WARRIOR’S SOUL

A small, ravaged village stood at the edge of a burnt forest. Stench of death and blood pervaded even through thick rain which kept falling for days without stopping. Strung along the edges of the muddied road were heaps of corpses, some fresh while some already rotting. What few living remained were on the brink of dying, their bodies shriveled up, clothes tattered and ripped.

In front of a small, roofless wooden cabin sat a boy no older than ten. At the moment, his eyes appeared vacant as he stared at the corpse of a woman in his arms. Heavy rain fell over his hunched and small back, droplets flickering like stars. A faint sound of footsteps caused his ears to twitch. The boy raised his head and looked sideways; walking through the street was a heavily-armored man carrying a gigantic claymore at his back. His face scarred, muscles bulged even underneath iron cast, he turned toward the boy, their eyes meeting.

The boy gently put down the woman in his hands, taking off his wet shirt and covering her head with it before standing up, nearly falling over in the process. He slowly headed toward the tall man, stopping only when he was nearly at his feet. The boy looked up, his eyes still vacant, as he suddenly fell onto his knees.

“D-do you want my body, mister?” he mumbled weakly, as though he barely had any strength to speak. “Just a loaf of bread is enough.”

“Huh? Why’d I want a body of some brat?” the man’s voice was deep and coarse, causing the boy to shiver.

“Then… d-do you know anyone who would want it?” the boy asked persistently.

“… aah,” the man sighed, crouching down and pulling the boy onto his feet, his eyes full of pity. “You’re a man, are you not?” he grumbled. “How can you surrender yourself so easily?”

“…” however, the boy remained silent, bleakly staring at the man’s eyes.

“… is that your mom over there?” he asked.

“Hm.” the boy nodded.

“Do you need help burying her?”

“Hm.”

“Let’s go then.”

The man picked up the boy and threw him onto his shoulders, walking over to the woman’s corpse. Picking it up with care, the man sighed, shaking his head lightly, as he carried her outside the village to a nearby field. Putting the woman and the boy down, he drew out his long sword and swung a few times, causing a perfect grave to appear within a second.

“Help me.” he said to the boy as he picked the woman up by her legs, while using Magic to keep her steady only giving the boy a pretense. He walked back and slowly entered the two-meter long ditch and, with boy’s ‘help’, gently lain down the woman. Before leaving the grave, he used water Magic to wash her anew, taking off the boy’s shirt from her face. When he laid his eyes onto her, even he couldn’t help but grimace; her face was filled with holes and creases, flesh already rotted away, one of the eyes dug out of its socket, jaw split open.

Sighing, he shook his head yet again and leapt out as the boy used his tiny, fragile hands to slowly throw earth into the ditch. Standing at the side and watching, the man couldn’t help but feel his heart tighten. No matter how many times he’d see a scene similar to this, he found it hard to hold back from screaming.

“… let me help.” instead of using his sword or Magic, the man used his bare hands as well to throw earth down. Bit by bit, almost two hours passed before the grave was filled and the woman buried. Looking at the small, inconspicuous mound, the man wondered just how many exactly like this one existed in the world. Nameless graves, standing in the middle of nowhere, remembered by no one. “Are you hungry?” the man asked the boy.

“Hm.” the latter nodded.

“Here,” the man took out a small loaf of bread from even smaller pouch hanging on his waist. “Show me your hands first.” the boy obediently followed orders; using Magic and his own hands, the man washed boy’s before giving him the bread. The boy ate slowly, as though afraid that would be the last meal he’d ever have. “Do you have a name?”

“…” the boy shook his head, taking a small and slow bite.

“…” the man gently patted the boy, forcing a smile out. “Do you want me to give you one?” the boy looked at the man curiously, as though he didn’t understand the question. “However, if you accept my name, it means you’re agreeing to follow me until the day you die and call me Master. Are you willing?”

“… w-will you give me food?” the boy asked innocently.

“… I-I will… I will give you food,” the man said, his voice cracking. “Ah, let’s see… how about Narey? No, you don’t look like Narey. Teyoh? Xanor? Ah, I got it!” the man exclaimed. “I’ll name you Stork.” he said, smiling.

“… Stork?” the boy mumbled.

“Hm, Stork. Do you know what it means?”

“…” the boy shook his head.

“In Old Dragonic, Stork means strong,” the man said. “Someone who never gives up… never backs down from the fight, no matter the odds. When you grow up, I want you to live up to that name and not disappoint me, got it?”

“Hm.” the boy nodded innocently.

“Good… good…” the man said. “Eat now, and then rest. We’ll leave once you’ve slept enough… Stork…”

* * *

Just as Stork smiled widely and prepared to head straight toward Lynne, the latter flew into the sky, Dragon’s wings causing maelstrom to appear. No matter how much he tried to push forward, he was pushed back instead, gritting his teeth.

“Dammit, I wanna fight you bastard!! Get down here!!” Stork shouted as he grasped his sword and drew it out. “Come down if you dare!!” however, there was no reply.

“Ignore him!!” Grath exclaimed angrily. “Proceed with the plan!! Stork, Ruela, attack the Dragon and keep him busy! Hylana, support them with all you’ve got!! Sorth, observe and act!! Buy me enough time to set up the Spacial Lock!!”

