There wasn’t a single day where I didn’t see blood, where I didn’t see death. I butchered my way through the kingdom, relentlessly killing anyone that I deemed unworthy of living.

Under my watch no women or children were to be harmed. The elderly were to be treated well, and anyone that remotely disobeyed me was slaughtered.

There was a single soldier that tried to disobey me once. He ran off in the middle of the night, while I had been stuck doing paperwork. I followed him, just out of caution and I found him trying to force down one of the female prisoners. I caught him, and left him in a cell until the next day where I gathered the troops for a demonstration. I left lacerations all over his body and poured salt into his wounds. And for an hour, I let my familiar poke his eyes out and let him bathe in the sun for days. And after that, no one in that province dared to question my decisions.

Even with all of this, Nobunaga didn’t doubt me for a second.

“I trust you’re doing this for the right reasons,” he always told me with a smile. It reassured me that even if nobody believed in me, that he would. Even if the whole world turned against me, he still had faith in me.

Ivan, Lucy and Eileen were the same. They had their own tasks and managed different parts of the army. While I was the lonely vanguard, Ivan was in charge of the main force, Lucy controlled the backline mages and Eileen stood with the assassins. We met often, and I often saw them at work.

Ivan was simply a relentless warrior. He was brutally strong, far stronger than me in terms of brute force. No matter what, he would have my back because he didn’t like to think, like the rest of us did. I enjoyed his simplistic nature.

“Yo, you need to smile a bit,” he would approach me often, on our rare days off. “Come with me.” He would proceed to take me with him to his favorite brothels, where most of the workers would recognize him on sight. He didn’t try to hide the fact that he enjoyed the company or harlots.

“I’m a simple man,” he would laugh while passing me a drink. “Don’t let me do any thinking, or else you’re going to end up with a sword in your rear,” he jested.

“Don’t worry, that’s my job,” I often peered outside, looking at people passing by, even though I was surrounded by beautiful women. I would look at them, but never be able to touch them. It just felt wrong. While he took them back to his rooms, I paid them and apologized, excusing myself by saying that I had work to do. Then the next day he would hear of this and come straight to me, complaining that I had to have fun like him.

Lucy, on the other hand, often spent weeks holed up in her room. Sometimes I took a tray of food to her room, and I would have to quitely force the door open. Turns out she was just mentally drained from working on her spells, and any sounds in the real world would just enter one ear and leave from the other.

However she often asked me to help her manage the mages and sorceresses that served under her.

“You need practice,” she would use as an excuse for me to practice magic with the other mages. Of course, that was when I was still inexperienced. And after I had become more powerful than most of the mages, she insisted that I should help them get some practice.

She would stick out her tongue and make a funny face when she was in a good mood. Otherwise, she was eating and completely sulking, ignoring everything in her path.

Eileen often appeared and disappeared at her own whims. The soldiers barely saw her, so there wasn’t much circulating about her. But when she did show up she would just silently hang about, doing her own thing as I went on with business. Sometimes she tried to make small talk, however our conversations died out real fast. We silently agreed that it’d be best if we stuck to being as we usually are - bad conversationalists. And for the most part that worked. If she needed me for something she’d ask for me. If I needed something from her I’d do the same. It was a simple, effective relationship. Nothing more, nothing less.

And with us the Four Riders of the South assembled. The four guards of the king, the four mighty horsemen. Protector of the one true king, Nobunaga.

Compared to us, Nobunaga wasn’t exceptional. However there was one thing that I had picked up from conversations. His magic was different from most people’s, his powers weren’t for combat purposes. However I was left in the dark on this matter. I had no interest in knowing, and I wasn’t curious. I was there for one thing and one thing only.

The bards sang tales of us. How Ivan the Invincible entered the battle with a roar, ending the lives of many just through his battle cry. How Lucy the Lucent blazed the battlefields with the power of a thousand suns, leaving her enemies as dust and ash. Eileen the Silent without notice reaped the enemies from behind, becoming one with the shadows, whispering words of despair into her enemies’ ears before their inevitable death. And then there was me. Magnus the Malicious. The sole vanguard that served under Nobunaga, the army with a single man. They say that even if he were to be pierced with a hundred spears, that he would walk. For the doors of death were open to him, and he was free to trespass between the living and the dead.

The stories of us grew wild and out of proportion, it wasn’t just my own. There were stories that Lucy traded her soul with the devil, and that's why her sorcery was so potent. Some believed that Ivan was a beast that stole the power of enemies that he slaid, which was why he was so powerful. Some even believed that Eileen didn’t exist. After all, most had never seen her, so some believed that she was nothing but a lie created to make the enemies of Nobunaga have another person to fear.

