Through the jagged embrace of the red rocks, the land suddenly opened before them—a vast plateau, bathed in the dying light of the sun. Dust hung thick in the air, kicked up by hundreds, perhaps thousands of feet. The sound of voices—some chanting, others shouting—rose like a storm, filling the evening sky. It was this crowd of people that was the source of the sounds Belisarius heard along the way that made him nervous. As soon as they saw the crowd, a small group broke away from it. Like the group they had seen before they started climbing the mountain, this group was carrying a wounded man. As Belisarius and Kaelyra passed, a woman in the group said something angrily to Kaelyra, but Belisarius did not understand. Kaelyra's footsteps quickened and her expression worsened, indicating that the woman was not saying good things.

  Soon they broke into the crowd. If Kaelyra had not been clearing the way, Belisarius would not have been able to advance. After some effort, they broke through the crowd and reached the center of the circle where they could see what was happening. What Belisarius saw shocked him.

  Corvus moved with the precision of a seasoned predator. His opponent was larger, but size meant nothing when skill and ferocity met in perfect balance. The moment Varek had overextended his swing, Corvus had lunged—not like a warrior, but like a beast.

  The first blow sent blood spraying into the dust, the second turned bone to splinters. Varek staggered, his breath hitching, a flicker of disbelief in his bloodshot eyes. It was not pain that shook him—it was the knowledge that he was losing. That he, a son of the mighty Nabuk line, was about to be nothing.

  Corvus did not stop. He was not fighting for victory—he was fighting to erase something. Each strike came faster, heavier, until the man beneath him was no longer a warrior, no longer a commander, no longer anything at all. Just a name, soon to be forgotten.

  Silence gripped the crowd. No one cheered. No one moved. They had not just witnessed a duel. They had witnessed a reckoning.

  Varek grunted, his arms straining to shield his face, but it was a battle already lost. Corvus wasn’t giving him a chance to breathe, let alone counter. The only difference between them was that Corvus' arms and elbows in particular were covered in blood and wounds.

  The man on the ground was desperately trying to defend himself against Corvus' hammer-like blows. He didn't even have the slightest chance to make a counter move because there was not even the slightest gap between Corvus' punches. While his opponent's arms threatened to break under the weight of the blows, there was no change in the weight of Corvus' blows. The inevitable happened and the man's defenses broke along with his arms. Corvus' punches gave way to elbow strikes. His opponent was already unconscious after the second blow. Nevertheless, Corvus had no intention of stopping until the referee separated them.

  No one pitied the fallen. No one reached out in sorrow. This was not an execution—it was a lesson. The weak had no place in Rhazgord, and Varek’s broken body was proof of that. Among the crowd, some young boys watched with bright, hungry eyes, while elders nodded in grim approval.

  One woman spat on the ground, muttering something in Rhazgordian. Whatever she said, it made Kaelyra’s jaw tighten.

  "The winner of the fight is Corvus Tiamat! Anyone who wants to question my decision, come to me!" Referees' decisions could be questioned, but not in this fight. Corvus' victory could not be questioned. Moreover, his opponent was much older and a member of one of the most powerful families in the city of Rhazgord. After making sure that no one challenged his decision, the referee continued:

  “From this day forward, everything that belongs to Varek Nabuk belongs to Corvus Tiamat!”

  The fight between Corvus and Varek was not a simple fight. Varek had more than three thousand soldiers at his disposal and was much older than Corvus. He was one of the most powerful men in the city. According to the laws of Rhazgord, Varek could not challenge Corvus. The only reason the fight took place was because Corvus challenged Varek.

  For a long moment, silence stretched across the plateau. Then, a voice rang out from the edge of the crowd—a guttural, furious cry.

  “This is not over, Tiamat!”

  A group of warriors—Varek’s men—pushed forward, hands on their weapons, eyes blazing with fury. It took the weight of a dozen elders, their hands raised in warning, to keep them from storming the circle.

  “He lost,” the referee said coldly.

  “The laws of Rhazgord have spoken.”

  But the air was thick with something heavier than dust and blood. It was the promise of vengeance

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  Varek was the fifth and strongest man Corvus fought that day. Corvus had been challenged in the previous four fights. It was unexpected for everyone that a tired and wounded Corvus would challenge Varek. Four fights in a row was enough to quell the rumors about Corvus. But his fights were not enough for Corvus. He stood in the center of the crowd looking for his next opponent. He had almost no strength left, but he had no intention of backing down. As he surveyed the crowd, he met Belisarius' terrified gaze.

  Corvus had always believed in the strength of Rhazgord. In the law of steel. In the right of the strong to rule. Yet, as he stood there, his breath ragged, his fists coated in the blood of a man he had broken, a terrible realization clawed at his chest.

  The crowd roared for him. But was this victory? Was this power? For the first time in his life, he felt their cheers like chains binding him, not lifting him. "I… I am not a barbarian," he whispered, but even as the words left his lips, doubt lingered in his heart. The deep shame he felt drained the last remaining energy from his body. The last thing Corvus saw as he collapsed was Kaelyra running towards him.

