“Ignorance wasn’t bliss, it was suffering. Salvation was not peace, it was war.”
~ Merlin The Great, 18 B.G.A - 52 A.G.A in the Germanian calendar.
The world has many titles and monikers, almost equivalent to the diversity of mortal races dwelling in it. But, perhaps the most notable one is the name “Erde”.
Erde is known by many as a vast piece of land surrounded by an infinite azure body of water that stretches indefinitely, never ending.
Centuries ago, when there were still 3 moons, a cataclysmic war took place in Erde. Many say that due to the intensity and frequency of thunderstorms that are produced by the God of Fertility Balmine, who had been weeping ever since the war occurred and current, that the never ending ocean was formed.
In a book titled Unser Kampf, written by the very person who had put an end to The Great’s Crusade, Merlin The Great, described the world back then as he knew it, as well as Merlin’s casual thoughts.
The first page after the casual foreword introduced the world as we know it.
The 4 regions of Erde, all sitting in their respective cardinal directions:
There’s the cold northern sub-continent of snow, Czekia.
The eccentric eastern sub-continent of the beastfolk, Tzu.
The rich western sub-continent of the humans, Germania.
The barren southern sub-continent of sands, Izan.
Finally, the great unknown in the middle of all the other directions in the world, The Gone.
After the brief and nonchalant descriptions, the tone of writing suddenly changed. Descriptions of the enemy as well as of the war were given in a grim, revolted tone.
Page 25 of Unser Kampf:
“I was born in war, and grew up in it. War took from me my parents who I never met, and relatives whose faces I can't even remember. It took from me even those who I grew to love, my lovers and friends. I wished for everything to stop, everyone did. Yet those people- No, those savages were not human. They couldn’t have been. They came through the skies from another dimension, a world full of their loathsome lot. Their vile hands carried weapons no man could wield but them, whilst they rode huge celestial bodies that carried constellations of stars from each side. These stars fired upon us powerful rays of light which ignored all manner of logic. Any that touched this light, living or unliving, had inevitably perished and ceased to exist. Of course, we tried asking for peace, but they would rather take advantage of our humility and commit all manner of atrocity, inflict every violation possible to our kind-”
The descriptions of the war went on and on for hundreds of pages. When it finally ended, the aftermath of the war was displayed in a sorrowful manner.
Page 619 of Unser Kampf:
“After the war, which mainly occurred on Izan, it tore the great deserts apart. Though not many lived in Izan due to its harsh conditions, it further made it inhabitable as toxic fog and volcanic ash covered the skeletal remnants of those who fought or dwelled, forever burying them beneath the gray snow.”
It has been a long time, an approximate of 500 years since a man last walked its crunchy ground.
However… nobody could've known that they would have to stop the count and start a new one. Not a single soul, even those who foretold prophecies, could've foresaw that along with the end of a golden era is the beginning of perhaps the darkest chapter of Erde.
BOOM!
Volcanoes erupted from here and there and spewed deadly fumes far above the cloud. The sky wept tears of gray. They had been falling ever since the war, hence a great gray landscape was all one could see instead of the big blue sky or the dark, starry knight.
Nobody knew the time of day in Izan, as rumors say it flows differently there than the rest of the world.
Despite of the innumerable dangers it posed, a man in black traveled the hazardous wasteland alone, brazen and unfaltering. He donned a peculiar black coat made from leather, and on his neck wrapped a crimson scarf. His face was obscured by his hair.
One would say he has no location in mind, like a bird that deviated foolishly from the flock. However, he isn’t the type of person to sheepishly follow the flock, nor is he the type of person to move without an objective. Everything in his life, down to the finest detail, has a goal.
Though, only he knows what it truly is.
Days passed. Even weeks. Still, he traverses the ruined lands.
Crunch~
Crunch~
Crunch~
Crunch~
Crunch~
Stop.
Finally, as if the end of time itself had come, the man halted his march in the middle of a hill not any different from the others. None could be heard except the harrowing howls of Izan’s wind. He knelt gently, but then roughly brushed the sand on the ground to reveal a huge hunk of some unknown crystal he must be standing on.
