The Fall of Everything [Rewrite]

With some difficulty, Rasur and his men managed to reach the city gates. Along the way, they were attacked, chased like shadows that hunted them. But Rasur's soldiers did not hesitate to lay down their lives for Corvus and their leader, showing their loyalty with every drop of blood. When the gates opened with a great groan, without a moment's hesitation they set off for Corvus' camp.
They had only been traveling for a few minutes when they saw a group approaching from the opposite direction. Still, they could not afford to slow down; Corvus' breathing had become ragged and his lifeline was at breaking point. Time was now their enemy. It was only when they took a few more steps forward that they realized who the approaching group was. Corvus' soldiers, under Kragan's command, were coming towards them in full force. Rasur and his men first took a deep breath. Then the relief was replaced by a sense of uneasiness mixed with fear: Kragan's face was dark and menacing, like an approaching storm.
It was as if Kragan had been stripped of his human form, an embodiment of pure rage. His eyes burned with a red fire, his every step shook the ground. He had long since left his soldiers behind; now he advanced only in his rage, in his vengeance. Corvus' seemingly lifeless body became a single scene in his mind: betrayal and loss. He panted with a deep growl, clenched his fists and quickened his pace. Every muscle was tense to the point of cracking; it was as if even his body was struggling to bear the weight of his rage.
There was no trace of humanity in his eyes. He had lost all sense of humanity the moment he saw the body of his friend, wounded or dead. Now Kragan was not a soldier but a roaring storm. "Them!" he thought, referring to Rasur and his soldiers. "Those fucking traitors! Those dogs!" His eyes were on Rasur, as if he could crush him with just his gaze. His hands were stiff as the claws of a predator, each finger trembling with a desire for vengeance that eclipsed even his self-hatred for failing to defend Corvus.
Kragan was no longer a human being, only a killing machine. He had only one goal in mind: To avenge Corvus. There was not a shred of logic in his rage. The soldiers before him reminded him of Corvus' pain, and he was ready to do whatever it took to destroy that pain. Squinting, he increased his speed. Even with his bare hands he felt as if he could destroy the whole world. Rasur and his men were not just enemies to him; they were dogs to be destroyed.
The soldiers following Kragan from behind were also on the verge of cracking with rage and despair. Each had a different expression on his face, darkened by the thought of their fallen leader. Some bowed their heads and whispered silent prayers to the gods to receive Corvus into their presence. Others clutched their swords tightly, hissing with rage, vowing vengeance. "We will see fear in the eyes of our enemies." one of them said, as if to console himself. Others moved through the chaos with deadly calm, eager to satisfy the hunger of their swords with the blood of their enemies. Every step they took was motivated by the desire to somehow make amends for what had happened to Corvus.
Rasur and his soldiers recognized the impending danger and realized that Kragan and his forces were acting on a false assumption. But every cry to tell the truth was lost in the storm. Their voices could not penetrate the wall of Kragan's rage. Rasur raised his hands and shouted, "Wait! You misunderstand!" But for Kragan the words no longer made sense. His eyes were focused only on his anger. Everything was behind a smokescreen; the only reality was the silhouettes in front of him, which he believed to be the enemy.
Rasur's soldiers, realizing that it was no longer possible to correct this illusion, took up a defensive position. They gripped their weapons tightly and hid behind their shields, not knowing what to expect. This sight brought Kragan's anger to its peak. In his eyes, this moment of Rasur and his soldiers preparing against them was proof of their betrayal. They had killed Kragan's friend, his leader, and now they stood shamelessly before him. A roar erupted from Kragan's throat, the storm raging inside him. It was not just a battle cry, it was a declaration of death.
The soldiers behind him seemed to be aflame with their commander's rage. Swords flashed in the air, each one ready to rush forward to mete out his own justice. And so the first steps of an inevitable clash were taken. With Kragan's rage ready to erupt like a volcano, the fate of Rasur and his soldiers would be decided in a matter of moments.
And the moment of impact arrived. Kragan smashed the shields in front of him as if they were toys. He advanced relentlessly, his huge axe cutting down those in his path with every swing. The armor of his enemies was no protection against Kragan's fury; each blow took another life. When Rasur saw Kragan approaching him step by step, the weight of fear gripped his body. His voice trembled, yet he continued to shout in desperation: "You misunderstand, Kragan! Stop it!" But the noise of the battle prevented his cries from reaching Kragan.
Kragan's eyes were locked on Rasur in the crowd. The corpses around Rasur were the trail of death on the road Kragan had traveled. And finally, Kragan stood before Rasur. But his eyes were focused not on Rasur's face, but on the motionless body of Corvus, which he carried on his back. A low, threatening voice came out of him, like the growl of an animal: "Put him down."
