblinking, waiting.
On the right side—opposite him—another pillar jutted like a stake. The Grand Priest was impaled through the spine, body sagging, robes shredded and soaked in dried black blood. His mouth was torn wide, jaw broken, teeth scattered across the stones below. His hands had been nailed apart against the stone with crude iron spikes, fingers stiff and twisted as if still clawing for salvation that never came. Flies swarmed his hollow sockets, buzzing in clouds around the once-sacred man, desecrated and displayed as an example.
And at the center, towering over them both, the Sun Pyramid itself bore the final horror. The Empress hung upon its ascending steps, her body skewered upright on a massive spike driven through her abdomen and out her back. Above, at the pinnacle of the spike, sat her severed head—mounted like a trophy. Her glassy eyes stared outward in a frozen plea, her lips still parted in a scream that had torn her throat apart. Dried blood streaked the stone beneath her, pooling on the steps like sacrificial offerings. The stench of rot clung thick in the air, coating every breath with death.
The holy trinity of the Ajnal—its sword, its voice, its crown—reduced to spectacle.
The empire was broken, its legacy displayed as carrion.
And so the Ajnal—those who still breathed—waited inside their homes as prisoners, clinging to the fading hope that it all might still be a nightmare. But dawn after dawn had risen, and the dream had long since rotted into truth.
They knew by now: the Xok’al were waiting. But for what?
Whispers passed through cracks in the silence. Some said it was a sign from above—that the swarm awaited the word of a god. But what god could such monsters serve? And what of their own gods, who had turned away? Where was the Sun God? Where was the Feathered Serpent? How could they watch this horror unfold, unmoved, as their child—their Empress divine—hung now as nothing more than rotting flesh?
Others whispered it was not something they waited for, but someone. Someone who had not been seen dead, nor named among the fallen.
Where was he? In this hour of ruin, where was… the Sun’s Chosen?
Were the Xok’al waiting… for him?
Some clung to this, a shallow ember of hope, the only thing that kept them breathing when despair pressed them toward ending life themselves. Perhaps there was still a tomorrow. Perhaps something could yet break the silence. Anything.
And so they waited. One sun set, one dawn rose. Nothing moved. Nothing changed. The Wardens did not leave, yet killed none but the few broken, desperate souls who tried to flee, their bodies torn apart, their flesh and orbs already devoured.
Another sun set, another dawn rose. Hunger gnawed, but none dared step beyond their doors. The days stretched like fever, reality twisting into nightmare.
Another sunset. Another night. Madness crept into the eyes of those who could no longer hold to their sanity.
And then—at last—the horizon broke. The third dawn flared across the sky.
And in that light… they saw him.
He appeared at the main gate’s entrance, just as the first ray of dawn broke across the horizon.
He walked calmly, each step landing with a soft thud that carried far in the suffocating silence.
For reasons none could name, they did not move. Reptilian eyes tracked him, tails coiled like spears ready to strike—yet no claw lifted. They only watched.
He kept on, two swords at his waist, a fur cloak trailing behind, swaying with his steady gait, veiling the lean but battle-forged frame beneath.
Yet more than steel or stride, it was his gaze that cut deepest—cold and burning at once, a tempered fury, like a blade sheathed but ready, waiting for its hour.
Whispers broke the silence, low, trembling, careful not to carry too far.
“Is that…”
“The Dawnless Blade…”
“Impossible… why would he…”
“It’s him. I served under him… it’s…”
“He came? Now? Has he gone mad?”
“A sign… the gods… have they not abandoned us?”
“General…”
“K’in Ajnaal…”
And so, beneath the gaze of hundreds of thousands—Ajnal and Xok’al alike—he advanced unchallenged, climbing the obsidian path toward the Sun Pyramid.
Yet, to the surprise of many, he stopped halfway.
***
Alonso turned left, to where Noh hung tattered and chained to the pillar.
Two Wardens flanked him, still as statues, their reptilian eyes fixed coldly on Alonso. He ignored them. He stepped forward—only to feel an immense pressure descending from the Pyramid, a force that pressed on his shoulders, demanding submission.
“You have come, Outsider. Now climb. We are waiting.”
Alonso’s eyes narrowed. The weight of that field was staggering—broad enough to blanket the entire capital and still strong enough to bend every creature within it to its will.
Yet he did not move. He met Noh’s trembling eyes—clouded, bloodshot, but clearing enough to recognise him. There was despair there, and pain… but also a spark of hope.
Alonso gave him a single nod. His hand moved to his blade—
“Outsider, don’t—”
Metal whispered. A flash. Then silence.
The chains fell in pieces, and the two Wardens collapsed headless at Noh’s sides. It was as though nothing had happened, yet everything had changed.
The pressure intensified, grinding down, clawing at his blades, trying to force him to bend. Alonso ignored it.
“Wait for me here,” he said, tossing a water container from his coat at Noh’s feet.
