The Purpose of Death

The sky was brightening as the sun rose to prominence in the previously dark skies. Oranges, reds, and yellows consumed the skies as far as the eye could see, and farther. As the sun continued to rise on the horizon, the once-dark surface revealed an explosion of colors beneath, but most of all, a deep and rich green stood out as the main color that painted the infinite landscapes. Large trees pierced the heavens, standing tall and proud of themselves. In the far-off distance from the tree line, sand coasts stretched from left to right far into the distance and led to the vast expanse of the ocean and its crystal clear blue waters that reflected the morning sun's rays of warm colors onto the spread of water. As the sun rose in the distance, the water started to churn. The serene experience was interrupted by bubbles forming at the surface blues, followed by water being thrown into the air from something rising from beneath the surface. 

The thing was rusty in color. Different shades of browns covered the surface of what appeared to be a helmet. It was cylindrical, with small eye holes in the middle of the face plate. Designs, though lost from age, could be seen across the helmet. The thing looked around at its surroundings, with loud creaks and squeaks following soon after. Suddenly, bubbles could be seen around the floating helmet, which quickly moved out of the way of the large jaws and gave way to an even larger head. 

Its maw was wide, revealing the creature's large and many banana-like teeth. At the edge of the creature's mouth was a pair of barbels, one for each side of its mouth, which gave way to the creature's light blue scales that covered its head and the small spines that went down the center of its skull. To the top right of the creature's mouth, small, beady eyes watched the helmet with a clear sign of glee as it fell back into the ocean, ready to continue its hunt on the escapee. The helmet quickly turned the other way and began swimming swiftly, revealing that it also had rust-covered appendages in the form of two arms and two legs along with a small glimpse at the figure's rustic back. As it continued to swim, the large creature could be seen gaining on it. It opened its jaws while continuing to speed up, towards its prey. With a split-second decision to make, the person turned around, with his left hand in the air and moved his thumb toward the palm of the same hand, which was returned to its previous position as a faint but noticeable purple haze began to emerge from the deteriorating glove that stretched in both directions, but more so up than down until it vaguely looking like a weapon. 

The purplish haze quickly started to form into a tangible object in the gloved hand. Quickly grasping it, the haze disappeared with a gust of wind, revealing a withered and worn light gray scabbard with a decrepit-looking hilt being held at the crown of said sheath. In a single swift and hurried motion. A right hand grabbed the hilt, pulling the blunt blade out of its sheath. It was a long thin blade which, like the armored assailant, was covered in varying degrees of browns that dulled the weapon much. The leather that bound the handle of the hilt of the longsword had long since disappeared, leaving the hilt naked in appearance, and much harder to use in practice. Still, the armor clutched the blade, waiting for the creature to get close enough.

The armored warrior stared the creature in the eyes as the reptile lunged for him. He readied his blade and started swimming toward the guardian. The behemoth of a beast soon arrived in front of him, and in a fraction of a second, began to close its jaws around him, but the warrior moved quicker. He pushed himself further back with the help of the current, barely avoiding the bite of the guardian of his tomb, then maneuvered his body, by propelling himself forward, blade first, toward the animal's rattled form and into its skull. The creature floundered momentarily, moving its head back and forth, trying to remove the weapon lodged in its skull, but ultimately failed. 

Blood seeped from the wound into the open ocean, tainting the clear blue waters a sickly red which expanded from the corpse at a slow rate. The knight, who was still holding the blade, pulled it out of the creature's head, allowing the dead sea monster to drift down, lifelessly, to the ocean floor. 

With a large squeal from the aged armor, the figure looked around the empty ocean with a critical eye, trying to find land in this unfamiliar expanse of water. After a few seconds, a shore could be seen in the distance, which marked its destination. With freedom in hand, the mysterious warrior began his long journey to shore, to see the world that had once forsaken him. 

He propelled himself forward for what seemed like forever, but it had only been a few hours. The sun was no longer sleepily rising in the distance; now, it stood high in the sky, beaming down on the cloudless sky with a furious and heated gaze. The rustic knight soon felt the heat as he rose onto the white sand beach. 