But there was one thing that the stories were right about. We were the strongest humans in Visereal, gifted with powers that only came once every thousand years. And somehow Nobunaga had brought us all together, through his own means. Just like he said, it was almost as if the gods put us in his way, all in order to fuel his rebellion, all so that he would become king.

Days began to feel like seconds. Weeks like minutes. Months like hours. Years like days. The bodies piled up, but I never looked back.

Strangely enough, Delilah was the one to look after me through this part of life. She always checked up on me, asking how I was doing.

“You need to take care of yourself,” she reminded me, pouring me a cup of wine. “You’re one of the leaders of Nobunaga’s army, you’re an important figurehead. You need to lead by example.”

“I’m not interested in spending the whole day whoring. Ivan’s got that covered,” I sharpened my blade on the grindstone in the room. I always covered in black matter before it was used, but I kept it sharp. Just in case.

“There’s a lot of other things you can do to inspire them,” she argued.

“Like what?” I sheathed the broken blade, keeping it secure on my waist.

“Smile a bit. At least act like you’re human.”

“The only reason they’re listening to me,” I began. “Is because they think I’m not.”

Delilah became silent. She knew that I was right.

Ivan inspired war, but he indulged in his carnal desires too much. Lucy taught sorcerers and sorceresses but her attitude didn’t inspire anyone to strive for greatness. Eileen did what was required and what was commanded of her but people barely knew of her existence. What kept everyone in check was my presence. The existence of someone to be feared, someone that threatened disaster towards his own.

“You know,” she changed the topic. “Ever since I’ve met you, Three years ago, I’ve never seen you smile.”

“I wasn’t asked to join you guys so that you could see me smile.”

“Really, Magnus. Sometimes I wonder what keeps driving you forward, through all of these years.”

“Does it matter?”

“You’re not even… happy about the work you’ve done.”

“Must I?”

“If not, then why do it?”

“To make the world a better place.”

“And shouldn’t that make you feel better?”

“I’ve killed tens of thousands of people,” I whispered. “I’ve seen more blood in these few years than most people will see across several lifetimes.”

“It’s different.”

“No, it isn’t. Just like how cities are built on the blood and sweat of slaves, the peace I’m seeking is built on the blood of the people.”

The conversation died out. There was nothing more to be said on the subject.

“You know,” Delilah began. “You have such a grim outlook on life.”

I remained silent.

She continued speaking. “You’ve changed ever since we met all those years ago.”

“People don’t change,” For someone so important she surely had time to dote on me.

“I wonder,” was all she said. “And finally… we have work to do,” she gave me a stern look.

“Beastmen?” I asked.

“Yes.”

“When?”

* * *

Night came and I made my move. Sometimes Delilah needed me to run errands for her. These errands ranged from killing certain individuals to smaller, less meaningful work like delivering messages for her. Sometimes I was asked to hunt down a monster that had come out of a rift, a side effect of too much mana being drained out of an environment. She certainly trusted me enough to hand me these tasks.

The task tonight was somewhat different. One of the things that I saw during the war was the way that non-humans were being treated down in the South. I made my way to the building that Delilah marked down for me. It was a small church, probably as a cover for more illegal activities. And atop the stone gargoyles that decorated the corners of the church were two thin, tall figures.

Delilah’s assassins, Aurum and Argentum greeted me as I arrived at the door. There was no need for words, they opened the door and I made my way in. There were several people on the ground floor, and I didn’t pay much attention to them. One of them tried to get in front of me, only for Aurum to drag him between the long rows of chairs. The others tried to get in my way, but I simply shoved them to the side, forcefully making my way down the church. Obviously, there was a heavy lock on the door to the basement. It was made of enchanted metal, probably very expensive.

“That’s not going to stop you, is it?”

“No, it usually doesn’t,” I pressed my hand against the heavy door.

One of the things that I learned was that normal enchants and incantations had lesser effects on me. However at the same time, certain magic had a greater impact on me as well. I found out that holy magic would completely halt my regeneration. I kept it hidden from everyone, but I wouldn’t have been surprised if Delilah knew already.

The hinges of the door fell apart as heavy black tentacles lashed at the edges, shattering the enchanted metal into worthless shards. The door fell flat into the room, and I finally sensed people down here now. The walls were covered in scribbles and words, probably even more protection to ensure nobody could sense anything down here.

