On a cliff, a man clad in armor was gazing far into the horizon. His face, while covered in soot and dirt, was oddly at peace; it was the expression of a man who was resigned to his fate--the fate of death. But in his eyes lingered a darkness born from his now-depraved heart.

Behind him, creaking noises, akin to things breaking under their immense weight, resounded out. And with a crash, a handful of embers went into his view, basking him in a reddish afterglow. Under the eerie light, the serenity of his face broke as he tried to utter a few words--no sound came out. After what just happened, he was now incapable of human

speech.

He glanced below him. The steel armor he once took pride in for how well he maintained it, was now covered in thick grime and long streaks of blood. Holes of immense size --that could easily make a man shiver in fear-- riddled his body as if a monstrous spear with a jagged edge ruthlessly stabbed him through and gouged out the flesh on the way out. His dominant arm was now swaying with the wind as it dangled freely on a thin strip of skin, but through sheer willpower, his hand was still clutching deeply onto the handle of his master’s sword. Even on the verge of death, he refused to insult his master’s good will. Beneath him, a crimson-colored puddle laid silently alongside his feet. He looked more of a walking corpse than of the living.

The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

He returned his gaze onto the horizon. But as he did so, faint voices and rushed movement sounded out behind him.

They’re finally here—they really intend to wipe us all out. Already have one foot in the grave, and here they are, helping with the other. What a diligent bunch.

He shuffled himself towards the edge of the cliff. Determination rose from his face. It was a grim face.

Just as the others, there’s no hope left for me to survive this ordeal—not in a state like this. Despicable and deceiving lot.

After a few breaths, he finally reached the edge. But this time, anger and rage filled his eyes. His teeth barred, as if to express his desire to kill.

But if I do--If I do survive, regardless how, even if I convert to the worship of the Old Gods...They will all pay for their treachery. They will pay in blood!

On that last step, he tumbled over the edge. His body flailing madly as it whistled through the air. And as it did so, a ghastly shout echoed throughout. It was an incomprehensible shout, like it was comparable to a broken instrument being forcibly played. It terrified all who had heard it.

After a few moments of falling, he was finally consumed by the cover of the forest below. Never to be seen--never to be heard again.