The day bled into a fiery sunset as a band of mercenaries cut a path through the unforgiving terrain. Led by a weathered figure, known only as the Captain, they were a diverse lot, seasoned warriors hired for a singular purpose—escorting a merchant to the nearby town.
The group of mercenaries was evenly scattered to encompass the area around the 3 wagons full of goods. They all looked tired, but the town was close, soon enough they would reach it and get their well deserved pay.
"Captian, we should reach the town before nightfall if we continue at this speed."
A young man with a bow tied to his back spoke clearly while scouting ahead, he looked rather young for this job but skills mattered more than age.
The Captian only gave a nod of understanding and continued walking forward, despite being the oldest one among the group members his presence was by far the most intimidating, a living testament to the destruction war could bring upon oneself. His form seemed to carry the weight of countless trials, each serving as a harsh lesson, imprinted as deep scars on his rough face.
His garments told tales of the cruel campaigns waged across distant lands, but his eyes were still full of vigor and wisdom acquired through years of command and conflict.
The Captian scanned their surroundings as well, the forest seemed quiet, almost too quiet. Maybe it was a feeling he developed after countless missions, a paranoid mindset that expected the worse to happen, still, he could not disturb the course of the trip simply because of his gut feeling so he kept quiet about it.
Soon, his premonition came true, the silent atmosphere was broken by the sound of rustling leaves and splitting air, as if a projectile was shot at fast speeds.
A swift arrow suddenly penetrated the helmet of a mercenary clad in metal armor, the man fell down without any chance to fight back, the moment his steel armor touched the ground all hell broke loose.
"Bandits!" The Captian shouted for the 11 remaining merchenaries, announcing them of the incoming danger.
More arrows flew down, threatening to wound the remaining survivors of the group, but they did not manage to hit anyone this time, being either deflected by steel swords or dodged by the ones swift enough to do so.
"Charge! Kill them all first!" A loud voice was heard as a great number of bandits revealed themselves and shot towards the group of mercenaries, engaging into bloody battles as if crazed by the greed they possessed.
Although they were outnumbered, the mercenaries did not show any fear and met the bandits with whatever weapons they held. The difference in skill was very seen as for every wound a mercenary would take, 3 bandits would fall to the ground.
Suddenly, the Captian's straight sword shimmered with ethereal blue light, it exhibited a powerful aura that seemed to be able to cut through the very soul of living beings, Sword Aura.
His movements quickened as he slashed and slashed, massacring the incoming bandits and dodging whatever arrows he could dodge, his movements seemed more like a deadly dance, with each spin more enemies fell.
For a brief moment, it seemed the mercenaries might hold their ground, but the bandits' sheer numbers overwhelmed them. In the fray, the Captain fought with a practiced grace, but even his skill couldn't halt the tide turning against them.
"Focus the one at the front!" The leader of the bandits yelled and dashed forward, unleashing chaos admist the battle with his battleaxe.
Reacting to their leader's command, more and more bandits focused on the captian of the group, the man was slowly being overwhelmed and it only took one minor mistake for a sword to wound him deeper, and then another, and then 3 more.
He could not handle it anymore, falling to his knees he supported his body with the help of his trustworthy sword, the figure of a warrior presented itself before the bandits, but what did they know.
The moment of weakness showed by the man was all they needed, arrows and swords shot towards him, different kind of wounds appearing on his already battered body. Blood splurted out from his mouth, he lost, it was so sudden, he realised this would be his end but something deep in his mind refused to admit defeat.
'My God, bestow your follower power, for he shall bring you... eternal glory...'
His eyes went hollow the next moment, only an empty recipient was left behind, admist the chaos of a bloody massacre.
.
.
.
A young boy with inky black hair opened his eyes and raised his torso, scanning his surroundings with perplexion written on his face.
"Where... Where am I?"
The enviornment he was in confused him, a small room with only one bed which he occupied, beside it, a porcelain flower vase was placed on a dark red night counter. The room lacked illumination but it wasn't to the point where one wouldn't be able to see, what attracted the boy's eyes the most was an eerie picture of a cloudy mountain, some words were written on it but he could not discern them, they seemed damaged by the passage of time.