In the room were dozens and dozens of beast-women and children. They all backed off as I approached, but one of them had come behind me. I heard soft steps as someone stabbed the back of my shoulder, right below my neck. Most other people would have fallen and died. But I had been stabbed there so many times it was nothing but a scratch now. I turned around, and the young beast-girl fell to the ground, shocked that I hadn’t fallen yet. I reached for the back of my neck, slowly pulling out the knife and dropped it onto the floor.

“These people keep thinking they can kill you. It’s amusing.”

There was only one way for me to die, at least according to Asura. If my head were to be served from my body and my heart were to be torn out of my chest, only when both of them were disconnected would I truly die a human death. I asked him what the source of this regeneration and half-immortality came from, but he always refused to answer.

The girl on the ground tried to scramble away, leaving behind a trail of blood. She was injured, and bleeding. I knelt down slowly, raising my hands to show that I was unarmed.

“Who’re you?” she shouted.

“I’m here to help,” I answered calmly. “You’re bleeding.”

She continued to go backwards, crawling away from me. Eventually she bumped into Deliah, who was standing directly behind her. The beast girl turned around, waving her arms about like crazy.

Delilah grabbed her arms gently, and tried to calm her down. I looked around, looking for anyone else with severe injuries. Most of them were injured, but only slightly. When I approached, they were wary but they sniffed the air.

“You smell like… one of us,” one of them said in surprise. “But you aren’t. You’re different.”

I had gotten that before. It was another quirk of Asura’s gifts. To them, I smelled like a familiar scent, but nothing that they could put their fingers on. I went down, hands in the air to show that I was unarmed. They were surprisingly mostly unharmed.

“Where’re all the males?” I asked.

“They died protecting us,” one of them answered.

If they weren’t mained then they weren’t going to be put to work in fields or mines. So that only left them to be sent to brothels.

“We’re going to get you out of here,” I assured them. “Out of this country.”

“But… we don’t have anywhere to go,” the same person complained.

“You’ll have to look for a place to start on your own. The war hasn’t ended yet. I wish I could do more for you, but this is it.”

They understood, and nodded in agreement. Most of the non-humans I had interacted with before were understanding, which is more than I could say for most humans. Whenever I helped my own kind, they tried to get as much as possible, even if someone else had to suffer.

I went back on, and on the way Delilah had the girl in her arms, giving her a potion.

“I’m going back up to interrogate the captors,” I told her as I went past.

“Keep three of them alive. We need to send a message,” she shouted from behind. I understood what she meant exactly.

Back upstairs, Aurum and Argentum had rounded everyone inside up. There were only five of them, which was a small number for a seemingly coordinated crime. They had been gagged and tied up. . More importantly since there were only five of them I could only kill two of them.

I approached, Aurum and Argentum giving me the space I needed.

I dragged him across the hallway, outside of hearing distance from the others. As I tore off the gag, he had a panicked look on his face, but he smiled immediately.

“If you let me go, I’ll tell you everything,” he was a snitch.

“Tell me more,” I motioned for him to continue. And so, he spilled the beans. I asked him several questions pertaining to the crime at hand, particularly on where else this was happening and how else the beast-people could be tracked. He was willing to tell me everything, sparing no details.

“So, you’ll let me go?” he smiled after he was done.

“Hm?” I looked up.

“I gave you everything. There’s nothing else I can tell you! You said you would let me go!” the panicked look returned to his face.

“I said no such thing,” I sighed. Before he could utter another word, I drew my sword. I had gotten a new one, designed specifically for me. It was light, not too long but more importantly the grip felt perfect for my somewhat small hands. It was made by a Viserian blacksmith, half silver, half steel. Two blades fused by another alley in the middle, one edge for monsters, and one edge for humans. I coated it in black matter, and plunged it right into the snitch’s stomach. Then again. Then again.

So many times that I lost count. All the meanwhile, his screams began to echo across the church. I wasn’t afraid to spill blood on sacred ground. If god didn’t interfere, then he gave his consent for it to happen. If you want something to happen, you should do it yourself. Even across the hall I could see the discomfort on the others’ faces. And so I let the one in front of me keep screaming, until he died from the shock. It lasted for what felt like ages.

I slowly returned to the other four, intentionally stepping in a way that they could hear my footsteps. I took another one of them, dragging him across the hallway the same as the other. I tore off his gag, this one didn’t panic like his peer had. He took a look around, and saw what I had done to his friend.

Then he turned to me, looking straight at me.

“This one refused to tell me anything,” I lied. “Whatever comes out of your mouth next will decide what I do with you.” I sat down in front of him. “Speak.”

