Free Rebellion by J. D. Netto Page B

while, I gazed at the creature. A part of me was aware that this was the moment to wound her, but for some reason, I pitied her. What had led this woman to be this way? She had once been human and now she was a monster. My thoughts were drowned by the vivid images of how she and the others had killed Othaleeon and the Bellatorian soldiers. My hands pulled on her hair, lifting her chin to me. Empty cavities had taken the place of her eyes. For a few seconds, I stared at her, despising everything she had become. I rested my blade beneath her chin.
    “Death,” I whispered, feeling my sword cut through her skin. A thick, dark liquid poured from the gushing wound.
    The darkness faded like smoke. I took in a deep breath as I surveyed my surroundings. All in the room gazed at me with fervent eyes.
    “Isaac…” Devin’s voice trailed off. “How?”
    Something wet touched my boots. I gasped when I caught sight of Nylora’s bleeding body lying on the floor. Her beautiful pale skin disintegrated, revealing the clear substance that covered her skeletal body.
    “Bastard,” Bartholomew declared, surprised at the sight. He tightened his trembling fists; his eyes bore into mine.
    Confusion stirred inside of me when I saw my sword smeared with Nylora’s blood.
    Wings similar to those of dragons sprung from Bartholomew’s back.
    “No one can kill us!” Bartholomew shouted. “Who are you, boy?”
    “My name is Isaac Khan and I am the bearer of the Diary of Lucifer.”
    “Nylora was right when she said you were no ordinary boy.” Bartholomew pursed his lips and spit on Nylora’s decomposed body. “She was…always weak anyway.”
    By now, Nylora’s body was nothing more than a pile of bones buried in a puddle of blood. The stench that rose from the decomposed corpse was reminiscent of a dead animal’s carcass.
    From behind me, loud footsteps resounded. When I turned, all the courage inside of me vanished. Dahmian marched in front of them. Their wings were extended to their full width, some being longer than others. I counted, and with Dahmian they were a total of eight blood-drinkers. They stopped in a perfect line.
    “Can you defeat us all, Isaac?” Bartholomew let out a malefic laugh as he walked to them. “See that boy?” He pointed to me. “He killed Nylora.”
    “What are we going to do about that, Bartholomew?” Dahmian asked, crossing his hands.
    The blood-drinkers had their eyes fixed on me.
    “You will all pay for this,” one of them shouted in a high-pitched voice. “No man can kill us.” They broke out in animalistic growls and roars. The noise resembled a pack of lions roaring in the wilderness.
    It was in that moment that a sudden blue fire appeared inside the fireplace. Confused, I gazed at the bright flames, wondering where they had come from. The cold air inside the room gave way to a rising temperature.
    “You are all fools.” My heart skipped a beat when I recognized the voice that reverberated around us. It was Sathees’. A ghostly image of him appeared next to the empty throne. He was clothed in his white robes, and the markings on his body burned with an incandescent blue light. His eye sockets were consumed by flames.
    A loud explosion occurred where Sathees stood, filling the air with a blinding silver.
    “What are you trying to do, old man?” Dahmian shouted. “Scare us all with your cheap tricks?”
    Loud roars echoed in my ears. My knees trembled when I saw wings appear. The smoke receded, revealing a beast that now stood in the room with all of us. A white dragon, armored from head to tail.
    Bartholomew and the others stared at the beast with fearful eyes.
    I looked at him with a smirk on my face.
    “Cheap tricks?” I mouthed the words to him.
    The blood-drinkers were agitated. They exchanged confused looks as they stepped away from the throne room.
    “I will kill you,” Bartholomew screeched, pointing his finger toward me. “I will kill you.”
    In a matter of seconds, their