He stood up and instantly felt something was odd, looking down at his body his confusion grew even more, the once seasoned body of a warrior was there no more, only the frail body of a boy remained.
"What the hell!"
He shouted and realised even his voice was alien, raising his hands to his face he touched it, a different feel assaulted his senses, instead of a rough face full of scars the pristine skin of youth was present.
He then remembered the battle that took place in the woods, he clearly remembered he died there, with no chance of surviving. The first though that came to his mind was that it was a dream of sorts, or a nightmare, but that proved to not be the case after a few tests conducted on himself.
"Is this the work of a black magician?"
It was a probable answer, although he could not imagine how strong one must have been to achieve such a feat of transferring one's sould into a new body while keeping the memories intact and also maintaining free will over the body, he's never heard of someone to be able to attain such mastery over the dark arts.
No matter the answer, he was alive, he did not know if he should have been grateful for it but he would not waste this chance.
"Right... where the hell am I?"
He still had many more questions but he felt like it was a necessity to find out his location first, he's traveled the world quite a lot in his past life so he was confident in knowing the general location he was in.
Stepping outside through the only door there was he found himself in a large yard of a temple.
Everything around looked run down and old, as if left to crumble for hundreds of years. The general appearance of the temple was still discernable, the architecture of the place was still imposing and sublime even after so much time, it looked ancient, solemn and strangely familiar.
Looking around the temple he found more and more rooms just like the one he woke up into, but there was no one else in them, he started to wonder where was this place, the whole atmosphere of it seemed so familiar but also so different from whatever he had seen.
Only after reaching the main hall of the temple did he realise where he was.
"This is... Sword God."
The boy was standing in front of an impressive marble statue of a hooded figure holding a magnificent sword with an intricate design on the blade. The statue was so grand that it exuded a feeling of authority and power, there wasn't anyone around to take care of it but the 5 metres statue stood unflinched to the destructive force of time.
Suddenly something clicked in the boy's head and he realised where he had seen the design of the temple before, despite being a faithful believer of the Sword God he did not recognize the pattern at first due to the rough state the temple was in, but now that he looked closer, everything reminded him of the old temples he frequented, except this one gave a more ancient and mythic feeling.
'Is this the eternal palace where all great warriors come to?'
He asked himself but quickly discarded this possibility, why would he possess the body of this boy in such case? On top of that, the temple was in such a sorry state that it was hard to imagine this was the palace of a god.
The temple still gave off a mysterious feeling, as if a great mystery was hidden within those walls. Strengthening his resolve, he ventured deeper into the temple, soon reaching a large space that resembled a prayer room, in the middle of it stood once again the figure of the Sword God, it was smaller than the one in the hall but the detail in which it was shaped remained just as striking.
The room permeated with a sickening smell, the irony scent of it attacked his nostrils and forced him to squint his eyes.
What caught the boy's attention next was the intricate design of the walls, when he got closer to the wall on his right he noticed that there were actually some drawings on it, depicting a misty mountain, on top of it, a mighty temple stood, right below the fiery sun, and even higher, a sublime deity was drawn, with arms wide open as if wanting to embrace the temple.
He started to tag along with the drawings, circling the room slowly, the more he deciphered the more astonished and shocked he got.
A story was encripted on the walls of this room, a story of this temple and the god they venerated here. From what the boy could understand, this temple he was in was the first ever to be built in respect for the Sword God, then more temples came and the Sword God was blessing his followers with power and status, but one day... there was one temple once again.
This single building to remain as a resemblance to the Sword God was this one one once again, this time however the picture looked different from the first one depicting the start of the story, it seemed less grand, the deity was there no more, only a hollow sun over a sinister mountain, the drawing itself seemed to hold a certain sense of sorrow and great loss, as if the very person who incripted it into the walls of the temple was grieving from a great loss.
'What is the meaning of this...'
He could not understand what happened, why was the Sword God there no more? Why was there one temple again?
