(Past) :: The gone days!

Only the gentle crackle of the campfire disturbed the silence that shrouded the woodland. Kael was sitting with his back to a twisted tree and his hand on his sword's hilt. He rarely gave himself the luxury of sleep because it usually brought memories of the past.

Hours had been spent fighting the weight in his eyes, but fatigue was an unforgiving enemy. He was overcome by the darkness of sleep.

And the nightmare arrived.
⩈◌⩈◌⩈◌⩈◌⩈◌⩈◌⩈◌⩈◌⩈◌⩈◌⩈⩈◌⩈◌⩈◌⩈◌
"They called me a savior once. How blind they were."
The voice was quiet ; almost a whisper; with the harshness, it's the voice came from the broken person.

"A savior doesn’t watch his own mother die. When everything he was meant to protect is in ruins, a saviour does not stand there.

the memories of that day flooding his mind; his mother's face, in pain, as he had been helpless to stop it. The voices grew louder, accusing and ridiculing him.

"I wasn’t a savior. I was a failure. A coward."

The voices clawed at his mind ;
"You couldn’t save her!"
"You let them die!"
"You should have been the one to bleed!"

They grew louder, overlapping ;
"Her blood is on your hands!"
"She screamed for you, and you did nothing!"
"How does it feel to be so useless?"

The voice stopped for a while before they smirk and raised the voice ;

"Look at yourself. Weak. Helpless. Just like that day."
"You’ll never escape it. Never."

⩈◌⩈◌⩈◌⩈◌⩈◌⩈◌⩈◌⩈◌⩈◌⩈◌⩈

"Kael.....!" The harsh, frightened sound of his mother's voice cut through the smog, causing Kael's, he was 12 years old, crying out loud watching his mother. He rushed through the smoke with his tears. his mother lying on the ruins, her body was half burnt, the total village become a battleground due to the battle of Brunanburh.

His childhood's lively village had collapsed to ashes, with the attackers' killing the innocent people in the village. Where he had run freely as a boy, the town centre was now a battlefield, filled with the bodies of the dead.The soldiers who had come to destroy everything were like shadows, moving quickly, their swords gleaming in the blood-red light, their faces concealed behind iron masks.

"Run...!" With sadness, his mother's words broke the silence. Her body was in severe pain as she lay on the ground, her clothes stained with blood. Her son was being targeted by one of the soldier, and she was afraid that he would be killed. Soldier's bloodstained sword gleamed in the night as the soldier's heavy footsteps became louder.

Kael’s moved forward, his legs shaking, he was standing over the blood that was spilled onto the ground.. The soldier's voice, a low, husky shout that threatened death, was audible to him. Every instinct told him to keep going, but for a few while, his mother's desperate and begging cry kept him motionless.

The soldier moved quickly. Kael stared over his back and saw the man rushing towards him, the stained blade raised high. He had no possibility of getting away. He was too weak and too slow. Now the soldier was near him, moving quickly.

But suddenly a person appeared between them. A tall, commanding figure charged into the soldier's path. The man pulled out a huge sword in one swift motion, its blade glittering with deadly accuracy. The figure swung with an almost supernatural speed, cutting the soldier's chest with a single blow that sliced through his armour. The soldier collapsed to the ground, dead before he even touched, blood gushing from his mouth, eyes wide with disbelief.

Kael stood frozen due to the incident happen in a fraction of moments. The person didn't hesitate. The person turned quickly and took Kael by the arm without saying a word, his grip strong and firm.

"Get on," the person commanded, his voice low and filled with urgency, like the earth itself forcing them to move away.

Kael didn’t hesitate. With a final glance back at his dying mother, who was still struggling to breathe, he mounted the horse behind the stranger, he was crying out loud watching his mother. The person kicked the horse causing it to move forward. They moved away from the place.

Kael didn’t know where they were going, but for now, he didn’t cared. He was alive, for the moment. Kael's mind raced as he tried to understand what had just happened around him. Who was this person? Why he saved him?

However, there was no time for understand or questioning. They had to leave, and quickly.