At the sight of the obscure object, an even more mysterious smile from the man came. Afterwards, he stood up and felt the ash thoroughly in his hand. It was coarse, akin to many lives that expired themselves from birth to death, many of which no one cried about.
Thankfully, he was one of the few who would shed a tear for the end of a life he once loved. Like the world however, he too, swiftly moved on, turned as he and it always would. He groomed himself exuberantly before pulling the scarf from his neck, then a notebook and the book of Merlin from his pocket. The man held them as he would his own heart.
With a mournful smile, he read the thousand poems written inside the notebook, each word striking his heart. Upon the final word, he ought to find solace at the warmth of his scarf... But like all things, the warmth would not last forever.
It was time.
The silence was broken as the scarf, the paper, and the book burned right in his gloved hand. From its smoldering entirety, particles of light reminiscent of fireflies came out of the fabric’s dark ashes, then absorbed by the blue crystal. Glyphs of an unknown alphabet shone from within it, and then the world felt a great disturbance. Meanwhile, inside Erde, the gray skies of Izan began crawling, like vines that spread itself throughout. Animals started to run in huge hordes to the north, the great seers of Erde saw nothing but black, and a question was laid before everyone-
What is happening?
A power long forgotten, a relic of tyranny buried in the ash had been awoken. Him discovering this was proof that no matter how much we hide our sins in the annals of time, the winds of god themselves will blow the built-up dust away from it.
And blow it did as the world quaked and the stars aligned themselves for the incoming Armageddon. Everyone in the word felt the impending doom, the tragedy that is to come. Distant worlds, constellations, even galaxies burst asunder, then few were culled, and now, called upon by one single person.
A great pillar of black appeared in the sky for everyone to see.
From beneath the ashen deserts of Izan, creatures big and small, of black and white, sprang quickly. At their palms were weapons the world had wished forget, like a horrifying nightmare that stuck itself to a child's frail mind. At the same time, massive wings of pestilence spread themselves in the air. It beat just once, then hurricanes of gray were formed, one that spread a filthy mist which gave everything it touched the state of entropy. Taking its airborne throne once more, it roamed the sky and danced in it like starlings do.
ROAR!
It beckons in a violent wail to notify the dawn of war. Grim cries from the soldier's of death followed in response. Scattered as they are, they fiercely reverberated throughout all of Izan as one. A vibrant red flag in tatters was raised in the air, in the middle of it was a dirty white circle containing a symbol of what was supposed to be peace. Now, its purpose was to signify war.
The man in black basked himself in the glory of ashen chaos. It was right then and there that a flake landed on his nose, or so he thought.
Rather than a flake of ash, it was a burnt sheet of the crimson scarf, which became nothing more than mere cinders along with his heart. However, he had already mourned. The man knows that even though the past can be buried, it cannot be erased, as it is written in ink and has already dried in the book of God. Forward is the only way.
And so, he let the wind carried the fragment of the past away, drifting into obscurity…
Let this day be marked… as the dawn of The Age of Ash.
Years before The Age of Ash.
GASP!
Aghast, a terrified young lady sat upright on the bed, cold sweat running down her temples. She struggled composing herself as her body shook vehemently against her will. It took time, but with a few deep breaths, she thankfully pulled through.
What on God’s name was that? - the girl asks herself while panting.
Indeed, it was a terrifying dream, one that quickly faded from her memories as soon as her eyes opened. The horror, however, lingered for longer. She could’ve sworn that she heard a sharp crunch before her wake, as if something fell from the sky and turned into a sloppy mess on the ground.
The young lady turned to her trembling left hand. It felt strange, though she couldn’t quite put her finger on it. So, she clenched the said hand to a fist as tight as she could, steeling her heart with it. The uneasy feeling disappeared along with the trembling.
Now in a more stagnant state of mind, she noticed something odd with her vision.
