The Swordsman was the child of a Butcher. It wasn't a glorious vocation, but one which is needed. Their hands were filled with blood so that others didn't need to. They provided meat in countless variance. As a child, the Swordsman loved to see his father working. Though sometimes he cried for the cute animals, however, he understood that there was no other way for his family to survive.
One day he sneaked into his father's workshop, and the sight terrified him. As a child, he lived in the bubble his parents had created for him, but now the bubble busted. His own father who had preached to him the sacredness of killing had killed a human.
"One shouldn't irresponsible kill, or else one would become a murder, a monster!"
"When we kill, we need to respect and be thankful, as they provided us with our meals."
"Kill quick and clean, otherwise you tormented and didn't butcher."
"Butchering is sacred, and we shall concentrate on butchering! Thinking of others is defiling the act of butchering."
This thought resounded the little Swordsman's head, but they crumbled, lost their meaning and in the end, were discarded. They were banned to a distant corner of his mind, sealed by fright and distress.
There it was, his father, a proud butcher, butchering one human after another. Every time after he butchered one, he swept the meat off his worktable while pulling another living human on top of it. A person beside him urged him to slow down, his father complied.
The cries of the victims reverberated in the whole room. Their pleadings weren't given any attention. The blood splattered on the butcher, but he didn't care, he only cared about the man beside him, "Sir, are you satisfied?"
The man nodded. The father seemed relieved, his grip relaxed and sweat dripped down from his forehead. Something inside the Swordsman changed, gradually his Law was corrupted, it degenerated. Unconsciously a red glow appeared in his eyes.
A red veil covered the world, the father and the man distinctly stood out from the red haze. Fine blood-red lines demarcated the different parts of the human body. It was similar to that of a pig, he once butchered. Humans. Pigs. They are the same under the butcher's knife. It doesn't matter how they die, they die at the end. Why should he care about someone dead?
The preaches of his father resurfaced, but he strangled them. How can he believe the words of a hypocrite?
The days passed by, the business became better and rumours of commoners sudden disappearance appeared. Then one day, a customer asked, "What type of meat do use to make such a delicacy?"
The Swordsman glanced at the customer in disgust before he continued his task to work on the human meat. His father smiled, "This is a trade secret, but I can guarantee a high-quality."
"Hmm, give me two more of the sausage. Somehow I always so hungry seeing your products."
"Haha."
The Swordsman reached the age, old enough to become a Mercenary. He abandoned his parents and joined the Mercenary Guild. He noticed that his Law changed, it deviated from the regular Law "Butcher". The ability to create the fine red lined demarcation on a target, which he named the "Butcher's Eyes", became a passive ability. Though every time it was activated, an aura of hunger and degeneration flooded him. Furthermore, it seemed to affect others too.
Besides that, by using Mana a red haze covered the world. The world slowed down while the Swordsman himself accelerated. He easily beheaded the target, even with the red haze, as the target distinctively stood out from the red haze. He named this "Butcher's World" Due to that he gained a small reputation in the Mercenary's circle.
Then, he met his friends and companions he would trust his back to. Together walked through the ups and downs of life. At a fateful raining day, his companions ran to him, requesting for help. Their family members were kidnapped. Swiftly he grabbed his sword and rushed out, he had a notion.
The Swordsman prayed in his mind, hoping his notion to be wrong. Since he started as a Mercenary, the rumours didn't stop, instead, they continued to grow. With time, one rumour after another was eliminated until a single rumour survived. Over time more and more pieces of evidence were found, they weren't pointed at someone particularly, but at a general populace, the butchers.
The rumours about a Depraved Butcher all grew outrageous, but in his ears, they all seemed somehow to contain bits of truth. And it was likely, he knew that Depraved Butcher.
The Swordsman stood before a butchery, his old home. His hand shook, his hair drenched from the rain. He stepped in, the smell of meat and seasoning flooded his senses. He pushed a door open, there it was, the workshop of his father.
Screams resonated with the butcher's mad laughter. Humans were tightly tied up like little piglets, as they pleaded in desperation. Their eyes met the newcomer, hope emerged in their eyes, but it was dashed in the next moments by the words of the Butcher, "Ah, you are here my Son. Come and join me."
There was a kind of serenity in the voice. Seeing the Swordsman didn't budge, the butcher laid the knife down, letting the man on worktable screaming. His voice this time contained worry, "Is something wrong, my Son?"
The butcher stretched his hand out to touch the Swordsman's face, but it was slapped away. Blood splatted on the Swordsman's face. He pointed his sword at the butcher, distancing himself from him, "You, you aren't my father!"
"How can you say this. You are my flesh and blood!"
"Shut up!"
"Even our Laws are the same."
"Shut! Up!"
"Aren't we the same, degenerated and corrupted? We strayed from the path of a righteous Butcher, but saw the true essence of a Butcher!"
The Swordsman's eyes glowed red, "I SAID, SHUT UP!"
"My Son, is something wrong? Didn't you stray from my teaching in the same way as I did?"
The Swordsman slashed with his sword, while he repeated himself, "SHUT UP!"
The butcher retreated, similar his eyes glowed red. He grabbed a knife and rushed at the Swordsman.
Clang!
Clang!
Clang!
Bang!
