The Reminiscence of a Psychopath

The Duke was greatly perplexed by the sight of the young boy crumbling in a heap at his feet. He felt a pang of guilt for the lad and, stooping over, picked him up amidst the protest of his knights.

He walked several tents over to the tent of the healer. There was one in each powerful family, and he was one of the strongest.

Walking in, he gently placed the boy on a makeshift bed and ordered the healer to work his magic. Then, tucking the single white flower into his coat, he walked swiftly out.

After hours dragged by, the healer, exhausted, sank to the floor, and the boy's eyes fluttered open.

My eyes opened, and I focused on the white cloth of the tent above me. Had it worked? No, not yet. The wounds I had inflicted on myself were healed, just as Jam had thought. The only witness to dozens of deaths would be revived at all costs.

As I was thinking, a knight walked in, armor clinking like bells. "Tell me what happened," the rough voice of the man shot out.

Taking a deep breath, I started my performance. In a quivering voice, I told him about the long and arduous trek through the forest, how Killian had been nice, and given me a potion that wards away monsters.

But when we came to the flowers, I had only gotten one when a huge monster covered in scales had come from no-where and killed everyone.

Just before dying, Killian had braved the monster's anger and shouted for me to run back to camp with the flower. That was all I knew, with the ferocity of the creature, I doubted anyone had survived. Glancing up at the knight, I burst into tears, sobbing at the deaths of my long-time comrades.

He looked a little disgruntled and, after my story was told, quickly walked out.

[Duke's Quest complete +1 Level]

My face morphed from a sobbing mess to a blank, emotionless one after the tent flap closed. Working up emotions was a taxing play.

Looking around, there was no one in the tent, so swinging my legs to the side, I walked from the healer's tent to my own. The air was different; everything was off, and no laughter from my squad made the silence break.

I thought I had lost all feelings a long time ago… It really was true that you only missed something the moment it was gone forever.

I spotted Jam roosting on my clothes. Walking closer, I dropped to the floor and curled up in a ball next to her; listening to the slow breathing of the bird made the pressure on my heart lessen.

After the wave of emotion passed, I felt a burning in my chest. The thoughts wrapped and writhed in my mind. Why, Why, Why, WHY did they die? Just so that Killian guy could look better? Was human life that invaluable?

My hands shook, and rage began to build, gnashing into my bones, screaming for me to do something, anything. Streaking like a blur from my tent, I slunk quietly into the forest, out of sight of guards on watch.

As soon as I stepped foot on the mountain, a blaze of noise accosted my ears; crackles, movement, and steps were everywhere. Heart pounding, I ran deeper into the forest where the whispers of the nightlife were at its peak.

In the middle of a clearing was a group of seven Starvire's their teeth drenched with blood as they feasted on the flesh of soldiers. Bloody meat still hung from their jaws as their bony necks twisted towards me.

"Perfect," I murmured. Before they could react, I was on them, ripping and tearing the same way they did to the corpses lying in scraps across the blood-soaked earth. All my pent-up anger and frustration flowed through my hands, easing the pain in my heart.

The rush of rage had gathered me up in its embrace, so much so that I had failed to notice a shadow following me, crouching from trees, eyes wide and horrified.

The hooded figure stared, the scene before him was nothing like he had ever seen before. A slender young boy who seemed the epitome of innocence and weakness was moving so fluidly that it seemed he was dancing.

The moonlight shone through the dark trees, illuminating the dancer. On his lips was a smile that did not fit the face; it was wide and beautiful. Eyes glittered with passion as the delicate white hands peeled a Starvire in half so easily as if it were an orange.

Black blood flew like fireflies around him, and the shrieking of the creatures gave a harmony that perfected the grotesque scene. Shuddering, the figure in black melted back into the shadows.

After there were no more monsters to release my wrath upon, I calmed down somewhat and headed deeper into the woods, my knuckles dripping with black blood.

By the time morning had broken the night, I was level 20. I had killed so many Starvires that I could barely drag myself to my tent after rinsing all the black blood from my shredded clothes.

Suddenly, I awoke to the sound of the loud dinner bell; it had been so long since my last meal.

Although my level 20 body could now withstand going without food for days, my mind would very much like to feel the tear of bread in my teeth or the warm feeling of soup settling in my stomach.

Walking resolutely with images of food swarming my brain, I made it to the makeshift canteen near the eastern corner of the camp. It seems there was a little celebratory feast for the killing of the monsters swarming in the mountain.

Each soldier was allowed double rations. It may also be because the food of the soldiers who died was given to those still living. Looking up from my empty wooden bowl, the faces of those around me were haggard and sad; the battle had taken a lot out of new and old soldiers alike.

