In a lot of ways, Jeriah was and always had been a gentle spirit. But now, in this moment, something inside Jeriah snapped. It snapped in a major way, in that moment, Jeriah's very way of life and how he saw it would be forever changed to a very serious degree.

'NO NO NO, THIS CANNOT BE HAPPENING' were the thoughts of the aformentioned boy.

Jeriah looked to the left then right, not sure what he was searching for. Only to see the carnage still happening around him, much of the small village still ablaze. Lizardmen were still killing a few of the leftover bandits. By now most if not all the villagers Jeriah once knew were dead. As he came to realize this his vision switched back to the ground. It focused on a sword dropped by a bandit whom had tried to fight back against the lizardmen only to end up dead like the rest. 

As Jeriah picked up the sword it felt slightly heavy in his hand, but to Jeriah it was nothing compared to the weight on his poor shattered heart. Many thoughts were still running through his head at the moment, but one was much more dominant than the others. 

'KILL' was the thought that prevailed amidst the sea of emotion that was currently Jeriah's brain.

Jeriah looked up again and saw nothing had changed, lizardmen still killing, bandits still dying, and no living villagers in sight. It was then Jeriah decided he wanted to change that. Jeriah stood up from where he was kneeling in sorrow and disbelief, and set about the warpath. 

He trotted towards a lizardman whom had just finished killing a bandit, the lizardman looked up just in time to see Jeriah's blade come down upon him. Jeriah looked at the lizardman with a now near split in half face on the ground in utter disgust and contempt. He then looked at the blade and felt he didn't really find it heavy anymore, in fact it felt lighter than air, looking back at his surroundings he realized he had been surrounded, and that he was most likley the last person, bandit or villager, still alive. He had pierced the thinck scaly hide of the rather intimidating lizardman. There was no reason he couldn't do the same to other things.

Jeriah then lost himself in the following battle and recieved many grave wounds as well as dealing out even more, Just when he found the stupor of battle waning, he realized how hurt he was, and once again fell to his knees, this time suffering from physical rather than emotional pain. It wasn't as bad as what had crushed his soul earlier, but it still kept him down, struggling with every ounce of anything he could use to attain vengeance before joining his beloved.

Jeriah was bleeding from cuts and slashes all over his body, he couldn't tell what was his blood and what wasn't anymore, the former peasent clothes he was wearing were now in less than a tattered state. Only a very conveniently placed loincloth kept him from being stark naked. Jeriah knew the likeleness of him surving was very low, and that was if you didn't consider the hundreds more lizardmen still surrounding him.

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Suddenly Jeriah recieved something that immediately made him feel like he still had, no hope wasn't the right word, it was something far darker.

[Attention, due to performing a special action worthy of such a thing, you have recieved a class, due to not being an adventurer you are being made one. You have recieved the class Masochistic Beserker.]

He then started feeling very rejuvinated, though not actually in the creepy BDSM way his class might lead you to believe. Jeriah then asked for details on this class of his.

[Masochistic Beserker : A Deviant of the class Beserker, while it has the same qualites of Beserker, it's key difference is that the more hurt you are inside or out the more powerful you will get. Rather than just get the same power boost when angry, as the Beserker class does. ]

Jeriah felt surprisingly great now, not only had the mighty system he had always heard stories about suddenly granted him access to all it's glory and possibilities, but now as bad as he was hurting emotionally and physically, he felt better than ever, not just powerful, but perhaps invincible. Unbeknownst to our young hero, if he could any longer be called that, let a grim smile fully overtake his face, his mania was overwhelming. He laughed long hard, as if he heard a joke that was just too much. 

What happened next only the sword really knows, as it was used to slay each and every last lizardman plaguing the former hamlet of it's current wielders birth.

Jeriah finally came to his senses after the battle had ended, and could only stand there in a daze, before letting out a roar of defiance towards the now smoldering ruins of his town and to the corpses of all before him.

He then fell to his knees a third time and plunged his sword into the ground before placing his hands atop the sword in an attempt to keep from falling down. He then passed out refusing to lay down to die, he knew he wouldn't be able to die standing up but this was better than the alternative of dying laying on the ground like a dog.

What he didn't hear was the sound of approaching hooves, as the kingdoms knights atop their galloping horses rode towards what used to be Jeriah's village.

Upon arriving at their former destination, which they had intended to defend from the lizardman horde, they saw that everything had come to ruin, yet somehow all the lizardmen were still defeated, they couldn't understand what exactly had happened here, but felt they had failed in their duty to arrive at the town to defend it in time. All they could do was stare at the absolute desolation, in sorrow knowing that had they been here sooner they could have saved the village. While it wasn't their fault and they couldn't have gotten to the village faster they still felt terribel for what happened regardless. 

The mage of the group used a detect life scroll, and found only one living soul.

They noticed a crimson haired seemingly unconcious teen, whom had still managed to stay on his knees holding onto a sword in the ground with many visible wounds all across his body many that they knew were very mortal, arrows filling him like quills to a porcupine, blood flowing like a waterfall on its period. Though this did not prevent them from grabbing him and with all haste returning to the capital quickly in hopes that the boy could somehow survive if gotten to a healer in time.