Chapter Text
Messmer’s fury was beyond control. The moment he saw Marzianna's lifeless body, something inside him broke beyond repair. The sight of her motionless form, crumpled on the blood-stained dirt, was too much. It wasn't just rage that consumed him, but a deep, bone-crushing sorrow - a suffocating sense of loss that he couldn't comprehend. She was his world, his anchor, and now, that anchor had been ripped from him. Kajn stood over her, triumphant, his twisted grin an insult to the devastation Messmer felt. That smile - Kajn's smug, monstrous satisfaction - was a poison that burned in Messmer's chest, intensifying his grief until it turned to pure, uncontrollable rage.
The crowd erupted in cheers, a cruel backdrop to the scene unfolding before Messmer. They celebrated Kajn’s victory, blind to the tragedy in front of them. To them, this was the crowning moment of their new leader. But to Messmer, this was the end of everything. He barely heard the roar of the crowd, barely felt the people around him as he shoved them aside, making his way toward her. His pulse drowned out every other sound; the only thing that mattered now was her. His heart, pounding in his chest, felt as though it would burst as he forced his way forward, his breathing ragged and shallow.
Kajn’s victory was palpable, the thrill of it evident in every part of his being. His chest heaved with exertion, but his lips curled into a wide, triumphant grin as he gazed down at Marzianna's lifeless form. This was the moment he had long awaited, the culmination of years of rivalry, hatred, and twisted loyalty. Finally, he had done it. He had won. The weak, foolish sister who had stood against him was now dead at his feet. His fingers flexed, still coated in the dark essence of his shadow magic, the blades he had formed dissolving back into nothingness.
He turned his head to the crowd, and they cheered for him, their future leader. Kajn, the warrior who had defeated the ice-wielding Marzianna, would now lead them all. The roar of their approval was like music to his ears, and he raised his arms in triumph, basking in the glory. He looked toward his mother’s seat, up on the elevated platform overlooking the arena.
There she sat, the chief's wife, regal and unshakable, her imposing figure cloaked in royal garments, the weight of her authority hanging heavy in the air. From her throne, she surveyed the scene, her sharp eyes narrowed slightly. She had been watching every moment of the battle, and now, finally, her posture relaxed, and her lips curved into a satisfied smile.
Her heart filled with both pride and cold satisfaction, and she allowed herself a brief, indulgent exhale. The burden of uncertainty was lifted. The dangerous threat to her rule had been eliminated. Her son stood victorious, and the future of their bloodline was secured. The villagers chanted Kajn's name, and from her throne, the mother watched with quiet approval.
When Messmer reached Marzianna, the sight of her broken body shattered him completely. His knees hit the dirt with a hollow thud, but the pain in his chest was far worse. His hands shook as he reached out to touch her, to feel her warmth slipping away. He could see the deep, dark gashes where Kajn's blades had pierced her, and blood still oozed from the wounds. Messmer’s entire body trembled with anguish.
Her eyes, barely open, flickered with the last traces of life. There was so much he wanted to say to her, that she was strong, that none of this was her fault, but no words came. His throat tightened, choking him with the weight of his grief. Her lips parted, and with a breath so faint it barely reached his ears, she whispered,
“I’m sorry…”
The words struck him like a dagger, twisting deep into his heart. She was apologizing - apologizing to him, in her last moments, when it was he who had failed her. The guilt, the regret, the helplessness - it was too much. A tear fell from his eye, hitting the dirt beside her. Everything had collapsed in an instant.
Her breath left her body, and her eyes slowly closed. The finality of it was unbearable. Messmer wanted to scream, but the pain in his chest was too deep, too raw for sound. His world had just been ripped away, and he was left standing in the ruins.
The arena was still buzzing with the energy of Kajn’s victory, but all Messmer could feel was a dark, spiraling void in his heart. He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think - all he could feel was the pain, like a raw wound that would never heal. And Kajn was standing right there, grinning, basking in the glory of his win, oblivious to the ruin he had left in Messmer’s soul.
Messmer’s sorrow began to burn, transforming into something else. A heat, deep and primal, began to build in his chest. His flames, which had once been a controlled, steady force within him, started to surge, hotter and hotter. He clenched his fists, his fingers curling into the dirt, and his body began to tremble - not from sorrow this time, but from rage.
