Were you guys supposed to get what's been going on? Probably not~

I did say the first few might be episodic. Once the story finally starts moving, you guys will start being able to piece things together~

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-10 years after attack on village-

One month southwest of the empire, Theoria Kingdom

The sound of metal striking metal, the sound of blade against blade, the sound of flesh and steel being rend asunder was prevalent in the air. The metallic smell of blood, and the petrifying sight of guts and gore all around. Scenes of men fighting to their last, like the brave men of legends, to only be trampled and forgotten by history, as far as the eye could see.

Slowly, but surely, the sounds began to die down. Soon, there was naught but silence on this field of blood and death. There stood a young man covered in wounds and bathed in blood, his brown hair so dark it could be mistaken for black, and similar eyes, unwavering in the face of certain, unavoidable death. Before him stood a man, tall and regal, clothed in the fine robes of a noble, with long black hair with a blood-red tint. He wore an ornate, beautiful sword on his hip, with a golden hilt, that looked like it belonged on display. His most defining feature were the small crimson horns that poked out of his forehead.

The horned man and the young warrior stood alone within a field so full of bloodied corpses that even the ground was not visible. Corpses, some of which were so mutilated it looked as if they were tortured to death.

The horned man sneered at the boy, as if gloating at his assured victory. He took regal strides over the corpses of friend and foe alike, making sure to stomp, and break anything he stepped on, seeming to enjoy desecrating the many masses of dead, which had piled up due only to himself.

The man, who maintained his regality as he strode closer, stopped three steps before the boy, the put his hands on his treasure sword. Pulling it out leisurely, as if for a simple game, he pointed it towards the blood-clad boy. He was sure it was his complete victory, as he proceeded to draw near, to deal the final blow.

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[South-Eastern border of the Empire, border village Toen]

A child with hair as dark as a raven's feathers, his eyes as dark as the night sky itself walked into the quaint little village of Toen. He wore a black coat with a long back, which fluttered behind him as he walked, seemingly lost in some deep thought, as he took soundless steps forward.

"Boy! What brings 'ye to a place like this? And so late at night? Wouldn't think 'ye'd 'ave any business I such a small backwater village, what with them fancy clothes 'ye've got on"

The boy abruptly stopped his strides at the sound of the voice. He lifted his head, seeming to suddenly realized something. He stood still as a statue for about a full minute before he faced the man that just spoke to him, who also kept silent due to the aura the boy was giving off at that moment.

"I'm sorry, I lost myself for a bit there...."

The boy stated, his tone highly apologetic. He then finally took a look at the stranger that he somehow seemed to have ended up in a conversation with. He was a large, well-muscled man, with a bald head. He wore what was the standard attire for a blacksmith, though he had no hammer. His most defining feature however, was that his head had what seemed to be a large burn-scar on the top, starting from where his hair-line should have been, down back to where his head met his neck. The scar did not stretch down on the sides of his head, and was shaped like a flame. The boy could not help but stare.

The author's narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

The man broke into a hearty laugh upon noticing the body staring.

"Hahahahaha! I see you noticed my head! quite a story behind it. Since I doubt you'll be able to find lodging this late, You're welcome to stay at my place. I'm sure the wife'll like that too!"

The boy flinched upon being called out for staring, but then quickly regained his composure.

"Th-Thanks you sir! It seems I got lost and somehow ended up here this late..."

The man put a hand on the child's back and walked him to the smithy. The kid seemed to be the quiet type, and seemed to wear his emotions on his sleeve. How and why a young one like this was travelling on his own was beyond him, but he thought it a blessing that he happened upon him first. He did not wish to imagine what might have happened had it been another.

"Child, my name is Egan Strong. What might be yours?" 

He asked in good nature, to the boy who seemed to innocent he didn't even seem to think twice about following a stranger home.

".......My name, is Erebus Noir."

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The Horned Noble was shocked, as his blade, which swung forth at inhuman speed was met with equal, or even greater speed and strength by the bloodied boy. Before he could even get his bearings, the boy rained blow after blow without a single second wasted between. As the bewildered man was pushed further and further back, barely managing to meet the child's blows, his panic causing him to be less and less able to fend the boy off with each strike of steel on steel.

Eventually, the boy struck away the Horned Noble's blade, sending it flying far across the battlefield, sending it much farther than a human should ever be capable of. The Horned Noble fell back, landing on the bloodied ground littered with corpses, soiling his rich and flowing robes with blood and gore. The boy was unyielding, and struck the man down before he could even register his face. The last thing he was a blood-covered young man, whose face he never could discern.

However, that, and that alone was what he regretted, for it would mean he would not be able to get his revenge. After all, he was a Demon. He would simply need to find a suitable host to rise again....

It was then that he noticed something amiss. He felt like his existence itself was being ripped apart. He looked in horror down to where he was stabbed, right through his chest. Right through his heart. 

His blood chilled. He was not bleeding. No, rather there was a growing hole in his chest. His body itself was disappearing. The hole was growing and expanding across his whole body. It dawned on him then. This was truly where he'd die.

The demon then, let out an inhuman, bloodcurdling scream, as his torso entirely disappeared, and his head and limbs fell towards the soiled earth. They never reached. The turned to nothing before they could meet the ground's embrace.

The boy stabbed his sword into the ground, and stood proud and tall. He wore a triumphant expression on his bloodied face, the sun up high illuminating his lone figure. Yet something was amiss. His figure, it was missing a small part of itself. With tears flowing from his eyes, and a grin on his face, the boy, as the demon before him, faded to nothing. That was the price he paid for the power to kill the demon. His existence.

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Forgive the lack of tables, I forget the code, and it's 12  am..... will put them in later...... maybe......