Late in the night, only the wind whistled through the village. Crickets filled it with a gentle music that put everyone into a deep sleep.  The militia on the walls also fell asleep at their posts since nothing exciting ever happened to them.

A hand cupped each of the guards mouths at the front gate, a gentle wind brushed by as knives sliced their throats without a sound. Once the cut opened, blood sprayed the surrounding wood and dyed it a dark red. Each assassin clothed themselves in a dark blue to better blend in with the darkness. The two at the front gate split ways one to the left and another to the right taking out every guard they encountered along the wall. Neither of them had a hard time taking out the untrained militia. It was like taking candy from a baby. They encountered each other at the end of the circle.

The assassin that went to left asked the right assassin, “How many sides does a circle have?”

“I don’t know how many?” The right assassin answered in a curious tone.

“An inside and an outside. HAHAHAHAHA!” The left assassin told the right. He fell to the ground laughing so loud he almost woke up the village.

“Stupid!” The vague outline of the right assassins eyes rolled into his head. “We need to signal the others to take out this village.” He took a bottle of oil that clung to his belt with a rope and held it in his hand. The right assassin waited for the left assassin to stop laughing so he could start the next step.

In the Forest

“What is taking them so long?” a female voice whispered to the others. Every single bandit shrugged their shoulders as to suggest they don’t know.

On the barricade closest to the bandit group a fire was lit in the night signaling that the assassins cleared out the top of the wall. They knew what to do next, the archers soaked their arrows in oil and lit them. They knelt down on one knee, lifting the bow up at a forty-five-degree angle, drew the bow back with all their might only to release the second it reached the pinnacle. A rain of arrows on fire filled the night sky replacing the stars with fire.

Each arrow landed on either the ground or a house with a thud. Another wave of fire arrows rained down on the village catching more houses on fire. A minute later the fires grew until it roared with various pops and hissing noises. Soon the entire village was lit like a bonfire on the beach illuminating everything around it.

The smoke from the fire caused several of the elderly to die along with the few babies in the village as it replaced the oxygen in the air with carbon monoxide. It was the silent killer for them. The popping of the wood woke several adults which rang the alarm to let others know to wake up before being Ransacked.

Ding! Ding! Ding!

Regis woke to embers falling into his bed lighting the hay once it touched. He flew out of bed like a bird taking off into the sky he didn’t want to die here. He slung the leather sack with all his belongings in it over his shoulder before he ran outside. Once outside a scene that fit into hell itself played in front of his eyes.

The third wave came in the front gate in a swift manner like a tide rolling up to the shore. Swordsman killed without mercy stabbing each person they came across. Blood covered the sword of each bandit that raided the village. The only ones they sparred were the women and children.

This shock hit Regis mentally like a baseball bat to a watermelon. Even though he was alone all his life and trained in martial arts he could not fortify his mind against the attack. His knees collided with the blood soaked ground, head bowed down afraid to do anything else so as to not offend the enemies.

One bandit took notice of him slumped over and walked towards him. “Stupid kid you alive?” The man said in a condescending tone. Regis only shook his head up and down as any other function of his body shut off. The man grabbed the rope around his waist to tie Regis’s hands behind his back so he would not fight back, “Fine I’ll capture you then.” He lifted Regis by the arms to force him to move forward.

In the middle of the village, an old woman who was no older than her mid-sixties fought off all the bandits that surrounded her. Her chest moved up and down in a violent motion heaving for a single breath to enter her lungs. Lines of blood soaked through her torn shirt. This is precisely the old women that bought mela from Regis the day before.

She commanded the water jets to come out of her hand and fingers whenever she was close enough to cut the skin. Thus, no one got close to her to do any real damage. Surrounding her was the only way to hold her off. It took ten men to hold her at bay while the other bandits collected the villagers.

The elderly woman continued to fight until a lone figure walked towards her. The glare in the man's eyes could kill anything in his sight. His stride gave off a confidence built on years of life and death. Another way to describe it would be arrogance that he had outlived most of his comrades. Everyone of his subordinates admired him.

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As he walked closer to the elderly woman you could faintly see his grey eyes reflecting the fire around him. Black hair that brushed against his shoulder thanks to the wind passing him by. A nose that broke one too many times hooked to his left with a swollen lump in the middle showing how many fights he fought.  The fire around him flickered giving him a muscular body due to the amount of shadows it created.

A faint hoarse sound exuded from his mouth saying, “Men you can leave her to me, it won’t take to long.” waving the other ten away with a flick of his hand.

Desperation appeared on the elderly womans face she did not want to die tonight even though her life was coming to an end in a couple of years. She wanted to enjoy that amount of time left in this quiet village.

The men scattered in all directions to not interfere with his fight. He continued walking toward her. He bowed slightly to show his respect toward the elderly woman before the fight began. To show the same respect he gave her she did the same.

“Before we begin may I ask your name?” The elderly woman intuitively asked.

“Yes. you may it is Hans.” He replied with a smile.

After bowing, He kicked off the ground though no marks appeared on the ground. He drew back his left fist aiming towards her gut. She would not go down without a fight. The elderly woman was fast for her age and dodged at the last second to the right to avoid his entire body. A humph came from his mouth as he stopped on the spot where she had dodged. He swung his left leg behind him to deliver a finishing blow to her head.

A surprised look appeared on her face as she jumped back a few feet. Once she stopped she propelled herself forward with hands up to block any incoming attacks. Getting closer was not the problem but landing something that would wound him was the hard part.

Hans stood still once after missing the attack. “You indeed have some skill only some.” He sneered.

Mid charge the elderly woman gave a humph with a straight punch in front of her. “I will land one wound upon you Hans.” with that the punch she sent out turned into a palm. A water jet could be seen coming out of her palm this is a skill she developed for most of her life. Jet palm would release water under pressure to pierce the skin.

Hans squinted his eyes ready to block any attack. He already expanded to much energy fighting this lowly red gate cultivator. He lifted a palm to block the attack head on.

At this moment, the water pierced through his palm creating a circular wound through his hand. While everything happened in a span of five minutes a single blur aimed straight for the elderly woman's heart.

That blur was the life ending punch. Her beating heart was in his hands in but a millisecond. He talked to himself out loud saying, “You put most of your hundred points in strength to increase the pressure of the water coming out of your body. Clever idea.”

The life in her eyes faded once his phrase ended. “Too bad I am at the orange gate while cultivating in the wind element.” the last part he thought to himself as she fell to the ground.

“Let's see who we have here,” Hans called out to everyone dropping the woman's heart to the ground “We may have a few who are willing to join us.”

This scene unfolded in front of Regis. This man ripped out another person's heart without a second glance. It stunned Regis even more to where his face and eyes had gone blank.  The bandit behind him kept pushing him forward to the row of people.

Hans saw that the last person to survive was a kid that had no life in his eyes. “This must be the most horrifying thing he has seen in his life. No wonder why.” He mused to himself. He walked to the middle of the row of people and talked.

A voice echoed through the night saying, “You can join us in making this village into a proper town or you can die here where you kneel. Which one will you choose?” Hans looked at every expression that he saw on their faces. It gave him joy

Of the five hundred original people fifty were left. After they made their decision, a quarter. The errand boy at the end who had a lifeless expression had not answered yet.  None of the surviving villagers knew him personally so they could not decide what he would say. They felt pity for him cause he was most likely going to die.

After ten minutes had gone by with no word from the boy Hans walked over. Sword in hand he lifted it up to the boy’s throat and said, “What will you choose?”

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Thank you for reading!! Let me know what you think. This was my first fight scene.