The Glorious Execution, pt. 2
Malcolm knew that sound; Thresh's laugh was not something anyone could easily forget. But he was given no time to react. Darius was on the floor, and Thresh's sickle was stuck at Nellestar's chest. That was his death sentence. 'I'm sorry, Nellestar....'' thought the General.
Without a doubt, Malcolm dashed away from his pupil, pushing him down to the ground. Without looking back, he ran towards Darius, who was laying in the ground. Was he dead? He didn't think so; the Hand of Noxus couldn't be taken down so easily. He could hear Thresh whisper at his back, but Malcolm didn't want to turn. If he had to die now, he would; his cowardice deserved such a punishment. Trying to wake Darius up and bandaging a wound in his front, he waited for his death to arrive, but it looked like the gods had thought of another fate for him.
Why would the Chain Warden leave them alive? Two of the strongest men of Noxus could have fallen at his hands, but he had completely ignored them. He would have called that mercy if he wasn't talking about Thresh. Something had drawn the attention of the chain warden.
Darius' coughs stopped his thinking.
-¡What has happenned! -shouted the Hand of Noxus while getting on his feet.-¡¿Where did that monster go?!
-He left, Nellestar died and you fainted instantly. -answered Malcolm. -I have no idea of where he went. I came to take care of your wounds.
-¡You have let it free! -screamed Darius while running through the path marked by Nellestar's blood. -¡You'll die if I see you again, traitor! ¡You'd better run!
Malcolm did not answer. He didn't know what to do next.
...
That was it.
He could feel it; a life without a soul. A man who was alive and dead at the same time. Such a curious thing could not be overlooked.
Every step brought him closer to his objective. With every cling of the chains he felt hundreds of weak souls grouped. 'This is the arena...' thought Thresh. He could feel death's scent in the air, he could even talk to it.
-It's been so long since we last met... hahahaha... -he took a deep breath while walking.- I missed this.
He could hear the crowd. He could hear the executioner. 'But there is no word of my soulless man...' thought the warden.
When he entered the arena everyone fell silent. Even the executioner, who was well known for never shutting up, was quiet. But there was no calm in the arena. The silence that had suddenly invaded the Noxians was caused by fear.
-Step out of my toy. -calmly said the chain warden looking at Draven's eyes. -Please.
-¡¿What are you doing he...
Draven didn't get to finish the sentence. Thresh's sickle went through his throat. His lantern moved on its own, floating for a while; seconds later, both Draven and the Lantern hit the ground. A minute later, the arena was no more than a bunch of corpses laying in a dead cold graveyard.
...
He was late. He had failed his nation. The silence of the arena stuck in his ears, even his heart stopped for a while. Men, women and children alike, they were all dead. Now they were no more than bunches of corpses. Open mouths, scared eyes... That was the work of the madman.
Then he thought about his brother. He ran to the center of the arena, Draven's favourite place for taking down prisoners. When he found his brother, he wished he had not. His disfigured face was still helplessly calling for help. His throat, torn to pieces, did not look like the one his brother had used countless times to laugh at his victims.
And it was all his fault. His and Malcolm's.
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