A grotesque creature approached Brod on all five legs as he took his first few steps into the dark. Its limbs were incredibly long and spindly, like those long-legged spider things that hid in the dark shadows beneath rocks and stone. Yet from up close, they bore resemblance to a long and inverted human’s foot.

So long were they in fact that the nearly human torso of the creature looked as if it was floating in the darkness, hanging by the legs bent backwards and above its head out of sight. It was at head height, or rather, would have been if it weren’t for two very important factors.

Number one: Brod was very large. Standing at six and a half feet tall, the weird man-spider thing had to crane its body back almost as far as it was able just to look Brod in the eyes.

Number two: Brod was standing right in front of it. The moment he had seen the long, bristly human leg pierce his bubble of awareness from above, he wasted no time and rushed towards where he thought it was connected to the main body.

If there was anything he wouldn’t let anybody say about him, it was that he knew fear.

However, in the short span of time it took him to get from here to there, he realized that he had somehow overestimated the latent energy of his body freshly back from the dead. The pain in his chest wasn’t going away, leading him to think that at least one rib was cracked or broken completely, yet what was the bigger problem was his stamina. He reached the creature in under five seconds, yet as he stood there his limbs were filled with sudden leadenness, pulling them to the ground.

The creature looked at him out of its discomforting mixture of a human skull and a spider’s face that took up most of its body. It let rip a high-pitched chitter-scream and Brod felt his vision go blurry for a moment. He stumbled one step backwards as he felt liquid run down his ears.

Death, death, death! The memory in his mind yelled.

He had to stop the creature, whatever it was doing. It had to die.

He threw his heavy body forwards with all his might and smashed into the man-spider. It stumbled backwards, giving way much too easily for Brod to be sure it was fully his own doing. He raised his hands, still chained together with an irritating set of rusted manacles and brought down the looted axe upon the creature’s skull-body.

Death, death, death!

He hit it a bit off centre and was then in turn smacked over the back of his head by a kick of the leg.

He fell forward, yet with the axe still embedded into the creature’s skull and him not letting go, it too was dragged to the floor. There, it squirmed and whined pathetically, its legs splayed out and quickly losing any strength left within them.

Brod got up, finding that simple action so much harder than he ever remembered it to be and looked down at what had hunted him, and he had hunted in return.

Death! Death! Death!

Monster.

He had no other words for it. Not in his memory nor in his imagination could he find anything that resembled this, this thing even a bit and the more he stared, the more he felt something was very, very wrong with it.

Some things should never have been born. Back to oblivion with you.

The creature burbled its last as he wrenched his weapon from its skull and let the liquid insides pour out on the muddy stone floor. He looked up to where he thought the mountain of the gods was and sent a prayer to Worga. He had won in the end and that was what truly mattered. And a monster’s head would not be buried, for it was not worthy to be judged by the gods themselves.

He took a deep breath and smelled a burnt spice he couldn’t place mixed with sweat and soil. He felt the stream of air enter through his nose, be pushed down his throat and into his lungs where it then split into many smaller streams that invigorated his muscles and lightened his bones.

He kept calm and breathed in and out, bathing in the feeling of having something within him be slowly but surely restored. That oddly intrusive good feeling was back again as well but he was smiling for a different reason. The familiar taste of victory over the horrors of the world was all he needed to be happy about. And it was a familiar taste.

“I dedicate this victory to you, goddess of war.” He thought to himself, before finding his prayer interrupted by an all too familiar froggy voice.

“See? I told you, hunting something big would make you really feel it. Do you believe me now, that you can eat the souls of those you slay?”

Brod looked down at the frog, sitting on a nearby rock again. It had chosen to hop off his shoulder the moment combat commenced, and while he would have liked to call it a coward, it had already confessed to its weakness, and cowardice was not just to be expected from the weak, but it was acceptable.

He looked back at the corpse and thought to himself how he would rate it. Brod was always looking for a challenge and in hindsight, he could evaluate the features of the creature with a calmer and more collected mind than in the haste of battle.

Long legs, very high stability as well as some odd sound that made him bleed out of his ears. So, was it a challenge, or was it a mere obstacle? It certainly didn’t deal with axes to the brain very well. And the rest of it would most likely have broken after one or two good swings, too.

Yes, he knew what rating he would give it.

It was a pissant. A mere bug. A trifle. And the frog was one as well.

Brod nodded at the frog, incapable and unwilling to share his thoughts. Some things just were and as he had learned, he now was someone who could take the souls of others, if just a part of them. The frog had done some explaining, but Brod had only listened to what sounded important to him. The gist of it had left him with a sour taste in his mouth but after trying it out for himself, he wasn’t exactly convinced that eating souls was such a bad thing.