They exchanged blows. One hit after another, in the end, the Butcher was kicked against his worktable. The moment the Butcher stood up, he was pierced in the leg, and a foot was placed on his chest. He spat a mouthful of blood and coughed, "Now, do it! Butcher me!"
The Swordsman's eye glowed, the aura of depravity intensified and madness was mixed in. His father looked like a pig ready to be butchered. He picked up the knife, slowly he butchered his father alive. It wasn't enough. The urge to butcher wasn't stilled, he required more. He looked around.
There, just nearby were several pigs tied up! But first, the Swordsman needed to butcher the pig on the worktable. After he finished butchering that pig, he swept the meat from the worktable and dragged another pig on the worktable. He butchered, swept and dragged another pig. He grinned, how long ago had he butchered like this?
A pig screamed, calling to him. Annoying, how did this pig know his name. The knife slashed down, blood splatted. The Swordsman licked his lips. He continued to butcher. The rain stopped. The sun started to rise.
He was tired. After he swept the meat on the worktable away, he looked around. There was a single piglet left. He slashed down. Then, he fell asleep.
The air was sweet with a slight metallic smell. The setting sun coloured the room through a window red. The Swordsman slowly woke up. He frowned due to a terrible headache. What happened? He rushed towards the butchery, then into the workshop, and there, he met his father. After that, was blank, he couldn't remember what had happened afterwards.
The Swordsman stood up and held his head. His eyes widened. At the worktable laid a child, the child of his friend, the Tanker of his Mercenary Group. Looking around, on the right side of the worktable was a heap of finely butchered meat, on the left was the waste. The ground was filled with blood, the same as his hands.
The Swordsman starred at his hand, then at the child, the terrible memories flooded him. He did all this. He butchered strangers, his father, and even the families of his friends. He was a Murder. A terrible Monster, he wasn't any longer a Human.
The wives and children of his friends died under the Swordsman's blade. Who was he, to deserve that he had taken from others? A depraved Butcher's degenerated Son wasn't worth! Coming to this conclusion, he picked up a knife and pulled his pants down. Even if his hands were shaking, in the end, he had done it.
Days later at the Swordsman's home, a gathering between the Mercenary Group took place.
"I am sorry!"
The Swordsman's head hinged low, he didn't dare, to look into his friends' eyes. He was guilty, everything was his fault. His friends' faces were plastered with worry. Their family suddenly disappeared, and now their friend acted strangely, how could they not worry?
The Archer patted on his shoulder, "Hey, it's not your fault. You don't need to feel sorry."
The Tanker nodded his head vigorously, "Yeah, he is right!"
Seeing this, the Swordsman fell deeper in his guilt. It was all his fault, "I would like to withdraw."
The Tanker froze and shouted, "What?! Why?"
Before the Swordsman could reply, the Archer spoke, "Actually, I have planned to withdraw too."
"What will you both do, after your withdrawal?"
"I don't know, I need some time to find myself again."
The Archer gazed at the Swordsman worried before he said, "I will continue the Tailor Shop I inherited from my parents. Besides that, I will search for clues after the Kidnapper."
The Tanker sighed, "Okay, let's just take a quest once in a while together."
The years flew by, the rumours about the Deprave Butcher flourished, especially after the butchery was found. When the Owner of the Butchery couldn't be found, the guards declared him as the Depraved Butcher, while they secretly hoped, that the real Depraved Butcher won't appear again.
When the Guards noticed, that nothing related to that happened any longer, they used a double to fool the public about the execution of the Depraved Butcher. Gradually the rumours about that died down.
The Swordsman drifted around, with no clear goal in mind. Every day, he drank booze until he collapsed, he visited brothels until he was broke. With no money, he took one quest after another, each whose risk was higher than the earlier ones, but at the same time, it was more rewarding.
One day, suddenly, after taking a Quest, he opened a Butchery. What exactly had happened was a story for another time to tell.
Oddly enough, he only butchered a single animal each week and only if everything was sold from the last animal. Though later he butchered more animals, still no meat was ever wasted. If any meat was left, he gifted them to the residents of the slums. Soon he became known as a Samaritan under the Slums' residents. Every single time he heard others talk like this about him, he scoffed at himself.
The Archer continued the Tailor Shop, even if the income drastically plunged. His quality of work just wasn't as good as his parents. With time the quality improved, with it the income raised too. In his free time, he had searched for clues after the Kidnappers.
Pitifully, all the little clues he had found, led to the Depraved Butcher, and he was already dead. He couldn't do anything against a dead man, besides giving up on his revenge. Furthermore, with the advance of time, all the possible clues have waned, they dissipated from the world.
The Tanker became a Guard of a Mansion, though he didn't know who the owner was. Nothing much happened to him, except he found a new love, the captain of his team. Pitiful, they didn't come together yet, for now, it's just a one-sided love.
From time to time, they gathered to hunt or to take the one or another quest together. Thereafter they drunk booze until morning while laughing over little things. Though this all happened years later after they disbanded their Mercenary Group. In this years they settled down in their new life, and found themselves again. They accepted their new life, and then moved on to the future.
Then one day, they accepted a request to guard a small group travelling to the next city. There, the Swordsman met His Highness, who awakened his urges to not let his legacy die in his hand. He decided to teach him.