B-bandages? — She gently touched her face, then swiftly retracted her fingers as soon as they hit her right eye, for it ached. As for her body, she wore a simple yet elegant white dress that she doesn’t remember putting on herself.
This dress is so tight! - She complains to herself while taking it off.
Beneath the soft fabric-- which was starting to tear--were crudely applied bandages wrapped around her sweaty torso, which hid her ample breasts. It made breathing a little more difficult, but she preferred them over nothing. This is because, other than uncomfortable bandages that covered her entire body as well as the ill-fitted dress, she was buck naked.
Who brought me here? - Questions kept flowing, swirling violently like a cyclone inside her head. They drowned her in the emptiness the young lady herself made.
She could only think of so many questions at once. Once it passed a certain threshold…
It went berserk. She asked herself endless questions profusely, yet nobody replied. It felt as if she was standing in the middle of an abyss where there was no footing, and it felt incredibly uneasy to look down as the fear of falling was always there.
THUNK! THUNK! THUNK!
The young lady was snapped out of her mind by the sharp noise. She averted her gaze to the door where all the noise came from. Short flashes of light slipped through the wooden door’s slits with each loud thunk. And even though it was faint, the scent of burned coal reached her nose.
This is probably the home of a blacksmith. Again, what brought her here?
The girl pressed her brain for answers. But, trying to remember something had never been so hard… and painful. Headaches made her dismiss the idea for now-
Growl~
Her stomach too, which snarled at her like a rabid dog, distracted her. Hunger was a great deterrent for the mind, especially when you start to feel a burning sensation in your stomach.
At times like this when you're absolutely lost, magic comes in handy.
The girl reached deep inside her mind, rousing the abstract power coursing inside of her. Then, she started silently chanting in her head, a language even she doesn't quite understand. Magic was simple for her; you feel your mana, and then you chant. It was piece of cake for the smart and strong girl she claims herself to be.
But... nothing's happening. She attempted again, then again and again, yet each time was a failure.
This is ridiculous! - she pulled her hair in frustration. More throes of the same violent emotion could’ve been thrown if only her stomach was a little less angrier than she was. The girl could endure many things, hunger was unfortunately not one of them.
But then again, it rarely ever was for anyone.
Hungry for both food and answers, the young lady quickly dressed up afterwards with the same small dress even though it didn't fit her, for it was all she had. She raised her guard at its highest, then stood up to survey the small, poorly lit room with her own eyes.
It felt rather cramped, so much so that if she was a couple inches taller, her head’s apex would’ve hit the ceiling. The bed was well-kept, but the room itself was unbearably dirty. Undusted pictures and dusty books placed inside shelves covered in dust, as if no one lived here except dust for the longest time, and it greatly irked the girl. The stone bricked walls reminded her of the ancient ruins in children’s books, with the only difference between them being that the crude drawings simply appeared far better than these walls.
Is this house haunted? - she made a joke only she could hear and only she would laugh at regardless. Nobody would joke about Brood Wraiths, much less laugh at it.
Putting spirits of filth aside, it certainly was strange. The room felt cramped, yes, but at the same time, she felt as if she could fit the entire world inside. The girl had never felt so big before.
There is only a singular candle melting away on the creaky table, faintly illuminating and gently warming the dark, cold room. With it, the young lady could see the things she had described, oddly vivid at that, despite the lack of a proper light source. All of her observations came down to one single thought-
The blacksmith must’ve brought me here. - She turned her head back to the wooden door, contemplating if she should either meet her savior or simply leave through the closed window.
After a brief moment of silence for herself, the girl made her decision-
Creak~ THUD!
A dwarf being a blacksmith is such a cliche!- she begrudgingly held her forehead with teary eyes. What else could explain the ridiculously small doorway and room? The girl knew she was smaller than most, and yet somehow her head still hit the wall. It was fortunate that she didn’t hit it too hardly, but it still ached.
Now in a grumpier mood, she went through the wooden door (ducking properly this time) and found herself a busy old man right in front of a bright yellow stove. Even though she was sure he heard her, he remained unflinching.
