[Fabula โ "Tenebrosi Animas est Berserker"]
fable /หfeษชb(ษ)l/
a story about supernatural or extraordinary persons or incidents.
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Once a desolate land, with crimson dust coating the wind to the mountains that outreached the ether, was now riddled with chaos. Unimaginable chaos; the chaos of a thousand-year war. It was a battlefield of endless slaughter. Mountains of bodies were forming everywhere, yet the warriors never stopped moving forward.
Two sides of the world, fighting at witsโ end.
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Knights clashed their swords in the midst of the field. Archers stood by from afar as they shot their arrows. Lancers left their horses to blissful death. Monsters howled in rage at their fallen. Yet one could not tell who was the enemy.
In a world of great fiction, it would be a tale as old as time. Humans against monsters. Good against evil. But this was not a piece of fiction.
This was realityโฆ and reality never made sense.
Everyone was out for their own skin, even the beasts, who were not so mindless as a yarn in a tavern would deem them.
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If monsters were to be named, it would surely not be the beasts forced to survive, and not the humans like some tales claim to defy a commonerโs expectations. The true monsters were those in the beyond. The arbiters that orchestrated this cruel fate upon a beautiful world. God created everything, but everything sought to destroy itself.
This was but a twisted belief in the eyes of the swordsman, calmly treading the battlefield on his horse like a watcher from beyond. Unseen and unscathed.
It wasnโt that he was truly unseen. With a suit of armor darker than black, a face covered under the hood, and a greatsword that has seen a million battles, this swordsman was to be left alone. No one dared to fend off his threatening aura. He was a beast of darkness disguised in human flesh, cursed forever within to walk the path of the moon.
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In his thoughts, he counted. No more than twice each time he passed a certain distance. What was it that he counted? The number of soldiers who were struck down? Perhaps the time it took for a beast to devour one whole? Or anything that his eyes gazed upon in the battlefield? No one knew.
Nevertheless, the battle moved and he traveled across like a ghost.
The wind was starting to catch up and whistle even as the warriors persisted. This was the fate of those who battled for the strongest. Of course, there were some more who strived to achieve peace in war: a war to end all wars. But such fantasy did not exist here.
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Just as the swordsman with the giant greatsword began counting again, his thought process was interrupted as he came to a halt. Among the crowds and weapons blocking the clear view, covered by smog, stood a great and broad figure. Normally one would suspect it for a beast, but that was far from the truth. It was human, but to paint him as one like any other would be nothing but a poor jest.
โSoukenโฆ,โ uttered the swordsman.
Cladded in armor of great protection, the giant man soon shared his gaze with the swordsman. He could not help but salivate at this chance encounter once again.
He knew him. And the swordsman knew him as well.
Other soldiers rushed in and attempted to slice that man open, but he would take their life away like he did a fly. It was strange how simpletons like them would risk their life away for that man but not the swordsman who seemed much easier to clash with due to his smaller figure.
However, that did not mean the swordsman lacked any height at all. The moment he stepped down his horse, he was still reaching half the height he was at when on top of it. He towered over most of the warriors nearby. But he did not care, for his target, his mission, was that man, who towered over him as much as he did for others, the berserker.
They stood at an impasse before even starting. The berserker was sure to take down the swordsman in one blow from his mace. But the swordsman was calculating a similar method, counting not only the time it would take for his opponent to draw out his open but how much it would take to land a hit. The berserker was quite strong so even a weapon as heavy as mace would be no problem to swing in a second. However, what he was flawed at, the swordsman excelled.
There was one thing for sure to set this battle: it was a matter of speed.
The swordsman reached for his greatsword. But the berserker had already drawn first blood โ or at least, he thought he would.
Closing the distance between him and the swordsman, the berserker inched closer with his grip on his mace in the air, ready to strike. And as he didโฆ
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In a flash, the swordsman moved aside, dodging the attack completely. But the berserker was already on the move for another attack. Despite his size, he was light on his feet and quick with his blows. The mace was already swinging the swordsman's way, who was yet to draw out his sword.
โShoulda brought a knife cutter, ye bastard!โ Shouted the berserker.
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With a swift motion, the swordsman ducked and rolled out of the maceโs away, all in a second.
โW-What?!โ Cried the berserker in confusion.
If he could cut back on his attack, he would, but he had put everything into that swing that he could not stop before finishing it. It would take a whole two seconds to return back to form. Sure enough, one second had passed and his swing was slowing down. He quickly thought of swinging it back after the next second to the swordsmanโs direction. But as he looked over, he could not comprehend what was before him in such a short time.
Not only was the swordsman standing on his feet with his greatsword fully unsheathed, he got off his feet in less than a second and went in for a strike. He did not cry for battle. He was not angry. He was silent the entire fight through.
*SLICE*
True to his reaction a second ago, the berserker was too late to comprehend what happened to him. The greatsword, that accursed sword, was struck right directly into his heart, piercing through his once-great armor.
There was no reaction on the swordsmanโs face, who the man could see now from being so close to him. No expression of victory. Just a solemn look of death.
โThe Lord of the Owls has fallenโฆโ
It was done. That lone battle among the war was over.
The swordsman took out his greatsword before the man that was once a berserker fell to his knees and then landed on the ground, leaving a lifeless husk on the ground in the process.
โMay the sands of time and the tower of souls pray for your bygone flesh,โ the swordsman mumbled to himself, hoping his words would reach the soul of his dead opponent, โElse youโll drown in a sea of bane.โ
The swordsman swung his sword aside to clean off the blood before sheathing it on his back.
The war was still going like nothing ever happened. After all, nothing really happened. It only took five seconds to start and finish the fight with ease. There was nothing of note here that would be visible to the naked eye.
The swordsman sighed and looked up at the sky that was barely visible from the dust. But even then, the moonโs light shined like never before. It was beautiful to a point that it was haunting.
However, the swordsman did not mind. He admired it.
He remembered the words a hanged man once said to him.
โA wish for faint light. A wish for great blight. By the by, do you crave desire? Dream of an elusive age? The moon will grant all should the champions fall.โ
Once again, the dark knight had slaughtered another prey.