After all, if the sun was gone, where else would they have to go but hell? Certainly, any soul would prefer to ride out the end of the world within his body. Though, and this he was uncertain of, did the souls of monsters make one more monstrous and humans make one more human?

He furrowed his brow, unable to solve this conundrum.

“Now, now, c’mon. You can see further now, can’t you?”

That at least was fact. Brod could see further, some seven or eight feet after the encounter with this creature. Oh, and he also had to count the person who attacked him earlier as well. That man he rated a pissant as well, though he proved that even a pissant could injure Brod under the right circumstances.

All the more reason to count their strengths and weaknesses after a battle.

Brod offered a hand to the frog, which it graciously accepted and bounced up on. It crawled over his tattered cloth and chainmail on to his shoulder, where he carried it between fights.

“But still… woah. Mother really was right about you ‘thalers after all.”

Brod brushed away a bit of dirt that had gotten on his shoulder and the frog settled in as Brod continued his journey forward.

“My thanks, ‘thaler. Though, I should call you by name, maybe. It would only be polite.”

Brod nodded. He wasn’t exactly bothered by being called a ‘thaler, though it was mostly down to that he didn’t know what it me­– oooh. ‘Thaler. Morgenthal… Brod totally knew that from the start, of course.

“Though I’m getting the idea that you don’t think too highly of me regardless of how I address you.”

Brod thought about it for a second, then nodded.

“Ah. I see. Ouch. Well, I haven’t given you much more than the basics of the basics. The beginner course, so to say. The entrée, if that tells you anything.”

It didn’t, but Brod nodded along as if it did anyways.

“To recapitulate: You were dead. But you aren’t anymore. You have come back for a second chance, if you will. You are still in the world you know, if you remember it at all that is. And, well, even if you knew how it used to be, you will be very unfamiliar with its current sorry state. The world has ended, Brod, and the end, as it turns out, was rather unhoppy. Everything clear so far?”

It was, at least to Brod. It was good that he was still alive, rather, alive again, and where he had initially thought that he might have gone to hell, to the sun-plate above or some weird crack in the afterlife between, he could rest easy knowing that it was nothing of the sort.

Brod nodded at the frog, who continued monologuing, much to his disinterest for most part.

“Now, you have a soul. Everyone does. Everything does. Yet yours is special. Where the soul of others is marred and dull, you alone have the ability to glow with splendor. A strong soul strengthens the body. And a strong body strengthens the soul. Yet what use is strength when you cannot see? Nothing, I tell you, nothing.”

Brod stopped walking as from behind a large gravestone, a shadowed figure walked into his circle of dim light. They looked like a warrior with long ratty black hair flowing out from a round helmet with a metal guard around the eyes. The warrior tensed up as they looked at the frame of Brod. Neither of them seemed to have expected each other and Brod carefully studied what he guessed was a female continental warrior’s movements as he tried to read what she intended to do next.

He laughed at her size compared to him, at the way she readied her round shield and pathetic spear, then got into a stance which only communicated to Brod all the more that she was not experienced at fighting in the least. The amount of chainmail and furs she was loaded up with made her seem like she’d buckle under their combined weight alone. She was neither a threat nor a challenge for Brod.

He paid the warrior no heed as he walked on past her.

A sudden jerk of motion caught his eye and before the female warrior knew it, she was clobbered along the side of her helmet with the back of Brod’s axe. Her spear poked him in the guts, but with his chainmail and the lackluster strength of the thrust, it didn’t do much at all even though she struck first.

With Brod’s long arms, he also didn’t really need to expose much of himself to launch a counterattack either. Reach was everything in warfare and he was somewhat surprised that such a short spear had reached him at all.

He switched his axe around to finish the woman off with the sharp side, because he couldn’t remember a single reason why she shouldn’t. He swung it down hard and heard wood splinter. The resistance of whatever he initially cut into give away much too quickly. His axe felt heavy, and he held it up to his face.

The axe-head was embedded beyond the head in a thick, double-layered, fine oak shield. A very good choice against anyone but a giant of Morgenthal equipped with anything more lethal than a butter knife. The figure of the woman quickly scrambled to her legs and ran off into the dark, clutching her face and disappearing through a front of rustling foliage and behind knee-high gravestones.

“Piss…ant.” He mumbled, putting a foot to the shield and prying it off of his axe.

If she’d at least stayed and died like a warrior, he would have buried her head so it could start its journey to be judged by the gods, as was right. And he would have also gotten a part of her soul as the spoils of his victory. Though, going by the meagre light around her, it was probably not worth it. Which brought up Brod’s first question to Froggy.

