Three weeks have passed since the hell hound incident. Three weeks since he left the chopper wearing obliterated armor and carrying the melted shield. Descending to the ground covered in blood from head to toe to the cheering of many men. He did it again. The civilians loved the sight of a triumphed champion. He took all the attention on himself, allowing Chizue to sneak by. Metsuhai was supposed to enjoy his victory, but could only think about how tired he was. Besides, duty called. He had to go to Ando for armor replacement. Ando had high praise of him and said nothing of the erased battlephone record. After congratulating Metsuhai, speaking for a while (Metsuhai wasn't listening) saying stuff like "top performance" and "bravery in the face of death". Eventually he did what was really important: he gave Metsuhai a signed parchment, designated for the armory officer. Exhausted Metsuhai left Andos office as fast as he could without being rude and found himself in the armory. "Boy! You wrecked the excellent armor I gave you!" exclaimed Sushi then proceeded in a softer voice, "Good work. It seems you have put it to good use. By protocol I am supposed to give you the same equipment, same armor and same shield. But you seem to do wonders in battle. I'll give you a better armor to encourage you to keep up the good work. Might save your life one of these days."
"Thank you," was all Metsuhai forced himself to say.
Sushi went into a deeper room in the armory and came back with a shiny metal suit. It was a chain armor clearly made by professionals. "Aluminum and Titanium hardened alloy. Practically indestructible." Sushi also gave Metsuhai a square shield. It was bigger than the previous one.
Sushi tried to initiate further conversation with Metsuhai, asking him about the battles he had been through but Metsuhai needed his rest. "Perhaps some other time," he insisted. Another matter Metsuhai could not avoid was the mandatory lecture about ritual duels. It was long and explained in detail the rules and restrictions surrounding ritual duels. Unlike previously, only few people were present in the lecture, none of which Metsuhai knew. Apparently this lecture was considered secret and given only to fighters above a certain level of skill. The main idea was to convey terror to the listeners, making sure they never accept a ritual duel even if they think they'll win for sure since it puts the entire humanity in danger.
After resting thoroughly life was back to normal. Normal for Metsuhai that is. Time was flying so fast, packed with excitement and challenge though mixed with accumulating mental exhaustion. Metsuhai trained from morning to dusk, especially considering Lezner's claim that resting is part of training. He had his physical training with his classmates every morning, tormenting training he was thankful for, especially since it saved his life fighting the hell hound. When the jaws tried closing on him he needed every bit of strength. Lezner had been ruthless, no matter how good Metsuhai became. He had uncompromising critism and commented a lot on Metsuhai's and Kuma's performances. Yet he had nothing good to say. But his training method did bring results. Koi was now also putting everything into training and it paid off: Lezner finally granted him permission to go to battle as well. He had already returned from at least three successful missions.
Metsuhai was actually relieved Koi was going to the battlefield too. Maybe now his rage and jealousy will subside. Metsuhai didn't care much about surpassing Koi. He was fighting for his life. Every evening he trained his magic, faith magic and sorcery both. On top of that at least three times a week he practiced swordsmanship with Masaru. Masaru was impressed with Metsuhai's progress and complemented him more than once, but Metsuhai didn't feel any progress. No matter how hard he tried or how long he swung the sword in practice Masaru was always one step ahead. Most notably, every two days or so, Metsuhai engaged with the enemy. He already stopped counting how many foes he cut down. He began feeling comfortable on the battlefield. His moves were sharp and his reactions fast and accurate. But it was a dangerous and misleading feeling. In every mission he put his life on the line and he knew he must not forget it.
Once a day at least Metsuhai texted Chizue. He had her phone number (not the battlephone) since they departed on the hell hound incident day. They exchanged numbers in the helicopter on the way back to the capital. Metsuhai was still happy that he managed to ask for her number inside the crowded chopper in a simple friendly manner. He knew that he liked her. Even liked her very much. But he had no intention of bringing this up. I wonder if this is love. I wish I could consult my parents… Chizue was clearly receptive to his texting. They mainly told each other about their achievements on the battlefield. Chizue also complained about her studies. As an Arisu, she was forced to go through an extensive rigorous education program. She studied math, science, literature, history, art and three languages (not including English and Japanese), all from different private teachers. This was of course a great privilege, but for Chizue it was mainly a burden. Taking away her precious time and strength. Metsuhai couldn't imagine dealing with all of this and having a proper training schedule. Talking to Chizue was refreshing, even if only through text. But at night, he was still tormented by nightmares. The endless sight of blood and death, the smell of sweat and rotting flesh were hard to get used to. Metsuhai felt like he was a different person on the battlefield. Becoming more and more like the scum he had to regularly fight. The poison in his left arm, it was spreading. The expensive medicine worked less and less. The nearly constant pain in his arm was growing stronger, and getting to new areas. A bitter reminder that his time was running out. The sleeplessness took a toll on him too. It felt like he was fighting for years a never ending war.
