--------------------------------------------------------POV Hugo----------------------------------------------------------------

The current eventuality playing out before my eyes is self-inflicted; my death is my fault and my fault alone. It was never supposed to be this way. However, as so it goes, things change faster than you can adapt at some points in your life and at other points  life remains stagnant to the point of inducing boredom.

I guess it would be best to describe who I once was. A person I only now remember in such visceral detail. Yes that’s right… who I once was.

I didn’t have a particularly lavish upbringing nor was I gifted with any innate talents. My mana pool was average at best. I was lovingly raised by my father; my mother had died during the process of giving birth. My father always remained resolute but left melancholic undertones in every action he took. I never once saw   a true and heartfelt smile from him. He was a blacksmith and worked in the under developed regions of the capital. Anyway, all of this is beside the point. At the age of 12 one of the governing lords of the district got in some petty squabble with another lord of some far flung fief at the border regions of the kingdom.

A man in full plate armour hammered on the door and shouted ill-omened words that still remain with me to this very day.

 “By order of the lord you are called to arms to defend the peace of this land”.

He never returned. He left to join mother. I waited for a hundred days and a hundred nights for him to return. With each passing day my optimism was being eroded and replaced with dread and pessimism. He had left everything he had with me and I had learned a lot from him as he taught me how to blacksmith; to an intermediate level. Many other children had lost their parents in the conflict including many of my childhood friends.

We came to group together into a colossal family like arrangement where the older among us looked after the younger ones, male and female alike. I could have left them to their own devices but my conscience would not allow me to leave them to an inevitable demise. This arrangement lasted for many years and we stuck together through all the turbulence and turmoil the world could throw at us. I even got married to my childhood sweetheart. Towards the end of the days where worries of the past had become just memories and the future looked bright.

It was stolen from us…

Stolen from me…

 Our collective future was stolen by the same force that had perpetrated the same event that left us in such dire straits.

The lord’s son had been bullied at school by some other noble’s child, though there is nothing noble about them.  I was conscripted, with many of my kin, into a conflict that took 5 years of my life; but by some miracle or, more likely, a sick joke I survived. I was around 29 when I returned to find that many had died in famine and starvation that followed the conflict; as the lord took all he could to fund the war effort. The deaths included my wife and the child I never knew I had.

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

Soon after; depression set in and I looked for some relief from my unending pain. This is the point, now that I look back on things, where things in my life became more… misguided. Though this only seems clear to me now. Having an epitome occur upon the advent of death?

Well I guess life is put into perspective when it is all about to end. Regardless to nullify the anguish I felt I turned to an easy means of escape. Alcohol.  Thereafter I joined together with my childhood friends and began to amalgamate a group. We started off by just doing odd jobs ; but that soon turned to slightly unlawful activities. And, from then onwards, we formed a mob like mentality where we tried to 1-up each other is “witch act is the most on edge”; further degenerating into a pit of irreparability. It is strange that only can I now retrospectively see this. I became the leader of the group through intimidation and developed what could be called a dialect just for that purpose.

Well I guess given what I have done this can be considered a fitting punishment. I opened my eyes one last time to the face of death incarnate, if not, death itself. I would be beyond the logical bound of fear if I was not resigned to my death already. The black … well no; The sword that had a colour that could best be described as being the absolute absence of light was heading towards me at an alarming speed. I hope I held him off long enough for at least one more person to survive the imminent massacre. The sword hit the nape of my neck.

…

I became a slave to my own weakness and never managed to escape…

…

Only managing to feel solace in the oppression of others…

…

I was weaker than those I looked down upon…

…

Far far weaker…

…

Strength is an arbitrary measure of a person’s worth to begin with…

…

But the ones I ‘hunted’ are some of the strongest people I have ever known…

…

I hope I can repent for any transgressions I, or any of my friends, committed in the next life...

… I

…I’m sorry…

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Thanks for reading and sorry for the short chapter. :L too much procrastination on all fronts.

Spoiler :

hugo=bandit boss person.