“Warrior. Light.” He said, his throat feeling crispy and rough.

“Yes, she indeed had light as well. Though as for why she struck you, I cannot say.”

“Special?” he pointed into the direction she had fled in. “Hah!”

“Yes, well… not everyone makes the right choices in their life. Not even my siblings, as it would seem.”

“Siblings?” Brod raised an eyebrow and pointed at himself. “Good. Choice?”

“Oh, absolutely. If you continue like this, you’ll have your bright light full and done within a day or two. And that’s when the real fun starts.” The frog gave him an eager smile, eyes glazed over in anticipation.

Brod avoided looking at it. In spite of everything else, the teeth still creeped him out a bit. But he wasn’t scared! Never! Just discomfited.

“I. Special. Eh?”

“What? Oh, well… I’d assume one doesn’t find your breed around these parts or even off your solitary island all that often. So yes, you are special.”

“Awww. Special. Froggy. Frie– cough.”

Brod felt his voice dissolve into a fit of bloody hacking again.

“That is… why did you…. ugh, regardless, we’ll find a way to heal your throat as well somewhere down the line. More soul will help in that regard. Once you’ve gotten your bright light, I will tell you more about how we will proceed from there. For now, just walk around and slay every monster and person without light in sight.”

Well. That was certainly something Brod knew how to do.

A body fell to the floor as Brod wrenched his axe from the man’s neck. The smell of fresh sweat and hot earth grew more pronounced as he inhaled a big breath before facing the rest of the group he had stumbled into.

“More. More!” Froggy egged him on as he sat upon his shoulder.

Brod himself was feeling not exactly bad either, though he put that down to the smell of the souls rather than the fight itself. If only it was more of a challenge. As it stood, it was a slaughter. But it was not his choice how to respond when they refused to surrender or back off.

Brod simply stared at the three remaining foes. There had been five but a few seconds ago, but Brod reacted quickly and cut off the head of the first one before they could attack him first. The second one underestimated his reach and without a shield, it was just a question of good aim and timing.

The three people slowly approached him, a sword, a dagger and two bludgeons held at the ready. Brod didn’t feel the need to be careful, they were lightless pissants the lot of them. Their slow movements, poor equipment and even poorer strength were not an issue, even while his hands were still bound by chains. He would only need to make sure he didn’t tire too quickly.

This was the third group of the day, though it was the largest, and Brod’s light was well along the eleven feet at this point in time, though it still shone with only a dim grainy fuzz.

It was not all that had changed, for with every enemy slain and every beast bested, he could feel his strength return to him. His skin went from dry to rubbery. His speed and agility comfortably increased in small leaps. His muscles didn’t expand, but rather regained their former strength bit by bit.

Even his voice was getting somewhat better, though the pain remained. And the hunger.

“Yes! Kill them! Kill those mindless dregs!”

Brod hadn’t found any of the monsters appetizing in the least, all some form of insect or horrifying mixture of that with human features. And he would never eat human flesh. He could wait, he was used to toughing out hunger. If only he could find some fish. Fish stew with long-leeks and carrots was a favorite.

Or was it Grug chops with fire-radish and a side of purple potato? Eh, he didn’t remember and didn’t have it in him to care at this particular moment in time.

Brod stepped forward and batted a wooden club to the side before swinging around and catching the wielder in the ribcage with a twohanded grip on his axe. A satisfying crack rang through the air, and they too fell limp to the floor, becoming Brod’s strength.

As he inhaled a breath of air, a tinge of a memory raced from his heart to his mind and for a moment that lasted forever, he was struck by a paralyzing nostalgia.

A human girl in light dueling attire was holding a hand over her eye. It bled red and mixed with the fiery hair possessed by most of her kin, clotting, ugly. With it, first blood was drawn.

“Y-you cannot do this.” Said an older brother, also carrying a wound on his bandaged and splinted arm. “The duel was most unjust. Our family demands a rematch to right the wrongs.”

I cocked an eyebrow. Unjust was only that I wasn’t allowed a word of defense before the challenge had been issued. Again. I would offer to pay a healer for the girl’s eye, as I had done before for the brother, but I knew that while they would accept, that was not what this was about.

“Another rematch?” I asked slowly, drawing out every syllable so that maybe the fools would finally understand how bad of an idea it was.

This was the third of their kin that they sent to duel me. Me, a giant of Morgenthal, a great warrior from a land where even I was not considered special in regard to martial might. It was a fool’s errand, for a continental human to attempt a duel one on one. And for what slight?

