The man ran under the moonlight. His lungs flaring as every breath was being forced as sweat fell from his face. Desperation and exhaustion made him ignore the blood seeping out from beneath his feet. He didn't look back or down, only forward. Because, the man known as Radyn knew that freedom was a fickle mistress.
Radyn, the one handed prisoner, was one of the few to ever escape Kavarthon prison. He had escaped one and a half years after his confinement. Everyone left behind would either pray for his well being or curse him for leaving. He had met many people there and they would all say the same thing: he was a beast.
When someone looked at him, even when someone talked to him, even when they touched him—he attacked. He would just sit in the corner by himself and watch. The guards thought he was just pretending to be tough so that the other inmates wouldn't bother him. But the inmates knew. They felt it when they chatted, they felt it when they ate, they felt it when they passed by him—they saw it in his cold dead eyes—he wasn't human like the rest of them. Something unsettling was behind those eyes. And it was those people that knew how dangerous he was.
And this man, less a man more a beast, had a mysterious power.
He was able to steadily increase his power whenever he was surrounded by the smell of blood. Often, he would wield a blade, other times he'd tear others using his hands and teeth. The longer the fight the greater his prowess.
In a world with rampaging monsters and magic, the man's ability was easily overlooked. Others laughed at him for his inability to practice magic, but everyone bleeds. Even so, he was still defeated.
But there was no need to think about his loss anymore. He escaped his captors. He memorized the face of the one who beat him, too. His name was Neiryl, a wanderer from the east, a soldier of fortune hired by lesser men. One day, the two would face off again.
It was this thought, that kept him running.
He finally had something he lacked—a rival.
His insides swelled with an emotion he never felt, his hair stood on end, and his heart pounded even harder.
Radyn had no idea where he'd find Neiryl, maybe they'd run in to each other or maybe he'd hunt him down. One day. He raced through the forest, his tattered shirt clinging to his body, and the quiet deafening roar of his pursuers fading away.
He didn't stop or ease himself, he was pushing the boundaries of his limits. The faster he got ready, the better.
And then, days passed as he ran barely ever stopping. The forest was expansive and most of the creatures avoided him. They sensed that a predator was roaming the land.
He stopped when he smelled blood, the road ahead was coated in blood. Blood on the carriage, blood in the air, blood clashing against one another. Men in armor swung at one another, the blade sliding between helms killing them. Eventually, one group remained. The men swung the carriage door open, dragging a girl by the hair.
Frozen and afraid, the girl pleaded for her life as the men threw her towards the ground. Tearing her dress the girl screamed.
Radyn hidden within the trees watched from above. The men seemed relaxed; like they knew no one was coming. They wore heavy armor that glistened under the moon, and swords that shined just as bright. There were five of them, barely injured, and experienced. No crippled prisoner could ever take them.
So what? thought Radyn. He carried within him a desire to dominate—to bask in glory. What use was greater numbers when they were weaker than him.
Radyn leaped off the tree, and grappled one of the men, tearing his throat with his teeth. Blood spewed out of his throat, and before he could react, the man died. That was one.
"W-What the hell?"
Before they could process the intruder, Radyn tackled the nearest one, laying him flat against the ground, and used his hand to rip out his throat. That's two. Pulling out his bloodied hand, Radyn watched as the blood flowed down his hand. Smiling, he looked at the remaining men, who drew their swords.
"Kill him! Kill this monster!"
Leaping into the air, Radyn spun around and kicked one of them, knocking him back as he guarded. Kicking the ground, he charged at him, this time slamming his fist against the man's knee, snapping the bone. The man howled in pain.
Radyn rolled on the ground, dodging their swings and reaching his first victim. Grabbing his corpse, Radyn used him as a shield as he charged again. This time twirling around to knee kick the other one and slitting his throat too. That's three.
The last one standing roared as he swung his sword, the blade ready to split him in half. Radyn, using his hand grabbed the blade, yanking it away before tossing it to the ground. The man took a step back.
"W-Wait!—"
His throat was pierced. That was four.
His body slumped to the ground, and Radyn, now bloody turned his head towards that last one limping away. He picked up one of the blades by the end and using his thumb and forefinger snapped off a piece. Looking at the man, he threw the blade, piercing the man from behind. He toppled over. The last thing the man did was faintly gurgle as he became number five.
Turning his head, Radyn looked at the girl pressed up against one of the dead horses. His heart was beating against his chest, his vision blurred, he looked at her, and made his way towards her.
Terrified the girl, pushed herself closer to the dead animal. He stomped his way towards her, breathing hard, his vision fading, his legs weak. Her teary eyed expression was the last thing he saw before collapsing, a smile plastered on his face.