Then, the Duke's platoon commander shouted that we would rest for one more night and leave in the morning. Swiping some more bread on the way out, I hurried back to my tent. I had left Jam all night, and she would be more than a little mad at me…

Readying the stolen bread in my hands, I was about to shove it into her little face, but my tent was empty. My eyes wavered frantically, looking back and forth, but the small black bird was nowhere in sight. She never. Ever. Left during dinner time.

Worry filled my thoughts, so much so that I failed to notice a hand come down on my shoulder. Spinning around, I saw a fellow soldier. We were not close, but our squads knew each other from our basic training together. But I had no time to talk or even to think, for I felt a strange tug in my heart. It was like an emergency signal in my head that pointed towards the forest. I sprinted toward the woods; I had never felt this level of panic before.

The faster and farther I went, the harder it was to see through the tangle of bush and tree. Finally, I saw the black feathers of my bird she was desperately fighting against a net with a group of raggedy-looking men.

It was close to the base of Maudit Mountain, so maybe poachers? But not just any, they must have a strong net because Jam was not an ordinary bird.

They must have thought she was a weak monster and could sell her at a high price to nobles who liked the oddity of monsters. There were five of them, all shouting and pointing, trying to whop my bird on the head.

Running onto the scene, I picked up a few rocks from the ground and, getting into a pitcher stance, threw the rock like a baseball.

It flew straight and true, thunking into the head of the thief who held the net. His body jolted as the rock hit him and passed right through his putty-like skull. Stunned, the rest of the men turned to me and, seeing only one person, brought out their swords and charged.

It was like they approached in slow motion, their movements so uncoordinated and clumsy. Getting a running start, I sent a flying kick into the chest of the first man to reach me, then used him as a boosting pad and did a flip into a spinning axe kick, sharply bringing my heel into the side of another man's neck.

I could hear bones crunching along with the agonized screaming of the filthy pig. Landing daintily on the wretch, I gently pushed aside the rusty blade that fell from the fourth man in a vertical strike.

The sword buried itself in the ground, and quick as lightning, I grabbed his throat and pulled out a meaty chunk.

Crimson blood spewed from the jagged hole, and the man's eyes rolled back in his head, his mouth a pool of red. His body swayed and fell heavily to the dirt floor. The final man started running into the woods, fear making his legs wobbly.

Before I could react, a blur of black sped through the wind and, with Jam's signature eyeball attack, gouged out the fleeing man's eyes.

He fell to the ground, fumbling and screaming. Blood seeped onto the brown earth, staining it a course darker brown. Sprinting towards the disoriented Jam, I caught her as she fell from her triumphant pose and into my arms.

A crudely made arrow was lodged in her body, the adrenaline gone, and her breathing became shallower and shallower. I carefully eased the arrow out and, tearing my sleeve off, wrapped her body in it; crimson blossomed on the beige fabric.

Hot tears began to fall from my eyes, tears of pure sadness, ones I thought had long since shriveled up.

If only I had the power to heal… Oh! Ever since I found that glowy herb, I have always put it in a pocket in case I am fatally wounded. Grabbing the plant, I didn't know what to do, so I crushed it as best I could, gently pried open Jam's beak, and sprinkled the powder in. It seemed like years before the little bird's breath began to get stronger, and my body, which I didn't know was so taught, relaxed in relief.

"What happened here?!" The voice of the soldier who had clapped a hand on my shoulder shouted over the tangle of trees.

I had placed Jam in the safety of the trees when treating her wounds, away from the blood and stench of death.

So, walking back into the clearing away from my injured friend, I turned to the voice; I was unsure what to say or do. Kill him? Run? Act like nothing happened…?

The decision was made for me.

"Whoa! That's so awesome, man. You got all those slave catchers!"

So… I was fine.

He coughed and scratched his untidy beard, his face a perfect calm, like the corpses on the ground. He patted me on the back and said, "If you take in their heads, the Duke will give you the price they are wanted for; I saw back in town that they have been wrecking towns just like the monsters. But like in different ways. If ya know what I mean…"

He seemed a little too unfazed by the bloody scene, but then again, it was a dog-eat-dog world here, not an organized society. The color returned to his face as he began talking again, "Why don't I cut off the heads, do the dirty work, and you just say I helped you a little… Then we can split the rewards."

I didn't care all that much, so I nodded and followed up with, "Get it done fast and head back first."

It was like the man had worked all his life for this moment.

He took out his sword and lopped off the heads cleanly. With a few knots, he tied all of them together in a matter of minutes and was on his merry way back to camp. I even heard him whistling a tune as he walked, swinging his head like it was a basket of flowers for his wife.

As I watched the last bit of the man leave, I hurried over to Jam. To my horror, she was shaking and spasming in the patch of leaves I had placed her in.

I dropped to my knees and cradled her in my hands.

Then I noticed something strange.