He’s tall for a dwarf. - She thought while staring at the old man’s frame. He’s merely a few inches shorter than her, which was understandable given her height. White hair and wrinkles were indicative of his old age. The said dwarf wore nothing more than a dirty leather apron for his top, but donned a pair of baggy pants that hid behind the said apron.
The smith looks like he's always wearing a scowl, or perhaps he truly is?
He felt the girl's itch-inducing stares hit his back repeatedly. The old man took a quick peek over his shoulders, then got back to work just as fast. In a voice as coarse as the raggedy stone floor, the blacksmith broke the silence-
“It’s good that yer up, but what the fuck’re ye staring at me for?” he grumbled while pounding without blinking. He hammered magnificently, as if he wasn't old nor skinny at all. Despite the hot air surrounding him, one would feel wisdom behind his frown, a feeling that the girl completely missed.
She didn’t like the way he talked, nor did she like how dirty he looked. She liked none of his features and felt that she’ll dislike everything about him. Still, she had no choice but to ask. But, she did so in a tone so arrogant that it didn't exactly fit her mild and gentle voice-
“Where am I-”
Growl~
The old man turned his head to the girl.
“Hrm.” he grunted. She couldn’t tell if he just chuckled or was simply annoyed. Whichever it was, her face reddened in shame as she cursed her stomach.
The blacksmith paused his work for a while then gestured the girl to follow him. He went to the same room he kept her while shakily holding a lamp, then opened a small, doddering wooden closet standing next to the wall. Inside of it was some rather fresh bread (hopefully) that he chucked over for her to catch.
He didn't even wash his hands. - She gulped at the bread. To make things worse, bread wasn't really included in the things that appeared inside her head as food, but she had no choice.
“I’m only doin’ this cause I owe you a huge favor, albeit… unintentional.” he said with his grumpy tone. He also threw her a new set of clothes which she wore. They were still smaller than her, but not as worse as the dress.
The girl doesn’t remember doing such a thing (a favor) for the old man, not that she remembers anything in the first place, except a couple of glimpses from the past… Of a boy and an oak tree. She felt as if it was something of great importance, but given the situation she’s currently in, there were far more important questions to think about than mere glimpses of some kid and some tree.
For someone who owes a favor however-
“Once you feel like standin’ naked on top of a mountain again, you can fuck right off that front door.”
… He’s awfully rude. - The young lady squinted. She’s not accustomed to being spoken to in such a barbaric manner. How great it would be to give him a piece of her mind, if only she didn’t caught sight of the smith’s works.
His smithy had quite the impressive array of weapons on the decrepit wall, all of high quality. The steelworks resonated to her as she wolfed down the bread in a matter of seconds. He might be a gruff as a person, but she thought that he is--at the very least--an exceptional blacksmith.
In an interesting turn of events, of all the eye-catching weapons, one particular blade that was leaning on the wall covered with a curtain had fully caught the girl’s attention-
“Oi! Keep yer fuckin' fingers to yerself woman! That right there is me child!” his flippant yelling failed to faze the girl, who removed the cloth to stare at his work with sparkling eyes. The smith too, stared at the girl for a brief period.
“… Fine.” came his mumbling and return to hammering. “Yer frail arms ‘ill break anyway.”
“W-what’s her name?” the girl glanced over her shoulders. “It’s my first time seeing a sword so big!”
“Hrm, an avid fan of swords, aren’cha? The name’s Zweihander.”
“That means ‘two-hander’.” she spoke in monotone. The name was from the language she used to chant magic, a language she barely understood. "So... you can use magic?"
“Naturally." he nonchalantly said, which threw the girl off slightly. "It’s supposed to be a two-handed sword, hence the name. I raised that baby meself years ago, but a lotta people, and by a lot, I meant everyone who tried wielding it had… difficulties, doing so.”
“So you were unable to sell it. It’s that heavy? Maybe it’s because your naming sense is so lazy-”
“Shut up! Lift it for yerself and you’ll see.”
