Ever wondered what someone feels when they are mystically transported to an unknown place, and the first thing they see is someone swinging a sword at them. They would surely piss themselves.
Not that I was anything near that, but as the sword closed in on me. I was well aware that this time there was truly no one to save me.
Even if it was a game and I decided to let it go. But the pain was the real deal in this game, and I wasn't sure if I was ready to handle that.
This time though something incredible happened. I swung my hand. They just happened to meet the man.
*Clank*
Two swords clashed at each other.
I looked at my hand, holding onto a sword, and the incredible posture, with which I parried the assaulter. It all looked surreal.
I opened my mouth to curse the man.
"Heretics. I should have expected you."
That wasn't what I was going to say.
The voice was deep and didn't sound anything close to the game Seken's voice.
I pushed the man, and kicked him hard on the stomach, but the assaulter moved out of the way, and knocked along my shoulder with his hilt.
I staggered back. For my information, I knew how incredible sword fights are, and how a single mistake can change the stance of the battle.
That was how I became certain, that this time the sword would definitely take me, but then something pierced the body.
Blood poured over my body, as I looked back at the man.
The man, who had been just a few seconds away from murdering me, was going down on the ground with a gaping hole in his stomach.
Behind him stood a man, in red hair, and ragged breath.
"You okay, Brother." The man smiled.
"Volatus, I am sure you are deliberately coming to save me."
The man 'Volatus' just shrugged.
"However you see it, Pizhel."
So I was Pizhel. I understood a bit as they both conversed with each other. Like some kind of third man, I was inside the body named Pizhel, and somehow this body had the same sword as the Current head of Sokyro House.
The sword connection must have brought me here.
I looked at my surrounding through Pizhel eye. Though I wasn't actively here, I was definitely experiencing everything that the body experienced. Like the first sensation as I lifted the sword in my hand, the smooth grace with which the body had just instinctively blocked the incoming strike.
"There are more to go. Pizhel, I will take care of the heretics, you see through those damn monsters."
I found myself nodding at the man.
There was this quality to the man Volatus, as he nonchalantly went back, though his speed was incredible, almost comparable to the head of Thunderford Family.
And then time passed. The first monster I met had half his jaws burned, its eyes glued in their socket, it flailed around directionless, and I took easy care of it, cutting directly through his hand, altogether with the head.
I cut. I dodged. I escaped. I cut.
The same process repeated itself. Monster came and I just swung my sword. There was nothing else in my mind. I was quickly becoming aware of the process. While at first it all seemed like muscle memory. As I killed more of their kin and became aware about this place, and became known to their weakness, I understood the basics.
I understood where I had to put the sword, before I even did that.
And as my understanding grew, I got more and more involved. I only knew the sword, and it knew me.
I didn't understand the passing of time. I was a passenger, who just went along with the waves, not knowing where it would lead them.
My understanding grew about the world.
For one thing, the sword had been the only pathway as far as tales were known. People fought to show strength, kin fought with kin. There was no hesitation, nor any morals in this world, this was the past of the sword world. The barbaric times.
They had only one motive, to ascend. There was nothing else for them to consider. Neither were there 4 strong houses, nor was there a concept of tributary.
Until one day, a person dared to tread through an unnatural path. Experiments were done illegally. People were turned and it wasn't for better, those experimented upon, lost themselves.
At first, there were only a few people in the small villages. Those who were ready to take on any task on the promise of money. And the experiments grew, the people expanded, groups started to form. They all wore black veils to hide themselves, and then it was upon the strong that the weak came for a solution.
The strong were naturally arrogant, and didn't take the struggles of the weak to their heart. These were the times, when the sky was something more, and the battles fought along the ravines of a deep jungle. Secure from the attacks of the unknown. The people fought for supremacy. People fought for blood.
I understood that place as the present day Misty Hill Formation. The hills looked the same, albeit there was no mist here, for now. Nor was there calling to the depths.
The sword world hunted those monsters, those unnatural humans, and they were all thrown to rot in the pits even deeper than the falls of the Misty Hill.
Although it was only a temporary solution. More bodies were dumped as those who were now called to the world as heretics, grew even bolder in their experimentations.
A group of people banded together. Though they weren't strong, they had the determination to root out the evils from the sword world.
Each of them bore a different name as title, that they started to call themselves. It was an alias as well as a new identity.
Among them were the Meddlecast, Thunderford, Chambers and Sokyro and many others.
Pizhel was the current leader of the movement. Though he wasn't as strong, he was the most emotionally connected to all of them, for he was the pillar that banded them together.
Pizhel Chambers and Volatus Sokyro both were like brothers with each other. And I knew, it wasn't just in name for I sat with them and laughed with them.
And then one day, a person crawled out of the pit. A failed experiment, a torn body. Though all of it was compensated with the fire that flowed through him.
The battles grew fierce, people died. Even those who stood at the top now had something that they feared. And then one day, a man who walked in the skies, fell in the pits of that accursed place.
People were more terrified than ever.
And then the person returned soon from the pit. Albeit this time, no one came forward to bow at him, the people came with the intention to kill.
I cut through another one. It had sharp claws, and I knew that after its rapid strikes, came a bit of a gap. I utilised that gap to kill the creature.
The group fought hard, and more people joined our movement. And for the first time, there was unity in the sword wielders. They fought for a purpose.
People died among us too. Those who had taken the mantle, met their end to douse the flames of corruption.
I recalled their sacrifices. The Gawkings, Aternites, and Fixershadow.
I didn't lose my courage. For I had a new name.
People found strength in my name. And I found strength in my brothers.
Until my dearest one betrayed me.