He lay there, defeated. His lungs were filling up with his own blood, and his organs were slowly giving up, yet his grey eyes remained open and focused, full of hatred mixed with regret. His greying hair swayed as the wind got suddenly just a little bit stronger.
“You served humanity well, but now you’ve become a liability, Perun.” Said a rough male voice.
Perun. That’s what they called him. Both a name and a codename. Yet only very few people know of it. A sign of a job well done, but also Perun’s biggest regret. He did so much, he dedicated his entire life to saving humanity from unseen threats. He killed so many, lost so much, just to be stabbed in the back at the end? Just to be forgotten? Just for no one to even know his name?
A tear leaked from Perun’s eye as he looked at the grey ceiling above him. Was this all he was going to get? He thought to himself as he mulled over his greatest regret. He wanted to be remembered. He wanted crowds of people screaming his name and fine purple silk to caress his skin as he took his last breath. He wanted to get recognized for what he had done. He spilled so much blood, sweat, and tears for nothing. The people he had saved, the untold millions, didn’t even know he existed.
What a fool he had been, to realize it only as his soul was leaving his body… Such a fool. His vision began to get darker and darker until only black remained, then a sense of weightlessness overtook his body. The pain went away and so did his senses.
He tried to think, but it seemed so hard, so tedious. Honestly, he just wanted to sleep. Yet one small part of him refused that. It refused to go quietly into the night, without kicking and screaming. So he struggled against the void and the immaterial that made him lethargic. He desperately struggled to hold onto his memories, newfound pride, and himself. But it was like trying to hold up a mountain. Ever so slowly the void crept into his mind and wordlessly promised peace and quiet. Then suddenly the void disappeared. The lethargy and drowsiness faded away, and his mind was suddenly clear, and he could see.
He saw before him a giant man. His every muscle looked strong, yet not big, one could describe him as lean. His skin looked plastic, with no blisters, scars, or blemishes, yet still human. His face was perfectly symmetric with sharp features, no part of it was bigger nor smaller than it should be. His eyes were golden as was his hair which was silky, medium length, and just a bit curled at the ends. His hair flowed around him as if he was in water. He wore a simple white tunic, which didn’t hide his perfect appearance. Above his head, 6 golden spiky crystals levitated, as they radiated a crimson light. The light was bright, but not so much that one couldn’t look at it. The man was sitting on a throne with impossibly precise golden ornamentation, no, not a man, it was clear now, a god. The man’s piercing eyes looked directly into Perun’s, or at least where Perun thought his eyes should be.
“Interesting…” Said the god in a booming, manly, yet still silky smooth voice.
“Not many souls could survive such a long journey through the void. What binds you so to your memories? What wish have you unfulfilled?”
Perun was breathless. He couldn’t understand what had just happened. One second he was slowly losing himself in a torturous void of nothing and the next he was in front of a giant man that looked like a Greek statue.
“Excuse me, it has been some time since I had to talk to a mortal, I think an introduction is due. I’m Sol, God of fire, pride, and wrath.” Said Sol with evident pride.
A few seconds went by, and Perun was still staring at the golden figure. Too afraid to move a muscle.
Suddenly Sol glared at Perun with obvious anger in his eyes. A pressure unlike anything Perun had ever felt in his mortal life descended on the room. Sol stood up from his golden and marble throne and looked condescendingly at Perun.
“You dare to not bow to me when I introduce myself, and worse yet, you fail to introduce yourself and refuse to answer my question!?” Boomed sol’s voice with all the strength and vigour of the god of wrath.
“I should just tear your soul apart here and now!” Growled Sol. The pressure increased and the immaterial body of Perun fell on its knees as if Sol’s wish were its command.
“However, I have a need of you yet. Consider yourself lucky, Mortal.” Said Sol as the pressure disappeared just as fast as it appeared. Sol sat back down on his throne and looked expectantly at the now kneeling Perun.
Perun finally awakened from his stupor and tried to speak.
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“Where A-“ Before he could finish his sentence he noticed the glare from Sol, and realized it would probably be better to do as the god asked. His mind was finally coming back to him, including years of undercover operations and dissimulation.
“They call me Perun… Your grace.” Said Perun while feeling imaginary cold sweat running down the back of his neck. Having an immaterial body was weird.
“At last, you act like I need you to. So, what binds you so to your mortal life?”
Perun thought about his last moments, and his time in the void and realized the answer was obvious.
“Unfulfilled ambition.” Answered perun.
“Interesting, interesting.” Said Sol as he looked over Perun as if checking out his body, which was now his soul.