Kajn turned to his sister's body as the crowd began to quiet down. His voice broke through the haze, annoyed, cold, and dismissive.
“Who the hell are you? And what do you think you’re doing here?” His words were dripping with condescension, as if Messmer was nothing more than a nuisance.
Messmer slowly rose to his feet, his breathing shallow and uneven. His body was shaking, but not from weakness. The fire inside him was growing, uncontrollable, licking at his skin, threatening to consume him whole. He gritted his teeth, his vision blurred with the intensity of his emotions. He was burning, from the inside out.
“Thou hast stolen my world from me…” His voice was barely a whisper at first, but the weight of his words hung in the air, dripping with venom.
Kajn’s smile faded, replaced with a look of cautious concern. He could see something was wrong - something in Messmer's demeanor had changed. The crowd sensed it too, the atmosphere shifting from celebratory to tense, as if the air itself had grown thick with impending violence.
Without taking his eye off Kajn, Messmer raised a hand to his face. The golden eye - the seal that had held back the curse within him for so long - gleamed in the sunlight, the one thing that had kept him in control. With a savage motion, he ripped the eye from its socket and crushed it in his hand.
A collective gasp rose from the crowd, and the earth seemed to tremble.
The energy that had been sealed within him exploded outward. Darkness, fire, and raw fury surged through him like a violent storm. His body began to shift, his muscles bulging, hardening, as thick, scaly skin erupted across few places on his arms. His frame grew larger, monstrous, as white serpents coiled and slithered from his back and chest, their glowing red eyes fixed on Kajn.
Messmer had become something else - something beyond human.
His entire body was engulfed in flame and shadow, his voice a deep, guttural growl as he finished his sentence, “…Now shall I seize thine in return..”
With a roar that split the air like thunder, Messmer lunged at Kajn, the flames that surrounded him blazing hotter than the sun. The grief, the rage, the loss - all of it had ignited into a single, unstoppable force, and he was ready to tear apart anything that stood in his way.
The arena seemed to warp under the weight of the power clashing within its walls. Kajn, though rattled by Messmer’s sudden transformation, quickly summoned the shadow magic that had made him feared by all. Tendrils of darkness erupted from his hands, twisting like serpents themselves, writhing and coiling as they reached for Messmer. His confidence returned in a surge of adrenaline. After all, he had just defeated Marzianna - his sister, who was a force in her own right. What chance did this man, consumed by grief and rage, stand against the shadows that had felled his greatest opponents?
With a smirk, Kajn flung the black tendrils forward, sharp as blades, intending to cut Messmer down where he stood. The shadows lashed out like whips, slashing at Messmer’s form. They cut through the flames momentarily, wrapping around his arms and legs, slowing his advance. Kajn sneered, the power of the shadows flowing through him like a river, strengthening his resolve.
“Fool,” Kajn spat, his voice echoing with contempt. “You think your rage can match my power?”
For a moment, it seemed like Kajn’s arrogance was justified. The dark tendrils constricted around Messmer’s body, tightening like the coils of a constrictor, pulling him toward the ground. Messmer staggered, the shadows digging into his skin, their dark energy seeping into him like poison. Kajn’s magic was relentless, bending the very air with its cold, suffocating force.
The crowd, too, watched in stunned silence, their cheers of Kajn’s earlier victory now replaced by fear and uncertainty. Some villagers screamed, others tried to flee, but the power that swirled in the arena seemed to trap them all in place, as if the arena itself had become a prison of chaos and fire.
For a brief second, it looked as though Kajn’s shadow magic might prevail.
But then... Messmer’s face - now glowing red, pulsing with molten heat like flowing lava-twisted in wild, untamed fury. His body shuddered, and the flames that engulfed him suddenly roared to life, flaring up with a terrifying intensity. The fire that had dimmed under the weight of Kajn’s shadows now blazed with an even greater fury, turning white-hot. The air around them crackled and shimmered as the heat intensified.
With a bone-shaking roar, Messmer snapped the tendrils of shadow that bound him, the flames devouring the dark magic like dry kindling. Kajn’s eyes widened in shock as the fire burned through his shadows, consuming them as if they were nothing more than smoke. Messmer’s massive hand shot forward, grabbing the remnants of the shadows and tearing them apart with ease.
