On that day, a dying sun rose above the multitude of nations. Thunderstorms raged, and the lakes ran red with blood. Boils afflicted the people, and disease spread like wildfire.
"When the sun has died," the prophecy foretold, "a lake of red will appear to the west of the city of Karr. That is the sign that the fifth angel of death has descended unto this world."
"There is no more paradise for you to escape to."
clatta clatta
The air echoed with the sounds of horses as a blood-stained man, draped in a black cloak, strode past a small carriage. He cast a quick glance at it, his eye reflecting weariness. With a shaved head and a missing eye, he possessed a rugged, imposing stature.
Underneath his cloak, dark armor adorned his frame, complemented by holsters strapped across his chest. These held a variety of throwing knives, some tipped with deadly poisons. Additionally, a large knife was secured in a holster on his belt.
Strangely, a living red entity coiled around his body, its head resting on his shoulder with a sucked-in mouth.
As he strode past the gates, the blood coating him drew comments from passersby, whispers following in his wake. Murmurs of shock and curiosity at the grisly sight mixed with the distant clamor of the city.
Further ahead, a pair of guards conversed in hushed tones.
"Did you hear about the decree from the Grand Vizier?" one guard asked solemnly.
"Yeah, another Opal condemned to die," replied the other guard with a shake of his head.
"Poor soul," the first guard muttered. "Everyone from that cursed race is marked for death by those demons."
"I pity her. She's just a child. Hollow and heartless, that's what they are," the second guard added bitterly.
Their eyes caught sight of the man as he walked by, his figure draped in darkness. Anger distorted their glances as they noted his presence.
"There goes another hollow," one guard spat with contempt. "Spineless bastard."
The man paid them no mind, his gaze fixed ahead as he continued on his path through the increasingly dense crowd. Two guards stood atop the gallows, a small white haired girl beneath them.
"By the decree of the Grand Vizier," announced the first guard loudly, "this Opal heretic is condemned to death for treason against the demon race. For crimes committed by her race, she shall face the blade!"
The girl, with beautiful white hair and blue eyes filled with terror, knelt silently, blood staining her lips and ragged clothing.
Just as the executioner raised the axe, BOOM! The air shattered as a massive flail burst through. The executioner's head exploded in a spray of blood and bone fragments, his body collapsing to the ground.
Before anyone could react, the flail tore through another guard's torso, ripping flesh and sending gore flying. The chain of the flail danced in the air as the man wielding it manipulated the weapon with deadly force. The flail was huge, much too large for an ordinary human to wield with such precision as this man was displaying.
The remaining guard stumbled back, fear etched on his face.
"It's him!" the guard exclaimed, panic in his voice. "Defend yourselves!"
The man continued his onslaught, the flail's chain wrapping around the final guard's neck. With a forceful pull, he brought the guard down, the chain tight around his throat.
His eyes trailed down to the guard as he held onto the chain, a grin on his face. "You know what this is; retribution." he spoke out loudly, addressing all who were present, but most specifically, the legionnaires of guards rushing towards him.
Glancing back, he saw the girl running down the stairs of the gallows. "Tell The Count that the Forsaken One's Vessel has come."
Nearby, on the other end of the chain, an axe lay on the ground, untouched but poised for use. As the guards closed in around him, he heard one of them shout, "Go after the Opal Girl!"
A man clad in thick armor adorned with red markings and a large demon crest rode over on horseback, eyeing the man with a mix of curiosity and challenge. "What an honor," he remarked, addressing the man. He then turned to the guards who were preparing to pursue the girl. "Leave her. We will find her later."
"Yes, Captain," they responded obediently.
The captain's gaze hardened as he locked eyes with the man. "Are you willing to surrender? Look around you. You're hopelessly outnumbered."
With a swift motion, the man snapped the guard's neck who was entangled in the chain. A chuckle escaped him as he dropped the axe and flail to the ground. BOOM! The impact shook the earth beneath them.
"What strength!" one guard called out, incredulous. "How is he able to wield it such a thing? Does he have a contract?"
The man grinned as he met the captain's intense stare, a silent challenge in his eyes.
"Pride will be the death of you, and you and you and..."
"Shut it," the man muttered to himself, his voice echoing softly in the damp, cold cell. Alone against the wall, his body covered in cuts, he looked up at his wrists marked with lashes. With a resigned sigh, he gripped his tank top, tearing it off his shoulders with his teeth and using it to wrap his wounds. His gaze shifted to the cell door.
Outside, two guards strolled past.
"The Forsaken One's vessel? What's the captain talking about?" one guard asked.
The second guard shrugged. "I don't know, but the captain must know something. He has a contract with a demon of higher rank."
"He's hollow, that's all I know," the first guard replied.
