Seven men faced me. Cognizant of the man still inside of the tent behind me, I ran to the left and put my back to one of the wooden walls. There were three guardsmen and four inquisitors. Those were the ones I needed to worry about the most. Judging from their equipment and armour, three of them were low ranking squires – while the one at the head had some serious experience behind him. His armour was ornate, inscribed, and shrouded with a collar made from an animal’s fur.

“How did you get here?” he demanded to know.

I laughed out of manic desperation, “I have someone on the inside.”

“Stop these foolish games at once and come quietly!”

I braced the weight of Stigma against my arm and prepared to do battle, “You really think I’m going to hand myself over now? If I’m going down, I’m going down fighting.” That was all the encouragement they needed. The guardsmen attacked first, even as the Inquisitor Captain called out for them to exercise caution. Normally they would heed his word as a member of the order – but on this occasion the chance to be seen as a hero overrode their common sense.

There was little coordination or training between them. They were already getting in each other’s way or tripping over feet as they tried to surround me. The first swung down from above with his short sword. Even if it had hit me, it was unlikely to do any real damage. It would hurt but otherwise do little but drain my absurd HP pool by a few points. I didn’t just stand there and take it though, I stepped to the side and struck out with my free hand, clattering him across the cheek and sending him sprawling into the dirt.

I didn’t slap him for humanitarian reasons, I just wanted to save my sword hand for the second guard who was trying to stab me in the gut. I trapped his outstretched arm beneath my own and wrestled the shiv out of his fingers. I punched him in the nose, forcing him to take a step back. Using the full power of my body, I swung around in a full circle and sliced the head clean from his shoulders. A bloody stump was all that remained as his head rolled across the ground and came to a dead stop in a muddy puddle.

His body stood for a moment, powered on by the remnants of the electrical signals coming from his now detached brain. His two friends and the inquisitors across from us watched in abject horror as it crumpled to the ground. Blood was everywhere, though the loud cackle that Stigma released into my ears made it clear that she enjoyed the sight very much.

There was a shared realisation between the remaining enemies. This wasn’t going to be easy. I wasn’t just some two-bit criminal with a nice sword, I was a two-bit criminal who had been using that nice sword for months. The weight, the momentum, the way it rested in my hands. I had slowly accumulated the knowledge needed to take such an unwieldy weapon and apply it to man-to-man combat.

The Captain’s face fell in despair as a man died right in front of him. “Move, let us handle this!” he roared again. But again, his words were pointless; the other two guards were too involved with the fight to back away now.

One let out a cry of terror and stormed at me. My body was held low, with Stigma’s blade pointing behind me. I charged in and checked him with my shoulder, knocking the wind out of his lungs and throwing him down to the ground again. I deftly stepped to the side and swung Stigma up into the air, bringing her back down and stabbing him through his chest.

Not one to let a good chance pass him by, the final guard tried his luck and sliced at my face with multiple swings from his knife. He was far too slow and overwrought with emotion to hit me. These men had never really been placed into serious danger. They hid behind authority and numbers – never being challenged, never being questioned. Death was staring him in the face, his entire body quivered as he finally ran out of steam and stopped like a deer in headlights.

He’d separated me from the impaled corpse of his friend, but I didn’t need Stigma to finish this.

As I started to chase him down, back towards the body, he dropped the knife in panic and turned to run at full speed. I reached out and grabbed the back of his tunic, pulling him off his feet and throwing him to the floor below me. I lifted my right leg into the air and threw it back down with as much force as I could manage. His face snapped to the left as the bottom of my boot caved his skull inwards.

The image was so gruesome that I had shocked myself. It resisted me. I pulled my foot free and watched as the body tried to come with. When gravity finally had its say, the full extent of the damage was plain to see. I’d broken his skull and turned his face into a bloodied mess. A silence settled over the camp as I stared at it, searing the memory into my brain. This absurd sight – this bag of blood and bones, used to be a living man just like me.

It wasn’t disgust I felt, but something else. Like the thrill of running away after a daring robbery.

“You’ve lost your mind!” the Captain hollered, “What senseless brutality has that sword unleashed?” The Inquisitors beside him were green in the face. The snapping of bone under foot had left an impression on them, as it had me. There was no regret in that moment. Just the excitement, the thrill of being able to stand up to them.

This was justice. Payback for every man, woman and child these people had put to death for no good reason. This was the ‘natural order’ being turned on its head and exposed for everything it was. This was the lesson that Stigma was trying to teach me. Even before I became bound to her – I was nothing more than a monster. We were nothing more than monsters. Unthinking and unfeeling, rats scattering into the clogged gutters.

Perception? I didn’t need to be seen as a hero, or even as a man. If it was a monster they were hunting for, then there was no reason for me to hold back. A monster I would be. A monster that would exist to shred the comfortable blanket of authority that warmed them through in bitter winds.

