Hugo ( homeless man ) POV

Hugo fought back another Nightstalker, pushing it back against one of the spikes. Trapped, the beast tried to lung at him but a spear from behind Hugo darted past his shoulder and into the body of the Nightstalker. Pinned to the ground, Hugo made quick work of it with his sword. With a grunt of effort, he ripped free the sword in tired effort. As blood spurted from the Nightstalker to litter his already dirtied peacott, he turned to nod in thanks at young Martin, one of the younger boys of their wandering ‘family’. Martin in turn stepped forward, filling Hugo’s spot in the defense and allowing him a quick breather. One well needed and deserved.

“Ya! Take that bitch! Come get some!”

To his right though, rough and boisterous shouting from the group of young men and woman from the city could be heard. It didn’t take long for his eyes to spot the individual making the ruckus. Near the spikes and surrounded by a cadre of his followers, the stocky midget that commanded the group of good for nothing punks slicked the head off a Nightstalker. Hugo watched in disgust as euphoria lit up the boy’s face as he kicked the body to the side with a roar that shook his mullet up and down.

Shaking his head, Hugo turned his attention away from the boy. Truly, he did hate such pompous and upper class kids that took advantage of others, especially his fellow homeless brethren. But he had to admit, albeit with a hint of resentfulness, the boy and his crew did know how to fight and kill. It was needed, especially considering that only thirty-four of their number were fighting. Well, he revised his thoughts, thirty-five if he included the man out in the field.

Directing his eyes across the dark of night, Hugo followed the trail of burning grass to track the man known as Zero. Streaks of burning fire criss-crossed across the land. Their flames, illuminating the bodies of tens of dead Nightstalkers, scarred the land. At the head of the flames though, more than halfway towards the forest, streaked a billowing sword of crimson. It acted as a light beacon for Hugo, allowing him to watch the man that had saved them.

“RELIEF!”

A shout ahead of Hugo pulled his focus back. Before him, young Martin and another of their gang, Desmond, struggled to hold off four Nightstalkes that had launched themselves through the dense spikes and into the frey. Hugo’s heart spiked in his chest as his breath hitched. The boys, not even men really, thrusted with their spears in a poor attempt to hold off the Nightstalkers.

Springing into action, Hugo left behind his own spear, loosing his sword from his belt in smooth movement. Heavy steps from his rather bulky and out of shape form indented the dirt as he charged forward while releasing a roar cry to grab the Nightstalkers attention. It succeeded in grabbing one of the roving Nightstalkers, which leapt forward, claws out and fangs exposed. Instead of dodging the strike though, Hugo allowed the beast’s natural weapons dig into his flesh. In a heap, they fell to the ground with Hugo twisting his body at the last second to land atop the foul abomination. Claws, two inches long and serrated into deadly edges, latched onto his shoulders and arms. Snarling in pain, anger, and desire, Hugo reached out with his free hand, punching the Nightstalker in its head three times before finally getting a grip on the things throat. Using his strength and body weight, Hugo throttled the creature into the ground as his blood slick hands grasped his sword as best he could. Ears ringing and heart pumping, the din of battle around Hugo fueled him further than a normal man would go. Adrenaline, and the bloodlust that thrummed in his chest, powered his short sword into the creature’s jaw. Arms pumping, he stabbed four more time into its skull before the beast finally stopped moving and succumbed to death.

Panting, heavy and with chest heaving, Hugo shoved his hand on the Nightstalkers head. Acting as part support to stand up, and as a means to materialize the Rune around his wrist, Hugo stood with newly rejuvenated power coming from the Strength Rune that poured into his being. Hot and alive like electricity, his body hummed as a wisp of raging energy shot through him from head to toe. It was....nearly arousing, Hugo decided with a sick disgust.

The euphoria however, was short lived.

“He-lll-pp.....”. As the clashing of battle returned, with men and women swearing and screaming as their blades piercing into the howling Nightstalkers that had begun piling up, a familiar voice mumbled ever so slightly beneath the clamour of combat. Hugo, eyes like pin needles, felt the blood drain from his face as he saw the face of young Martin. The boy, only have just reached his 18th birthday, reached out a mauled and flayed hand towards Hugo. Hugo watched as despair crept to clutch his heart, as the boy’s mouth moved but no words came out. The tears that streamed down his face and mixed with the blood gushing from his throat was all that Hugo needed to see to understand his pain. It was the last thing Hugo saw too. Fur, smokey grew and impossibly long filled Hugo’s vision. Then, the boy he cherished as one of his own sons disappeared into the maw of a Nightstalker

It was there, in that moment, that a part of Hugo died.

A roar, guttural and feral, tore itself from Hugo’s throat as he launched himself forward. Hands, weaponless and acting as claws, ripped into the creature’s long and grey wispy fur. Riding the beast as it bucked like a horse, Hugo savagely trapped its maw shut while ruthlessly beating at its throat. In a tumble, the duo of man and monster went down. Through the struggle though, Hugo remained behind the beast and now wrapped his two meaty and somewhat flabby arms around the creature. Strength, from the Runes, from his love of the dead child he fostered, and from his rage at what forsaken God could put them in this hell, coursed through his arms as he tightened his grip on the neck of the beast. Tighter and tighter he gripped, gnashing his teeth together as he allowed his infernal scream to build and rage inside the cage that was his throat. Like that, together in the dirt and blood of another world, Hugo choked the life out of the Nightstalker until its whimpering cries died. Just as young Martin died.