“This… General…”
But Alonso was already climbing again, his steps steady, his pulse unwavering. He sent a pulse upward—yet not in Ajnal… but in the Xayen tongue.
“You waited three suns for me. What’s the rush now?”
There was silence, and Alonso caught the faintest flicker in the Xok’al’s EM domain. Surprise?
No further transmission came as he advanced, climbing to the top of the floating obsidian stairs. The Sun Pyramid itself had changed—its peak sheared flat, as if carved clean. Gold, jade, and shattered ornaments that once adorned the palace’s inner sanctum now lay scattered across the crown like discarded bones of splendour.
But it was not the ruined ground that held his focus.
It was the figure waiting at the far side, seated upon a floating throne fashioned from the shattered armor of the Empress’ royal guard—plates still slick with blood, scraps of flesh clinging to them. There it waited.
Not the image Alonso had imagined. Less beast, more… human.
Its eyes, though still reptilian in shape, carried a depth vast as the ocean. Its frame was slimmer than the other Xok’al, and though tall, it stood shorter than the two-metre Wardens. The stance was straighter, less bent, and its chitin armor was refined, compact—black and gleaming, so smooth it almost seemed like forged metal overlaying scaled flesh.
Two things set it apart from the pattern Alonso had seen before.
First, its six tails were not uniform. Two bore cannon-like growths, though sleeker than the others. Two tapered into scythe-like blades, edges faintly glimmering. The last pair ended in compact, spherical maces, each dense and heavy, their weight visible even in stillness.
Second, its arms. Four in number, like the Wardens, but no longer tipped in sharp, natural weapons. Instead—hands. Almost human hands.
The left pair clasped the Empress’ staff: the coiled Feathered Serpent etched in its length, crowned by a radiant sun now dulled by alien grip. The right pair held another staff, this one pure black, its ends perfectly rounded into twin spheres—an echo of the mace-tails behind it, only larger.
Alonso walked on, his gaze fixed on the figure until he stood little more than ten meters away.
“Well. Here I am,” he said, voice steady in the Xayen tongue.
The six-tail’s eyes lingered on him, a flicker glinting deep within as the field pressed faintly at his skin. It wasn’t being forced down on him, not yet—but Alonso knew that at this distance, if it willed it, the pressure would be crushing, many times heavier than before.
“Yes. And we wonder… why?”
Alonso stiffened. The creature had opened its mouth and spoken aloud. Its voice scraped like tearing metal, harsh and grating, yet the meaning was precise. The Xayen cadence was unmistakable.
“Why come to die, Outsider? What binds you to a race not your own? What welcomes you to a world that did not birth you?”
Alonso’s eyes narrowed. What the…
How could it know? Was it probing—testing a theory? Watching every flicker of his face for an answer?
“I see it in your eyes. You know what lies beyond the veil we have cast upon this world, upon our world. And still… you step forward. For what purpose? Is it because of those chains you call emotions? Feelings? The sickness that shackles your kind?”
Alonso drew in a long breath, steadying his pulse, lowering the heat in his blood. Not what he had expected. But neither did it change why he was here, or what he had to do.
“My reasons don’t matter,” Alonso said. “You didn’t call me here to talk, and I didn’t come to chat. You want me dead because I don’t fit into your plans. Because I’m a piece you can’t predict, can’t understand. So let’s skip the useless questions—they won’t change how this ends.”
He raised his gaze, eyes narrowing. “You brought me here to kill me. And I came here to kill you.”
For a heartbeat, there was silence.
Then the creature stirred. The throne of broken armor groaned, splintered, and collapsed as the six-tail rose, its frame unfolding like a predator long at rest. Six tails unfurled in perfect synchrony, each tip carving lines of pressure through the air.
Its voice followed—layered, distorted, as though spoken not by one throat but by the swarm itself, echoing from every unseen mouth beyond the walls of Ka’tumal.
“Then so it shall be. We accept the challenge.”
It stepped down, each movement soundless, inevitable, as though the ground yielded to it rather than bore its weight.
“I am the Third Overseer of my race. In my shadow, empires have been raised like crops and harvested. In my wake, skies have burned and the earth has drowned in rivers of blood. We have devoured millions of your kind before you. You are different—yet nothing more. Just another vessel to be consumed, another body to be broken and ground beneath us, fuel for a race beyond yours in every measure.”
Its gaze fixed on him, abyssal and unblinking.
“Come, then. Come… and feed us.”
Comments
Marcos Espinosa
Not yet. She has to fight Makoh for it. Coming up soon ;)
RTM v
Damn seems like the cutscene before a boss fight. Did Ayu get the pill from makoh that she wasn’t strong enough to get before?
Kwolf209
Thanks for the chapter! Alonso fighting the Six Tails alone is unexpected. But then again, it would definitely notice if he brought his comrades considering it had the whole capital in its EM field. Excited for the fight!
