“Heed these words, blade of mine,” he tightened his grip on the sword. “Ruin the world with the point of your steel and rend it anew in a flash of gore and blood. Show your light and make them bow, Arcann.” The humble blade shone with a pale blue, and soon dark clouds manifested in the sky above, rushing in like a horde of mad beasts and blocking out the sun’s rays, inviting a world of darkness. As the light faded, the tall man stood evenly, feet planted into the ground and knees bent, in a practiced stance. His weapon trembled in excitement, burning to draw blood. The tip of it reached high above the warrior, but he showed no strain and held the hilt with comfortable ease. He stood as still as the earth below, and it seemed like he could explode at any moment.
He was in a dark, flat plain, void of life and green, and faced an expanse of trees, dried and black like a decomposed, month-old corpse. It was dying, if it had not already. Bare branches twisted unnaturally in all directions, reaching into the air and contaminating it with its disease. The forest was augmented, suffering under the Stigma of the Dark.
His sharp eyes pierced the surroundings as they scanned for signatures of opposition. He awaited his enemies, ones that would no doubt respond to his call, ones that never slept and plagued the nights with their evil desires and schemes.
He did not have to wait long. First, he felt the presence. He did not know how to explain it; at one moment, it was simply there, setting him on edge. It prickled at his skin, clawing at it relentlessly and desiring to feast on the swarm of chaotic energy inside of him. He had experienced this sensation before, and while he was ready for it, he could never get used to it.
A new wind arrived, harder and rougher, increasing in severity, and it set the branches bent and broken apart, carried away in the current. The wind blew the man’s black hair to the side, and his black fur clothes noisily flapped.
The man grimaced and pushed into the ground with his foot, grinding the dirt into the air, before he exploded towards the forest. He’d rather meet them headfirst than be surrounded and put to a sickening end. He landed on black and dried leaves that crunched and broke apart in the wake of his boots, and the trees became but a blur as he sprinted. He dodged and weaved between the black trunks, stumps, and remains of the dead forest.
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He paused, his feet sliding a stop and kicking up a trail of dust. He was deep enough now in the forest to try and single out an enemy. He closed his eyes, took a moment to calm his breathing, and panned over his senses for any signs. He smelt it immediately. A foul and pungent odor stained the air and left him even more unsettled, but like any natural hunter, he could pin it down. His head snapped in the direction, approximately to his left, and he planted his right foot and dashed with more speed than he had before. This time, his figure could hardly be seen, night furs blending into the black forest and fluttering. Sword Arcann lit the man’s surroundings but scarcely as the dark clouds still towered over the world.
It didn’t take long for him to find the source of the smell; he scrunched his nose as it wafted in the air around him with more strength, and he caught the small shine of an armor, a mere glint under the dark sky, but it was enough. He swung immediately. The wide arc of his sword cut through the air but much too far to do physical damage; however, that was not the goal. It summoned forth unimaginable swaths of azure power. Blue wisps of raw energy painted the air and converged into an arc of concentrated power that only kept growing into the path of the sword’s strike. The arc shined a strong blue light, frozen in its position but relentless in drawing its power. The man strained as he struggled to control the increased power, and a soft hum began to increase in volume. His sword soon became fully luminescent, engrossing the area in a flash of azure light, and then, in a short moment, the arc disappeared – or so it was thought to be, but right after, the ground rumbled and the trees shook, and the glimpse of the enemy was gone, and so was the dirt it stood on. The attack had left a deep scar upon the earth, a crater that consumed the entire area and stopped right before man’s feet - a practiced precision.
Without a doubt, the strike would call the other beasts.
Let them come. It would be their doom, Arcann laughed, blade pulsing.
The ravens cawed, rustling out of their barren trees. Far-off wolves howled and sung warnings to their packs. The night was young, for sure.