"Why is a hollow actively siding with the Umbral Order? It's blasphemous," the second guard remarked.
Their voices faded as they walked out of earshot. The man's eyes were drawn to the window, where a dog ran past and a pair of blue eyes peered down into the cell.
The girl!
"Hi," The girl's voice echoed in the quiet cell, met with silence from the man.
"You shouldn't have done that, you know. Saving me. They're probably gonna execute you in my stead," she continued.
Still no response.
"You got nothing to say? You know, the least you could do is take responsibility when you save someone," she persisted.
Finally, he spoke, his voice tinged with indifference. "I didn't save you because I'm a hero or something. That was by coincidence. I needed to send a message."
The girl frowned, her disappointment clear. "Well, I guess that's to be expected from a hollow. Most of you are heartless, everything you do is for your own self interests."
The man scoffed. "What do you know..." he muttered.
He glanced up at her. "I would have expected you to leave by now. You trying to get caught again?"
She replied calmly, cocking her head to the side. "Opals have a sense of pride, you know? I have a life debt to you, mister. I just wanted to pay it off."
He looked up at her, a seldom look of sadness in his eye. "What's your name?"
She replied simply, "Ether. You?"
"Miura."
Miura glanced to his left. Heavy footsteps approached the cell. He sighed, waving his hand dismissively at Ether. "Shoo."
A small group of men in metallic armor entered the cell, their brutish demeanor evident. One of them sneered, "Ready for round two, asshole?"
Miura stood up slowly, groaning slightly as he regained his footing. He clenched his fist defiantly. "Come at me, you bastards."
Several hours later, Miura lay face down on the ground, his body covered in blood. With effort, he rolled onto his back, staring up at the ceiling with half-closed eyes. Blood continued to trickle from his wounds, forming a pool on the wet ground beneath him, staining the surface red. He remained still, the only movement the shallow rise and fall of his chest with each labored breath.
clank, jingle
Miura's weary eyes trailed to a set of keys that dropped into his cell from the window above. For a brief moment, he caught a glimpse of bright blue eyes staring at him before they disappeared into the darkness of the night.
With a grit, he dragged himself across the floor to pick up the keys. He chuckled to himself before summoning the strength to rise to his feet. Moving to the iron doors, he swiftly unlocked them and peered down the hallway. Multiple cells lined the corridor, each holding disfigured and tortured individuals. Miura glanced at them as he passed by.
Reaching the end of the hallway, he peeked around the corner and spotted a group of guards analyzing his gear. They held his massive flail and axe, struggling with its weight, laughing drunkenly as one attempted to swing it but failed due to its bulk.
"Damn, this thing's heavier than a dragon's hide," one guard remarked, his words slurred.
Another chimed in, "I heard one of the witnesses say they saw that thing spit out the axe and flail. Can you believe that?"
They looked at the worm-like bulk of flesh strewn across the table. "So this thing's alive?"
"Most definitely," Miura declared as he emerged from the shadows of the room.
Wide-eyed, the guards drew their swords from their sheaths, startled by his sudden appearance.
With a fluid motion, Miura closed the distance and slammed two guards' heads together with a resounding crack. As they staggered back, dazed and disoriented, he seized the chain of his flail, reeling the axe end towards the guards.
The axe head connected with the face of one of the guards, slicing through flesh and bone with a sickening impact. Blood sprayed as the guard collapsed, clutching his mangled face in agony. The other guard, now recovering from the blow, reached for his weapon on the ground, but Miura was already upon him.
With a quick, calculated movement, Miura disarmed the guard and delivered a punishing strike, knocking him to the ground. "P-please!" the guard pleaded in desperation.
Miura smiled coldly. He sent his chain forward, and the flail blew through the guard's face without hesitation.
After dispatching the guards, Miura retrieved his armor, a dark and sturdy set that fit him like a second skin. The worm-like flesh coiled around his figure, sliding and adhering to his form. With practiced ease, he let it suck on the axe, slowly retracting the chain and absorbing the weapon, storing the flail and axe within the living mass attached to his body.
Miura raced through the prison corridors, navigating his way to the exit as he burst into the yard.
ding ding ding
The alarms bell rang out loudly.
Legions of soldiers descended upon him, surrounding Miura as he faced them with a chilling smile.
"You're surrounded, boy! Give up," a soldier called out.
Miura's eyes narrowed, his gaze unwavering. "If I crush all of the worker ants, will the queen ant retaliate?"
"Eh?" the soldier inquired, raising his brow as Miura's smile widened into a cold grin.
In a blur of motion, Miura drew and swung his flail, the heavy chain whipping through the air with lethal force. The spiked ball at its end crashed into the soldier's chest, shattering armor and bone alike. The soldier let out a strangled cry before collapsing to the ground, lifeless.