The girl grabbed the handle of the sword with both hands. She might not be able to remember her past, but at least she remembers how much she adores swords. A deep breath at first, then with all her might-
Wait… isn’t this kind of light? - She thought as she casually lifted the blade. The young maiden even maintained it with one hand, then balanced it with one finger as if to show off.
“Hrm. So it IS you who cracked that Soldrake.” the old man stopped hammering, fascinated by the girl before him. However, she had no idea what he was talking about and stared at him as such.
“You’ve slain the Soldrake, didn’cha? If yer able to lift 48 pounds without shakin’ yer tits off, then it’s probably you.”
The girl was in disbelief of the sword’s weight. Though, what surprised her more was the story that the girl felled a Soldrake. It seemed as if it was a joke, so she laughed it off as such. It should be a joke.
However, the smith persistently asserted his story.
“… Ye don’t remember? I found yer sorry self standing naked and unconscious atop Mt. Pendragosa, right beside a dead Soldrake no less! Hell of a kink you have there, ya fuckin' weirdo.”
"... Do I look like the type of girl who would do all of that?"
“I said what I said.”
The girl was right, she won't like the old man and perhaps never will. In fact, she hates him already. Her? Standing naked on some... mountain? She continued to shrug his stories off. It was an understandable reaction, since besides her allegedly exhibiting her body on some tall landmark, everyone who lives above the earth's surface knows what a Soldrake is capable of.
In the Eastern lands of Tzu, they brand Soldrakes as the divine fingers of the Sun God. They are powerful creatures that live on the apex of mountains and volcanoes, and are believed to breathe sunlight through their skin.
A singular Soldrake has its fearsome reputation of stopping The Drake War. Germania has a lot of strong men, but those men would return in oak and mahogany in the face of a natural calamity who bears razor sharp wings and diamond-hard scales. So, with all this said, it is all the more reason as to why she should ignore the old man's deliriousness.
But… something occurred to the girl. She would hear them once more, the crunching.
crunch~
It was the same noise as earlier, only this time it played over and over inside her head.
Crunch!
She was confused, but at the same time she was drawn into it. They sound like bones... wait, bones?
CRUNCH!
Ah, she remembers now. That night, she was... running.
CRUNCH!
Then, a creature of great stature opened its glowing eyes. Large, pointy crystals protruded from its back, and the same material acted as its scales. Beneath them were dark undertones that indicated a black skin. When it stood up, it was no longer a creature. To depict it as a massive breathing edifice would be more accurate.
It spread its wide wings across the sky and became even larger. The giant fans covered the stars and the moon, replacing it with a pair of amber colored eyes which were much like hers. Then, it opened its mouth, exposing its pointed, serrated teeth, WHICH SWIFTLY-
CRUNCH!
The girl screamed and fell to her knees. Her left hand ached once more, then for the longest time, she found herself sitting still, not knowing that she already wet herself. It was all so sudden that the smith--who was very much surprised--almost tripped while rushing to her aid. After another set of clothes and a bath, the two talked in the room where the girl was kept.
"Yer piss smells like rottin' apples." the smith pinched his nose.
“I... I'll clean it up." she said in a daze. "B-but, did I really do that?"
"Do what?"
"D-did something happen before you found me? T-there must have been something right? Was I running or something?”
It was clear as day that the girl wasn't in her right mind, so the smith opened the window to let the breeze blow some fog away from the girl's head. It revealed the sight of the sun slowly but surely descending into the autumn-hued horizon.
“I found ya last night. It was midnight, and like always there was a storm. Thought that I... I needed somethin’ in Mt. Pendragosa, so I trekked it even though the winds almost carried me all the fuckin' way up to the afterlife. When I reached the top, I thought there was some sorta pole... but it was you! Standin’ naked on the peak, beside the dead Soldrake like a fuckin’ idiot.”
“… That can’t be true. I can’t kill a Soldrake! I mean, me? Against a Soldrake? While naked? Are you crazy?”