“… fine!!” Stork agreed begrudgingly, putting the matter of Lynne at the back of his mind as he turned his gaze down, brandishing the handle of his sword tightly. Two suns stared back at him indifferently and coldly, as though he didn’t matter.

“Resume the battle, fools!!” Grath shouted at the still bewildered men and women hovering aimlessly in the air.

As though brought back to life, everyone immediately drew their weapons back out and resumed the attack on the other side. Grath, meanwhile, circled the Dragon widely as he began calculating the positions for Spacial Lock, not leaving anything to chance. Stork, alongside Ruela, burst out with enormous gulf of Mana as they dove down toward the world of darkness encompassing the vast ground.

Ryuuk merely observed the proceedings at the moment, half-admiring Lynne and half-laughing at him. When he spotted two dots descending toward him, he snickered as he donned the endless shadows which made up his body. Like sword-shaped hands, shadows broke off into the sky, moving directly toward the two dots at speeds far surpassing what an eye can see.

Seeing the approaching shadows Stork and Ruela didn’t have time to think; former swung his sword in a crescent arc, causing its song to bloom into the sky as a gigantic arc of golden light burst forth from blade’s edge. Ruela, on the other hand, wrapped herself in Mana as she crossed her two shortswords in front of her chest, welcoming the shadow directly.

As the dozen or so sword-shaped shadows clashed with golden light of Stork’s sword, they caused a massive explosion midair, rousing winds from their sleep. Shadows immediately tightened around the light, as though devouring it at its weakest spots. Seeing this, Stork swung once again and, as a reply, Ryuuk sent forth another dozen shadows, finally moving his body afterwards.

Taking a direct hit, Ruela, although uninjured, was blown backwards into the sky, rolling through the air. Gritting her teeth, she forcibly stopped herself, coughing up a mouthful of blood and diving back down without any hesitation. When Ryuuk moved his gigantic body, he caused a massive earthquake to erupt, spreading wanton destruction further away in an enormous circle.

Shadows mingled with one another, creating obtrusive darkness which swallowed all light in its vicinity. Two suns burst forth with beams of dark energy, aimed at Stork and Ruela, while his body screeched, birthing thousands of hand-shaped shadows moving toward the sky above the two.

“Crap!!” Stork exclaimed. “This ain’t no time to be holding back!!”

Taking a deep breath, as though dam inside of him opened up, Mana erupted enmasse from his Soul outside his body. Although appearing aimless, a mere moment later it began taking shape; hundreds and then thousands of greatswords flickered in the sky above him. Like lightning bolts they crashed toward the shadowed hands, blocking their advance. Meanwhile, he pushed forth, swinging his greatsword madly as he cut through the beam of darkness.

Ruela appeared just behind him, spinning sideways as she threw her two shortswords, infusing them with Mana. Halfway to the great beam of darkness aimed at her, two shortswords turned into two coiling serpents adorned in crimson lightning. When the clash occurred, the beam was immediately split open as the two serpents coiled around its remnants, devouring them.

Seeing this, Ryuuk snorted as his edgeless body moved backwards and took to air, continuously shooting forth variously shaped objects made from shadows. At the moment, he was still relatively weak, not even at the level of a Divine Magus. He knew he stood no chance at direct battle, so he was forced into a guerrilla one.

“GODDAMMIT YOU SHITTY BEAST!!” Stork roared into the sky, infusing himself with Mana and propelling his body forth in chase, leaving behind streams of smoke and light as his trail. “If you’re a man, stand still and fight me!! Head on!!” however, Ryuuk ignored him. Just as Stork was about to catch up, two massive pillars of darkness erupted from beneath and trashed against his chest, stopping him in his tracks at first before blowing him backwards like a ragdoll. He spat out a mouthful of black, boiling blood while being flung, feeling his chest cave in and his Soul being invaded by dark Mana.

“Don’t be careless!!” Ruela caught him and stabilized his body, forcing some of her Mana into his Soul to battle the dark energy. “We just need to buy some time!! Hylana, what are you doing?!! Help us?!!”

“Can’t you see I’m fucking tied up?!!” a panicked voice responded; glancing sideways, Ruela spotted tattered Hylana, currently in retreat, being chased by someone. “She’s at least an Emperor, probably a God! Even Sorth is tied up at the moment!! You have to handle the Dragon on your own, sorry!!”

“Easier sai--”

“We will!!” Stork interrupted Ruela with a roar, wiping the corner of his mouth. “I’ll kill that slipper bastard myself!! Switch to supporting role Ruela!! Let me know if he’s planning to sneak attack again!”

“Stork…”

“Just do it!!”

“Fine…”

As one battle after another was being led across great distances, Lynne finally met his own opponent. He appeared to be a short, elderly man wearing plain, gray robe. His eyes were half-closed, beard inching toward his chest and skin wrinkled up. Yet, despite ordinary appearance, Lynne felt immense pressure dawn upon him, and that was with the protection from the Dragon. Forcing a smile in the sea of despair, he suppressed the fear being born inside his heart and straightened his back.

“Well, Ely--”

“Don’t call me that.” the Dragon said.

“--looks like they didn’t hold back on our welcome. It will get ugly.”

“It will.”

“Well, better make it uglier then.” Lynne snickered, extending his arm sideways whereupon a brilliant, crying scythe appeared in his hand. “Here’s to not dying… I hope.”