RealmofMonsters
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Chapter 665: Holoson
🕑 Added 2025-09-26 03:44:50 +0000 UTCThe sun had set and the last rays of light bathed the sky in a deep orange as Atlas made his way through the Commoner District. The farther he walked, the worse his surroundings became. This close to the wall, the damage the Valley Tribes had dealt was evident. Ruined homes were all Atlas saw, if they could even be considered homes anymore.
Many of the houses in the Commoner District had been built with wood in a time when Undergrowth and Hollow Shade were still on good terms and the sale of Glimmer Grove trees flowed freely. It had been over a century since then and the old wooden homes had fallen into disrepair. When the valley tribesmen had come with torches and orange magic, it hadn’t taken much to set the neighborhoods ablaze.
Now, all that was left on this side of the district was charred ruins. The houses that had been lucky enough to catch fire had been ransacked and left to rot. Atlas did not understand why his mother had come to this place. And he knew she had, this was the last place he had sensed her presence before she had disappeared.
It had occurred to him only after he had set off from the manor to ask Kaitlin or one of the other higher-ups of the Troupe if they knew anything about Holo’s whereabouts tonight. Perhaps one of them knew, or perhaps not. Holo often went off on her own with none the wiser. She had always been like that, ever since he was old enough to remember. His mother would simply disappear, sometimes to another city-state or to an altogether different Realm. But something felt off this time.
The darkness of twilight filled the sky and Atlas felt his eyes shift into their natural purple hue as they adjusted to the dark. He wandered down the street, searching each ruined house for signs of his mother.
As he drew close to one particular unassuming ruined home, he caught the faint scent of chemicals and elixirs; the kind black mages used to preserve bodies while working necromancy. His mother had spent the last few days down in her arcane atelier, perfecting a new set of undead sentinels.
Atlas made a beeline for the building. Before he could walk into the sorry, ruined excuse for a doorway, he caught the sound of something whizzing through the air. Instincts took over and he spun around, Yellow surging through his body. An outline of yellow scales wrapped around his flesh as an arrow punctured clean through his cloak and slammed into his left arm. The protective scales cracked but held, the arrow sliding past.
“Good evening,” said a calm, masculine voice.
Atlas turned to find a cloaked individual with a green mask standing across the street. Atlas twitched as a burning sensation stretched across his forearm. The arrow had left some sort of green ink over his skin and it was quickly eroding the protective scales with a hissing, bubbling noise.
With a thought, Atlas channeled Orange and burned off the poison with a flicker of flames. But the damage had been done, the arm had gone limp. His natural resistance to poison should have stopped anything of the sort from happening. Something was wrong.
“Apologies, that seems painful.” The stranger raised his bow and shrugged. “I was aiming for your neck. It would have made this far less painful and simple.”
“You have no idea who you’re dealing with, do you?” Atlas bared his teeth in a deep growl.
“On the contrary, I know exactly who you are. I’ve been waiting for you.”
Soon, Atlas’ healing would eliminate whatever poison had invaded his flesh and restore function to his left arm. Until then, he needed to keep this man talking. “You have me at a disadvantage then, I don’t know you.”
“Apologies, once again. Where are my manners? I am simply called One.” The figure gave a flourishing bow. “It is an honor to be in your presence, your majesty.” His voice held a bite to it, almost a mocking tone.
Atlas narrowed his eyes. How much did this stranger know? Had he done something to his mother? “I am no king,” Atlas replied cautiously.
“Are you not Atlas Thorn, firstborn son of Atreus Thorn? The lost prince? This is your city, is it not?”
“The Royal Thorn House was overthrown. Even if it hadn’t, I gave up my family name long ago.”
“Ah, yes. You go by a different name now.” The man clicked his tongue. “Holoson. You abandoned your mortal people and sided with the spawn of Death.”
“So you do know me,” Atlas said slowly as he glanced around, searching for others.
One noticed his gaze. “Rest assured, we are alone.”
“Am I supposed to believe you?” Atlas cocked an eyebrow.
“I sent my constituents to deal with the rest of the wretched progeny of titans.”
Atlas glared as blue flames erupted over his right hand. “If you fucking dare lay a finger on my daughter—”
“Oh, now you believe me?”
“What have you done with my mother?” Atlas tried to move his left arm, but he could barely twitch a finger. The poison was taking unnaturally long to heal.
“Why do you continue to ask about others? I am here for you.” He withdrew a golden dagger from his cloak.
Before One had a chance to point the dagger at him, Atlas slammed his foot into the ground with a pulse of Green. A slab of stone rose in front of him, blocking whatever attack might come. Atlas threw his hand to the side, and blue fire roared as it erupted from his palm and filled the street.
The scent of burning wood and smoke filled the air. Atlas couldn’t see and neither could his opponent, but Atlas didn’t need his sight, he could hear the bastard just fine. He charged through the smoke, fist pulled back ready to strike, and came up behind the masked man.
One turned on his heel in a flash and pointed the golden dagger at Atlas. Pain exploded in his heart and Atlas stumbled. He gritted his teeth and pushed through the pain, tackling One to the ground.