“I’ll tell you everything, if you grant me a quick death,” he pleaded. This one at least had some intelligence. Enough to know that I wouldn’t let him go. Better to ask for a quick death than to live through hours of pain.

“Wise man,” I commented.

And so this one told me everything as well. Everything he said was identical to what the snitch had said. Good, that made sure that the information was accurate. It helped that this one was more scared of me than interested in getting away. He was adding even more details and slightly more information than the snitch had. After re-affirming everything I already knew, I lobbed his head off with one clean stroke. A quick, clean death, just as he desired.

Now only three remained. I walked towards them, Aurum and Argentum stood by their side. Delilah had returned upstairs, taking the prisoners out of their cell. The girl that had tried to kill me was leaning on a stick, others by her side helping me to get out. She saw me, and I could tell that she had regretted what she had done. She looked like she wanted to say something as she passed by me, but couldn’t find the right words.

“Thank you.” Was all she had managed to say right as she passed me. All I did was nod.

“You learn anything?” Delilah approached me from behind.

I shared with her everything I had gotten out of them, confirming that everything made sense and re-affirming the next steps we would take.

The beast-people would be taken out of this country, as far away as possible where they would be released, and allowed to go as they wish. We would provide as much as we could, but ultimately their fate rested in their own hands.

The three remaining prisoners would be nailed to poles at the public square, where they would be hung up for display. Their charges were disobeing the new laws and regulations against slavery, to demonstrate that when it came to enslavement, that there was no leniency involved.

And finally, the city that the girls were to be delivered to. A city called Rivale, towards the west where the influence of the new crown had not spread yet. Where the lands had fallen into anarchy and barbarism, completely sprung out of control. That was my next destination.

* * *

The bards of Visereal had begun to sing a new tale. A tale of a rising figure in the rebellion against the nobility and aristocracy. A song that would inspire fear in those that knew that they deserved it. Knew that I was coming for them.

West of Visereal, close to the rivers and spacious lands where the craggier mountains resided laid the city of Rivale. A city that had been starved and cornered like a wild dog. The city guards had completely overrun the city, betraying the nobles that paid them coins and held their provisions. Like rabid dogs they took what they could, and began doing whatever it was that they desired. Some left the city, becoming deserters to seek a future elsewhere while most remained, enjoying their new playground without any opposition. Located far away from most other cities and being relatively unimportant to trade, there was little reason for people to come seek the new warlords for trouble. It was a large city, but not important to the balance of the kingdom. Criminal acts were at an all time high, and the city was being run into the ground. After a few moons, the captors began splurging their new resources, the guards that were once meant to protect the city held it hostage, allowing none to leave and none to enter. From day, the sounds of screaming, shouting, pleasure and everything unnatural echoed day and night, for it was truly chaos. Without law, the people there began to do as they saw fit. Take women as they wished, kill without repercussion. Enslave without guilt, torture without hesitation.

It took less than a month for the whole city to devolve into a forest of animals. In six months, all the food and water ran out. The people and the warlords began to starve, and began grasping at straws. They sent a letter through a raven to Avalon, where they begged for help, offering them a share of the city if they complied. They believed that they were untouchable. After all, if the current leaders of that city wanted a portion of their power then that was a small price to pay as long as their iron clench remained hardened on Rivale.

Riveale never received a response. Not one in the form of a letter anyways. Less than a week later the warlords woke up to the sound of horns blaring across the morning sky. As the guards that had betrayed their city stood upon the walls and stared at the small army that appeared before them, they only laughed. Not only did the army have less than a hundred men, but at the very head of the army was not a general, but a child.

Perched upon a white mare, the child dismounted and slowly walked up to the grand gates of Rivale. The once shining entrance had rusted into a disheveled state. Curious, the captors of Rivale watched in curiosity, just who this child was that dared to encroach upon their territory.

One second passed while he was a child. In the next a dark shadow had seemingly cloaked around him, transforming him into a full fledged adult shrouded in black. And in the final chance they had to observe him, he manifested into a ten feet behemoth, slamming onto the metal gates. It bent and cracked under the sheer might of its massive hands, and the warlords realized too late that the animal that they had allowed to draw too close was not a cub, but a lion.

Within moments the once reinforced and sturdy gates came crashing down, and the army charged forward. Unprepared to face any actual threat, there was no defense as the army swamped the city, setting up a perimeter. All the meanwhile, the single child had transformed back to his normal height, covered in a sinister aura.

Obviously the once citizens of the city fought back against this threat. Grabbing pitchforks, shovels and whatever weapons that they could find, they bought up arms in an attempt to fight the small army. Even though they were soldiers, they were clearly outnumbered. They charged at the one in the front - which of course, was the small child that breached the walls.

