Prologue
“When will it stop…” A weathered man whispered to himself into the eerie silence surrounding him.
His gaze rising to meet the cloud stridden sky above. Their grey tone adding to the ominous atmosphere which enveloped the man.
Gory bodies of plate and chainmail lay strewn all around. Their mangles limbs still dripping with blood as vultures feasted upon their organs.
The man lowered his gaze taking in the endless field of corpses, enemies and allies alike scattering the battlefield with their deaths.
Further lowering his tired gaze, he raised his crimson hands, removing his helm, letting it crash down beside him.
His light shaded grey hair fell in drapes around his sweat-streaked face, hiding an old and worn countenance, a sharp contrast to his golden eyes, glowing with unearthly radiance.
His arms and mind felt heavy with exhaustion as he knelt upon the battlefield.
“I’m sorry…I have failed once more.” The man echoed in his mind filling his being with sadness.
The elderly man felt pain ravage his body as his life embed free of him. Yet compared to the agony within his heart, the physical pain placed no burden on his mind.
“There’s one still alive, over there!” amidst the calm, a rough voice yelled. Soon, the sounds of heavy boots thundered over towards where the man knelt.
Eyeing the dozen men making quick pace towards him, the kneeling figure inspected the men's attire. Seeing the dark azure colours they donned upon their equipment, he snarled.
With new strength surging forth from his half-dead body, he forced himself to rise. The countless wounds upon his body screaming in protest as they tried to shackle him to the ground...yet he refused their call.
With his mind sinking into a primal frenzy, he rose to his full 2-meter height. His body looming among the bodies of fallen enemies. He could feel his muscle bulge and tighten as he hardened his grip on his sword, twitching with anticipation of the upcoming slaughter.
Closing his amber eyes, he stilled, his breath coming more shallow as tranquility overcame his mind.
The men approaching slowed to a stop upon seeing the armour the man wore, hesitation clear on their faces. This wasn’t the usual attire of their enemies.
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The man before them wore intricately designed armour, etched with gold runes still pulsing with energy. Covering the armour, great battles of beasts and dragons depicted themselves upon its surface. At the centre of his chest plate, lay a throne of skulls encased in fire, upon which a figure, half-human, half-creature sat as if observing the cycle of death surrounding it.
As they watched the man before them, they felt their bodies grow heavy as their minds warned them of the danger ahead.
“…. Phoenix King….” one of the men whispered, fear evident in his shaky voice.
The group of men gulped upon hearing what their companion uttered. Beads of sweat forming on their foreheads at the thought of facing the entity before them. He was someone they all learned to fear. Growing up they had been regaled by countless tales highlighting this man's might and heroism, the great kingdom he ruled and single-handedly forged to stand against an onslaught of his enemies.
Being able to lay their eyes upon this man was an honour they wished they never received in this life. Instinctively, they could sense that they were no match against an existence such as him, despite his numerous wounds.
They could feel his aura as it swept over them dulling their senses and chipping away at their psyche, his carnal bloodlust gushing free of him and sweeping over the battlefield.
Despite their fear, they were the elites of the Saranian empire, hand selected out of an army of thousands to track down any survivors and eliminate their threat. Stepping forward with conviction one of the men bravely or foolishly shouted towards the man.
“Surrender in the name of the Saranian Empire!”
The man known as the phoenix king let the sound flow through his ears and mind as he felt the power of the world beat through him.
Reaching out with his senses he mentally grasped the air drifting around. With a force of will he wielding the element to his purpose, the last of his remaining power seeping out of him and into the world.
Opening his eyes, reptilian slits replace his normal pupils as if to warn prey of their imminent demise. Their amber light flickering, as flames danced within, burning everything which would oppose them.
With a snap of his arm, his blade flew upwards towards the gathered men. Mid-swing, air condensed around the blade covering the bottom to the tip of the blade. As the blade reached its arching crescendo, the elemental wind ripped free of the weapon, blasting forward in a display of breath-taking speed, closing the gap between him and the gathered men in an instant.
An instant after the man had opened his eyes the wind blade ripped through the gathered men, cutting through metal, flesh and bone alike. Before further sweeping past and escaping back into the world behind.
The sheer speed and suddenness of the attack had taken even these hardened veterans by surprise, rendering them unable to mount any form of resistance.
As the men collapsed to their death, bodies severed in half... so did the Phoenix King, the last flicker of life fading from his body as the final vestiges of power seeping free, leaving nothing but a lifeless corpse.
****
Silence returned to the battlefield once more.
Not even the birds of prey dared disrupt the reaper of death as it harvested the souls of the fallen.
Yet amongst the endless field of bodies, a slither of light began, before bursting forth into a raging inferno which engulfed a singular body.
As suddenly as it had begun, the flame disappeared leaving naught but ash.