Grave
It was a massacre. There was no way to describe it otherwise. Corpses were shattered, desecrated, torn asunder and eventually cut down to dust. Joshua, Noah, Koral, Old Nan, Sebille, even the little ones. Isaac, Sariel, Hans, Tim, Ales, Ana, Law...
They all fell down, one after the other, cut down before being ground to nothing.
This was a nightmare from thousands of years ago.
"U...uuhhhh...uahhhhhhhhhh!!!" A lone child cried amidst his village. His home, and all of their neighbors... everything was on fire. The stench of blood was nauseating, and for what stretched on and on like forever, the bloodied child just kept walking aimlessly. He walked on and on, even while his feet bled out on the ground. Was it to escape? To find something amidst this wreckage?
"Ugh."
A sharp pain thrust all over its chest, yet it was over in an instant. A black creature had pierced its back, pricking its hearth coldly but painlessly. The boy fell to the ground and joined the dead, the last thing he ever saw were the eyes of his brother, trembling with fear. Oh... I see.
How long had he been standing there? Lying on the arid ground. The sands burned, the fires screamed, and the smell was enough to make him vomit. But he didn't tremble, he didn't move. And whatever tears he had were dried long ago. Dried by the pain, dried by the heat.
Dried by the fear.
So the lone child just stood there. Even as his brothers fell, even as his sisters fell, he could do nothing as everything he loved was taken from him. The child tried his best to hide amongst the dead, ignoring the dying's pleas for help. No, he closed his eyes, his ears, and his heart.
Don't you detest it? This world? No... your powerless self?
More of his brothers and sisters were harvested. The child trembled.
If only you could save them. If only... you would take my bargain.
And something inside him died just the same.
The corpses shattered one after the other, then vanished to dust. But the massive arm did not give in. No, the compressed formation broke down and expanded. Instead of arms, a curtain of corpses was falling down on her slashes. This curtain turned into a cloud of shadow, dust and ancient bone. A curtain of death, a cloud of death... it spoke of death all the same.
As he said, a corpse is a corpse. Corpses were falling all over, and just as one fell in front of him he vanished.
"...End of the line." He said at the same time she said it as if they were thinking the same thing. From where would he strike?
A strike came from the left at blinding speed, braving the danger with its blade in hand. A crimson slash came alone to clash against her onslaught.
