Century Slayer

"Go! Leave no warrior standing at day's end!"

1

It was truly a horrible day. Somewhere, a war was being waged between two great nations; at this place, a stronghold that has withstood 16 years of attack had its defenses penetrated. Originally, prior to any siege, it had stood as a relic. The siege gave it new life, until the day it was penetrated from below.


Hoards of nameless men flooded in, championed by a charismatic leader. They took the inhabitants by surprise, blitzing them with quick attacks. Very soon, the walls were bathed in blood, dripping into pools. Slowly, the air was filled with the hot oppressive smell of open flesh. The sound of swords clashing with shields and armor, ripping apart the skin and bones as they grew more dull with each strike.


In the midst of the bloodbath, and young boy huddled in a dark corner, watching as the chaos ensued. He watched, clutching is sword, as heads were ejected from their owners, their eyes still emblazoned with the anticipation of battle. His eyes held no sympathy to either side, only an empty intake of the violence.

2

Then, a grimacing man in full armor came tumbling into the small boys nook, clutching his sword arm. It was bleeding badly, and his efforts to apply pressure were to no avail. Suddenly, his face contorted in an impossible spasm, his eyes bulging with his blood vessels bursting in the most grotesque look possible. A long sliver of metal emerged from his stomach, encased in inner objects.

3

"I almost let you get away; die now, and be done with this life."

4

As the dying man fell forward, his attacker revealed himself from behind. His was huge, at least seven feet tall with powerful, pulsating arms holding on to a broadsword. He wore no helmet, revealing a scarred face and a nose that appeared to have been broken too many times. His left eye was shut, but his right eye was pure steel; so clear and piercing that it froze the young boy with a passing look.

5

"Who are you with boy," his voice was resonate, powerful as if it were the wrath of god.

6

He did not answer, but instead he stared back unblinking and stoic. Perhaps his fear prevented him from looking away, or perhaps he cool return the gaze of one so powerful; in the end, all he could do was stand and stare. The swordsman's gaze did not change as he raised his sword again. The light gleamed off his impressively large body armor. Still, the boy did not move. Then the swordsman did something unexpected: he smiled.

7

"Two hundred and fifty, my contract is up."

8

He lowered his sword and grinned at the ongoing battle. "You're lucky boy. Make good on your fortune."

9

With that, he unlatched a sword from his back and let it fall to the ground. It was then the boy noticed that he had been carrying a second sword. It was less remarkable than the one the swordsman wielded, slightly smaller and thiner, and curved very slightly for the length of the blade. Its only decoration was a small engraving on the blade near the hilt, of swan.

10

"Should you want to, you can get yourself killed faster by actually fighting. In my opinion, it's better to die impressively than with that ruddy thing you've got there. Enjoy it, give it a good death on the battlefield."

11

With that, he sheathed his broadsword, and swung a large black cloak over his shoulders. Then, he disappeared. There is an obvious shock, when a man so large and intimidating can slink away so silently and quickly. The boy looked at the sword on the ground. The background noise of all the carnage seemed to fade away as he gazed at it's v-shaped golden hilt. Without thinking, he picked it up, dropping his own to his feet. It was shiny, and reflective.

12

He heard scraping sounds in front of him, eerily sharper than the sound of all the steel clashes. Looking up, the boy saw the charismatic leader congratulate his lieutenant; evidently, the overthrow of the fortress was going very well.

13

"Leonid, go and secure the floodgate. I'll be fine, finish the rest of the dogs; search everywhere, I don't want any survivors."

14

After that, he was alone. The fighting had started to die down, and the relief was evident in the leader's eyes, along with a small pained expression that crept in after his lieutenant left. Peeling his body armor off, the man dug into his side and cringed.

15

"Damn Bosq, lining his blade with poison. That coward deserved worse than what I did to him. I should have castrated him and fed him the detached."

16

It was then, that the leader noticed the young boy. This is because he had emerged from the shadowy nook, brandishing the sword that had been left to him. The sword shone with a perfection that no sword that has ever shed blood should, almost hypnotizing the charismatic leader.

17

Almost. "Who are you, boy?"

18

The boy stopped, squinting now that he had left the shade. Lost in thought, he wondered what his name was; moments earlier, he was asked the same question, and he did not answer. It didn't bother him then.

19

He swung the sword and cleaved the man's head off, his blood splattering up into the boy's face. The warm splash on his skin unfazed him. It was surreal; he could never remember taking the life of another man before. In fact, he didn't know what compelled him to kill the injured, handsome man. His detached head didn't even have a look of fear. Why did he do it? The battle may be nearing a close, he could live to the next day, perhaps.

20

"Hey, the captain's been attacked!"

21

A stocky soldier came charging at the boy, who only glanced to his side at the oncomming ax. The weapon was large enough to disembowel him with little effort; all he had to do was surrender his life. Yet, he stepped forward and thrust the curved blade forward. Despite the heavy armor, there is still a slight gap between the armor and helmet where the throat can be impaled.

22

With a sickening slurp, the man leaked blood from his helmet as the boy twisted, and ripped the sword out. Blood spurt out as the soldier fell down. Little by little, more soldiers came forward, and each time the boy gasped with each kill. Desperation took hold as his life was threated every second.

23

"He's just one boy!" Ten men stood before him, all with their weapons raised for killer intent. The boy ran, and the man chased him mad. Then, when he had some distance, he turned and attacked head on. In their chase, he filed them into a line and swiftly slashed at their side openings, cutting into their kidneys. In less than a minute, all ten were on the ground, bleeding to death. Innocence bereft, mercy escaped him.

24

However, by the end of the day the answer still escaped him as he exited the fortress. One hundred corpses lay, credit to one bloodstained young boy. A survivor would later lable him as The Century Slayer.25