Was there anything he could do differently? Or was it written in the stars before he was even born? Boorg didn’t know the answer to those two questions. As a matter of fact, he barely knew any answers, he was never smart but praised Argan, he always knew how to hit hard.

This time, hitting hard didn’t help him much. He was sitting on the dirt, cleaning his axe. Around him, blood and death. It had happened once again, he lost his consciousness. He had no idea what happened. He remembered how it all started and how it ended. The middle part of the event was hiding in the mist.

A small kid approached him. The kid’s blue eyes looked deep into his soul, his clothes were torn, his arm was bleeding and he was covered in blood. “Mister,” he spoke up, his voice shaking like he was about to start crying. “Have you seen my mo-” Boorg slapped him across the face. His eyes reminded him of her eyes. “Move! Away!” Boorg yelled at the kid. Maybe he didn’t need to slap him, just yelling would have been enough, but he reacted like that in the heat of the moment. He felt bad now looking at the kid’s bloody shirt as he ran away from him, crying.

People moved fast around him. Some were trying to put out the fire, and some of them were looking for any survivors. Boorg sat there cleaning his weapon. Since Max left them, nothing really improved, it just became a lot worse. Boorg didn’t know much about Max, except the part that he was a hero who got summoned into this world to protect it. But Boorg thought that Max didn’t do a great job. Now, that he thinks about it hard enough, he knows that Max did a terrible job.

If he came to protect the world, why wasn’t he here now? Maybe he could protect Maya and Rakia, their decapitated heads wouldn’t be in front of Boorg now, their bodies twisted, their blood making a small river to the nearby small hole in the road, that slowly began to fill up.

Boorg gave his best to protect them, but he couldn’t do it. He wasn’t strong enough. His mind was yelling at him that it wasn’t his fault, it was Max’s. Why wasn’t he here when his friends needed him the most? Maya was yelling, calling his name. “Max, Max! Max!” The two of them had some chemistry, even he knew that. But why would Rakia do that? Why would she call Max for help and not Boorg? Max and his stupid fucking name, that shithead that always tried to be funny, that acted like some hero but was a fucking coward!

Boorg was there, ready to protect them. Was Boorg, not enough? Their words made Boorg freeze, he felt… he felt hurt. Not hurt by a sword, or a mace, any weapon or spell at all. He was hurt by words. That’s when everything became dark, and now he was cleaning his axe.

Boorg knew about his episodes, where when he began losing a battle he would go blank. Ever since his father died he began having those episodes, and he wasn’t sure why. Was it because he couldn’t handle his father’s abuse anymore? His father, the great Paladin, the saint. But his father was not a saint at home. The constant beatings, and yelling, no wonder his mother left. Or that was at least what his father told him. “She left us because you are a fucking retard!!” Barg the Paladin yelled at Boorg, who wasn’t more than 5 years old at the time. “Take the fucking sword, we’re training now.”

Barg didn’t hold back at all, he used everything he could against his own son. Boorg would sometimes get beaten so much, he would piss blood for days. Broken bones were a common thing in his family. For ten years everything was repeating day after day. Boorg grew sick of it. The next moment he remembered his father's dead body, killed by his own sword, the sword he loved more than his own son.

That’s why he took the sword with him on his great adventure. The sword was his savior, it saved him from his father’s anger. He owed it to the sword. For a while, he only talked to the sword, and no one else. Until he found Piggy. Piggy was the perfect companion, he always liked her. She was funny, brave, and much smarter than him. He always laughed when he thought that he almost killed her for some meat. Then, Piggy became Rakia. She was beautiful. Her blue eyes made his stupid brain even more stupid. Before he even realized it, he had a crush on her. Boorg was very happy seeing Rakia work with Maya. Rakia was so good at working with alchemy that it seemed as if in her past life she actually was an alchemist. Until that Spirit arrived.

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“A spirit?” Boorg talked to no one but himself. “There a spirit was!” he jumped with the axe in his hand. The memories came back fast, sharp, and painful. He remembered Rakia’s scream, then darkness.

But there was something else, something more. There must be. Boorg looked down at his hands, rough from years of battle, and the sword that lay next to him. His father’s sword. Boorg had always known the sword was different, that it carried a piece of his father with it, but he never wanted to admit it. He was afraid. Barg had always been with him, in his mind, in his blood, and now, in his body.

Boorg’s hand trembled as he reached for the sword. The steel was cold, just like his father had been. The memories of his father’s cruelty came right back to him. Each bruise, each broken bone, each word. The day he had driven that very sword through his father’s chest, silencing Barg forever was the happiest day in his life. Or so he had thought.

As his fingers wrapped around the hilt, Boorg felt someone familiar. It was his father, Barg, not a loving protector who wanted to protect his son now because of what he had done to him while he was alive. No. He was the same tyrant he always was. His father’s spirit had never truly left, it always waited for the moment Boorg was the weakest to take over.

That’s what happened when the spirit attacked. Boorg was weak, his strength disappearing, his heart torn apart by the cries of Maya and Rakia. And in that moment, Barg had seized control.

Boorg’s vision darkened once again as the memories came rushing back, no longer hidden in the fog. He saw through his own eyes but felt his father’s spirit. Boorg was no longer in control, just a passenger in his own body. He remembered standing in front of the vengeful spirit, ready to attack.

But it hadn’t expected Barg.

With a loud roar, Boorg—no, Barg—had swung the sword with terrifying force. The blade cut through the air, glowing with an unholy light. The spirit, sensing the darkness within the sword, tried to retreat, but it was too late. Barg’s fury was unstoppable, he really was a great paladin. The sword struck the target, cutting the spirit’s form as if it were flesh and blood. The spirit let out a loud scream, before disappearing into nothingness.

Boorg’s vision slowly cleared as the dark memories disappeared, leaving him standing alone with the sword in his hand. He was back in control, but the scene around him was like a nightmare. Flames swallowed the nearby buildings. The street looked like a battlefield.

He looked around, trying to piece together what had happened after the spirit’s death. Boorg had no memory of the destruction, but the signs were clear. The bodies of random people, Maya and Rakia, lay scattered, their faces twisted in fear and pain. You didn’t need brains to figure out that this was his doing.

His eyes fell on the lifeless forms of Maya and Rakia, their bodies lying close together as if they had died trying to protect one another. The sight tore at Boorg’s soul. He stumbled toward them, his legs heavy.

He picked up Rakia’s head, gently brushing a strand of hair from her face. Her blue eyes, beautiful blue eyes, were now closed forever. Boorg’s vision blurred, with tears he whispered her name, hoping that somehow she would respond. But she didn’t. She couldn’t. He kissed her.

How had it come to this? Boorg rose to his feet. His fists clenched around the hilt of the sword, his knuckles turning white. It wasn’t just his father that failed him, it was also Max. Max, who made them believe he would be their hero. Max, who had run away when they needed him the most. If Max had been there, Maya and Rakia might still be alive. But instead, their bodies lay cold.

Boorg couldn’t let Max get away with it. He will find him, his father’s cursed blade will serve one final purpose before he destroys it.

"By the light you forsook, Max, justice shall be delivered by my hand."