“Falen, run away.” The middle aged man said. His blue eyes sparkled like gems, illuminated  by the flames fed lavender flowers. His face indifferent, his eyes betrayed him.

Enveloped in a world of darkness since birth, he yearned to see the colors of life. ‘The flowers in hell…’ The smell of charred petals filled his nose. ‘I will see them soon.’ He only felt the hilt of the sword. Simple in appearance, it gave off an unremarkable feeling alone. In his hand, it seemed capable of splitting the sun.

Hearing the maddening shouts enveloping the plains, Falen could only remember his master’s first teachings. “A weapon used well acquires the ire of the living.” Falen took a quick glance at the sword in his master's hand. “Don't you think its worked hard enough to retire?” Falen’s lips curled. He walked towards the weapon cabinet in the room. His master collected the weapons of those slain by his hands and put it on display throughout the small house.

“...”

“You think after they kill you, they’ll leave me alone? The only disciple of Night Wind?” 

"Stop fooling around.” The man faintly smiled. "I know you're excited, Falen."

“A legion of martial masters after my head... I'll make them regret it. I'll avenge-”

"Stop with the formalities, brat. You think I don't see through you? You'll probably the first to take my belongings after my death.”

 "Probably? You don't seem to know me that well afterall."

A long silence fell between them as they exchanged gazes.

 "Don't die, old man."

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"Hmph. Worry about yourself, brat." 

"Who's worried?" Falen looked at the man in awe. "No one has the ability to kill you, but me." 

Falen tossed his own sword towards his master. Though he couldn’t see, his hands wrapped around the blade as if returning to its original owner.

“Where did he learn such arrogance from?” The man sighed.

Falen’s presence disappeared as he stepped into the darkest corner of the room. The master impressed by his student’s improvement turned his head towards the gathering of legends on dark horizon of the Hevel Plains.

******

The young girl screamed at the top of her lungs. A field of lavender became a field of death. The stench of iron surrounded them. “You killed my father. I’ll end you no matter what.”

A mysterious energy flowed from her, rushing to the tip of her blade.

The youth surprised him. ‘Her talent is close to Falen’s.’ The man thought. As she rushed towards him, he let out a roar for the first time, his charming voice rippling through the plains. His clothes were tattered from killing peerless men. The girl’s energy crushed the bodies around her like a collapsed cave, scarring the earth.

The man simply opened his blue eyes. His energy already depleted, he held up his sword, taking a basic stance. A stance he practiced from youth a millions of times.

Death.

The young girl looked into the demon’s eyes.

‘I’m going to die.’

An arc that could cut a blanket of stars.

The girl’s body screamed pushing her body past her limits.

His bloodlust came down like a  waterfall on her head increasing in pressure as she approached. In the last moment, her blade lacked resolve.

She retreated in the face of death, her clothes clinging to her from cold sweat.. Her body took the brunt of the recoil. She covered her mouth as black blood seeped between her fingers.

His eyes slowly lost their light and faintly smiled.

“Sorry, brat. I refuse to be killed by a brat like Falen.”

Seething from anger, the young girl collapsed from exhaustion and his eyes slowly dimmed...