Arah’s POV

Twenty years ago at the age of thirty, I made an oath to protect the royal family with my life, and today is the day that I must deliver. I stand before the doors of the royal chamber, my palm on the hilt of my sword. The king, queen and their children are all behind me. Only about thirty guards are left, no one makes a sound, no one talks, we all just wait for death.

Suddenly, a loud creak reverberates through the room, the huge doors swing inward slowly as if in mockery of our fear. A hooded thin figure appears, looking like the dread reaper himself, he is unarmed. For a few seconds everyone is too shocked to react. I gather my wits and command the guards to attack.

Swish, a sword slices through the air leaving behind a faint blue trail. A diagonal slash to slice from his left shoulder to his waist, fast enough to chill the hearts of even the most seasoned warriors. As the sword is about to strike the hooded man, he shuffles slightly to the left, just far enough that the tip of the sword passes less than an inch from his skin. His palm comes up unhurriedly, and a small knife appears in his fist as if by magic, the next thing I see is blood pouring from the attacking guard’s neck, from the tiny slit between his helmet and body armor.

Behar’s POV

The guards were no problem, slow and weighed down by their armor. I take a deep breath, entering into the state of the placid lake. Time seems to slow, a sword is thrust at me, then another. The most important thing when facing multiple enemies is not how to strike, it’s to always be aware of each opponent’s position. If you know where the enemy is, it’s easy to dodge and strike without endangering yourself.

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After doing away with the guards, I turn to see the shocked gazes of an old knight and the royal family. The old man is brave, strong, a veteran of many battles but our fight end very quickly. Death comes to us all brave or cowardly, strong or weak. The King is tall, with pale blue hair and violet eyes, he must have been very good looking in the past, but now he just seems old and tired.

“Please let my family go” the King pleads.

I don’t know if there is a god, perhaps not, what I do know is that with every person I kill my soul wears down more, and now I am left with only a tiny nub. I wander what will happen when I have no soul left. This has to be my last job. After mercilessly spilling the blood of the Kahn’s all over their castle floor, I feel like I am close to the end, if I kill just one more person, I will lose the last vestige of myself, worthless though it may be.

I have decided not to go back to the clan, let them come after me if they must, after I turn over the royal family’s heads to the General, I will disappear.