Yes, I had lain with their sister. I didn’t deny that I was the one to make the first approach, but she had been very receptive, the way she ogled my body, laughed so genuinely and lapped at every insignificant story I could recount. The way it went felt natural to me and I certainly welcomed her tender advances more than the rough way the daughters of Morgenthal’s matrons tended to go about it. It was a pleasant night.

But contrary to how it went at home, I had to supposedly gain the consent of every relative and their dog in ten miles here for what should have been a bout of innocent fun on my travels through. I didn’t understand this land’s customs and I had been in many lands before. And while I admitted my ignorance, I couldn’t help but get the impression that this lot was being persistent to an unreasonable degree.

“Another match. We will have our way.” The brother said, already motioning his wounded sister (or cousin, I didn’t ask) away to get treatment as soon as possible.

The eye was lost either way and it all came down to whether they could prevent an infection or not. All I gained from these bouts was the distinct will to go into celibacy for the rest of journey through this backwards empire, if this was what not doing so would entail.

As it stood, I was left to wonder whether they would get the message after a cut leg, a broken arm and now a missing eye on the first, second and third sibling respectively that had challenged me where all could see. I didn’t tell them that I was breaking my own land’s customs by accepting a duel to first blood or surrender instead of death. They on the other hand were no doubt exploiting the commonly known fact that those of Morgenthal could not back down from a challenge once declared.

They just didn’t understand how serious of a matter a duel was supposed to be. When something couldn’t be solved through any other means besides violence, then it was a duel, and to the death, that would declare justice served with an ironclad finality. This “first blood” bullshit just made every insignificant heated discussion turn into full on brawls between family clans.

Duels are not child’s play.

I tended to avoid getting involved in disputes between the continental folk, both because there was no challenge in beating up continentals and because it kept me from my original purpose in this land. I was hunting monsters, as all of Morgenthal did. I was on a hunter’s pilgrimage of sorts and these inane smallfolk, with their constant infighting and their stupid posturing had already wasted enough of my time.

I wasn’t expecting them to understand, nor that they should be grateful to me for only maiming them. I did expect a modicum of respect, of them to talk it out before throwing insults and threats of duels and damnation at my face the instant it came into their sights. As it were, I only saw foolish pups barking up the wrong tree, throwing around big words without a care for consequence not only to themselves but their own family as well.

“I have told you thrice before how that will end. You can see how that turned out for yourself.” I said.

The girl gave me a hateful, one-eyed stare.

“You won’t get away with what you did to Anna. She would… she would never lie with such a, a… a beast like you.”

My eyebrow remained cocked.

“And where is she, who I have so grievously wronged by sharing a night of comfort? Has she no say in which brother or sister you send to be maimed next? In her name?”

“Savage.” Said the brother. “She hides in her room and will not leave the estate for the wounds you have scored upon her. You have wounded our dignity, her heart is bruised and sore, she, she…”

That at least I knew was a lie. I had been careful. I had tried to tell her goodbye the day before but was politely told to leave the estate by an old servant. He let slip that the lady was under house arrest, and it was quite obviously not of her own will.

If there was one thing I could not stand, it was being lied to. And if I was bad at anything, it was not showing when I couldn’t stand something.

I chuckled and looked the brother straight in the eye. “I think her heart is not the only part of her that is sore.”

Rage predictably crept onto the young man’s face. “You vulgar fiend! I am Julius D’Orvillis, I shall–“

I interrupted him rather abruptly.

“Spare me your titles, welp. You shall do nothing. And control your malice. You and your kin have challenged me to three duels in two days and while I commend your bravery in doing so, the time to settle things my way has come. And you stand thrice defeated.”

“W–we, we will not settle for anything less than–“

“I don’t care what you want. And I won’t hold your defeat against you. Regardless, I am coming to your estate and handling things with your matron personally. Or patron, it matters little. This will not go on.”

“Hah.” Said the girl. “And what do you expect to gain from it? Mother won’t stop until our family name is washed clean, and we won’t stop until justice for Anna is had.”

“And for whom is this justice that you speak of really? Have you even talked to your sister, have you even seen her between then and now? Is she even wounded at all?”

“I–“

“I assure you, her opinion on this matter would be VERY enlightening.”

I was surprised that the girl could still speak somewhat clearly with the pain of a slashed eyeball. These people, even little and weak as they were, had a vitality that I could only commend. Yet they had to face reality and in reality, no one was born equal. Being headstrong and foolish only got you so far in life until you smashed your face into a rock.

I walked up to the both of them and stood tall while staring them in the eye.

“I am Brod of Morgenthal, son of Ranya. Your family affairs are your own yet know this: I will extend my stay until tomorrow and if by then this issue is not resolved, it will never be, for I will simply leave.”