Long after the creature was killed though, Hugo remained attached to it. Unrelenting as he sought to squeeze everything he could out of this infernal creature. Sobbing chokes, filled with pleas of pain and misery, rang around him as others of the group pushed forward to drive back the now frenzied Nightstalkers. With his chest shuddering and his breath unable to calm down, Hugo pushed the disgusting creature off of his body with shaking hands that wouldn’t stop trembling. As he did so though, a gold coin, the size of his palm appeared atop the grass where the Nightstalker laid.

Even through his tear stained eyes, Hugo saw the medallion as clear as day. He reached for it, hungering for what it would grant it. Yearning for the ability to sow vengeance into these pests. The medallion had no pull over him with its innate ability to attract. Hugo went to it willing, greedily even, with only one thought on his mind.

Kill...

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Zero POV

Across the scrum and melee that was occurring in the defended area of the campsite, a flame darted across the soul-consuming expanse of darkness. Flames, small but with a noticeable heat, illuminated the area around its source as it lashed out. Sometimes calm and still, hovering with a deadliness in the wake of death, and sometimes with a frenzied intensity of action that created a storm of strikes.

Zero, wielding the iron sword short that burned with the power of his skill, Fire’s Edge, looked around him warringly. His mind was blank, given into the moment and the instincts of battle, honed from more than a decade of life and death battles. Brown eyes that blended into the black of his pupil’s gleaned intensively as he licked the sides of his lips. Watching the three Nightstalkers that roved around him and snarled in intimidation, his smile only grew bigger as his fingers tapped on the sword handle with greater speed. The rhymm grew, building with it his desire to launch himself forward. Still, he knew he had to wait. Even after the battle he’s been through already, he knew he could take the three on with little threat. He would’ve preferred to. But...

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With a quick look over the prowling Nightstalkers, Zero’s eyes looked toward his true prey with the appraising eyes of appreciation that a seasoned fighter had for a respected opponent. Bigger than the Nightstalkers by nearly two times their size, the darkness before Zero shifted and moved as if alive. Through the pitch black darkness, Zero watched his true target with a weariness. He knew it wouldn't attack while he kept busy with its kin, but one could never be too careful. Luckily, the Alpha of the pack was a predator through and through. It would wait. Biding its time with its predatory prowl as it awaited the outcome of the fight before it.

Seeing its intentions, Zero flashed a grin of sin and mischief. Already the thought of tearing into the beast and claiming his prize of Runes filled him with a fire. But...

Tearing his gaze away from the darkness and towards the enraged Nightstalkers, Zero knew that he too shouldn’t play with his prey. With eyes tracking the roving Nightstalkers, Zero’s grin grew sharper and sharper as his fingers tapped against his sole remaining weapon in a rapid pace. Like a signal of the impending battle, the Nightstalkers snarled and growled in a poor attempt of intimidation. Zero only snorted as the smile grew even wider and his eyes flickered across their three forms with an almost anticipatory excitement. Faster his fingers tapped, building the rhythm to a new height. With a thought, more of his Mana that rested in his upper chest shot towards his left hand which gripped the sword and brought the flames to nearly double their previous size. The Mana, warm and vibrant with life, emptied from him. He couldn’t continue to burn his Mana like this. Hell, he thought remorselessly, he couldn’t even continue fighting for much longer. Already the ache of his overstrained muscles sent his body quivering from consuming his Stamina much too quickly. Even his Health was draining from him, courtesy from the dozens of nicks, scratches, bites, and rending claw strikes to his lithe figure that seemed much too weak to bear the damage.

However, even now as he hunched over weak, wounded, and pushed to his limit, Zero let the feral smile bloom on his face as his eyes hungrily looked towards his prey. This moment, and all the ones like it and all the ones to come, were when he was truly alive. It was as blood poured out and his strength weaned that he rose. The weak sought comfort. The strong sought challenge. But champions, the few and far between that rose like Gods...they sought destruction of themselves. Only when you are crumbled and breaking, having hit rock bottom and then shoved another eight feet down, can truly you become forged stronger than before.

With breathing pitching faster, Zero’s fingers tapped in erratic movement of non-stop energy that crescendoed against the echoes that filled the air. Faster and faster, the sounds combined in a harsh symphony, bringing with it the rising presence of Zero’s desire. Bated breath rose and fell in rapid movement with his chest as the dregs of his Stamina and Mana fueled him. Finally, his tapping reached the utmost speed as his fingers blurred into one another as the rhythm to tapping blurred into one harmonious sound of heinous forewarning.

Before him, the Nightstalkers howled as their long and wispy fur that resembled drifting trails of smoke stood up. To Zero’s left, the Nightstalker in the corner of his vision bared its teeth as its snout twisted in a sign of aggression.