Perun finally had time to look around the room as Sol was busy looking into his very soul. Perun was standing on a platform that was smooth and made from gold. At the end of the platform sat Sol, and behind him in the distance was a giant red sun. There were no walls, a roof or anything except for the blue sky that enveloped them on all sides.
“I see now, truly someone fit for the task at hand.” Said Sol as he smiled slightly, apparently happy with what he had discovered.
“I will send you to a new mortal body, and you will spread my name. I have no more time to waste, a war is coming, and that’s coincidentally why I need you. My followers, the humans, have been forced to forget me. This angers me not only because of the blatant disrespect but also because it has by now drained a large part of my power. Some of the power you bring back to me I will grant to you as a blessing to make your mission easier, not that you will need it, I hope. Go now, bring back my creation to light, and punish those who would dare to impede you on your most holy mission.” Said Sol in a ceremonious fashion before waving his right hand at Perun with a mischievous smile on his face.
Suddenly Perun flew from the palace at what seemed the speed of light. Everything blurred until it became black. For a little while he worried he had been returned to the void, but then he opened his eyes.
“Get up you twat.” Said a rough male voice. The voice sounded just as pleasant as nails in a blender. The annoyance was only amplified by Perun’s killer of a headache.
He was laying on his back and staring at the blue sky. The sun was hidden behind several high stone walls on which moss and a few hardy plants grew.
Perun tried to look around, but his vision was hazy and he was hearing such loud ringing in his ears that he was surprised he even heard the irritating voice.
“I said get up you little shit stain!” Said the infuriating voice again, this time with much more volume. Before Perun could even formulate a reply someone grabbed him by the collar and he was lifted onto his feet.
He finally discovered the origin of the raspy sounds. It was a man, probably in his forties. The man was a little bit on the thicker side, but toned muscles could be seen underneath the layers of fat. His head was beggning to bald, but it couldn’t be said that the man’s body had deteriorated enough with age to not be able to fight properly. His face was full of old untreated bruises, his nose alone was broken in 2 places, and one of his ears was missing quite a big chunk of it. He was wearing some sweat-soaked and dirtied grey tunic, although it probably used to be white. Another peculiar thing Perun noticed was that the man was holding a wooden sword.
“A claymore.” thought Perun.
Even more interestingly though, Perun himself was holding a weapon. A wooden shortsword and a small shield.
Perun’s head was still spinning and he couldn’t really put his feet under him properly but he was slowly gaining control over his body. One thing he noticed was that his old scars were missing. Not only that but his limbs and torso seemed a lot skinnier and shorter, his ribs being clearly visible through his skin.
But before he could ponder this predicament for longer something moved swiftly in his vision. His trained instincts kicked in and he quickly moved to block it with his shield. However, his poor footing and small weight proved to be a big disadvantage as he was sent flying almost 2 meters before finally hitting the ground with a loud thud.
His breath was almost kicked out of him but that wasn’t something he was unused to. Perun quickly got up and faced his opponent.
To his surprise, his opponent wasn’t attacking. He stood there in a stance looking at Perun as if appraising him.
“Now where did you learn that you little rat.” Asked the man as he smiled slightly.
“The lord might make a few good bucks out of you yet.” Added the man before moving. The man was fast, maybe even unbelievably fast for his large size.
However Perun finally managed to stabilize his stance, and even if he specialized in guns he was pretty sure he could easily put this old man in his place.
The man moved in with a heavy swing from Perun’s right, apparently trying to now avoid the shield, which was in Perun’s left hand. Perun knew from the last blow he had no chance of blocking such a powerful strike with his weak and light body.
He instead waited for the man to commit to the strike before nimbly dodging backward at the last second. Even Perun was surprised how last seconds his dodge was, his senses somehow a little bit less sharp than he remembered them. His opponent pulled back quickly, in an obviously trained set of movements. But the withdrawal was still too slow.
Perun threw the shield from his left hand and rushed back into close range. The man blocked the flying shield with the tip of his long sword just centimetres from his face and before he could focus, Perun was already right in front of him, swinging his sword full force at the man’s jewels.
Perun however realized his mistake too late. His strike might have been fast and unexpected, it however packed about as much of a punch as a weak tea. This strike, which could in his past life probably even break the pubis or ischium bone, would now probably only enrage his much larger opponent.
As Perun’s blade hit the man’s balls the man didn’t even flinch, which was surprising even to Perun. To ignore the pain in this way indicated not a skilled fighter but someone who fought, got beaten many times, and lived to tell the tale. Not even Perun reached such a level of pain tolerance, mainly because he rarely let his opponents touch him.
The man’s dark brown eyes looked into Perun’s and then the claymore sword rapidly changed its course, now aiming straight at Perun’s skull at neck-breaking speeds.
The familiar black void returned to Perun’s vision.