A young man sat on the trunk of a felled tree, thinking to himself amidst the silence. What was once a village bustling with people, was now a den of death, dismembered corpses laying strewn around its center.
"How much longer will this go on?" He thought. "The killing, watching on unable to do anything as innocent people die." He reached a hand down caressing a severed arm that looked to have belonged to a girl around his age, maybe younger.
He felt terrible looking at her, understanding what it is to be robbed like this, deprived of life so young. "Though it didn't matter now." He thought as he picked up her severed arm. "I cant do anything other than watch." Blood spurted as he bit into it, flesh and sinew tearing with a sickening sound. "I'm nothing more than a corpse myself."
How long he'd been like this he couldn't tell you. It had all felt like a very realistic nightmare, and who could tell how much time had passed in a dream?
Though sometimes he'd have brief moments of partial lucidity, like now, where he's at least able to feel guilt rather than the usual fog in his head. However, feeling was all he could do, being unable to stop himself from butchering people and gorging on their remains.
Such was his existence day in and day out. Kill, eat, kill, left to wander, with a feeling of being horribly lost. Kill, eat, kill. The wish to die, the desire to live despite being dead. It was a bewildering and agitating existence to the point some nights he'd just scream like he was trying to shatter the earth and sky.
Anything, he would give anything to be free of this wretched existence. Unfortunately he had nothing to give. After all the death he wrought, he'd have lost his soul, so he couldn't sell it, and praying to God probably wouldn't work either since he was no longer human.
He couldn't even remember his own name, the only thing left of him was his sword, which he'd long come to despise. It kept him alive, but prolonged this unending bloody nightmare; Yet he couldn't fully hate it because even though he'd forgotten why, it was immeasurably precious to him.
How ironic it is to find something precious in death, especially something you hate. "Though it doesn't matter, hating something, wanting something." He tore into the girls arm again tearing the meat down to bloody porcelain bone. "I'm nothing but a corpse. A sack of rotten meat."
The muscles in his face twitched, and he stood fluidly like the changing of frames. Moonlight shone from behind the clouds illuminating his boney gray skinned body and the fresh blood on his skinless face, seeming to shine even brighter beneath bloodied white hair were a pair of piercing blue eyes.
Metal armor clicked and rattled accompanied by the smell of sweat and sword oil. The Azure Eyes had suddenly found itself surrounded.