I laughed. I laughed long and hard.

They couldn’t even dare move to face me. Shock held them in place, it froze their nerves and bravery. I reached out and clenched the hilt between my fingers, holding it so tight that they turned white like bone. With a mighty heave and a gruesome sound, it was freed from the dead body. Whether the red veins that ran down its length were blood or magic, I didn’t know. I shook it free and turned back to face the Inquisitors.

“If you wish to slay a great beast, then I shall become one, all for you.”

“What?”

“Is that not what you all strive to do? To be remembered in the halls of glory for your service to the order? To kill a great demon that threatens the very nature of our civilization? I’m right here. This is your chance, I’ll play the part for you.”

He pointed his sword at me, “Our goal is to protect the good people of this Kingdom and beyond. Glory only comes through just deeds. Do not mistake people’s thankfulness for our selfishness. The time for talking is over. We shall be the ones to send you to the next life.”

The three squires moved in to surround me much like the guards had before. I had no illusions about them making such basic mistakes though. They were drilled from a young age to work as a team. They were going to try and surround me, isolate me, and pick me apart with safe attacks. In the face of such a defensive strategy, aggression was my only option.

I swivelled to face one of them and the man may well have shit himself. The confidence borne from years of non-stop sword training dribbled down his left leg when finally faced with the ‘enemy’ that had long been transformed into an unstoppable force of nature. Their warnings about the danger that cursed items posed had become a doubled-edged sword.

Still, even as I planted my feet and started to swing horizontally, he used his own blade to deflect the blow away from his stomach. Instinct kicked in. He riposted and tried to stab me through the chest, but my plate easily turned it into nothing more than a glancing blow. I pressed the attack and shoulder checked him too, though he was deft enough to back away without falling over.

A swarm of arms came from both sides as the other two tried to cut me down. I rolled under one of their slashes and kicked his knee out from under him. He stumbled over to his friend and away from me. This dance of swords wasn’t going to end quickly. All three of them had their wits about them and plenty of talent. The real question was why the Captain hadn’t stepped in just yet, what was he waiting for?

The squires fanned out to repeat the process – though I knew that they’d find just as much success with the same manner of attack as the previous round. My stat advantage wasn’t much good if the three of them worked together and used their skills to the maximum possible effect. I could hear more voices shouting out in the distance. Somebody had run and tattled on me while I was distracted. I needed to get out of there and fast.

“Please allow me Master, my magic can strike one of them down and give you a chance.”

“But how expensive is it?” I whispered back.

“Two weeks.” I calculated things up in my head. I had three fresh bodies to consume nearby; that would mean losing a week, but if I could kill the Inquisitors too – I’d break even.

“Fine, do it.”

Stigma’s magical veins roared to life with a sinister red light. The Inquisitors were paralyzed by a fresh bout of fear. What would that change in appearance portend? Only I knew the answer. I raised her up into the sky and stabbed her into the ground. I felt a rush of power surge through my body and into the sword. The ground beneath shook and then, a second later, a vicious red spike forged from pure energy shot outwards and impaled one of the squires through his stomach.

He spurted blood from his mouth and cried out in pain. His hands scrambled to try and close the open wound, or to force the spike back out from his body – yet there was no way he could fight against her dark magic. Regardless it disappeared under its own will, leaving a gaping wound through his right flank that almost allowed me to see clean through to the other side.

“What in the hells?” One of the remaining knights stammered, they both stared down at their stricken compatriot, having completely forgotten about the battle. I retrieved Stigma and charged at them, not wanting to miss my chance through relishing their reactions. The Captain was one step ahead of me. Before I could close in and kill the other two, he stepped in front of me and masterfully parried my next strike, kicking me back and away from the group.

“At least one of you knows how to scrap,” I taunted. Unlike the others, the Captain was skilled enough to outfight me without needing high stats, though it was probable that he had those in hand as well. The ones behind him backed away as he held up his left hand. They were going to give him some space.

“Foul magic and dirty tricks. I’ll be the one to end you.”

One of the men stepped forward in response, “But sir-“

“-No. He’s too strong for you. Get the injured away from here and tell Sir John what is happening.”

The men scrambled to fulfil his orders. They grabbed the bleeding squire by his arms and legs and hoisted him into the air. He stepped in my way to stop me from chasing after them. They hurried out of the front gate and ran down the street, attracting plenty of attention on the way. I didn’t like his chances of surviving. He was going to bleed out before they could stitch him back together again.

“How noble of you,” I joked. He didn’t find it half as amusing as I did.

“Spare your breath, heretic. There will be no mercy or quarter given to you.”

I chuckled deliriously, drunk off adrenaline and battle; “Sir John already tried to cut my head off – I know what the score is. You could even call it self-defence.”

He ground his teeth and put his best foot forward, “You’ll pay for what you’ve done!”

“Not likely.”

After all, nasty people had a habit of getting off the hook.