A shadow moved over the residents of the city and as they looked up into the air they could see that there was something up there. Steel spears began to rain down from the sky, most were killed, others were maimed and the rest crippled. Another group began their charge, believing that they would still be able to combat this unknown force. However as this group began their assault, they found their legs failing to work, and their arms falling to their side like twigs during rainfall. An aura of thick bloodlust and anger emanated from the child, one so dense that it infected and brought those around him to their knees. Even soldiers on his own side fell to their knees, helpless to the slaughter.

The small army moved across the city, breaking into houses, helping those that required help. As long as they weren’t fighting them, the army tried their best to provide for them. They found men, locked up in basements, women half beaten to death and children that had been starved for months. It was just as bad as the city of Avalon, if not worse.

They say that when the dark figure saw this, he knelt down next to one of the victims of Rivale. The starving child’s arm had shriveled so small that it looked more like a dried up branch than an arm. Another woman came running, dragging the child away from the shaded figure, perhaps the child’s mother. Her body was lined with bruises and scars. Her clothing had been torn. The mother held her child closely, protecting her from the new threat that stood in front of them. The shade simply looked. He looked around him, the hellhole that the city had devolved into. He saw the people, he saw, the blood, and he saw the pain. And what he saw twisted him into what the soldiers saw next. The black shadows enveloped him, melding on top of him like a blanket, but it was hard to tell. Like pollen fading away in the autumn noon, the black skin shed itself, and finally revealed another person beneath. A white, pale figure stood under the clouds. The bloodlust that he once emitted was gone, replaced by a complete lack of life. Anyone that was within range of him could detect nothing standing there, and all they knew was that the white figure was not human.

What stood there wasn’t something that had life.

It didn’t have a face either. There was a streak of white light that seemed to linger about and scorch the air as it moved forward. It was something akin to that of a mountain - a natural and immovable obstacle that felt like it had been rooted into the very world itself. A monolith of unbelievable might. It began to move, its thin white legs stepping very lightly across the city. And everyone, including the warlords and its own soldiers as it began to slaughter every single enemy it could find. The bodies began to pile up. Everyone that witnessed the single white being panicked, trying to attack it. They ended up on a spear, raised high up for everyone to see, slowly bleeding to death. People began to slip on the blood, and before long there was a scenery of such magnitude that stories of it began to blow out of proportion. At this point the soldiers that attacked the city were too shaken to even participate. They could only watch, as the white figure that they could only hope was on their side brought the entire city down onto its knees. Before the sun set, there was no opposition left. Every single person that had tried to take advantage of the city was either choking on a spear or had lost so much of their will that they could only beg on their knees, hoping that they would be spared. There were no more cries of joy, no more screams of pain.

The city that had once been filled with the noise of criminals doing as they wished had devolved into silence. There was no cheers or celebration of victory. Everyone that had been there to witness the scenery was far too scared to make any sudden moves. The white figure stood still as those that were on its side tried to distribute aid to the citizens. And then just before the sun set, the white figure shifted once more. It grew smaller and smaller, darker and darker until it gave off a sense of life once again. And where he stood, was a single child. The soldiers only knew his first name.

Magnus.

A child of misfortune and terror. The child that brought an entire city to its knees. The monster that brought silence to Rivale. A child that would become a conqueror, an unstoppable force without restraint or shackles.

Few understood what they saw. All they saw was how a single child brought quiet to a city overrun with fear and terrorism. And so the stories began to spread, stories of the White Rider.

For in battle he turned into a monster of pure white, a creature that was not of this world. One that the greatest scholars would never understand, and the wisest minds would never decipher.

And once the battle settled, and the heads of the former warlords were placed upon spikes to be displayed for all to see, all knelt before him. He walked through the crowds, unaware of the respect and fear that they had for him. No one dared to celebrate him, for they could not understand him. None dared to cry out in joy, fearing that he was the bane of happiness. For they believed that it was he that carried true despair.

My story had been sealed into the history of Visereals. My legacy was already decided then. I would be remembered as one of the leaders that freed this forsaken nation from the clutches of tyranny. But Nobunaga, Ivan, Lucy and Eileen would be remembered as heroes. They would be revered and hailed as saviours, as they deserved to be.

I would be remembered as a monster. The man that couldn’t be bribed by gold or women. The beast that hungered for blood and flesh as he grew infamous. And if that was to be the consequence of the choices that I had made, then so be it.

For peace.

No matter the cost.