Codex Wars: Judgment of the Forsaken

It's common to think that only the just — the common folk, the heroes, the do-gooders — are the ones who follow laws. But the truth is something else.

At the end of the day, everyone follows a law — no matter how free they believe themselves to be. Even the most libertine of men, the most rebellious, the wildest, are governed by rules.

Unwritten laws, but present in everyone's daily life.

Like the Law of the Good Host: "A guest under your roof is under your protection — but also under your judgment."

Or the Law of Change: "No one bathes in the same river twice."

The Law of Three: "The third time always collects the bill."

The Law of the Road: "The dark path takes its toll in silence."

The Law of Righteousness: "The just will be treated with justice."

The Law of Balance: "The hand that gives is the same that takes away."

And, of course, the most brutal and well-known of all:

The Law of the Strongest:

"The wolf makes the rules… until a bear shows up."

Power defines the law — but there's always a greater power.

Simple, isn't it? There's always someone stronger. But what many forget is what comes after…

While the wolf rules, the deer live under his domain — they are his prey.

This law, like all the others, seems fair… until the day you realize you are the weakest link.

✦ ✦ ✦

And that was exactly the situation Ezra found himself in — he who had always lived on the other side of the law.

"BASTIAN!" Ezra's scream tore through the silence like thunder cracking the void.

He ran — or tried to run, his legs faltering as if treading on ground that didn't exist. The air around him felt dense, almost liquid, suffocating. And yet, he pushed forward.

Fists clenched. Breath ragged. Eyes wide with pain.

'Impossible, impossible… it can't be… IT CAN'T BE!' Ezra's mind was a whirlwind, spinning with fury and disbelief.

And then he arrived.

He struck.

Once, twice, three times — quick, precise punches. Loaded not just with technique, but with soul. These were years. Years of training. Years of shaping himself. Years of fighting his own weakness.

But Bastian… didn't react.

He stood there. Motionless. Letting himself be hit. And Ezra's punches — so full of soul — were useless.

"WHY!? WHY!?" Ezra roared, his voice shattering like glass.

His eyes trembled. Wet. Feverish.

"You're my friend…" he said, now in a softer, trembling voice. "Since always… since always…"

Bastian looked at him — with no hatred, no anger, no pity. Only serenity.

And that calm… that calm hurt more than any answer could.

"Ezra, that's enough," Beatriz said at last. Her voice wasn't harsh… but there was a bitter edge to it. "It won't change anything now…"

Ezra turned, his eyes blazing. "WHAT DO YOU MEAN IT WON'T CHANGE ANYTHING!?"

The question hit like a gunshot, striking everyone there in the chest.

"You don't understand! I fought! I believed! I spent my whole life chasing this! ALL OF IT!"

He pointed to the sky, to the temple, to the seal he never held.

"And at the end… at the final moment... is it the world that betrayed me? Or is it him — the one I called a brother?"

A heavy silence fell like fog.

Nyra crossed her arms, averting her gaze. Her voice came restrained, nearly neutral, but the slight tension in her jaw betrayed her.

"You're not the only one with wounds, Ezra. We all bleed. But screaming doesn't stitch scars."

"Shut up, Nyra!" Ezra exploded.

Rurik stepped closer, resting a hand on his shoulder. "Brother… calm down. You're still here. We're still here. This isn't the end."

Ezra brushed his hand away with a sharp motion. "Don't give me that. You have a seal. A Codex. A purpose."

He let out a short, humorless laugh. "Life took everything from me… and when I finally reached out, it laughed back. And sent the one I least expected as the messenger of my fall."

Mei Lin stepped forward, hesitant. Her eyes were wet, but steady. "Ezra…"

Kael, who had remained silent until now, finally spoke — his voice low, but without hesitation:

"Ezra… enough. Enough with the baseless accusations that hold no ground. The Wor—"

Dorian cut in, "The Lex Primus chooses based on truth. Not on what we want to hear. Maybe… your truth is still silent."

Ezra remained on his knees. They felt heavy against the temple's cold floor, harder now — or maybe he was the one who no longer fit there.

Nothing made sense. He tried, but couldn't reach.

He raised his eyes. The temple, the altar, his friends — everything seemed wrapped in mist, as if the world had moved on and he had been left behind.

Bastian walked ahead, his stride firm, almost solemn, like someone who already knew the outcome.

And the others? They still watched him. But none stepped forward. No one said what needed to be said.

"Baseless?" Ezra's voice cut through the air, hoarse. "Didn't you see what just happened?"

He clenched his fists against the ground, then rose with effort. His shoulders trembled, barely contained.

The silence around him was a mirror. Not empty — full. Full of voices that didn't dare to speak.

But no one answered.

Ezra knew. They were all too wrapped up in their own blessings to look at what had just happened.

They saw. He knew they saw. Or else… they pretended not to. And that was even worse.

He had gathered the maps, in an age where almost no one used paper anymore.

He researched the forbidden archives of the Sunken Library.

Convinced the Pluto Pact to fund the expedition.

It was he who deciphered the dialects of the Old World.

Who mapped the way through the countless territories of the Hazard Zones.

Of course, when it came time to fight mutated beasts, to cross vile mists, to survive blood storms — he was the useless one.

But it was him. And only him, who made it possible for everyone to reach that place.

How many sleepless nights?

How many choices no one else had the courage to make?