Rasur froze in fear and confusion. As he tried to understand what he was saying, Kragan's voice sounded again, this time deeper and sharper, threatening: "Put him down so that I don't accidentally damage his body with my axe as I chop you to pieces."
Kragan's words froze the blood in Rasur's veins. He was still holding Corvus' body on his back, his hands covered in sweat. Meanwhile, the warriors behind Kragan had taken down the 'traitors' one by one. These warriors were the most elite soldiers of the Rhazgord. They were very different from Bahoz's soldiers; they were more than simple soldiers, they were true killing machines, who had learned the ins and outs of war since childhood and had survived countless battles. Rasur's men were being knocked down before they could put up even the slightest resistance.
The crowd narrowed, everyone's gaze locked on Kragan and Rasur. Kragan's huge axe hung just above the motionless Corvus. There seemed to be no force that could stop the movement of this axe. His rage was deadlier than the sharpness of the swords. In the midst of all this rage and chaos, in that moment when everything was on a knife edge, an unexpected miracle happened. Just as Kragan's axe was about to land on Rasur, every sound, every movement froze. A small, faint growl broke through the chaos. It was a faint sound, full of pain. It was so low and fragile that it seemed impossible to hear in the fiercely echoing battlefield. But the sound echoed in everyone's ears, as if by magic.
It came from Corvus. Not a word, not a sentence, just a few meaningless letters, a faint moan mingled together. Yet the weight of that simple sound seemed to pin everyone on the battlefield to the ground. Kragan, preparing to lift his axe off Rasur, suddenly paused. His eyes were fixed, as if against his will, on the motionless body of Corvus. For a moment he gasped, all his anger giving way to deep concern and bewilderment.
The soldiers behind Kragan stopped as they were about to continue attacking Rasur's men with a cry for vengeance. A question echoed through everyone: "Did he speak? Is he alive?" It was as if this small voice, coming through the heavy fog of war, had swept away all the hatred and the desire for bloodshed.
Kragan fell to his knees, close to Corvus' face. "Corvus..." he whispered, his voice this time carrying more the concern of a friend than the anger of a warrior. That small, meaningless growl shook the whole square to its roots like a giant plane tree. Now the battle was over, because that voice had made everyone remember a common truth: Corvus was still alive.
Rasur had felt the cold breath of death on his neck many times that day. He was a brave warrior, his sword sharp, his reflexes quick, but he had always lived a life of plenty and security, far from the real face of war. Now, for the first time in his life, the sight before his eyes shook him to the core. He looked at the lifeless bodies lying on the ground; these were hundreds of men he had known since childhood. Many of them were his family, the rest were his friends... But fear and the regret growing inside him prevented Rasur from grieving these losses, from demanding justice for the dead, or even looking up at Kragan.
Unable to take his eyes off the corpses for even a moment, his body began to tremble. He fell to his knees, his hands involuntarily touching his trembling chin. His father's actions, the wrong decisions and the consequences of this war swirled in his mind like a vortex. For a moment he forgot to breathe, it was as if the world had fallen into a gray silence for him. And just then, a slap shattered this grayness.
The slap was hard, but not in anger, but with the intention of bringing Rasur to his senses. Franz was the one who slapped him. As Franz's slap echoed on Rasur's face, her voice spoke with the same harshness: "Wake the fuck up! This is no time to fall apart!" The slap echoed in Rasur's mind, bringing to the surface like a flood all the truths he had recently repressed. Franz's intervention had worked. Rasur was slowly returning to the reality around him.
When Rasur regained consciousness, the first thing he noticed was that the weight on his back was no longer there. For a moment he tried to understand what had happened. While he was immersed in the depths of fear, Kragan had already picked up Corvus and was on his way to the camp. The giant man held Corvus in his hands as if he were carrying a treasure, each step dutifully. Unlike Rasur, Franz and the other warriors had already calmed down and moved quickly to find out what was going on in the city and what had happened to Corvus.
As Rasur stood frozen in place, facing his own helplessness, he was once again confronted with the horrors of that day. He was no longer just trying to survive in the midst of war, but also questioning what the future would hold and how he would face the consequences of his father's decisions.
Under the weight of fear and guilt, Rasur tried to avoid Franz's gaze. Franz crossed his arms over his chest and looked at Rasur with an almost piercing gaze. "We already know why Corvus is like this," Franz said, his voice cold and sharp. Rasur was still in shock when his men told her what had happened.
"But there are still things we don't know about your father's betrayal. It would be good for you to start explaining everything now!"