He was tall; roughly 6´1, covered in armor that had long since aged past repair. Holes adorned the gear in several different places, showing the slightly tanned skin beneath it. Large chains could be seen severed along both wrists and ankles, dragging on the sand as he continued to walk up the empty beach. His head turned from side to side, unsure of what was hiding around him. The exhausted figure soon after stumbled forward, falling face first into the sand, and promptly falling unconscious, blade still in hand. The knight lay, for but a few moments, before returning to consciousness. 

Rolling over, he was now on his back, gazing wonderfully at the light blue sky. He stood like this for a while, just staring at the sky, watching as a few clouds came and went before finally sitting up with more shrieks from the rotting suit following thereafter.

Letting go of the sheathed weapon, his left arm reached for the center of his chest. His thumb was placed on the center, and a familiar haze started to exude from the spot. Steam started to roll off of him in droves from all parts of his body, including the sword lying on the sand. As the steam began to leave the vicinity, vague hits of dull gray and red could be seen. 

Once fully disappeared, the once rustic and decaying armor looked in much better condition than previously. Most of the knight's armor was a dull red that had long since started fading, with gray showing itself along the edges of the suit. The suit was like a tapestry; intricate patterns were laid extravagantly across the suit's surface, only ending at the neckline leading into the barren helmet. Then suddenly, steam started to roll off the nearby weapon, clouding it from view but quickly coming back into view. 

The weapon had a fine maroon leather sheath and a black handle with dirty white bandages plastered over the leather. Like his armor, the sheath had various patterns burned into the leather, leaving black imprints all along its length. The guard of the long sword was rather basic. Two pieces of dark gray pointed out on each end of the weapon, matching the blade's pommel at the tip of the handle. 

Once returning to reality, he turned over to the weapon and gazed at it critically, before hesitantly picking up the weapon. Once he grabbed the blade, he picked it up slowly, bringing it and placing it on his lap. His hand, once strong, now held the blade shakily with an open palm on each side. Droplets of water fell from the sockets of the helmet and onto the blade below him. He hunched over with each breath; quiet sobs racking his form. 

After a long moment, the man slowly grabbed the blade in his lap until he clasped the object with such ferocity that his body shook even more than it had previously. Fury was evident in the man's form as he shook violently, nearly crushing the thing in his hands before suddenly pulling the blade from the sheath. 

Letting go of the sheath, he brought the shining weapon to his helmet and peered at it closely through the endless voids in those eye-holes that were filled with anguish and rage. The sun bathed the pristine blade, almost blinding the knight as he observed his weapon. Like the sheath, the blade had cravings engraved into the metal, but unlike the sheath, these carvings revealed a spindly-looking dragon that laid lazily around the central edge of the sword, with its maw wide, spewing flames to the very point of the blade. The knight held the weapon with fervor, it had been a long time since he last held this gift. 

After a few more long moments, he picked up the scabbard and shook the sand off it before placing the weapon back in said sheath. The sun was still looming greatly above him and with daylight to burn, there was work to be done. 

Getting up from his slumped position, he attached the covered weapon to his waist while looking around at his surroundings. The sand was undisturbed for the most part, only becoming tainted the closer he looked to himself. It was eerie. The treeline behind himself stretched for miles beyond what the naked eye could see, no signs of human life were anywhere to be seen. He would've continued his search by starting his trek through the tree line but was ultimately stopped by the large chains wrapped around his limbs, which made his movements sluggish and annoying. That was the first thing on his priority list. The thick chains were too much for him to cut with his sword, but maybe there was another way. The clamps that held the chains to him had long since deteriorated and were loosely holding on. Once realizing this, a single gloved hand grabbed the opposite leg brace and easily tore it off, dropping it in the hot sand before silently doing the same for the other pieces and switching hands to get rid of the last one. Just like that, all four shackles had been removed and with no further thoughts into the matter, he gazed into the lush jungle in front of himself, a hand lightly placed onto the handle of his blade, and so began his search for shelter.