Jerry's POV
It was as if they had just exploded. My enemies—those dead people who were managing to heal using cables for veins—burst into pools of blood. This new person seemed overwhelmingly strong. I couldn't believe it. He had this aura of pure darkness that obscured him from my view.
"Who are you?" I asked curiously, but my voice trembled. I was in shock. How could the mere presence of someone cause people to explode? It wasn't unheard of; Hecate had managed to do it to one person, but this person could do it to everyone. Maybe I succeeded in calling the first hero.
"Come closer," said the voice welcomingly it had an effect on me as if I knew I should follow his commands, as it was defiantly masculine voice . I inched forward, but the sky suddenly turned golden. My vision blurred and switched to the index of magic. The world took on an aqua tint. A rectangular box appeared with a simple message: 'Do You Wish to Die? "No," I said, reading it in my mind. Suddenly, the golden haze of the sky that once protected me from that army turned against me; that haze turned into swords making me feel helpless as I couldn't even count them much less stop them, and they were coming for me. It was as if the voice that welcomed me wanted me dead. I closed my eyes', knowing death was impending. I didn't want to die so soon, not right after I got an offer to fix things.
"Death rejected." "Death rejected." "Death rejected."
A voice repeated this over and over again, so many times I lost count. It wasn't a voice I knew, but I wanted to believe it. Suddenly, I started hearing more voices. I heard Elfona yell, "WHY DID YOU KILL HIM, CHARLIE, YOU MONSTER!"
Charlie? But that was my friend, my closest ally. How could Elfona know him? More importantly, why Charlie even here? if he is here then why would Charlie kill me? How could my best friend cast such grand magic? Then I heard Hecate say, "If I dare ask, husband, why did you choose to kill him so brutally? There was a merciful way. Why didn't you use your authority?"
It was clear to my brain, but my heart refused to take it in my ears felt change in pressure itself my friend for so many years who knew everything about my life was a hero and I knew nothing about it how can that happen. Charlie was the first hero. He always had an aversion to sunlight and an eerie way of dressing, but that realization broke me. How could the only person who supported me at my worst be my murderer? Was he laughing when I was broken-hearted and crying? Maybe it was some other Charlie?
It wasn't the swords that were killing me; it was the betrayal. Maybe I was wrong, and this was some other Charlie. After all, Charlie is a common name. I tried opening my eyes, but sensed it was best to let them leave for now. Otherwise, that Charlie would kill me again, and I didn't know how immortal I was.
"I swear I was told this dude was supposed to be high immortal," said an eerily familiar voice. It was Charlie; that was for sure. It was my Charlie My closest friend. He was standing next to me. "Well, at least he has a grave of a thousand swords, whatever," he said as I heard a thud, and then everything fell silent.
But I wasn't foolish enough to let sound dictate if there was an enemy around me. Charlie's overwhelming aura still pressed upon my body as if it wanted a piece of me, much like its master. After waiting for a while, the pressure faded gradually. I sneakily opened my eyes and confirmed no one was in the surrounding area. Charlie seemed to be gone with the trio—the so-called people who had my back. I guess in this world only power can be trusted.
I slowly tried to move, yet doing so was a monumental task. My body was pierced by a thousand swords, but for some reason, nothing hurt. Maybe I was already dead, and this was a dream, but I hoped it wasn't. As I put my hands into the night's cold sand, sinking them down so I could rise up, I noticed the swords vanished. It was as if not killing me had destroyed their purpose, and my wounds instantly healed.
Gathering enough strength to stand, I saw nearly a million golden swords stuck in the sand—a grand spell's aftereffect. "That'd be rather useful," I said, trying to pull one out of the ground for future use. But as soon as it left the sand, it vanished into thin air. Their sole purpose was to penetrate whatever they touched.
"Now what?" I yelled, knowing no one could hear me, or rather, I didn't care anymore. But before my anxiety could overwhelm me, I remembered the captain of the Hound Squad. He must have a fancy weapon. I rushed towards the pile of bodies, all torn into a thousand parts by the same person who killed me. His swords penetrated everything. "That bastard doesn't even care about death."
Then I remembered that for Charlie, death was always just a minor inconvenience. He never mourned death, nor did he care. Sitting in the classroom, I remembered how shocking it was when our classmate died in a car accident, but Charlie, sitting right next to me on the last bench, filed his pristine nails in eerie silence as if it was nothing. Now I know why—it was nothing to him. He was the 'hero' here, something he seemed to have forgotten to mention.
"I fricking hate it," I yelled as I dug through the dead parts of what I thought were humans. After digging up scraps, my hands covered in blood, I finally found something hard. My mood brightened up. At least I had a basic way to defend myself in the desert. And if Liza was right, there was a forest and mountains here. Maybe I could buy my time there, and then when Charlie finished off whatever fiend was ruining God's playground, we both could go home.
"So, I am useless then after all. I hate myself even more now. My hands have the blood of humans while I fight for monsters. Worse, I don't feel remorse for killing. Have I finally turned into a psychopath? Have I finally lost it?" I yelled at the sky, looking for answers. It was a chilly night, and I knew there weren't any answers carried by the wind for me.
"No, my boy. If you want to get back in that court, if you want to know why God summoned you, then you should follow me," said a raspy voice coming from due south. It was as if the universe sent me someone, I needed answers instead of the wind.