• The boy was walking in the forest, clutching his stomach from hunger. He went on, however weak for the faintest hope, a hope that he was forcing himself to believe it was there. He went on for seconds, minutes, and finally hours until finally he could stand no more, and fell down on the base of the tree, and did not wake again throughout that day.

    The boy rose once again, at the new dawn, at this moment a silk wrapping could be faintly seen, but it was soon covered once again. The boy staggered from his long fasting but his willpower kept him going, in fact, his willpower was the only thing that kept him going. He was young, and his body was not trained for such hardships yet it did although barely. The boy kept on and on, not being able to draw enough power to think. He went to whatever fate lied for him whether it be doom, glory or death, and soon fell down, unconscious.

    The boy woke up in a place he didn't know, yet welcoming. He had never been here, yet it felt as it was supposed to happen. Before he could notice much more, his hunger started to attack him once again, and he desperately looked to calm it. He instantly did, as where he was full of food. He ate and ate until he could no more and slept looking at the starry night sky.

    The boy forced himself to come to his feet once again, as he felt something wrong. Then something rang in his ears that he knew only too well. He took out something from within his cloak and unwrapped it from its covering and put it to his hands. It glittered in the moonlight, and weighted so light in the boy's hands. The boy quickly went outside and saw the dead and the ones soon to be. Swords glittered and shined as they created rainbows, rainbows of the colour red. Men fell dead, only to be covered by others. The battle raged on and the boy was drawn into it. He watched the scene with shock when he instinctively blocked a strike from another, and he moved himself in the form he knew only too well and brought death to the one beside him. The battle was ending, yet another was starting as the winners brought their swords in front of them and charged at the boy without mercy. The boy slashed and hacked for his life, soon unaware what he was doing. All he knew was to kill, and all he did was kill. He killed and killed until he could kill no more, and finally was defeated by fatigue.

    -Wanderer of the Dead-

    To be Continued