“H–hah. The giant’s a cowa–”

I took one step closer and looked them both in the eye. “And if somehow, you still haven’t understood the grace I am giving you in stepping away, then by all means, challenge me a fourth time. You will see what it means to truly duel one of Morgenthal. Because your first blood will be the last drop you ever bleed.”

And suddenly, he was back in reality, in that dark, dark place and he knew only rage because of course they didn’t listen. No one ever did. He knew that they only nodded and ran off at that moment, but they never really bothered to follow his advice. Even after he stepped away from it all. Even then, they stabbed him in the back. And though he didn’t remember if they had done so with a literal dagger or in some other underhanded way, he knew that he was not the only one wronged.

A club hit him in the hip, and he swung around with an instance of such might that even though he hit with the blunt backside of the axe, it splattered the other man’s brain across a nearby gravestone with a wet Pop!

Brod was absolutely furious.

Shame. Was this what he was supposed to be ashamed of? Him? SHAME? WHO WERE THEY TO PROUDLY DECLARE FALSEHOODS AND LIE TO HIS FACE? WHO WERE THEY, TO HIDE BEHIND FALSE HONOR AND BLAME HIM FOR EVERY CONSEQUENCE OF THEIR OWN ARROGANCE AND INABILITY TO CONTROL THEMSELVES? WHO WERE THEY, TO DENY–

A sharp feeling of pain in his leg brought his attention back to the here and now again. The dagger of the last remaining assailant scored a hit on his thigh and while it was protected by mail, the tip had bitten through and drawn blood. Brod was still angrier at other things as he backhanded the last remaining foe onto the ground and stomped on their neck, crushing it.

The sudden rush of soul and joy mixed with the boiling rage within. The fight was over, yet Brod still really wanted to hit something to vent his frustration. He was breathing heavily but after a moment, he suddenly realized exactly how his mind and body had become unhinged. How that was not supposed to be. Never. It was dangerous.

Where was this anger, this rage coming from?

Calmly, he breathed in and out and waited for the turmoil in his heart to slowly subside.

Control.

That was the foremost precept of those of Morgenthal. Without control, there was only destruction of everything around, and followed soon thereafter by the self as well. And the giants could work much destruction. It was their blessing and their curse.

Therefore, he had to be calm before he attempted anything else. Even if it felt wrong to not be angry and simply let it go, even if the world felt unjust and cold, even if his body was telling him to tear into the next foe and rip them limb from limb, he had to be the master of his body and mind.

Like all those of Morgenthal, he had to drown out the curse in an ocean of calmness. Never let the emotions come up. Keep them under the skin, under the muscles and fat, lock them within the bones until they could move him no longer.

He breathed in through his nose, then out through his mouth.

In–Out. In–Out. In. Out. In…

“…od? Brod?” asked his froggy friend.

“Mmh.” He said, not able to will himself to a more elaborate answer, even as the soul slickened the words in his wounded throat.

“Are you ok?”

“Mmh.”

“Well. That. Was. Awesome! You were amazing Brod, so much carnage, so much slaughter, so much soul.”

It wasn’t amazing. It was something he was naturally good at, something he was literally born to do, like all those of Morgenthal were. He was trained and hardened like steel. He had lived the life of a warrior and a mercenary, hunting all the beasts of the world in the hopes that one day, he would be recognized by peers and gods alike.

That was all there was to it, all there had ever been, and all there ever would be.

“Now, look at how far you can see. I’d wager about thirteen long hops. Or thirteen feet, though not you-sized ones. You’re almost there, Brod. I can smell it. You are almost shining brightly already.”

The frog seemed outright giddy with anticipation. Things would truly start from there if his companion was to be believed. What exactly would begin, he didn’t know, but he knew one thing for certain: The soul was helping him remember and even as he drowned the rage and indignation with the careful ritual of breathing, he knew that he couldn’t snuff it out fully until he found out what happened afterwards. Like reading a book of adventure and heroics, yet finding that once the final confrontation was nigh, the rest of the pages had rotted or were torn away.

Though, if he was completely honest, he was worried a bit. That when he found out what happened, and it didn’t give him the closure he desired it would only fan the flames anew. And while he didn’t directly know why, Brod knew that his body remembered how dangerous a true giant of Morgenthal was when inflamed with an unstoppable fury. A giant without control was just a monster.

“So. Where to next? Don’t tell me you’re feeling tired already.” Said his froggy friend.

Brod chuckled. One direction was as good as any other to him. He didn’t care, it wouldn’t change what he was going to do. He needed more soul. To see what lay ahead. And to remember the past he had tread.