⟐ ⟐ ⟐ ⟐ ⟐ ⟐ ⟐ ⟐ ⟐ ⟐ ⟐ ⟐ ⟐ ⟐ ⟐ ⟐ ⟐ ⟐ ⟐ ⟐

After the destruction of his village, Kael was left with nothing but his rage, and the endless desire to find a purpose to erase the guilt that haunted him. Soon after, he joined in the mercenary forces, the one who saved him, helped him to train to erase the guilt that haunted him. They didn’t care about his past in the mercenary. They knew he would turn into a weapon because they could see the pain and the rage in his face.

The mercenary camp was a harsh, merciless environment. Here were only men, experienced by years of survival, bloodshed, and battle. The skilled mercenaries looked like warriors, criminals, and absconders; men who had long given up on the concept of mercy; trained side by side.

Kael was put into the terrible routine without any prior notice as soon as he arrived. His first day was a haze of agony, filled with relentless sparring with guys twice his height, difficult matches that left his body feeling like stone, and cruel endurance tests that drained his body of all strength. The more experienced mercenary took great pleasure in his misery, testing him to the utmost and punishing him for every mistake.

The one who saved Kael was the only one in the whole mercenary  who took care of him, For Kael he was like the master, and the proper mentor, the one who knew his pain, the one who supported his inner monster.

⟣⟢ ⟣⟢ ⟣⟢ ⟣⟢ ⟣⟢ ⟣⟢ ⟣⟢ ⟣⟢ ⟣⟢ ⟣⟢ ⟣⟢

"Pathetic!" one of the veterans roared as Kael stumbled during a sparring match, his body wounded and smashed from the previous rounds. "You’re nothing but a worthless dog until you can stand on your own two feet!"

The veterans didn't care for excuses or weakness. Every wound, every bleeding, every muscle screaming in strike was a reminder that there was no place for mercy. The only way to live in this world was to be ruthless, and Kael was being shaped into something very different.

The training was tough. With the roar of men yelling at each other, the clangs of metal on metal, and the painful impact of fists hitting flesh, the camp is filled with brutality. Regardless of the seriousness of the injuries, the mercenaries were always willing to try their abilities on one another. An incorrect move during sparring could result in severe damage of internal organs or a broken arm, which would remain ignored for days or even weeks until the man either survived or died.

Kael's blade once slipped during a battle with Grim, a particularly cruel mercenary, and lightly cut Grim's arm. It wasn’t enough to draw blood, but it was enough to frustrate him. Grim, with a twisted smile, struck back with more strength than Kael could have imagined. Grim stepped on Kael's chest, crushing his foot into his ribs as he threw him into the dirt in a single motion.

Grim growled gazing towards Kael's face, "Learn your place, boy," "You are nothing in here. You're nothing at all."

Grim's boot was choking him and hurting his chest, but Kael didn't want to scream. His resolve only strengthened as he clinched his teeth and his eyesight became blurry from the pain. Now this was his life. He had to pay this price in order to live and to erase the guilt that haunted him.

The mercenaries showed no mercy, not even when one of their own fell. A tall man named Rolf, whose arms resembled tree trunks, underestimated a strike during a training. His sword slipped from his grip and became wound up in his own thigh. Silently, the camp watched as Rolf collapsed to the ground, his wound gushing blood. However, one of the veterans, Brann, a grizzled man, approached him and knelt next to him rather than offering assistance.

"You’ll die slowly, Rolf," Brann said coldly, wiping the sweat from his brow. But don't even consider that I'll take on your responsibility. The strong go on, while the weak die.

Rolf's face twisted in pain, but he was unable to plead for help. Without a second look, the others simply turned away and went back to their training. That was how it was in this place. Death was but another aspect of the routine.

The principles were clear to Kael right away: live, adapt, and become as merciless as the men who taught him. He fought for his life every hour of every day. He had no choice but to learn quickly. He would become forgotten and abandoned like Rolf if he didn't, all he grown up with pain that made him a monster who only live for the purpose to erase the guilt.

Kael was soon dispatched off on his first real battle. The kingdoms recruits the mercenaries in order to defeat a group of rebels that had been causing trouble in the kingdom, either internally or externally and sometime use these mercenaries in wars. The mercenaries' mission was clear: enter the rebel camp, murder everyone involved in the conflict, whether they were inside or outside, and ensure that no one survived.

Kael had never been a killer. He has no justification.He was death's instrument. But as he moved through the dense woods, and that first war made him the real monster who killed 50 warriors showing no mercy.