…
Blood.
The sight of it could make even the heart of the bravest adults skip a beat.
Is it because it represents the fragility of human life?
Or perhaps it is, because of the primal instinctive fear of harm and death that blood evokes within us?
Everyone has a different answer, but one person is unable to answer this question.
Not because he does not have an opinion, but because he is not afraid of blood, war or even death itself.
Although 18 years old, he had spent 11 years of his life on the battlefield.
Some called him a prodigy, others a monster, but his real name was Arthur Collymore.
Being a mercenary he had seen the worst that humanity had to offer, violence, cruelty, and death on a scale most could scarcely imagine.
At some point his emotions just became numb to the horrors he witnessed.
Joy, Sorrow, Fear - they all faded away, leaving him with cold, calculating indifference that made him a highly efficient and ruthless warrior on the battlefield.
The only thing that mattered to Arthur was becoming stronger and killing as many demons as he could.
They were the ones that took his family away from him, after all.
…
"You monster…"
Curses mixed with terror echoed through the battlefield, as Arthur's merciless blade struck down yet another demon, its crimson blood splattering across the ground.
His brown eyes didn't waver at the demon's final words, as he removed his weapon embedded into the creature's lifeless body.
Suddenly, a strange sensation gripped his side.
Confused, he looked down to see a deep gash in his side, blood gushing out of the wound at an alarming speed.
'Oh.'
He mused.
Although it was a gruesome and very painful injury, his face didn't show any signs of discomfort.
He simply sighed.
"I have to go bandage it."
Placing his greatsword back into the sheath, Arthur turned and calmly made his way off the battlefield, ignoring the skirmishes and screams around him.
Surprisingly, the demons also did not attack him.
The aura his presence radiated was so intimidating that none dared to approach him.
A single glance from his lifeless eyes was enough to make even the strongest demons on this battlefield hesitate and reconsider whether engaging with him would be a wise decision.
Swoosh…
Entering the military camp, stationed at the edge of the battlefield where other mercenaries and soldiers rested, Arthur approached the medical tent with a trail of blood following him.
While walking, he could feel countless gazes fixated upon him, more specifically the gruesome wound on his side.
"Monster… He's a damn monster…"
Whispers followed his every step, but he was already used to them.
They were empty words uttered by even emptier people twisted by the fear and horror of the battle.
They meant nothing.
Entering the tent with a red cross sewn into its fabric, he approached the medic stationed within, his expression devoid of any emotion.
"I was wounded."
He said and then took off his chest armor, making the elderly man wince at the sight.
He took a deep breath, steeling himself for what was to come.
"This will hurt."
The doctor warned, his voice steady yet cautious.
He reached for a bottle of disinfectant and poured it over a clean cloth. As he pressed the cloth against the wound, Arthur's face remained unchanged, void of any reaction.
The doctor, expecting a grimace or at least a flinch, glanced at Arthur's stoic expression and hesitated.
Shaking his head in disbelief, he began working faster, his movements becoming rougher. The disinfectant burned as it seeped into the open wound, but Arthur remained silent, his gaze fixed on some distant point beyond the tent.
The doctor's hands trembled slightly as he cleaned and stitched the wound. He couldn't help but feel unnerved by Arthur's complete lack of response. A young man, barely an adult, should not have such a lifeless gaze.
It was as if he had seen and endured too much, far beyond what any human should.
After bandaging the wound, the doctor stepped back, his face pale and his hands shaking.
"You should rest and avoid battle for a few days to let this heal properly."
He advised, his voice carrying a hint of urgency.
Arthur nodded absently, his mind already elsewhere. Without a word, he reattached his chest armor and turned to leave the tent.
As he walked away, the other occupants of the camp hurriedly averted their gaze, afraid to meet those cold, soulless eyes.
The whispers outside grew louder as he walked through the camp, but he paid them no heed.
Returning to his own tent, Arthur pushed the flap aside and stepped inside.
As his eyes adjusted to the dim light, he noticed a letter lying near the entrance.
He picked it up, recognizing the seal of Starfall Academy.
Breaking the seal, he unfolded the letter and began to read…