Yin is hunched over, picking at weeds in the dirt. He gets a large handful, twists and pulls, and stands up. He's been in the field for all day now, and he's exhausted. His shoulder length hair is soaked with sweat. He pushes it back, tying it back into a ponytail, allowing him to take in the sights around him. Absolutely nothing. Nothing that gives life meaning, nothing that brings him joy. Just the farm. Just nothing. The leafless trees sway back and forth, the bare branches shaking in the afternoon wind. The soil is bone dry, and the surrounding crops are holding onto life under the boiling sun
He is on a farm, working. That is how his life has been for the past four years. Yin sees a misty form out of the corner of his eye. He turns around. After a moment, he crouches back down and goes back to picking at weeds, mumbling to himself. "Damn it, again?"
He feels a vibration on his spine, and an odd feeling washes over him. He flips around, and quickly scuttles backwards before standing up, but his legs don't seem to work. He hears a voice. "You… See… Me." Gaining back control over his body, Yin sprints over to the entrance of the field. His legs felt weak, him stumbling over some of the crops that have been growing, now dead under the light of the moon. "What the hell…" he murmurs. "Why is the moon out? What's happening?" he thinks to himself. He makes it to the shed, pushing the rusty, decrepit doors open. Stumbling through, he goes to the back of the small room and grabs a scythe. The tool is mainly used for harvesting crops, but in this case the tools blade was razor sharp, so its uses weren't limited.
Yin walks back outside, holding the scythe in a striking form. Its long, sharp blade glistens in the moonlight. "Do… Not… Run." the mysterious voice says. The voice was raspy and deep, capable of shaking someone to their very core. Sweat is running down Yin's face, and his throat was as dry as sandpaper. That's when it happens. He sees something he never thought he would ever see in his entire life, at least he hoped. The moon cast its ominous light over the farmland. Some sort of barrier had domed over the farm, preventing anything from entering — or exiting.
What Yin was most surprised about though, was the absolute silence that hung over the farm. He slowly but surely stood up, scythe in hand, and yells as loud as he could. "Where are you?!" The voice just let out a lighthearted, gravely laugh. Yin is shaken but doesn't let whatever is speaking know.
"I said, show yourself." Yin says, his voice maintaining a calm demeanor, but he was struggling. So, as he asked, the spirit did reveal itself. Slowly, materializing out of thin air, a large, mysterious figure hovers several feet above the ground. It was wearing dark robes, and an undershirt of leathery wrappings, caked with dirt and earthy elements. Yin swings the scythe, but the blade breaks against the spirits chest. He throws the shaft against it, but it just bounces off.
The spirit is about ten feet tall and has very broad shoulders. His face looked that of a demon. Horns stick out from its forehead, and it had jagged teeth. It's crude skin was patchy and torn, and he could see its ribs through the loose wrappings. As it got closer, Yin could make out the fine details of its body. It was made entirely of rock and natural elements. Arms and body of clay and rock, with dirt and other particles floating around it. Then it happened. The spirit motioned to the dark sky, a golden light beaming down around the farm. With its hands centered at its chest, it did three basic signs, then clapped them together, as if it was praying. In front of it, a spear appeared.
Glowing and pulsing with yellow energy, the spear flies to the spirit's hand. "Sun, thank you for this gift, I will not disappoint you!" chanted the spirit. Yin can't move. He can only watch in terror as the spirit begins to get into a lunging stance, aiming at the spear dead on at Yin. With one succinct move, the spirit spins around, and dashing forward, Impaling Yin with the spear. A blinding pain shoots through Yin's chest. Blood coats the spear's shaft. The spirit lifts Yin on the spear, allowing him to make eye contact with the living nightmare that was before him. Its eyes glow a bright yellow.
"Why… why are you doing this?" he stammers, coughing. "Piece of shit." Yin grabs the shaft of the spear, trying to push himself away from the demon. It's fruitless. He's too weak, too much of life has slipped away. He grunts in pain. "Damn you." he says, spitting up blood. Slowly but surely, everything that he once knew fades to black.