Chapter 15: Nation of Intellex

  The Jhatt emerged during the end of the Sed Epoch, a remarkable race that anded both awe and wariness. Nature had blessed them with fhty arms, each limb possessing strength that could bend steel and the grace of a daheir skin, remi of living stoatues, turned even the sharpest bdes. But it was their goldehat became their most legendary feature – mesmerizing both man and woman alike.

  These warriors first arose in the frost valleys of Northern Lupus, where the harsh climate fed their resilience. As turies passed, they began their great wandering, spreading across tis until their desdants could be found in every er of the world. Yet true Jhatt remained as rare as summer snow, their inal numbers few.

  In their early history, they practiced the brutal tradition of 'plegious' – raids to capture others ahem to their will. But time and iion with other peoples gradually softehese a ways. By the time of the Sixth Epoch, pure-blooded Jhatt had bee living legends, with perhaps only a handful remaining.

  Though their mixed-blood desdants rarely ied the four arms or stone-like skin of their aors, orait proved stubborn in its persistehose haunting goldehrough tless geions, those amber orbs tio mark the children of Jhatt blood, a reminder of their formidable heritage.

  Annie and Max were both of mixed Jhatt blood, though Max carried A Dammaras blood as well. This heritage blessed him with heightened senses, allowing him to detect the intruders before even his wife noticed them.

  "Gharak kir trusha," Annie said, her amber eyes fixed on the man before them. In the a Lupian torusha' marked an enemy who posed mortal threat.

  The man lounging in the ter of their small house sneered. "Oh, Lupian? I hought a half-blood like you would speak the nguage of those barbariimals. I only speak Heraphant though" His casual demeanor belied the deadly threat he represented.

  "What do you want?" Max's voice carried an edge of steel, though subtle tremors betrayed his ay.

  "Answer my previous question: which race do you think reigns supreme in the world currently?"

  Max and Annie exged worried gheir minds rag to uand what this mysterious figure represeheir instincts screamed danger – this man could end their lives at any moment.

  "B, always b," he drawled. "Even if I told you, you wouldn't uand. After all, you're more like pets rather than intelligent s—"

  Annie's fist cut through the air with lethal i, her strike fueled by be and desperation. She knew she had to aow, if only to give her precious son a ce ter. "Ghrak-ka kir trusha-mrigh!" she snarled.

  But her punever nded. It stopped mid-air as if striking an invisible wall. The man's smile grew wider, more twisted – a mockery of their helplessness.

  "You half-breeds really think you act as you please before me? The great schor Sr. Travis Scott, stro general in Sternfall? You fug bitch, at least pleasure me before I throw you to my soldiers waiting outside..."

  A sudden force struck him, drawing blood from his mouth.

  "Cough! Ahhh!"

  "You bastard!" Travis growled at Max, who now stood protectively before his wife, his dark skin and golden eyes bzing with fury.

  "Don't you dare speak another foul word. You think we fear you? We'd rather die than cower before someone like you."

  "Is that so?" Travis said, pulling back his long hair. He dabbed at his bloodied mouth with a pristine handkerchief, his smirk never wavering. "Let me show you why humans, though born with no special abilities, have survived in this world. It's because we are blessed. We are the sole chosen of the almighty."

  Ability: Air Prison

  Iempa Forest

  "Clotho, I didn't know you were such a naughty boy," Hasina said, her tone pyful and teasing.

  "It was my first time..." Clotho whispered, l his head.

  "Oh, I had plenty of—" Hasina said nontly.

  "What? Who?" Clotho's voice rose in shock.

  "Yes, I had plenty of experience sleeping in forests like that."

  "Oh... sleeping. Yes... of course, sleeping," Clotho sighed with relief.

  Hasina's thoughts drifted: How cute. Don't act like that or we'll have to go aen rounds, you stupid Clotho. Though I didn't expect it to hurt so much. But I'm happy – I finally be his.

  She moved closer, taking his arm. "Clotho, promise you'll never leave me alone."

  "What are you talking about? Let's go home first. Father might be there already."