As the chaos erupted around him, Miura spun, the axe in his hand cleaving through the air. He closed in on another soldier, who attempted to raise a shield in defense. With a powerful swing, Miura's axe split through the shield and continued its deadly arc, tearing through armor and flesh. Blood sprayed as the soldier fell, his body rent asunder by the relentless assault.
A third soldier lunged at Miura from the side, but he sidestepped effortlessly, the soldier's momentum carrying him past. In one swift motion, Miura pivoted and brought his flail crashing down on the soldier's exposed back. The spiked ball connected with a sickening thud, crushing vertebrae and ending the soldier's life with brutal efficiency.
More soldiers converged on Miura, their shouts and clanking armor echoing in the yard.
Miura sprinted through the town, leaving a wake of carnage in his path. As chaos erupted around him, the soldiers scrambled to contain him.
"There he is! The Dung Eater!" one soldier shouted, pointing at a massive figure looming ahead. "He's made a contract with a stronger demon. They say he's got the strength of a thousand men!"
Miura's smile widened at the challenge. The Dung Eater wielded a colossal barbed bat, its sheer size and weight giving Miura a good idea on just how strong this man was.
As Miura approached, the Dung Eater sneered, brandishing large, weighty armor. "You're just a little man. What do you think you can accomplish?" he taunted.
Miura's grin widened, unfazed by the Dung Eater's taunts. Without hesitation, he closed the distance, his flail whirling through the air. Miura maneuvered around the brute's figure with grace, and swung the flail and axe around wildly.
However, upon closer inspection it became clear that Miura was a master tactician. Each movement was precise, and it became clear that Miura was trying to entangle The Dung Eater by wrapping the chain around his limbs.
The Dung Eater swung his bat with crushing force, aiming to overpower Miura with sheer strength. Miura deftly dodged the onslaught, kicking off to the side with a swift and agile movement.
The chain wrapped around the Dung Eater's arm, and Miura seized the opportunity. With a powerful tug, he disrupted the Dung Eater's balance, sending him off-kilter. As the Dung Eater stumbled, Miura closed in, his axe poised as he sent it crashing down, slicing through his armor and into his flesh.
The Dung Eater bellowed in rage, his swings growing wild and erratic. Miura danced around the onslaught, his focus unwavering. With precise timing, he struck again and again into the same wound.
Finally, seizing a critical moment, Miura delivered a punishing blow. His axe arced through the air, finding its mark with brutal efficiency. It sliced deep into the Dung Eater's side, eliciting a roar of pain.
But The Dung Eater refused to yield, his veins pulsing in his arm as he reeled the bat down into the ground. BOOM! The ground shook violently, and Miura was blown up into the air.
"What force!" Miura mused to himself as he soared through the air. Crashing into the ground, yet steady on his feet, he glared ahead at the man in front of him.
No. Looking at him, Miura could tell that this was no man; far too large. He was more like a large hunk of flesh and bone. This thing in front of him had no soul. He sold that for his strength.
Disgraceful! Miura gritted his teeth with rage.
clatta clatta
Legionnaires of soldiers rode up on horseback, led by their captain at the forefront. "Miura! Stay your weapon," the captain called out, his voice carrying booming through the air.
Miura surveyed the scene, surrounded by enemy soldiers once again.
The captain spoke with a mixture of respect and challenge. "You're hopelessly surrounded again, Miura. But I respect your courage. Here's the deal—I'll offer you a one-on-one fight. If you win, you can leave unharmed. If I win, your head will roll."
Miura's expression remained stoic as he agreed to the terms. "Before I leave, you'll tell me what I want to know," he demanded firmly.
The captain laughed heartily, amused by Miura's audacity.
Meanwhile, the Dung Eater protested loudly, claiming the fight as his own. "This is my fight, Kentaro!"
Kentaro shot him a piercing look. "Look at yourself, Dung Eater. You've already lost."
With a confident air, Kentaro drew a large blade from his back, taking a stance. A master swordsman. The blade was much too big to be called a weapon. No. More like a heap of raw iron.
The tension among the legionnaires was palpable, each soldier holding their breath in anticipation.
Suddenly, a horse carrying a burning carriage thundered through the ranks, causing a fiery explosion that threw everyone into a state of confusion.
Amidst the chaos, Ether appeared on horseback, calling out loudly to Miura. "Get on!" she urged.
Miura scoffed at first but quickly complied, climbing onto the horse behind Ether. With a swift cry, Ether urged the horse forward, and they galloped away from the chaos.
As they rode off, the captain's laughter echoed behind them. "Give chase!" he bellowed. Miura glanced back briefly, his eyes locking with the captain's as they disappeared into the distance.
The captain wore a smirk on his face. "This will not be the last time we meet, Miura... far from it!"