It was exactly what Zero was waiting for.

With speed surpassing a human’s natural limits, Zero’s fingers ceased their tapping to grasp tightly against his weapon’s handle. Five darting steps brought his figure gliding across the grass as if he wasn’t bound by the weight of gravity. As he approached, the Nightstalker’s eyes widened in an almost human-like expression of surprise. Before it could react however, Zero’s sword as already darted forward and pierced through its open maw to ram itself into the creature’s skull. Life, filled with pain and anguish, flooded the Nightstalker’s eyes before the touch of life in them died and flames from the sword poured through to burn the Nightstalker to a crisp.

It took only a second or two for the entire scene to play out. It took another two seconds for the remaining two Nightstalkers to realize what had occurred. Only by the fifth second of elapsed time, did the remaining Nightstalker duo howl in retribution and pounced forward as their thick muscles tensed and released in use. As they closed, Zero spun in anticipation of their move. The blur of his sword sliced through the night with deadly life, bearing its searing heat against their fur before flames danced from the sword’s blade to skirt through the air and ignite on their bodies.

In a tumble, all three went down into the muck and the mire. Before their bodies hit the ground though, the fight was already decided. The flames, ignited from Mana, burned bright across the Nightstalkers back as Zero clawed and stabbed with his swords from beneath them. Their wails racked against Zero’s ears as painful throbs from their screams and claws elicited agony throughout his worn figure. Snarling in anger and pain that he refused to release, Zero pumped his arm violently as the blade sunk into both Nightstalkers while the flames roasted them from within. Blood, spilling profusely from their numerous wounds, bathed Zero as he finally finished one of the Nightstalkers off and struggled to his feet.

Hard pressed to catch his breath, Zero used his sword as a cane to assist him. Crazed eyes flickered to the dead Nightstalker, before landing on the other one that lay on its side on the grass. Scorched black, the smell of burnt fur and flesh reached Zero’s nostrils as he shakinly stepped forward. As he approached, the Nightstalker whimpered and moaned as its claws pawed at the ground in an effort to pull itself to the creature that prowled in the dark. Zero watched as it scrambled pathetically in the grass. His eyes, a dark brown that neared black, remained placid as nary a flicker of emotion appeared in his heart. He didn’t enjoy this. Killing a weak animal. Hearing it whimper in pain as death and what accompanied it draped over its life with a finality of extinction. He knew what that felt like.

But this was his path. This was life in the Abyss. So, as Zero reached the Nightstalker that sought what little air it could use to fill its cut and damaged lungs, he dropped to one knee and placed his bloodied hand on its body. With slow, smooth strokes, Zero’s fingers sunk into what little fur was left as he placed the sword against the back of the Nightstalker’s head.

“Shhhh. Shhhh....”

His words, soft and understanding, were lost in the howling winds of the plains that whipped cold air across his cut and bleeding face. As if entranced, the Nightstalker stopped its whimpering. Head resting and with eyelids drooping over its fierce yellow eyes, the creature shuddered as the last remaining vestiges of struggle died.

“Shhhh..... Shhhhh....”

Then the blade, positioned between the head and the spine, darted forward to separate the two and end the creature’s life.

Like that, kneeling next to the Nightstalker corpse, Zero remained. Seconds ticked by as bitterness flooded his mouth with its bad taste. He wasn’t sad, or emotional about what he did. It was necessary. Either he would’ve died, or the Nightstalker would’ve. There was no other option. Not here in this moment, or in the future. This was the Abyss. While there would always be options and paths one could take, it would always come down to this at the end. Either you die, or your opponent does. Only through this, is it possible rise.

As moments pass in silence, with only the sound of Zero’s heavy panting mixed with the sound of grass being crushed beneath something heavy, Zero’s heart stilled. Raising his head, the blurred brown and black eyes that melded into each other stared into the darkness around Zero as he watched the creature of the dark approach.

Standing six feet tall and fourteen feet long, the onyx fur of the Elite Nightstalker draped from its immense frame like a cloak. Fur, matted and dirty, covered its deadly orange eyes that focused on Zero as it prowled forward leisurely. Through the flames of his spell though, Zero was able to make out the creature before him. It was a warrior, through and through. Silver scars and patchy hair that was matted in blood and mud gave the regal looking Elite Nightstalker a very savage look. It is to be expected however, considering its position. It is a true fighter, a leader of a pack. Its kin do not follow those that are weak. Only the strong may lead the strong.

Zero eyed the creature, feeling the burning sensation of desire rise. Rekindled in the face of a challenge, the fire that burned hot in Zero reached a new scorching level. The flames of desire and hunger ignited in his eyes, setting them aglow as he stared back at the Elite Nightstalker. On his face, a crooked smile of bloody teeth appeared.

Finished catching his breath and retrieving the Runes from the three Nightstalkers, Zero’s fingers began tapping on his sword once more as he moved in tandem with the Elite Nightstalker.

“Well?” he says in a mock derision that sent his smile wide, “you gonna make a move? Or, should I?”

The flash of fur and the charge of the Elite Nightstalker towards him was all the answer he needed.