Metsuhai shared his heavy unpleasant feeling with Masaru eventually.
"I understand how you feel," Masaru spoke calmly, "Not too long ago I was sent on a mission myself. I think I know what you lack. A warrior is more than one killing his enemy. He has a soul. Otherwise he is just a murderer…" Metsuhai didn't fully agree, but had no strength to argue with his senpai. "…what you need my friend is a hobby. Something that makes you feel whole again. Painting and reading works for me. Thus I am never tired, at least when it comes to my fighting spirit. You should find something that does the same for you. Whether it's art, or women, smoking, though it's not healthy, and so on. I can give you painting lessons if that is your wish."
Masaru was standing in the bedroom near Metsuhai. His eyebrow shaking.
Metsuhai was standing near the canvas placed on the easel, Masaru's paintbrush broken in half in his hand. The painting itself was a complete mess, a scribble with stickman like figure with a smiley.
"That was the most disgusting piece of junk I have seen in my entire life. And I lived for hundreds of years, kind of. I shall teach you art no more. Now get out of my sight!"
Technically it was Metsuhai's room too. But Metsuhai did not want to provoke his friend and teacher Masaru any further. He left the barracks, making sure not to return in the next three hours.
Metsuhai wandered around, going neither here nor there. Looking at the white clouds floating through the sky. I used to imagine shapes within the clouds. Metsuhai walked quiet far from the barracks, heading to a greener area. He walked aimlessly on the concrete road, passing by benches, bushes and trees. Everywhere around him was trimmed grass. Metsuhai contemplated his past hobbies, since Masaru's advice made sense. If asked what I like the first hobby that comes to mind is reading manga, specifically action manga. But now, after I have experienced real combat I seem to have lost the appetite. These kind of manga will only remind me work…
Playing soccer is an option too. I used to be pretty good. But here in the fort city no one plays soccer, maybe except small children.
Suddenly a sound of angry chatter drew his attention.
"You're going down! There's no way back now!"
Enemies? In the middle of Fortcity?!
Metsuhai drew his sword and charged to battle. But what he found was no demon assault. John was playing cards around a large round wooden table built into the ground, with two lads Metsuhai never met before (Alex and Yamius). Alex looked like a young typical Russian student. His eyes were blue and his hair hidden under his stylish helmet. He was wearing his full plate elite- guard armor. Yamius had blue hair and square glasses on his brown eyes. He wore a nice suit with a tie. They sat on opposing stone benches. Alex was displeased.
"Damn! You win again! How do you do it!"
John dragged a small pile of dollar bills from the center of the table to himself, a huge smile on his face. "You need to know when to give up," emotionlessly stated Yamius, "At this rate you will lose your entire salary." Alex growled in frustration.
Metsuhai just stood there with a drown sword, paralyzed like an idiot. John spotted him.
"Hey Metsu, calm down. We can talk about it."
Metsuhai sheaved his sword. "Talk about what?"
"Not very bright, is he?" (Yamius)
"Metsu, man. I know gambling is against regulations but the higher ups don't have to know." (John)
Metsuhai didn't find the fitting words yet.
"If we followed all the stupid regulations we would have been dead by now- from boredom that is." (John)
"Gamble to your heart's content," reassured Metsuhai "I don't mind at all. Besides, I wouldn't report a friend over such a trivial matter." Alex released a breath of relief.
"Wanna join in?" suggested John "Or you ain't got the balls?"
"I am kind of short on money. Can't afford to lose anything."
"Well then, let's just play for a few Yens. Any working person can afford this. Playing with nothing at stake just isn't the same. How about it?"
Metsuhai hesitated a bit. There could be negative consequences to braking order regulations. Gambling wasn't something the order encouraged. But Metsuhai, to his own surprise, agreed. I'm gonna die soon as it is. Regulations mean nothing to me.
"That's my boy!" declared John, shuffling the deck "The armored one is Alex. Believe it or not he is a palace guard. He doesn't see it that way, but he is one of the higher ups himself."
"I have a decent salary," admitted Alex, "But it's not like I decide anything of importance."