  Kaelyra saw the moment Corvus’ legs buckled, saw the way his body wavered like a tree about to fall. She did not call his name. She did not scream. She simply moved—faster than thought, faster than breath, closing the distance between them in an instant.

  When she reached him, her hands caught his shoulders just as his knees hit the dirt. "Fool," she whispered, voice shaking.

  "Damn fool."

  Belisarius had seen blood before. He had trained with steel, fought in duels, watched men die on the battlefield. But this? This was something different. There was no honor in it. No ceremony. No battlefield tactics or elegant swordplay. Just flesh and bone breaking under the weight of pure brutality.

  Belisarius was fourteen when he first picked up a sword. Corvus had been training and fighting with his peers since he was seven. Yes, Belisarius had learned a little about Rhazgord culture, but what he experienced at that moment was different. The redness of Mount Rhaz, the cries of the people and the brutality of Corvus were as fascinating to Belisarius as they were terrifying. If he had a little more faith in himself, he might even have tried to jump into the center of the circle and challenge someone.

  Kaelyra had long since forgotten Belisarius. She had grabbed Corvus before he could hit the ground. She and the other members of the Tiamat family had gathered around Corvus. Even if it was seen as a great disrespect, there might have been those who wanted to avenge the losers. This was especially likely given that each of the opponents Corvus had defeated came from great families. A few in the crowd were preparing to challenge the other Tiamats, if not Corvus, when the cheers from the crowd stopped them. It was the soldiers of the division Corvus was in charge of who started the chants. They were chanting Corvus' name and blessing his victory. Suddenly the whole crowd was chanting in unison, with members of the Timat family joining in the cheers.

  "Corvus, the Lion of Rhaz!"

  When Belisarius came to, Kaelyra had already left with Corvus. The crowd was still there. They were watching the fights of the young people, energized by Corvus' effect. Belisarius was all alone in an unfamiliar country among unfamiliar people. He thought of returning on his own, but he was afraid. Strangers were forbidden on Mount Rhaz and he couldn't explain why he was there without Kaelyra with him. As Belisarius looked for a solution, a large hand touched his shoulder. Belisarius turned around and saw one of the Tiamat who had stepped forward to protect Corvus a few minutes before. This was Zarqa, one of Corvus' soldiers. The two had met before in the Kingdom of Adler.

  "You follow me." he said with a terrible accent. Desperate, Belisarius followed the man he barely knew and they took the path between the red rocks again, heading towards the Red Mansion. Although the two did not speak the whole way, Belisarius could tell that Zarqa was happy.

  As they approached the mansion, they saw Kaelyra talking to her father Valerius and an old but very strong-looking man. Kaelyra looked as troubled as the old man and Valerius looked happy. At one point the old man laughed so loudly that Belisarius stepped back a few steps against his will. The old man put his hand on Kaelyra's shoulder, said something and then he and Valerius headed towards the city.

  As Kaelyra rubbed her forehead anxiously and muttered, she noticed Belisarius and Zarqa walking towards her. She moved closer to the pair, who were also coming towards her. Kaelyra ignored Belisarius and began to order Zarqa to do something. Zarqa listened and then left. Kealyra turned and shouted orders to the surrounding warriors and finally it was Belisarius' turn.

  "I have just sent your men to an inn and we have put what you brought in storage." She called one of the warriors over to her.

  "This man will take you to your men."

  Belisarius had recovered a little from the day's events and now he had to show he was a prince.

  "I understand that things are complicated, but I am here as the prince of the Kingdom of Adler and I would like to pay my respects and offer my gifts to the great Sanguinar."

  Kaelyra expected the prince, who she thought was timid, to leave quickly, but he did not. The prince stood before her, his eyes locked on hers. She leaned down a little to make eye contact with him and put her hand on his right shoulder. She made this gesture a little harsh, so the prince leaned slightly to the right.

  "Look, Belisarius, little prince of a little kingdom. You are one of the biggest reasons for what I am dealing with right now, and yet I am trying to be kind to you. Besides, I cannot take you to see Sanguinar, even if I wanted to, because he is not in the city. Now go and rest. When Corvus wakes up, I will tell him you have arrived." She said something to the warrior who would take Belisarius to the inn where his men would be staying and entered the Red Mansion.

  Alone with the warrior, Belisarius followed in silence. His mind was a storm, a whirlpool of pride, fear, and something darker. He had come to Rhazgord as a prince, a diplomat and a friend to Corvus. But as he glanced back at the crimson-stained plateau, a single thought burned in his mind.

  Had he just seen the reality of Rhazgord?

  And that’s another chapter done! If you’ve made it this far, thank you so much. The world of “The Fall of Everything!” is vast and full of details, so if there's something you're curious about, I'd love to explain it in more depth. Your thoughts can also influence the story—whether it’s something you’d like to see more of or a question you want answered, feel free to share it in the comments! Your feedback is incredibly important to me and helps shape the story. The next chapter is coming soon, so stay tuned!