Numb. That's what he felt. Numb.

He couldn't feel the rain that showered the battlefield nor did he feel it stop. He couldn't feel the wounds that riddled his body.

He felt nothing... nothing but his life slowly leaving his body.

His body, filled with bleeding cuts and bruises, lay prone before one of the treasures of the Centurions.

With great difficulty, he lifted his head and stared at the golden Eagle. To the eyes of anyone, it was simply a standard carried like any other standards but to the Centurions. It was more important than their lives.

He lay his head back on the ground and shut his eyes. In his hand was his bloody and rusted Gladius. The number of bodies that lay in the pool of their own blood were the result of this weapon.

His cape was torn and so was the lower half of his mask. His armor, littered with cuts and arrows, was covered in blood, both his and the enemy's, and mud.

He remembered the faces of his men as they died trying to siege this fortress and reclaim the Eagle.

He remembered as the Warden General that accompanied him took half his army and turned their backs on him, leaving his half for dead.

He felt something inside of him stir. A fire he reserved for his most wicked adversaries and it all pointed to that Warden General. He knew that feeling. It was Hate, the burning desire for Vengeance. Revenge.

In his mind he can hear the screams of his soldiers as they were cut down one by one. He can hear the screams of his enemies as they fell to his blade.

But through all that noise in his head, one voice silenced them. That voice uttered only a single word.

Damocles

His eyes flew open. Instead of the normal dark blue, his eyes were now a menacing gold.

The grip on his sword tightened. His mouth turned into a sneer. His breath, once gasping for air as life began to leave him, became ragged as the feeling of Hate coursed through his body.

Slowly, he rose from the ground and stared at the Eagle. He took hold of it and pulled it out of the ground.

His head turned to the gates of the fortress. His eyes seemingly stare at the horizon, bit in truth, he was staring at the Warden General that had betrayed him.

He took a step towards the gates and began his journey back home. Where he can enact his revenge against those who had wronged him.

He didn't notice the fact that his armor, once the dull color of steel, turned grey. His cape from red to black, the symbol on it changed into an image of a sword. The silver face mask turned white as a skull and the slash marks on the nose and left eye became the color of blood. He lifted the black scarf over his mouth, finishing the image of the Goddess of Revenge's champion.

Marcus Valerius Felix died on this fortress. In his place, stands Damocles.

Nothing and no one will stand in the way of his revenge.

~Line Break~

After walking for days without rest. He finally reached the home of the Lord Warden. Where the traitorous Warden General will send his report on the battle.

When he walked through the halls of the Lord Warden's castle. No one dared, not even the guards, to stop him as he made his way to the War Room.

When he reached it, he saw a familiar Gladiator General with his arms crossed and leaning back on a pillar.

The Gladiator was wearing gold colored armor. His skin was dark from his time on the sun and filled with scars through the years of combat in the arena and the battlefield.

He approached him and the Gladiator seemed to size him up.

He uncrossed his arms and held out his hand.

"Welcome back, Marcus."

On the top of his hand, one can see letters written on it. It read 'S.P.Q.R' The mark of the Old Empire.

The Centurion looked at the offered hand and grabbed his forearm tightly.

Instead of feeling a friend's welcoming aura. He felt nothing but coldness. He felt something grip his heart and knew that feeling. He hadn't felt this since he was thrown into the arena for killing a General. It was fear.

The grip on his forearm loosened and he saw the Centurion kick the doors of the War Room open.

As he watched the Centurion go, he now knew that wasn't his friend anymore.

War Room

He announced his presence by walking in the room and slamming the Eagle Standard on the ground. His strength could have matched Hercule's as the Standard was firmly planted in the stone floor.

He stared down each and everyone in the room.

His gaze stopped at his brother, who stood shocked at seeing his brother alive.

He willed his gaze to not soften and quickly set his eyes on the Lord Warden. He lost the battle of wills as soon as he saw her face.

Her helmet was off, showing her tied back, dirty blonde hair and striking blue eyes. Her expression was blank yet her eyes showed an immense amount of relief.

His eyes turned back to their normal dark blue color as their gazes met.

Memories of seeing her fight and lead while they helped Stone in defending his fortress. There he saw someone worthy to follow and die for. A great soldier and a better leader. He was there when she cut off all her ties with Apollyon and her Legion. He remembered telling her that he would stand by her side, no matter what decision she makes.

He remembered seeing her give back the Emperor's Champion's blade and saying that they fight the same enemy. Seeing that, a small part of him thought that peace would finally establish between the lands.

She trusted him enough to be her Adviser and Second-in-Command. Followed by Holden Cross.

It seemed like forever when their gazes met but it was only a moment in reality. He took his gaze away before his eyes finally settled on the snake that betrayed him.

With a voice enough to terrify the most bravest of souls, he said.

"I, Damocles."

It was all a blur to him as he killed the traitorous General's personal guards. Dodge, Slash, Block, Parry, Punch, Cut, Swing. It wasn't until he removed the blade from the General's neck did he saw the damage he had caused.

Without another he turned and headed for the doors. Before he left, he looked over his shoulders and said.

"I, Damocles. I am Vengeance."

He pulled out a sheathed dagger and dropped it on the ground before leaving.

His first stop was to his brother's home.

~Line Break~

He waited on the balcony that looked over the daily life of the people of Ashfeld.

He heard footsteps behind him and turned around to address his brother.

Titus was there, standing without his helmet off and his eyes never leaving Marcus.

"Come on, Brother. Are you just gonna stand there like an idiot?"