John gestured with his hand to Yamius. "This fine fellow is Yamius. The fiercest fighter and our chess champion. Though he doesn't look like much. He is kind of like Clark Kent. He will destroy you over the board."
"Nice to meet you," said Yamius "chess and warfare are not so different. You'll see once we play."
"It's a pleasure to meet you both. Although I don't play chess or know any card games."
"You'll learn fast," reassured John "but it will cost you a bit."
Thus began the tradition of burning time together. They always met in the same spot, sometimes without planning the meeting time ahead. When John was there they always played poker. Alex came rarely but taught Metsuhai many strategies and a few other card games. Yamius was practically always there. So when it was just Metsuhai and him they played chess. Metsuhai learned the rules surprisingly fast, but winning was another matter entirely. Yamius was checkmating Metsuhai with no mercy. This guy wouldn't lose. What am I doing wrong?! And John was emptying his pocket, few cents at a time. But as time passed the quantities piled up to serious sums. Yet, Metsuhai felt good. He felt a sense of belonging, being appreciated and not any more the isolated slayer. He finally felt that after a long break he is himself again.
"Time!" called out Lezner's tough voice. Metsuhai moved to the right, switching to a new opponent. It was one of the rarer training routines Lezner employed: he divided the students into two groups. One stood as the outer stationary circle while the second group was the inner moving circle. They would spar (in this case it was a cold weapon session), switching opponents very fast. Right now Metsuhai was facing John. "Don't think I'll go easy on you because we are friends!" exclaimed John as he sent his blade forward. "Same here," answered Metsuhai, knowing full well he far surpasses John's skill and power. It only took seven seconds for him to disarm John, and offer him his sword. John nodded, clearly not surprised by this result.
After John Metsuhai faced Nao. This was a different matter entirely. Nao swung his twin war axes like a maniac, even in training. At least Metsuhai was already used to dealing with heavy weapons because of his constant training against Kuma's warhammer. Metsuhai blocked the axes with his shield and counterattacked whenever Nao's balance was so slightly off. He managed to mark Nao twice before switching again. I wonder if my blows would be effective against his heavy armor in real combat. And hard to say whose endurance would last longer.
Next Metsuhai exchanged blows with a trainee whose name he didn't remember, but knew his abilities were impressive. He was especially good with fencing and Metsuhai was surprised to find out he wasn't just standing his ground against this skilled fencer, but leading. Of course, neither of them was as great as Masaru or Koi. Luckily, I won't have to face Koi today, since we are in the same circle. It's not his skills that worry me, it's his intentions. Metsuhai knew Koi still felt great grudge towards him and might try to kill him again or humiliate him in front of the class. "Time!"
Metsuhais last opponent was Takeo, who was considered a fierce fighter. Yet he was no challenge, no better than John with the sword. Why is he so confident and respected? Metsuhai knew Takeo was a hot weapon user too. But didn't see how it changes anything.
It was the afternoon of a rest day, meaning a day where Metsuhai didn't go to battle. He was on his way to the benches in the park when the battlephone rang.
"Redavoi Metsuhai Fugughuu, sorry to call on your day off but your presence is required." Ando didn't sound sorry and his voice was casual, but Metsuhai didn't mind.
"Yes sir. I'm on my way."
As usual, Ando was busy with his documents when Metsuhai arrived.
"We have received a complaint of supposed demon activity. Sure most of them are false alarms. People who know matter see a bear at night and call us. Someone's child went missing, they call us, ready to pay the fine. Some building collapses, no fuel in the car and so on. But from time the civilians are right on the mark. You are sent to respond to such a call. Most likely it's a walk in the park and a complete waste of your time but one can never know."
Metsuhai made his way to a tiny remote settlement he never heard about. Probably a fishermen village.
It was sunset. The sun was sinking into the sea with colors of yellow and orange. Metsuhai was walking on a dirt road, heading towards a small patch of wooden houses. The first thing Metsuhai felt was the smell of blood. A bad sign.
As Metsuhai entered the village a horrible sight crossed his eyes. Corpses, hundreds of them. Piled up one on top of the other. Corrupted, torn, brutalized. Metsuhai had seen demon attacks before, but it was never this bad. Someone was clearly taking his time and enjoyed taking them apart. At the top of the biggest pile was a speared infant. The last rays of the descending sun made the deed look even more brutal. Metsuhai was shocked. For the first time in a long time now Metsuhai wanted to vomit. His blood boiling inside him in fury. No sin is bad enough to deserve this.