“Well, who knows? Only crackheads 'ill go near a Soldrake anyways, so yer not far off. Can't imagine the kinda people who would kill em' though. Just be thankful it was me who found you and not some... animal.”
The girl had many questions, but all of them were replaced by another set of uncertainties when she noticed something she should've noticed much earlier. Frantically did she run to the mirror to look at her reflection. Strange things happened ever since she woke up, but these were perhaps the strangest of them all. The girl couldn't even believe what she was looking at, and would rather believe the smith's bollocks.
Her hair and eyes are both amber in color, and have reddish highlights. Although she might not remember everything, she does remember having purple eyes and hair.
She mumbled questions inside her head, but there was more to question.
“Gramps, how tall are you?”
“72 furlongs.”
“Just answer the damn question!”
“Ugh! You have no common sense! Of course it’s 72 inches. Who the fuck would be 72 furlongs tall?! Use yer fuckin' brain!”
At that very moment, the girl realized; He’s no dwarf… and this “cramped” house isn’t even small. She just grew much taller, tall enough to almost hit the ceiling. Tall enough to bump his head in the doorway. Big enough to not fit a simple white dress.
“How tall do you think am I?”
“Fuck if I know. Did you think I sized yer ass up while you slept?” the blacksmith scoffed. His pounding increased its intensity. “I ain’t one o’ those 'nobles' from the capital of this godforsaken country. There’s a big ass ruler on the frame of the mirror that nobody uses, so use that. Shit, the one time I use humor and it’s all gone to bloody hell-”
While he muttered incessantly, the disoriented girl stood right next to the mirror before she pinned her finger right on top of her head, marking her height.
“I’m… 80 inches.” she muttered in disbelief.
“Heh. That’s what happens when ya kill a Soldrake. Didn’cha know that already? And here I thought you were smart.”
So I really killed something like that? - she mumbled to herself, still in shock. More importantly-
How did the old man knew?
She kept that question to herself as to not press the matter further. She has enough on her plate as it is. Furthermore, on weapon of the old man, there was...
"Walk yer ass outside." The old man said. It sounded like an order, but it was a suggestion. "It's boutta be night. Touch some grass before it gets wet, maybe you'll feel better."
Why should I obey this old grunt? - She thought to herself. However, she had nothing else to do inside anyways. So, she did just that.
***
Outside the stone cabin is a vast grassy plains full of vegetation and wild life, who all stared at her warily. It was a beautiful sight that would captivate anyone that didn’t have bandages surrounding their body. From far away, a small bump in the ground could be seen, which indicated the mountain called Mt. Pendragosa. The mountain seemed so ominous, as if telling you even from a distance to ‘stay away’.
Why did that old grump set up shop in such a desolate place? — the girl asked herself. This meant that she is somewhere in the east of Germania.
East Germania is filled with vegetation and population of wild animals rather your usual civilizations, which Germania has all over.
Understandably, the girl thought that smith is crazy for living here.
From the distance, a reminiscent oak tree caught her attention by accident.
She approached the said tree with Zweihander in hand, pondering why the smith hasn't noticed her take it despite it being so big. Underneath its shade appeared a boy holding a book. She was aware that it was all inside her head, but she approached it anyways.
“So, are you ready to fulfill your promise?” the boy smiled. She didn’t know what the promise was, nor who he is. Nevertheless, she smiled back at him even though she didn’t understand.
“N-not yet.” the girl replied awkwardly, averting her gazing towards the descending sun. She also doesn't know why she played along, but it felt great being with this boy for some reason.
The young lady wanted to speak with him more in hopes of remembering something, but when she turned her head towards his direction, he was there no more. There was a flurry of feelings that welled up inside of her afterwards. Being afraid, she understood. She does remember being chewed alive, which was immensely repugnant. But… for some reason, there were also:
Confusion, anger, longing, worry, uneasiness, etc.
This can’t go on.
I must remember. — She lifts the large sword fully in the air with both hands, then with all her might-
WHOOP!