Before he died, the Sword God was one of the greatest deity to exist, almost every swordsman believed and prayed to this deity for power and protection, was the picture insinuating that the Sword God disappeared? It's true that without their god, followers become blind sheeps in the dark and malevolent things are bound to happen to them, that way they lose faith and choose to follow another god, this would explain why there remained only one single temple.
The boy knitted his brow in a frown and continued to trail along, more images flashed in his eyes, he reached a drawing that showed the figure of the Sword God once again, a golden veil was covering his face but he was there nonetheless.
'He appeared again...'
Below the magnificent drawing of the deity stood the caricature of a youth with black hair that was holding a shining sword in his right hand, it was held up high as if heralding the name of the deity above him.
He wanted to see what would happen next but the picture ended here, there seemed to be more on the left wall of the room but a destructive force ripped and scratched the wall, making the images on it indiscernible.
'What a pity. Wait... what's that?'
He noticed there were some strange red marks imprinted on the broken surface of the wall, only when he got closer to the wall did he realise it was blood, there seemed to be a message written on the wall, it sent shivers down the boy's spine, the brutality of the writing gave off the feeling someone sacrificed their sanity in order to write on the smashed surface of the wall.
Curiosity got to his head in the end so he started to put together what letters he could discern, slowly assembling them into sentences.
'Day...will... come. Day... will come. Answer...book ... statue...power..statue.'
The message itself seemed to be rushed and written in urgency, there seemed to be some meaning behind it but the boy could not link the words together to unveil the message behind it.
The word 'statue' however, made him turn back and glance at the unmoving figure of the Sword God, it somehow seemed more vivid and scary, nevertheless, he approached it and bowed down in front of it, as a true warrior he thanked his lord for guiding him through his hardest battles, despite his death he came back to life, now that he thought about it, maybe this chance was given to him by the Sword God as well.
'...may they rest, in eternal glory.'
After he finished his prayer he opened his eyes, suddenly something flickered from the below the statue's right foot, a golden shine as if announcing him that it existed.
The small crack through which it shined was so small that it could only be seen if one bowed down and took a closer look.
'What's this?'
The glint inspired a great sense of interest in his mind, the only method to reach it was to move the 2 metres statue or dig through it somehow and risk breaking the foundation of the masterpiece. Obviously, he chose the first way, firmly placing his arms around the statue he tightened his core and strengthened his feet's grip on the ground.
'I'm sorry my lord.'
He apologized to his deity for committing such an act and mustered all his strength to move the marble statue away. It was harder than he would have thought, he was reminded once again that this was not his powerful body no more, but a slim frame of a young boy, in a sense, it was also a sculpture in progress, devoid of any imperfections and scars for now.
His muscles bulged and tensed, he was unwilling to leave without unveiling whatever was hidden below the surface of the statue, maybe it was gold, this selled for a lot and how he didn't have anything on him, a small fortune would be of much help.
The room was soon filled with a stony screeching sound, the statue moved slightly under the force mustered from the boy, a small space was created at the foundation and a dark, empty space was present below the statue, a hiding place perhaps.
'This should be enough.'
The boy struggled to regain his breath as the action took out most of his stamina, beads of sweat could be seen on his handsome face, he was used to this feeling of being tired but it was odd to become exhausted so fast.
Pushing that thought to the back of his mind he leaned down and pushed his hand through the fisure he's created, blindly swinging his hand around inside the empy space under the statue.
'Come on.'
His hand breezed against the cold surface of the stone but stumbled across a softer one, he did not know what exactly it was but it felt like leather, grabbing it he pulled it out and watched in confusion. He was currently holding a worn out book, dusty and disheveled from staying under the statue for an unknown period of time.
At first he was disappointed, although the book did have some intricate golden pattern on its margins it was by far not worth a lot, that's when he raised his head up and looked back at the left wall of the room, where the dry blood of an unknown being read out:
'Book, statue, power...'
He looked back at the dusty book in his hands and with greater anticipations opened it, having a look at the first page. it was a title page and in the middle of it sharp words emanated an aura of awe.
'Sword God's Technique-Equinox'