"Hahahahahahaha!!!!!" The man that was covered from head to toe in blood laughed maniacally, clearly enjoying the bloodbath he was creating at the footsteps of his king's palace as his heavy sword sliced through the bodies like jello.

When the small remaining soldiers around the maniac could no longer steel their hearts to face the death and their general who stood right in front of them, they all tucked their tails between their legs and backed away from the bloodied man, who has become eerily calm from moments before.

Luka Wraithe, General of the kingdom of Mimora, the god of war, the grim reaper, stood still with his sword still clutched in his grip.

Looking up to see his king who stood at the top of the stone stairs, he gave his king a smile. Not a smile filled with hatred and anger, but one filled with sad pity. 

Tearing his gaze from his king, Luka's eyes wandered across the battlefield he had created, one that was filled with severed limbs and corpses. 

His breath trembled as he lifted his heavy foot forward. One step after the other, he made his way to the large gates. Just as he was one step from leaving the palace, his legs gave out, causing his knees to buckle under him. Luka winced lightly, his breathing became soft and even as he lifted his head to stare at the sun ray that had finally broken through the clouds for the first time in days. "I'm sorry."

Swinging his sword, pointed it back to himself and pierced the blade into his stomach.

"LUKA!!!" he heard his king call for him from the top of his lungs.

Luka coughed out blood as his vision blurred, fading in and out. With his vision darkening, he thought about the one person who has been haunting his dreams for the past months. Luka wanted nothing more than to see him one last time... but that man no longer alive. And now, Luka Wraithe will be joining him...

Or so Luka thought.