The air splits at the vertical swing of her blade, spreading large gusts of wind due to the sheer force she has produced. At the same time, she feels as if the weight she was shouldering is decreasing. The fierce young maiden repeatedly swings the Zweihander with her eyes closed shut; focusing.
She swung as she thought, and each time she did, the girl gained more space in her mind.
The sequence carried on until at some point, something occurred to the girl.
At first, the vision of another girl asking for help, reaching out for her while she’s…
Then all of a sudden, the protagonist was running against a group of men in the middle of the night. She was just running…
Finally, the same towering reptile covered the sky. AND THEN-
TING!
They were but mere peeks of what happened, yet she felt… scared.
But it wasn't just your usual fear. A man can fear something and still stand up straight then swallow his spit. She was no man, and she bolder than any, yet this sinister feeling made her fall to her knees and tremble. This is no mere fear, this is terror of the highest intensity.
Although… it seems like the girl has one more creature to be terrified of.
“NO!” aghast, the old mad shouted from afar, dropping the loaves of bread he cradled. “My baby! What did you do? WHAT DID YOU DO?!”
Him shouting about his 'baby' could only mean one thing. With a gulp, the young lady slowly turned her head towards the Zweihander. Then, her eyes enlarged at the horror in her palms.
Oh shit. — Her first thought, which swiftly came after the previous one, was to run away. She was just in time before the smith could make her head look like the sword she shattered from her last swing, one that hit the oak tree with a loud TING!
The tree was damaged greatly from her swing, almost split in half even. Half of the blade was stuck inside the upright rift the girl created while shards of it scattered on the ground, pieces that the smith stared upon with utmost dread.
“Hey, you little shit!” the smith’s heavy breathing was more than scary. It reminded her of a Sifwolf, a ferocious wolf that’s as big as a bear and growled louder than it. “COME BACK HERE! WHAT HAPPENED TO ZWEIHANDER!”
“I don't know!” the girl yelled in panic behind the large tree. “Put your hammer away first, let's have a civilized conversation-”
“What? Civilized?” the smith scoffed. His eyes are red from sheer anger. “You fuckin' killed me child, you hear me?! ME CHILD!”
A goose chase just occurred. It took them a long while of looping around the tree and repeating what they’ve already said before the 2 could advance their conversation.
After they were done fooling around, the sun had completely set. Darkness crept, enveloping the star-filled skies, each of which twinkled, as if winking at them, wishing both good luck. Stars are said to contain other worlds, which gave the girl some sense of company, a sense that obviously did not save her from the impending pain.
Surprisingly, it looks like the stars aren’t the only thing shining tonight. There were fireflies too, which are said to contain the souls of those with good heart.
BONK!
“OW!” the girl reflexively held her top. She was hit by the smith’s large, hard knuckles. “Calm down! My head hurts already!”
“I ain't got a fuck to give to your headache. Look at her! LOOK!” The smith frantically collects the shards of the broken sword on the ground. He then tried to pull the blade out of the tree, but to no avail. “What're you just standin' around there for? Help me, you murderer!”
“Murderer? Again, you’re being a little too dramatic.” the girl easily pulled the blade out of the tree.
If only she knew… that the old man was more than serious.
With the same blade that she handed to him, the smith pointed its sharp tip towards the girl, rambling continuously about how she don’t know an inkling on how he makes his swords. She tried to negotiate through various methods, but she was ignored.
Then, complete silence. None could be heard except for the crickets and birds. It went on for a while, undisturbed. Then--though she could tell that he was hesitant--the smith pulled the blade away from the girl.
“Tomorrow! You better be prepared!” was what he said while stomping his way back to the cabin, but not before throwing a loaf of bread at the girl.
The young lady, unsure of what to feel, stared at the bread, then to the angry smith, then back at the bread.
I don't get him. - She shrugs, then took a hefty bite of the bread and sat on the grassy ground to look at the starry sky. She was just thankful that everything was finally over.
ROAR!
Thunder crackled from afar. A stormy night is coming.