Beyond the pile, something was moving through the bushes. Metsuhai waited, holding up his sword. Out of the darkness appeared a tall red skinned demon. He had no neck. His head connected directly to his long, red, two meter high body. On top of his unusually large head were small round horns and at the sides of his head were red bat wing like ears. His belly muscular, in squares around his navel, like someone from the gym. What was especially unusual were his long muscular arms reaching all the way to the ground. Those arms held two small, fireman-like axes, covered in blood. His gaze looked innocent, almost childlike. Blood was all over his mouth, and he was smiling. Metsuhai looked at the monster with hate. "You did all this?"
"And you are a warrior from the Order of the Sun- Metsuhai, nice to meet you- Mordon."
Metsuhai could see Mordon's sharp teeth as he spoke.
Where did I hear this name before?
"Let's have a… friendly conversation," Mordon spoke with a soft childlike voice, flapping his ears. Metsuhai clenched his grip around the hilt of the sword, ready to strike, but something in Mordon's confidence stopped him in place. I know now who Mordon is. I have seen his picture on the notice board. He looks nothing like on the notice board. He is really a monster. He killed eleven fully trained warriors. Considered extremely dangerous. And there is a huge prize on his head. 15000…
"I too was once a human you know. I didn't start like this. I had a choice. You and me. We aren't that different. I had demon blood sacrificed into me."
"You bastard!" Metsuhai shouted, unable to contain his anger. Mordon couldn't care less.
"When I was a kid like you, I was raised by my father. He was such a nice guy. That was when he wasn't drunk. When he was, he was a real devil. He did horrible things to me beyond description. Have you ever been abused?"
"No" Metsuhai quietly admitted almost with shame.
"How convenient for you... Let me tell you a story. Once my father took me to a horror movie. It was about a maniac who kills innocent women and children with an axe. I was eight. I was so touched, so deeply impressed, that there wasn't anything I wanted more than to do just that. Killing the innocent with an axe, with no mercy, and getting pleasure from it. So now that's what I do, and the pleasure of it is beyond description. You can clearly see what was I trained to wield. You and me. We aren't so different. What about all those demons you have killed. They were alive, feeling pain. They too had dreams and emotions. They were most likely abused in childhood. Grew to become what they are. Hungry, terrified, and with not a shade of hope. Don't tell me you have never enjoyed your victories. And what about the ratmen. Their realm was overrun. What did they ever do to you? What about their small children? They will most likely starve now..." He even knows about the ratmen. "…Humans are not so different from demons. They abuse animals, hunt for sport, destroy ancient rainforests, kill and rape each other with no mercy and sometimes in horrible ways. Now tell me, what makes humans better then demons? Oh no… you don't belong with the order of the idiots. A destroyer like you belongs with us. We can sacrifice demon blood into you too. Now tell me something- What makes you better than me?!
In that moment Metsuhai felt shaken, as if all his strength and all his confidence was swept away. What does make me better when him? He has committed worse horrors for sure, but it doesn't cover it. I did what I had to do to survive. But it's more than just that. Haven't I been doing what's right? There has to be something deeper. I feel like I know the answer already.
Metsuhai closed his eyes and pushed his cognitive abilities to the limit. Sinking deep into thought.
Mordon just stood there waiting. After a few seconds Mordon looked at his right hand, where there was no watch. Clearly a human habit.
Finally Metsuhai awoken, opening his eyes. "Maybe humans are no good, but… there are beautiful things in this world worth protecting. Things worth living for. Things worth fighting for. Things worth killing for. And even things worth dying for. And this is something that an abomination such as yourself will never understand. Something that demons will never have. Mordon, I'm taking you down!"
Mordon gestured indifferently with his long, axe wielding, arms "o well, it cannot be helped then. I have to kill you. As I did with eleven warriors. And make no mistake. I have no mercy. If you fight me you better kill me."
Mordon waited no more, raising his arms up. The long as it is arms extended, becoming even much longer. The fireman axes heading towards Metsuhai. All Metsuhai could do in time was raising his new square shield. Those axe blows found out to be so heavy. Metsuhai struggled to maintain his balance. The attacks were relentless and skillfully executed. Mordon tried going around the shield repeatedly, forcing Metsuhai to concentrate on defense.
Metsuhai aimed his hand forward, concentrating white energy in from of his palm (and it would have been quite a strong attack. An axe blow deflected Metsuhais hand, going through his armor, putting a deep cut on him. His great white beam flew up to the sky. Exploding powerfully in the distance.
"It was strong, but you can't allow yourself to keep exposing yourself to my axes, yet, you were doomed before this fight even began."