  "Oh, I don't know what to tell Aunty. She told me t you quickly, but..."

  "Don't worry. It was my fault anyway..."

  As they approached their house, they found only devastation. Fire ed everything, nearby homes reduced to ash as if some camity had swept through the vilge.

  "Mom!" Clotho's cry echoed through the burning air. His world shattered, heart pounding with terrible possibilities. "No... no... where are you? Dad? Mom? Anyone, please answer! Who... who did this?"

  He colpsed to his knees, mind reeling. At seventeen, he knew nothing of his Jhatt heritage or the cruel world that had e knog at his door. His screams tore through the smoke-filled air until a gentle hand touched his shoulder.

  Hasina stood beside him, tears streaming down her face. "Clotho... please calm down. How will you find Aunty if you break down? Aunty Annie is the stro person I know – even the vilge chief fears her. Nothing could happen to her."

  Clotho rose slowly, wiping away his tears with ched fists. Together, they searched the vilge, disc a horror worthy of history books: crimson blood soaked the sand, fmes bearing wito atrocities future historians would debate. One word that sometimes epoches through history surfaced in their mind.

  Invasion.

  Having lost everything, Hasina and Clotho retreated to the familiar forest of their youth. Whether driven by fear of unknown enemies or drawn by memories of happier days, they found so each other. Though their world y in ruins, perhaps they could rebuild it together.

  In 11999 L.C., during the sixth month, Tempa fell to Sternfall's sudden invasion. The kingdom vanished from maps, beierritory of Sternfall. Official dots recorded it as an unremarkable flict with only twenty thousand casualties. Yet Sternfall's soldiers still spoke of how the wome – not by ons, but by their own hands. Some became sves, others somethihan human, their sciousness stripped away. The king perished alongside his three wives and five sons. The fate of Tempa's only daughter, sixteen at the time, remained unknown.

  Two months after the war, Clotho sat on a broken chair, its leg threatening to colpse at any moment. Hasina stood nearby, watg him eat.

  "Did you eat?" he asked.

  "I ate this m. You know us beautiful girls have to maintain our diet," she said with a practiced smile.

  Clotho saw through her lie. Though not the smartest, he possessed an uny ability to sense humaions – greed, lust, anger, and especially hunger showed clearly in people's eyes.

  "Hasina, they might be hiring at the new clothing factory. They're ung new designs... I'll be home te tonight. Don't wait for me – eat dinner yourself."

  As he rose to leave, her thin fingers caught his arm. She pressed a quick kiss to his lips.

  "Clotho, did you know today's my birthday?"

  "I... didn't. I'm sorry."

  "My only wish is for you to e home early so end the night together."

  "I'll try..." he said hesitantly.

  "Good. Often trying succeeds where promises fail," she replied with a gentle smile.

  Acamis, the capital of the Meritocratic State of Intellex, bustled with life. Students seeking education to break free from middle-css s mingled with those searg for their meal. Prestigious uies and research ters domihe skyline. Book vendors lihe streets, hoping to earn some atana. Despite the city's grandeur, only a single church stood within its borders.

  Being close to the Sea of ere, security remaiight, though invasion seemed unlikely. The uncharted waters beyond the Freya ti remained mysterious to most races, few even aware of life beyond their shores.

  Clotho wahrough the crowds, seeking any work to support Hasina. Her deih haunted him – she grew thinner by the day. After two months of searg for his parents, even a child would uand their likely fate. He had begun to accept this cruel reality.

  He chose Intellex not only for its proximity to former Tempa but for its booming clothing industry. Outside a mill, crowds gathered, their pints indistinct. A brown-skinned man wearing an odd hat guarded the gate, maintaining order among those seeking work in a pce where humareated as is.

  "No pushing! Anyone who breaks the line will be remembered – no work for a month!"

  "We hree men with good builds. Step forward!"

  "Here! Look here!" Clotho called out.

  "Hmm... yes, good. e inside, boy."

