Just as my blade went through and out of the man's neck, i jerked my hand to the right. The blade—and with it the blades pieces suspended in the air—jerked to the right. Then, suddenly i brought the hilt in my hand above into the air and like a whip brought it down onto the third man's collar-bone.
The blade sliced through the man like a whip-sword, from his left collar-bone, cutting through his chest—just above his heart—and out through his ribs, splitting his spine in two—only missing the other side of the spine which remained intact by its flesh. The moment my sword left his body, his torso peeled apart the right side of his spine's flesh and skin remained partially connected to his lower torso.
His upper-torso started falling back, right arm still attached, his legs losing thier strength almost instantly, His upper torso pulled his lower body down by the intact flesh of the left side of the back.
For but a moment there was silence.
Then, his thoughts flickered alive—not to the mission, not to the blade that went through him—but to home. The familiar walls of home, the smell of soup coming from the kicten. He saw his mother's hunched form and wide smile. Felt the weight of a hospital bill in his hands, the helplessness of not being able to get her medicines on time or being able to show her the world and her words before he came to work today.
"Noah?" he heard a voice calling out to him. "Noah!" he heard the voice once more, this time sucessfully snapping him out of his thoughts.
"Huh?" as he came to his senses he rubbed his eyes, and looked around to see his mother looking at him concerningly "wha—what happened?" he spoke half groggily.
"You fell asleep while i was in the kitchen." she came closer to him and put the bowl held in her hands onto the table. Puting a hand on his forehead she spoke "Are you feeling sick?—Cough—feverish? how about taking a day off work today and rest instead? Here, drink this soup you'll feel better." she said hurriedly, grabbing the spoon in the bowl and with it the soup in the bowl and brought the spoon to his mouth.
With a slight smile he brought a hand to the spoon, lightly grabbing it and slowly taking it from his mother sayed "I'm fine ma, besides i'm too old to be drinking from your hands anymore."
He brought a hand to the spoon in the bowl grabbing it. she spoke "Nonsense, Just because you have job at some big comp—COUGH-COUGH—" she took a breath and continued "As i was saying just because you have job at some big company now doesn't means your not the same boy i raised, I still remember wh—Cough—when you were little, always running around—". He interrupted her with a calm low voice—as if suspicious of her, said "What is this about ma?"
As he drank she sighed, "Come home early tonight." she said as he took a spoonful of soup in his mouth and she continued "I called over the neighbors daughter, the one you were gawking at yesterday at the market." with wide eyes he gulped the soup already in his mouth with an audible sound—a dead giveaway to his mother.
He took another spoonful from the bowl and raising an eyebrow he calmly spoke "What? what are you talking about?"
His mother grabbed his ear and said "Don't act coy with me now! I saw you staring at h—COUGH—her yesterday at the market. I'm not getting any young so you better get married already, Besides You're already in your 30s you're not getting any young either. Just come home early tonight, so you can at least meet her."
The spoon in his hand fell down into the bowl, a few drops spilling out. His hand shot up to his ear where his mothers aged hands held his ear "Ouch! Ouch! Fine, just leave my ear alone at least!" he begged and she finaly let go and started walking back towards the kitchen.
Rubbing his ear he spoke quietly "I wasn't gawking at her, i was just—making sure she's alright..." he sighed, dreading the awkward meeting and mumbled "What did i even do to deserve this?"
To his horror his mother heard him. "For one gawking at her at the market like you've never seen a woman before, even her parents know about you gawking at her. If your father was alive he would have died of shame all over again, knowing his only son couldn't get married even in his 30s." as she chided him, he felt as if his balance was off. His eyes began to lose sight, his vision becoming darker each moment.
"Ma?" he said once, confused and panicing. Then, again " MA?! I CAN't SEE, MA! WHERE ARE YOU?!" his arms flailed wildly in front of him trying to find something to hold on to yet there was nothing.
One last word came out of his mouth, almost whisperingly, too quiet to be heard"Ma—" Then, nothing. His head tilted back with his falling torso, the rest of the ribcage now split in two. His left lung exposed, flopped uselessly. His heart still trying to pump blood to his brain, which was no longer attached, instead only managing to pump blood out of his body like a fountain for a second longer before it started forcefully pumpng out shirt surts of blood as.
His lower body started collapsing like a lifeless husk of meat. His stomach and intestines tore free, flopping onto the floor—through his now cut torso—with a meaty slap, spilling out onto the ground.
A man stood near the door, his wide eyes locked onto the aftermath of the scene in front of him. 'G-God. Is tha—' His hands shot up to cover his mouth just as his knees lost their strength. His body jerked forward, his palms hit the floor with a sharp slap, his body bent over the ground.
He felt like his throat's flesh was turning inside out, as if his stomach was trying to empty itself—just as his brain registerd the nasuating feeling, his mouth involuntarily opened and out came a convulsing sound and a thick, rope of yellow bile, splashed onto the ground in front of him.
Another man who stood next to him beside the door took a step back, his back pressed against the wall behind him. His wide bloodshot eyes looked around. His prepherial he noticed his friend emptying his stomach onto the ground, but his focus was on the man sitting on the chair behind the oak-table. His teeth visibly cleched and the gun in his hand—slightly shaking, pointed straight at the man standing in the center of the room.
His gaze moved painfully slowly towards the entrails of his friends as they hung out their bodies uselessly like a butcherd chickens meat. One slowly leaked blood out of the now decapitated neck, and the body that lay atop it with its brain cut, resting out of its skull and instead on the mans chest with the halved eyes rope-like nerves still attached to the brain. The dark-red blood slowly traveled down the left eyes nerves in drops, just as it reached the edge of the split eyes it mixed with another dark fluid that dripped into the forming pool of blood on the ground.
He knew their names, yet his lips trembed so much that they couldn't even close them properly. But his mind didn't need lips to say their names, at least not her name 'Izzy. WHY?!' His bloodshot eyes slowly became watery, as the realization dawned on him of what happened to his friends and comrades could—No, Would—happen to him next.
His eyes—involuntarily yet helplessly, moved towards the man standing in the middle of the room, the hilt of the sword in his hand and the blades pieces detached from the hilt. Each piece unnaturally suspended in the air from the hilt to the pieces attached together at the end—forming the blade that cut through his friends—and through each piece a red energy flowed, from each piece of the blade to the hilt in the mans hand.
In the few moments he had seen it all, he finally decided what to do. He cleched his hands as slight tremeors went through his hands at the thought of what he was about to do. With a quick yet sharp intake of air his brows furrowed, his eyes narrowed with intense focus onto the man that butcherd his friends with no mercy—The man who ripped his friends to pieces, like a butcher cutting meat. The man who cut—the love of his life, the woman he gave his heart, to pieces.
He could not stomach it any longer, the injustice. the cruelty. the slaughter. With blurry yet determined, bloodshot eyes he took a sudden heavy step forward—surprising even himself. He knew he could do it, the first step only strengthend his resolve, he took another step—less heavy but faster than before—only one thought echoed in his mind, 'IF I DIE, I'LL AT LEAST DIE TRYING!!! RAAAAHHHHHHHHH!!!!'and another step even faster.