He has a face!

Luckily, as it turned out, the man did in fact have a face and with a slight tug of a helmet it greeted Kato. Sharp, blue eyes pierced through waves of unkempt dirty, blonde hair. He had a slight hooked nose that rested above a light, ginger, lampshade moustache. Faint stubble was coloured the same and ringed his angular chin.

The man shook his head slightly, his hair billowed in the wind as droplets of sweat flew off his face, reddened from the exertion. He blinked slightly looking at Kato, “thanks, could’ve been rough.”

Kato’s rage stared back, ‘what is this? I came here for blood not words.’ Kato keeping his eyes on the stranger, reached down his hand curling around the warmth of a recently held mace handle. He lifted it from one of the attackers’ hands and thankfully it came free first try.

“I’m Aldor and you?” The man reached out an iron clad hand towards him.

Kato’s eyes narrowed; they were in the middle of a battlefield.

Experimentally Kato swung the mace a couple of times, allowing himself to get a feel for the weight.

“You don’t talk much do you?” Aldor looked at Kato, curious.

Kato’s pitch-black sword pupils glinted sharply but were hidden in the shadows of the nearby wagons.

Aldor leant on the charred wood behind him, his armour creaking heavily from the movement, “Don’t get me wrong. I get it. I do,” he continued, amicably.

Kato went back to testing his weapon, he was glad the man understood. His rage had a very specific skillset and holding a prolonged conversation wasn’t one of them.

“I just think fate had brought us together, it must have, we are destined for more than this don’t you see?" Passion leaked into his words as his voice raised, furore growing with every passing second.

‘Great I rescued a nutjob.’ Kato examined the barbed metal head of his newly acquired weapon; he felt the weight shift as it travelled from the start to end of it swing. Finally happy he nodded, ‘this would do.’

Aldor still watching him burst out in excitement, “see I knew you would agree.” He paused, searching for the words, “we are Kindred spirits, we must be destiny truly is guiding our paths.” He violently nodded to himself.

Kato felt sorry for the man’s neck. First, it’s main job was to support the head of a nutcase and now this. He shook his head softly; it was a tough life.

“You disagree?” Aldor said softly, then he laughed lightly, “perhaps not, what is destiny to us warriors?” He smiled then lunged forward, patting Kato’s back with a hard thump. Kato winced from the impact, stumbling a step forward.

Saving people was supposed to feel good, be rewarding. They were supposed to thank you at a minimum not make you wish you’d never met them. He sighed, ‘what’s done is done.’ Weapon in hand, he peered around the side of the wagon once again.

“You are quite right, of course,” Aldor rambled on. “Adventure awaits!” And with that proclamation the helmet returned to its place and a thick, gauntleted hand pulled the large sword back from the ground, gritty scraping accompanied the action as the blade dragged though the earth.

Kato tried to tune the man out, replacing his voice with the noticeably less prominent sounds of battle.

He drank in the sight ahead of him. The reason for the less prominent sounds was now evident. The once hundreds of men had been reduced to just tens. They fought in sporadic patches across the blood-soaked field, over the bodies of comrades and foes alike.

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No horns blew. No one shouted orders. The only thing that could be heard was laboured grunting punctuated by the familiar clangs of metal on metal.

Kato scanned the field again, what had happened to the leadership if they were ever there, he didn’t know. All he did know was that he could discern no difference between one man and the next. They wore no colours had no obvious outward signs that they belonged to a particular group. How they knew who to fight Kato had no idea.

A hand tapped Kato’s shoulder, reluctantly he turned.

“What are you doing?” A familiar, overly excited voice asked.

Kato stared back at Aldor; surviving might be more difficult than he had thought.

“Don’t want to share the plan?” A metal face stared intently at Kato. “No? I get it… kind of… who needs a plan anyway?”

Kato fought down the urge to massage his throbbing temple. After a moment he finally responded, “which ones are you allied with?” He had already made his bed he might as well lie in it.

The metal head tilted in confusion, “None of them? Every man for himself. Strength through suffering and all that,” he raised a hand weakly to the air, punctuating his words.

Kato’s world dipped into colder hues he’d only seen once, briefly before. Greens and blues replaced the once lively world. A thin, glossy sheen coated his eyes as the warmth was chased from his world.

Kato looked back to the man, four singular words slithering from his throat “you’re with the church?”

Aldor looked at him confused, “we all are? Everyone must suffer it is the way of life.”

Kato’s vision blanked, rage taking over him. His body shot forward. Kato’s arm swung overhead. The mace followed. Crash! Aldor’s body crumpled against the wagon wall. The mace had buried through armour and skin as it jutted out of the dead man’s head. Liquid trickled around the buried barbs, finding succour outside of their metal prison.

Kato walked away without even a second look. The man had found his destiny and now Kato would find his. He picked up another mace.

They came here wanting to suffer and Kato would oblige them. One last gift for the poisonous church.

He walked around the side of the overturned wagon without even checking. His heart beat in a slowly steady rhythm. This was the first thing that had felt right in a while.

He charged forward; the mace flashed through the air again and again. As he doled out more and more of the suffering they craved.

Kato tore through crowd after crowd, his muscles were straining as he lifted the weapon time and time again. He had expected to be dead by now, but apparently charging someone and pulverising their head in a single clean blow was a winning strategy who knew.

The number of practitioners left could be measured on a hand and instead of fighting him they were fighting each other. Four of them were the only ones left but they acted like they weren’t. Still just mindlessly slashing and blocking and repeating. Oblivious to the world outside of the immediate threat.

Kato rose his mace three more times, and it fell three more times.

It was as if a curse had been shattered the last man stood stock still, staring at Kato. Then he knelt prostrating himself before him, “let my suffering be your own.”

Kato’s mace twitched back suddenly, stopping in its path. He stared at the man on the ground, his rage twitched angrily, ‘what are you waiting for?’

The man stared back at him, raising his head from the dirt it had been pressed in. Then he spoke, “suffering begets strength, you will come to thank me.” A vice-like grip latched onto Kato’s arm jerking it downwards.

The head of his mace connected with a sickening crunch and the last practitioner, crumpled to the side. Kato looked at his mace. ‘What have I done?’

He trembled violently, unclenching his hand for the first time in what felt like hours. His weapon dropped to the ground with a slight thud. He looked around himself, ‘so many bodies.’

Kato threw up, bluish vomit met the green ground.

His eyes shifted dilating as his rage retreated back within him.

He looked to the ground. His sick. It was yellow.

‘What am I becoming?’

A strong male voice echoed all around him, “congratulations disciple you have taken the suffering of others and made it your own, not a lot can.”

Kato looked up, the acrid taste of vomit, still heavy in his mouth. He wasn’t like them. He couldn’t be. Wouldn’t be.

A familiar stone rose from the ground ahead of him, tearing upwards through the ground without pause, dirt flew from the air as it continued in its ascent. The second indent pulsated briefly before the same unnatural green as he first filled it.

Kato looked at it briefly he didn’t want to do any more trials. He just wanted to go home.

The voice spoke again, “as stated there are no second chances. You had the chance to leave before. You don’t now. Let the trial of plague begin.”

Nothing happened. No portal appeared. There wasn’t even a sound. Then the stone flickered out of existence and Kato’s body erupted in pain.