Kajn stumbled back, fear flashing across his face for the first time. His magic - the magic that had brought him victory moments before - was being overpowered, overwhelmed by the sheer force of Messmer’s transformation. He frantically summoned more darkness, creating walls of shadow to shield himself, but Messmer was relentless. With every step, the ground beneath him cracked and burned, molten fire spreading like veins through the earth.
Messmer’s fury knew no bounds. With his spear in hand, burning like the heart of a volcano, he struck down every shadow Kajn threw at him, his flames turning the very air into a furnace. He didn’t just destroy the magic - he obliterated it, erasing it from existence with every swing. Kajn was no longer facing a man - he was facing a force of nature, unstoppable, unyielding.
The arena itself began to feel the wrath of Messmer’s power. The flames surged outward, spreading beyond their battle, lapping at the wooden beams and structures, setting everything ablaze. The heat became unbearable. Screams filled the air as villagers tried to flee, but the fire spread faster than they could run. The stands ignited, the firestorm catching those too slow to escape. Flames engulfed them, their bodies turning to ash in an instant, their cries drowned out by the roar of the inferno.
Messmer didn’t care. His focus was singular, his rage entirely directed at Kajn. Everything else was collateral. The flames didn’t discriminate, swallowing up villagers, structures, and even the arena itself. It was as if the entire world was burning, all because of the uncontrollable rage that flowed through him.
Kajn’s confidence crumbled as the inferno surrounded him. The flames seared his skin, the edges of his cloak catching fire as he desperately tried to keep his distance. Sweat poured down his face, his eyes wide in disbelief as Messmer loomed over him, a towering figure of flame and fury.
With a desperate cry, Kajn conjured his final weapon - twin blades of pure shadow, crackling with dark energy. He lunged at Messmer, hoping to strike him down before the flames could consume him. The blades were deadly, capable of cutting through flesh and bone with ease. But as Kajn swung them, Messmer caught one of the blades with his bare hand, the fire engulfing the shadow weapon in an instant. Kajn barely had time to react before Messmer’s other hand grabbed him by the throat.
Kajn gasped, his eyes wide with fear as Messmer lifted him off the ground, the flames licking at his skin, burning him with every breath.
“Thou… hast taken my world…” Messmer growled, his voice low and menacing, filled with all the pain, loss, and fury he had been holding in.
Kajn struggled, trying to summon more shadows, but it was too late. Messmer’s grip tightened, and with a swift motion, he slammed Kajn into the ground with a force that shook the very earth beneath them. The flames surged forward, engulfing Kajn completely. His screams echoed through the burning arena, but Messmer’s face remained cold, unfeeling.
And then, with one final, devastating blow, Messmer plunged his flaming spear through Kajn’s chest, the fire searing through his body and leaving nothing but ash in its wake.
The fight was over. Kajn, the proud, triumphant warrior, was no more. His body disintegrated into the flames, leaving only embers behind.
Messmer stood amidst the destruction, his chest heaving with rage and grief. The world around him burned, but inside, he felt only the hollow void left by Marzianna’s death.
Then, Messmer charged after Marzianna’s mother, who was frantically trying to escape through the burning streets of the village. The air was thick with smoke, the screams of villagers fleeing the destruction, but all Messmer could hear was the pounding of his heart, the roar of the flames that surrounded him. His fury was unrelenting, driving him forward with every step. The ground beneath his feet cracked and burned as he closed the distance between them.
The proud woman who had once commanded the respect and fear of all around her now ran in desperation. Her fine royal garments were now stained with soot and ash, her once-imposing figure reduced to a panicked silhouette darting through the chaos. She stumbled, looking over her shoulder, eyes wide with terror as Messmer drew nearer.
She had never imagined it would end like this.
Messmer finally caught up to her in the heart of the village, where the flames licked at the edges of the houses and the air crackled with heat. The moment she turned to face him, her fear was palpable. There was no more dignity in her gaze, only raw, primal terror. The fire that consumed him reflected in her eyes as she realized there was no escape.
“No… please…” she gasped, her voice trembling, cracking under the weight of her fear. But her words fell on deaf ears.
Messmer stood before her, towering and terrible, his body wreathed in flame, his snakes hissed and his face burning with the rage of a man who had lost everything. His voice, low and deadly, rumbled through the smoke-filled air.
“Please?” he spat the word with disgust. “Dost thou beg for mercy, when mercy thou didst never show?”
