A feeling of haziness enters my mind as the scent of the blood of multiple individuals courses through the air.
"I've killed again."
Shattered. The slash of his blade destroys a nearby window. Vultures pour in eating the decaying meat from the freshly reaped corpses. A large open space covered in heaps of destroyed furniture and death.
A man stood alone in this horrific massacre, covered in shadow and blood with an aura of unknown intent.
Crashing through the window, five men approach, eyes narrowed, tightly gripping each of their respective weapons.
Tense, a man leans forward toward the enigmatic figure shrouded in darkness.
"Cowardice bastard, to attack our guild out of the blue while our guild leader was away, DO YOU FEEL NO SHAME."
The shadowy figure remained standing, stagnant.
The angered guild member narrows his eyes further gripping the handle of his sword as his teeth begin to grind,
"Answer me, why, WHY DO THIS, Sephrin AMRIEL!!!"
The shadowy man, Sephrin of the Amriel family - A priest, black holy robes, fox-like eyes, early twenties. Holding an intimidating aura despite his short stature standing at 5 '6 and a half, measured with imperial, the most superior and advanced measurement system in the world.
Exiting out of the darkness while slouching forward, the metal from his blade screeches as it drags along the bloodied surface of the warm guild floor.
Out in the open light, the shadowy figure is unveiled, almost resembling a corpse, eyes blackened, and clothes bleached in fresh blood.
The men step back as tensions grow in the air getting more coarse and grainy.
Sephrin's weapon was a small circular shield with its handle being that of a small throwing axe. The blade of the axe peaked through the shields edge and wrapped around it forming a crescent moon shape. An unusual shield that had a sickle on its edge.
The men seeing such a strange weapon quickly went into formation not wanting to take any chances on what such a weapon could do.
The men moved as one-shields clutched, blades unsheathed, and arrows drawn. The man in front a defender, took center stage, flanked by two swordsmen-blades covering any openings displayed by the defender. The archers nocked their arrows, patient and steady, one out in the open, another hidden in a corner out of sight.
Sephrin stepped forward, eyes held calm, with steps filled with stability.
An arrow hisses through the air-starved, anxious for its target. Sephrin's head tilts just enough for it to miss, grazing the side of his hair. His hand catches the second arrow right before reaching his eyes, splintering it against the ground. The front line has already closed in, three men right in front of him.
The defender swings his shield wide, a heavy arc meant to crash and obliterate, Sephrin slips under it, he drives his knee into the flat end of the right swordsmen's blade, driving and twisting it on its end into the defender's exposed ribs. The defender yelps as his eyes widen in sudden shock. Before the shield drops, Sephrin grabs its edge and spins around, catching the left swordsman's incoming thrusts. Sparks leapt from steel as their metal bodies met in impact.
The right swordsman lunges, aiming low. Sephrin kicks off the shield, flipping backward just as two more arrows whisk through the space where he had previously been. The defender fell, gurgling on his own blood, as he dropped on his side. Another body on the floor.
The two swordsmen circle Sephrin blades dragged through the ground screeching around him shining under dim light. They moved with quickness and precision-one feinting high, the other thrusting from behind. He caught one wrist mid-thrust and twisted it, the crunch and squish of human bone encased in muscle followed by the clang of a blade dropped to the floor. With that same motion, he launched the man into his partner before grabbing the dropped blade and piercing them both in the chest. Two more corpses on the ground now lay.
An arrow flies toward Sephrin, the hidden bowman had revealed his position. Sephrin however did not move instead he aimed his blade directly at the path the arrow was shooting from-causing the arrow and the tip of the blade to meet splitting the arrow into two-hitting the ground to the left and right of Sephrin.
Silence reins in as both parties pause in unison.
Flash-a blur through dust and blood, feet shooting through the ground like lightning. The archer had no time to react as a hand had taken hold of his collar, crashing him forward into a wall shattering it. Wood had splintered and fallen as blood dripped down. His breathing had stopped.
Silence hung in the air for a short while until the sounds of a match and the roaring screams of fire viciously emerged.
Sephrin, steady, turned his head toward what lay behind him with an ugly solemn look on his face, as what once stood firm and tall helplessly burned to the ground.
"A guild this time around… The virtuous clan won't stand still, they finally have an excuse to go after me now… Let's see if they can handle the consequences, or if they're just as easy to burn as their paid business partners."