Livora's eyes closed, tears dripping down her cheeks, thinking to herself.
These cowards gang up on someone and then parade their flimsy pride. He would still be alive if I hadn't asked for help.
She opened her eyes but to her astonishment.
The man had not been pierced; instead, he had grabbed onto the Sharp pointy tip of the spear.
"Impossible…" remarked the noble
The man's gaze became more assertive, his face lifted in ecstasy, and he let out a big demonic smile as he snapped the metal spearhead. He raised his hand, and in one swift motion, too fast for the naked eye, his hand swept through the air and across his body.
It was dead silent; no noise penetrated the area until blood gushed out towards the sky like a broken faucet, covering the man and the ground in blood. The head of the guard wielding the spear flung out of his neck dropped onto the ground and rolled. The man had been drenched in red blood, which matched the colours of his red eyes.
Livora covered her mouth with shock; though she had innate hate and loath towards the people who had caused her and the other innocents to suffer, this was not what she had intended for them. She was too naïve to think that the man could murder someone so coldheartedly and so callously.
The man turned towards the other guards, his face riddled with excitement and joy; one by one, he flashed towards them, no magic, no mana, no powers, just his solid hands ripping away the flesh of the guards, tearing their souls, snatching apart their hearts.
The guard with the sword swings his blade, only for it to shatter to pieces. It was too late for him to understand what was going on; before long, the man had cut off the guard's hands, blood gushing out infinitely. He, too, met his demise, for the man had not tasted enough blood.
It was barbaric and savage; Livora's notion about the noble ganging up on an innocent had been turned upside down. Yes, it was now wholly opposite; the hunted was not a lamb nor a rabbit but a wolf in sheep's clothing, a lion in a lamb's skin. It was as if she had been watching a cat playing with a mouse, destroying it without any appetite, only self-satisfaction and amusement.
The screams penetrated and diffused into the air, shouts of horror that tangled the crowd's faces; a night turned truly so horrific that it looked like a slaughterhouse.
It had been only a matter of moments.
But…
He had murdered most of them.
Livora, who was distraught, thought to herself.
I must stop him before he kills everyone.
"Stop…" Livora's voice trembled, unable to reach the man's ears.
She then shouted, "STOP… there is no need for more bloodshed; you've done enough!"
Just before he could take another life, he stopped, his hands frozen in motion. The guard in front of him falls to the ground in terror; he crawls away crying, "Save me! Save me".
The man gathered his expression; his smile was gone; he embodied a calm expression and brought his hand closer to him; he gazed at his hand for a moment. Livora noticed a slight twitch on his stoic expression; it was like he felt disappointed in himself like he had done something he did not wish to or the aftermath of a regretful experience.
He threw his hand to the side, scattering the blood that was stuck on his palms onto the cold, lifeless ground and cleaned his face. Finally, he turned his body and faced the cowering noble, who had been covering his ears like a little child, afraid of being caught and punished by his parents.
The man took long strides towards the noble.
The panicked noble cowered and screeched:
"Stop… No… Don't come over here."
The man had come close enough to the noble to grab him by the neck. With just one hand and a strong pull, the man lifted the obese noble by his collar.
"Ahhhhh… Stop. I'll give you anything… you want money, you can have all my riches, you want women? I have captured lots! I have a lot of slaves; choose any."
"No, take them all. I know what, that wretched ashriven, you can have her… so spare me, please? ok?"
The noble's expression was utterly distasteful; a man who knew nothing but greed and lust, it was no surprise that all he could offer for his life was money, women, or slaves. The noble never faced anything like this, his prideful demeanour dismantled, destroyed, and desecrated by the vision of the onslaught that took place. He only feared that he was next on this man's chopping block, that it was his turn to become a lifeless, headless, and soulless corpse.
"Disgraceful and pathetic" uttered the man.
The man then ferociously commanded: "Look into my eyes."
Livora noticed that the man's eyes started to exude their colour; the aura glared out, and his eyes glowed crimson, almost like an amber or ruby crystal reflecting the sun's glow.
He stared deep into the clumsy eyes of the noble, who started to panic and scramble as if he was witnessing his deepest, darkest nightmare, and then it stopped.
The noble became frozen like a puppet.
His expression turned pale, his eyes lost lustre, his face dropped, and his mouth drooled with saliva.
The man loosened his grip, and the noble tumbled lifelessly onto the floor. He then walked away towards Livora and told her.
"let's go."
She questioned him with a sad and heavy expression, "Why… why did you kill him… this makes you no better than those scumbags…"
He looks at her and subtly points out, "I didn't kill him."
"but…"
"Look at him if you don't believe me", he replied, pointing at the noble.
She looked behind the man and saw the noble. The very same noble that had stood atop his little podium, thinking that he was part of the better race, thinking that he was the absolute being with nothing to get in his way, had been crouched in the corner of the podium, sucking his thumbs like a little child, rocking back and forth. He had completely lost his soul.
The few guards that had remained and had got away from the man's massacre approached Noble.
"My lord, are you alright"
The noble let out a loud, deafening screech; he grabbed onto his thinning hair and began ripping it out in hysteria, then clasped his hands together and kept on repeating, "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry" whilst looking at the floor, like a broken machine.
Livora knew this man was broken, too broken to notice that he had spoilt his garments with his own urine and defecation. It was a fate worse than death, especially for someone who had the status of a noble.
To think this was the man who had been claiming to be God's servant, a person of noble blood, someone who was of a more 'noble' race.
She almost felt bad for him but knew he had to pay for burning hundreds of innocents for his amusement.
The man walked past Livora and told her to follow him.
She had seen enough.
She breathed "ok" and followed along.