She took a step back, her once-haughty demeanor shattered. Messmer took a step forward, his face locked onto hers, his fury radiating from him like the flames that consumed the village around them.
“Marzianna…” he whispered her name, his voice trembling with grief and rage. “She deserved not the cruel hand thou laidst upon her.” His voice grew deeper, more menacing, each word dripping with venom. “May'st thou burn for all eternity… for the wrongs thou hast done to her.”
With those words, Messmer’s outstretched hand ignited, and in an instant, fire engulfed the woman’s body. Her scream tore through the night, but Messmer didn’t flinch. He watched as the flames consumed her, her form writhing in agony, but his expression remained cold, emotionless. The fire was relentless, merciless, just as she had been. Slowly, her screams died down, until there was nothing left but the crackling of flames and the ash of what once was.
When it was over, Messmer stood still, his heart hollow. The flames around him roared on, but he felt no satisfaction, no relief. Just emptiness.
Turning away from the smoldering ashes, he made his way back to where Marzianna’s body lay. His feet dragged beneath him, the weight of his sorrow nearly too much to bear. When he reached her, the sight of her lifeless form hit him like a wave. The village was still burning, but all that mattered to him was the cold, still figure before him.
The village smoldered around him, thick smoke rising into the darkened sky as flames licked at what was left of the homes, the lives, and the people that had once filled it. Messmer’s base serpent form towered over the destruction, his body coiled protectively around the lifeless form of Marzianna. His hands, still trembling with the weight of his rage, cradled her broken body as if holding her tighter could somehow bring her back.
Her skin was pale, her lips cold, and her eyes, which once sparkled with warmth and life, were closed forever. Messmer’s heart, shattered beyond recognition, twisted in his chest as he stroked her cheek with a clawed finger, the gesture far too gentle for the chaos that surrounded them.
“I had not even the time to speak unto thee…” His voice cracked, barely more than a whisper. His throat constricted with the weight of his grief, every word a struggle. “I had not even the time to speak unto thee how much I love thee.”
The words hung in the air, fragile, as if they too could shatter under the weight of the tragedy before him. His beloved, the only light in his cursed existence, was gone. Brutally taken from him by the one she called family. His revenge had been swift, brutal - Kajn, Eir, the entire village, had paid with their lives. But it brought no comfort. No amount of blood would bring Marzianna back.
A low growl of anguish rumbled in Messmer’s throat, his fanged mouth trembling as the pain inside him built like a dam ready to burst. His massive body coiled tighter, his grip on Marzianna’s delicate form almost desperate as he felt the raw grief clawing its way out of him.
Then it came.
The howl tore from his lips, a deep, guttural scream that reverberated through the air, echoing across the lands and carrying with it the sound of a soul breaking. It was the scream of a man - no, a creature - who had lost everything. The earth beneath him seemed to tremble, the air heavy with the weight of his grief.
His eye socket, once so filled with love when his golden eye looked at her, now brimmed with fire tears, mixing with the soot and ash that coated his face. “Why…” he whispered, his voice hoarse from the howl. “Why did they tear thee from my grasp?”
Messmer clutched Marzianna closer, burying his face in her hair, still fragrant with her scent . His massive form trembled as sobs wracked through him, his fire like tears falling onto her lifeless body, each one feeling like it carried the weight of the world.
Amidst the destruction and his sorrow, a movement caught his attantion, though he didn’t react. It was Eriel, Marzianna’s aunt - the village shaman, known for her mysterious powers and connection to the spirits. She had seen the smoke, the fire, and she had run from her sacred cave, her heart pounding with fear as she followed the trail of destruction to its source.
When Eriel reached the village, she stopped, her breath hitching as her eyes landed on the still form of Marzianna in Messmer’s arms. Her hands flew to her mouth, her heart breaking at the sight of her niece, so still, so cold.
"My snowflake..." she whispered, her voice barely audible, trembling with grief. Tears filled her eyes, but she pushed through the pain, her instincts as a healer taking over.
Eriel moved toward Messmer, her feet stumbling over the rubble as she drew closer. Messmer didn’t look at her. His world had shrunk to the small, fragile body in his arms - nothing else existed. Not the village, not the destruction, not even Eriel.
Tears streaming down her face, Eriel knelt beside them, her hands shaking as she reached out to touch Marzianna. She paused, closing her eyes for a moment, feeling for the faintest whisper of life, anything…
...that might give her hope.