  The mill stood as a moress, brid steel merging past with future. Maery hummed stantly, while the thick st of fabrid dust filled the air. Men and women worked side by side, their gender marked only by their work attire – practical trousers and blouses that spoke of utility over beauty. Easy to work and cheap was the philosophy that ruled their days.

  Clotho performed his assigasks until receiving a meager meal – a small potato he saved for Hasina. As he prepared to leave, a familiar voice cut through the meical din.

  "Clotho?"

  The voice struck a chord of memory. "Tadano?"

  Nostalgia washed over Clotho at the sight of his childhood friend. Despite the grime of factory work, Tadano's eyes still held their familiar warmth.

  "How are you? Is Hasina with you?" Tadano's enthusiasm pierced the dreary atmosphere.

  "Yes. She and I are together now."

  "Is that so..." A shadow passed over Tadano's face.

  "What about you? You had vast nds to your name. What brought you here?"

  "You're as stupid as always." Tadaled beside Clotho, steam rising from his potato. His eyes narrowed. "Wait, did you finish your meal already?"

  "Yes," Clotho replied, too quickly.

  "Here, take half of mine."

  Before Clotho could protest, Tadano split his potato, the steam esg like a final breath.

  "After the war, Sternfall seized everything. I had some savings, but..." Tadano's jaw tightened. "That stupid bastard stole it all."

  "Who?"

  "Who else? Marco, of course. We came here together, but he fell into gambling. I warned him we o be careful, but—" Tadano shook his head. "Let's leave it."

  "Marco's here in Acamis?"

  "Probably drinking himself stupid in some alley."

  The factory bell rang – three sharp peaks that cut through versation like a bde. Workers shuffled back to their stations, knowing fifteen hours of bor stretched before them, broken by a single precious break. Some would colpse from exhaustion, but fresh bodies would repce them before their spots grew cold. In Acamis, there was never a she of desperate souls.

  Night desded on Acamis like a heavy curtain. The bustling streets fell silent save for patrolling guards and the distant barking of watchdogs. Streetmps cast pools of light at measured intervals, like stars fallen to earth. Oain benches, painted dies waited, sometimes joined by guards seeking pany through the long hours. Summer nights brought a peculiar mercy to the homeless – at least they fear freezing in their sleep. Winter beloo the rich, but summer nights offered the pentle respite.

  Clotho walked alone, his mind wanderiweey and dreams. Sometimes he imagined himself a king, ruling from a grand pace with Hasina beside him, radiant in white silk. The fantasy brought an unbidden smile to his face.

  "She's probably angry with me," he murmured, clutg the saved potato. "But I have a gift for her."

  As he approached their modest home, sounds from within stopped him cold. His body tensed, ready to charge, but caution held him back. If they held Hasina hostage, one wrong move could—

  He forced himself to breathe, to think. Let's assess the situation first.

  Then the voices reached him, and his world began to crack.

  "Marco, so this was the girl you always talked about. I have to say, you didn't disappoint."

  "You know me. I know the quality when I see it."

  "But you know, she resisted quite a bit."

  The door splintered under Clotho's hands.

  "Huh? Who are you?" A muscled man looked up with the entitled annoyance of oerrupted at his leisure.

  Five men surrounded a figure on the floor. Hasina y there, blood staining her lips, eyes vat and unseeing. Bruises marred her legs, and dust clouded her skin – skin that had once been pure as virgin snow. Clotho had known every facet of her: her care, her anger, her teasing, her passion. Her father had named her "Beautiful," and to Clotho, she had beey itself. Now he stood frozen, his soul withering as the potato slipped from numb fingers.

  "Clotho?" Marco's voice held reition.

  "Clotho? Oh, the one you told us about. Perfect timing for revenge," another man sneered.

  In one fluid motion, a man's face separated from his skull, painting the wall crimson. Drops of blood fell like tears onto Hasina's cheek.

  That night exists in fragments in my memory. I remember only fshes: the crimson moon watg overhead, my wife's silent form below. What happened between those moments, what I did to those men – perhaps it's mercy that I ot recall.