The golden dagger fell on the scorched dirt, not far away. One scrambled for it, but Atlas pulled him back and slammed him back to the ground. He planted his foot on One’s shoulder to hold him down and punched him in the mask. One’s head snapped back and rebounded off the floor with a heavy thunk.
Atlas punched him again with all the strength he could muster. “Did you think your trinket would stop me? That a little pain would stop me!?” He punched him again. “That you could try and hurt my family?!” By the second punch, One had gone limp, but Atlas punched him over and over, rage filling his every thought.
The green mask was surprisingly durable, but even it began to crack under the onslaught of a demigod’s strength. Atlas finally stopped after a minute of senseless beating. Dark blood covered his fist and a small crater had formed underneath One’s head.
Atlas unclenched his fist and tried to calm his breathing while he rallied back in his anger. Something was off. Atlas frowned and stared at his shaking hand. Was that his blood?
“Ow.” One muttered.
Atlas snapped his head back down. But One moved quicker and shoved him off with a flat palm. Atlas felt the air escape his lungs as ribs cracked and he flew backwards into a ruined house, shattering what little remained. Atlas lay on the floor, dazed, and wheezing for breath.
“You wound me.” One rose to his feet and dusted himself off. “To think that I need trinkets to kill you? I am not like the others; I need nothing.”
“Is that why you shot me with an arrow?” Atlas grimaced as he staggered to his feet.
One picked at a green piece of his mask that was crumbling off and flicked it aside. “I wanted this to be less painful for you.”
“Then why the dagger?” Atlas flexed his left hand. Feeling had mostly returned, though now his every breath made him wince. He had underestimated his opponent. He wouldn’t make the same mistake again. With a subtle shift of his foot, he channeled Green into the ground.
“The dagger? Do you think that was pain?” One chuckled.
Atlas summoned Yellow and covered himself in fresh protective scales. “What would you call it—”
One appeared in front of him in a blur and snatched the giant of a man by the throat before Atlas could react. “You have no idea what pain is,” One hissed and tossed him away like a rag doll.
Atlas threw several houses before coming to a bloody halt. He groaned and tried to blink the stars away from his vision. The scales had cracked and shattered in several places. The scales around his neck were gone entirely and were covered in cuts where One’s nails had squeezed into his skin.
“I waited here because I believed you were the greatest threat among the rest of the targets.” One appeared above him, crouched on the last standing beam. “Was I wrong? Should I have dealt with the baby Aspirant instead?”
Atlas kicked the beam from under him, shattering it. One didn’t flinch and landed on the ground with an acrobat’s grace. Atlas rolled to his feet and raised his fists in a defensive stance. He sent several more pulses of Green into the earth, having found what he needed. “Is that all you’ve got?” Atlas spat a glob of blood at his feet.
One stepped forward in the same blur of unprecedented speed. Atlas threw a hook on instinct even before he saw One move, but the latter was faster and caught the fist with ease.
“As I said, you do not know pain. This is pain,” One said and held Atlas’ fist in an iron grip. Atlas’ veins turned a sickly green, starting from his hand and quickly working up his shoulder. Strength left Atlas and he fell to his knees, helpless. He could only gasp a shallow breath as excruciating pain filled his every fiber.
Atlas’ vision began to fade at the edges, but whatever magic tortured him, stopped him from falling unconscious. One stared at him, half his mask having fallen off, revealing a dispassionate green eye.
Atlas rallied what little focus he could through the blinding pain and smiled defiantly.
“Arrogant to the end,” One noted.
Holo Flickered behind him, murder-filled rage in her cold eyes, and sent a high kick straight at his temple. The foot connected with a satisfying crack and One went flying into the street, skidding on the dirt like a skipping stone.
Atlas collapsed, but Holo caught him, her small frame making it seem almost comical. “Perfect timing, Mother,” he mumbled.
“Don’t speak,” Holo whispered soothingly and laid him on the ground.
“You escaped,” One called out in a begrudging tone.
Holo Flickered into the street, a few paces from him. “And you hurt my son, you are going to die for that.”
Slowly rising to his feet, One touched the blood trickling down the side of his forehead. The last bits of his mask had fallen apart, revealing a pale complexion and green hair so dark it appeared almost black.
Holo frowned at the sight. “You’re a son of Agony. Why are you doing this? You’re one of us!”
“I am nothing like you.”
“Are you sure about that, cousin?”
He narrowed his green eyes and stared at Holo. “How did you escape? Those wards should have held you for days.”
“From the inside, sure. But from the outside?” Holo clicked her tongue. “That’s the problem with complex arcane prisons made in a simple dirt pit. Sure, they can be made anywhere, but all it takes is a bit of tampering with a Green stone spell to break the seal from the outside.”
One glanced at the ruins where Atlas lay. “Interesting.”
“Heed my call, Lyrae.” Holo stretched her hand out and a black scythe rained down from the sky and landed in her grip.
“An orichalcum weapon. Do you think that will protect you?” One spoke nonchalantly, but his hardened eyes betrayed him.
Holo smiled, but it did not reach her eyes. “I imagine you enjoy inflicting pain on others. So tell me, what do you think I enjoy?”