Metsuhai roared, powering up, aura burning through his body. "You can power up all you want. You still cannot close the distance, you only tire yourself. I can do this all day, and how long will the square toy last, what's the point?"
And Metsuhai knew Mordon was right. His shield did take damage. More and more cuts were appearing on the steel.
"We'll see about that!" bravely declared Metsuhai.
Metsuhai squeezed his muscles and stepped forward one step at a time in spite of the incoming blows. Under all that pressure Metsuhai had hard time concentrating. His view of the enemy was partial, obscured by his own shield. It is as if he was closing his eyes half the time. After six steps forward Metsuhai lowered his shield slightly and peeked. Mordon was still at the same distance. It was as if Metsuhai didn't even move. Mordon laughed, stopping his assault. "Is that all you've got?"
"You just gave me an opening!" Metsuhai charged forward, accelerating fast and raising his energy even further (knowing the price at hand, the burden placed on his body). Just as he almost reached, swinging his sword, Mordon took a deep breath, his chest expending. What followed next was a devastating fire attack. All consuming flames. Metsuhai was sent flying backwards, his shield and armor red. It was as if he was fried alive. It's more powerful than a fire stream of an experienced firestarter but Metsuhai didn't have a long time to think of how his body was screaming in pain. The small axes were on route. Once again bashing at his shield. One blow actually punched through the skilled defense, blood making his way out of the damaged leg. If not for the new armor he would have broken my leg. The axes kept landing on Metsuhai, the speed of the assault only accelerating. Mordon was clearly having one hell of a time. I can't reach his body. That I already know, but his hands are exposed. Metsuhai turned now to attack those long stretched arms with his blade. It seemed like a perfect counter. When the next blow landed Metsuhai stroke back with his sword. Sending all his physical and mental strength into the blow. It was a clean hit. Yes! But Metsuhais happiness didn't last long. The arm wasn't cut off. The axe didn't fall out of his hand. There was no bleeding. All what the full-forced, powered up to the limit Metsuhai's sharp sword blow did was a tiny cut. So small Metsuhai wouldn't even notice it if he didn't initially knew it was there.
"Are you done?" asked Mordon with satisfaction.
"Damn!"
"Using axes this small is kind of a burden. It exposes my hands to counterattack. A weakness I may say, but… I turned the disadvantage into an advantage. My hands were cut so many times they developed resistance. No attack could affect them. No weapon can damage them. Not even swords. You will need all day to cut through these muscles, yet you don't have all day. Either I go around your shield, or you will get completely exhausted. There really is no way out. You should have joined while you could."
Metsuhai tried attacking again, but to no avail. The result was the same. The hands wouldn't get cut, like super powerful thick leather armor.
Desperate Metsuhai leaped acrobatically backwards releasing a strong light blue beam. (Sorcery magic) He already knew this will not work. Mordons own magic was far too powerful, and from this distance he had all the time to react.
As the beam approached, Mordon breathed fire again and completely canceled it out. Metsuhai was still fighting back to those axes. He was out of strength, out of options, and out of breath.
"Give it up kid, you lost. I'll give you a quick, painless death."
"Never!"
Metsuhai was struggling, forcing his exhausted body to fight. He was tired, wounded, out of breath, yet he kept fighting, fighting at a pace he never fought before. Repeatedly hitting those arms with that sword. Mordon knew from past battles He will collapse any moment.
Metsuhai hit and hit like a man gone mad. Mordon was smiling with satisfaction.
Then a golden aura surrounded Metsuhais body. Mordon immediately ceased smiling. What t'hell is that!
The aura grew bigger and stronger by the second. Metsuhai wasn't aware of it at all. He wasn't aware of anything except himself and his mean foe. Only thinking about his next move, every move, again and again. And now Metsuhais eyes became golden too.
Metsuhai himself did not understand what was going on. He was drowning in fighting spirit. His axes are so slow. Metsuhai regained his balance and made one step. Suddenly he was right in front of his two meter opponent. All it took was one step. Metsuhai didn't lose time. He started cutting through Mordon's body. His eyes returning to normal. The golden aura fading fast. But Mordon couldn't defend. His hands were just too long. Once Metsuhai went around them Mordons hands were left behind. It was his great reach that was now his undoing. Unlike Mordons indestructible arms, his body was quite vulnerable. Metsuhai finished his opponent by piercing his red head. The sword actually came out of the other side. Blood gushed out like red river, covering them both. Mordon collapsed, his eyeballs rolled upwards. It was all over.
Metsuhai struggled to keep standing. His strength fading away. Everything spinned around him, turning darker. Metsuhai collapsed too, not far from his opponent.