Titus took a moment to respond before rushing at Marcus and punching his face. He didn't give him a chance to recover before kneeing him in the gut. Marcus fell to the floor with a groan.

"You damn bastard! Do you have any idea how we felt when that snake told us that you were dead? He told us the date and time of your death. Do you know what I was doing on that day? I was bending over a whore while you were fighting for your life! Did you know what it felt like? To know that your brother died fighting while you were fucking some whore! I felt broken because I thought I should've been there to cover your back. To help you. Now I see him in the War Room in claiming himself to be Damocles!"

Marcus rise from the ground and gave his brother a firm hug.

"I'm sorry. For everything. I should've been dead after that battle, but I wasn't. I thought I had closed my eyes for one last time and thought I must suffer before I died. I remember hearing the screams of my men and my enemies. But one voice silenced them all. It only muttered one word. Damocles."

He paused and let his brother go. Marcus turned back to the balcony and continued his story.

"After that. I felt my body filled with rage. I could feel life slowly return to my body. I could feel the burning desire of revenge against that snake for his betrayal. So I marched back here, on foot. The desire for revenge outweighs my need for rest and sustenance. From the moment I was brought back to life, I knew Marcus Valerius Felix died and in his place was the vengeful spirit, Damocles. But when I saw you two, I knew there was still a part of Marcus that survived. And here he is, talking to his brother and hoping to make amends."

Titus remained silent before standing beside his brother.

"You shouldn't be the one apologizing. It should be me. I decided that whoring is better than protecting a brother. For that, ask for your forgiveness."

Marcus stared at his brother before slapping him on the back of his head.

"What the hell was that for!?"

Marcus chuckled "For being an idiot. Like me. Where is the brother that would always yell about how great he is and his ideals about Might and Glory?"

Titus let out a sad smile "He learned his lesson. Strength and Honor is more valuable than the illusions of Might and Glory."

Marcus patted him on the back before sighing "Titus, I have to go."

Titus looked at him with a raised eyebrow

"Go? Go where?"

Marcus looked at the castle and Titus already knew the answer. He shook his head and crossed his arms.

"I knew the two of you were close but I didn't know how close. How close are you two anyway?"

Marcus' lip quirked upwards "More than a servant should be to his master."

Titus widened his eyes before nodding slowly

"Well, good luck with that. Just remember what people say, Brother. Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned. I think she might not be as generous as I am."

Marcus snorted "And by generous, you mean you punch me in the face then knee me in the gut."

Titus let out a hearty laugh and patted his brother in the back. Hard.

"See? Generous. Imagine what she'll do to you then."

Marcus sighed "You're right, Titus. And by the Gods, pray for me in the afterlife."

He turned and headed for the door.

Titus watched him go and laughed "I will, Brother. Oh, I will."

~Line Break~

When he was near the Lord Warden's room, he saw it wasn't guarded. He raised an eyebrow at that.

He walked in the room and turned around to close the door. When he turned around, he felt a hand smack his cheek. Hard.

He didn't say a word because he expected that. What he didn't expect were the pair of lips against his.

His eyes widened before letting himself get lost in the kiss.

When they stopped, he rested his head against hers and sighed. She wrapped her arms around his neck and he placed his hands on her waist.

"I'm sorry for worrying you, Elissa."

The Lord Warden, Elissa, sighed and closed her eyes.

"It's alright. Just don't scare me like that again, you stupid fool. Titus and I had to keep ourselves from showing even an inch of emotion when they told us you were dead."

"I know."

"I'm afraid I won't be here for long."

"...How long before you go?"

"Before the sun rises tomorrow. By then I'll be gone."

"Why? Why would you leave?"

"I didn't just survive my wounds. I died. The reason I live was because amongst the screams of the dying in my head. One voice, one name gave me the power to rise and enact my vengeance. The voice said 'Damocles'. When that name was uttered, I live once more. From that moment on, Marcus Valerius Felix was dead. In his place was nothing but a ghost hellbent on revenge. But when I saw you, a part of Marcus still lived. That's why I'm here, with you."

"You didn't answer my question."

"By tomorrow, word shall spread that Damocles has risen. I am Damocles."

He kissed the top of her head.

"Don't worry, I'll still be here. I said I'll stand by you no matter what, right?"

"In that case," Elissa pulled him in a heated kiss. Hands worked to remove his armor. "We have all night."

Marcus stopped her with an amused expression. "I thought you Wardens had an oath of keeping your purity."

Elissa scoffed "Since when have we ever followed that?"

Marcus smirked "Fair enough." He grabbed her hips and lifted her up.

That night was one to remember.

~Line break~

For three months, Ashfeld has received numerous reports of Generals and soldiers broken and stripped of their armor and crucified outside their homes or keep. Written on their chests with their own blood were the words: Traitor, Kin-slayer, Deserter, Backstabber and many more. It wasn't only on Ashfeld did this happen. Valkenheim had the same killings. But instead of crucifixion, the bodies were strung up on a tree and the heads were placed on pikes and planted outside the victims' homes. In the Myre, bodies were left sitting without their heads. On the walls of where they were killed had the same words written on the Ashfeld victims, yet written in Kanji.

The word spread of the Order of Damocles. Vengeful spirits that hunt down traitors and the like.

But as soon as they appeared, they vanished.

All around, from Ashfeld to Valkenheim. People thought dead came back to the lives they had left behind.

Among them was Marcus Valerius Felix. Though he was the same as before to anyone's eyes, but those who know him. They could see the coldness under his eyes, a piece of Damocles was still with him. A piece he would never let go. It showed in his ruthlessness against traitors and enemies.