How many nightmares swallowed in silence, just to keep the others safe?

To calculate the safest routes?

To find the right items, the rarest materials, the surest shortcuts?

And now… he was the only one left without a reward for his efforts?

"Unfair…", he murmured, voice raw. "This is unfair."

Nyra heard. But said nothing. Her gaze was darker than usual. There was no anger, no disdain. Only a shadow — unsettling.

Ezra narrowed his eyes. He felt a laugh rising in his throat.

But it wasn't joy.

It was poison.

It was mockery.

That kind of laugh that rises from the depths of a crushed soul — when all that's left is humiliation.

"Bastian stole my chance… and you all know it!" Ezra's voice trembled. Something inside him seemed to crack with every word. "But why is no one saying anything? Weren't we supposed to be in this together?"

Once again, no one answered.

Only silence. Always silence.

Then Bastian broke it: "Enough whining, Ezra." His voice was cold as wet iron. "Let's go."

Ezra didn't lower his head. His whole body shook — a volcano beneath flesh and pride. "You owe me an answer."

Silence dropped like a stone.

Bastian sighed. Then he spoke — without hesitation: "Simple, Ezra. From the start… this was the plan."

Those words weren't spoken.

They were carved.

"You don't even have a Codex. Do you really think that if the Ordenament had marked you, you'd be able to unravel a Law? Awaken something?"

He stepped forward. His presence heavier, denser. But what hurt most was the tone — calm. As if everything was self-evident.

"Don't be foolish. You were the one always saying the world runs on rules. Well then.

This is one of them: the law of the strongest."

Ezra felt his stomach drop.

"Don't take it personally, Ezra, but… I'm your friend. And that's why I'll be honest: Besides your brain… you're worthless. And in a world where the weak serve the strong, you're just easy prey."

Ezra stood still. "So that's it?" he murmured. "I was just a tool to you?"

"Ezra, it's not like that—" Mei Lin tried to interject, stepping forward. "We—"

"Mei Lin, don't be a hypocrite!" Nyra cut in sharply. "You know as well as I do… wasn't it your idea in the first place?"

Ezra stared at her — his eyes saying even you…?

"I only said he'd be thrilled to find the Gate of Order. Give him a chance, that's all. I ne—"

"It's all the same," Nyra interrupted again, brusque. "In the end, it worked out because of you."

"You should be proud, Ezra." Dorian smiled, his voice light — like complimenting a piece of furniture.

"You led the expedition, brought us here. You'll be remembered as a great researcher, a brilliant guide… maybe you'll even get a statue. What's wrong with that?"

Ezra tried to reply, but no words came out.

Lena crossed her arms. Her voice came low, steady: "Didn't you always say you liked helping others? Well then. You helped. You did it. It's done."

"Hey!" Mei Lin stepped forward, fury trembling in her throat. "This isn't—"

Beatriz grabbed her arm. Just shook her head.

Silence.

Edward looked away.

Rurik stood motionless, arms crossed.

They both knew.

But said nothing.

For the first time, Ezra Ashenguard didn't know if he wanted to go on.

He stood there — unmoving, as tears streamed down an empty face.

"That's life, Ezra," Kael began, his voice oddly smooth — unlike his usual tone. "You've always known it. You just pretended you didn't."

"You should be grateful," he continued. "We spared you. We let you walk with us. Part of that's due to your noble blood, of course…"

"Though your mother's family abandoned you," Nyra added with a smirk, "and your father's is about to do the same."

Kael turned his face toward her, eyes sharp as blades. To him, that had crossed into pure mockery. Pointless. Cruel. Even if his actions mirrored the same thing, to Kael, it wasn't the same. In his mind, they were entirely different.

"Under normal circumstances," he continued, turning back to Ezra, "you'd be treated like a slave — disposable after use. But… since you're our friend, be thankful, we won't discard you."

"Kael…" Edward finally spoke. His voice was low, stunned. "That was…"

But he didn't finish the sentence. Because deep down, they all knew — it was already complete.

At that moment, something cracked inside Ezra.

A fracture.

A dry, internal snap — like the sound a soul makes when something breaks beyond repair.

'In the end, justice is only served when it's convenient.'

The words came as a thought, but echoed inside him like a sentence. Like the splintering of something old and precious being shattered.

'Effort only pays off when all the conditions are right.

And sadly, that was never my case.'

As if the universe wanted to seal the end of that illusion, Bastian delivered the final blow. The sentence landed with the weight of a hammer:

"There comes a time in life when we have to put aside fairy tales and fantasies."

Ezra felt as if his very name had been torn from his flesh.

But Bastian didn't stop there. He sighed — not out of sadness, but boredom. Like he was simply tired of the situation.

"Enough of this whining," he said flatly. "You're all starting to get on my nerves."

And without waiting for a single protest, he crouched and lifted Ezra over his shoulders — like carrying a tired child, or a burdensome load he could no longer ignore.

Ezra didn't resist.

The body was there.

But the spirit…

Had stayed behind.

Perhaps at the altar.

Perhaps in that golden light.

Perhaps in some memory where he still believed he was needed.

"Time to go."

Bastian turned and began walking into the void — a clearing in reality, an invisible path made of Vis and uncertainty.

He didn't know where it led. The truth is, he didn't seem to care.

He sighed one last time, without looking back at anyone:

"Human relationships… are such a waste of energy."