The Weeping Swordsman

The snowstorm intensified as two Dain stood next to a gravestone, his cloak billowing in the fierce wind. He gazed at the mask resting on the grave, another one of his men lost. His anger hidden behind his mask.

“Damm you Darius”

Astria stood to his right, her mask on, while on his left was Falcon, a broad-shouldered man with dark skin, beads draped over him like a sash. His mask had a frown.

Dain turned back. “This was the job of one of his lackeys, Ryder.”

“He killed him right in the centre of town. His ability to use the third power is a problem for us, Dain,” Astria said, striding closer and peering down at the grave. “But we must not waver. This was anticipated. We all agreed to support you, so it’s not your fault.”

Dain didn’t get it. The bodies piling up—adventurers, hunters; it didn’t matter. They were all falling into the same group. Darius. Just what are they planning?

Falcon stepped forward, “Strongest man in the world? Big deal. We all gang up on him, and he’s done for. Besides, we’ve got you, Dain. So don’t think about the situation too much.”

“No,” Dain whispered, almost to himself, “He may be the strongest man, but that’s not the only thing that makes me wary.”

Astria’s eyes narrowed. “Then what does?”

Dain looked out into the swirling snow. “His group, all are experienced hunters on a world-level threat. But one stands out of them all, Darius calls him his brother.”

“Thorne?” Falcon asked, folding his arms. “I’ve heard about him. His gift is... Unique.”

“Out of all of them,” Dain said, pulling off his mask, revealing weary eyes, “Thorne’s the one you never want to mess with. Beneath that calm exterior, a beast is waiting to break free. Of all the people I’ve met in this world, he’s among the few capable of hurting Darius.”

*

“Take Emilia?” Mr Swordsman asked, his eyes meeting that of the beast. **Where did he come from?** There wasn’t a trace of energy radiating from the man, and his presence had been undetectable until now.

Darius shook off the snow from his body. “You see, Weeping Swordsman,” he said, stroking his beard. “I’ve been searching for you”

Mr. Swordsman’s grip tightened on his blade. “May I ask why?”

Darius’s gaze shifted to Thorne. “Let go of his sword.”

“He craves for blood. For battle, Darius,” Thorne said, looking at Mr Swordsman. “His eyes say it all “

“Thorne,” Darius said, his voice low, daring him to continue.

He released the blade.

Pasta moved Emilia behind him. “Stay there and don’t move”

There was something about the shirtless guy that terrified him. His absence of energy, his confidence in being half naked in this biting cold and of all the unshakable feeling that he has seen him before.

“We should help Mr. Swordsman,” Emilia said, trying to move forward, but was stopped by Pasta’s hand. He was shaking.

Emilia couldn’t feel the faint energy in the air. Was it that bad? Off in the distance, she noticed more hunters with their ominous masks, lurking in the shadows of the ruins, waiting.

“What do you want with Emilia?” Mr Swordsman asked.

“Let’s speak about you first,” Darius said. “My men mentioned a woman. A disciple, if I’m not mistaken. She’s a friend of yours, isn’t she?”

“Yes?”

“I would like to have a chat with her. Bring her to me.”

Mr Swordsman smirked.

Darius frowned. His energy lashed out like a dagger, stabbing into Mr. Swordsman, and sending him crashing to the ground.

Pasta and Emilia froze in place. Mr Swordsman was brought down by just a burst.

“You children... have no respect for your elders,” Darius said, his voice eerily calm. “You smirk, instead of answering me.”

Mr. Swordsman’s eyes widened in shock. This... this wasn’t possible. He had never been overpowered by a burst of energy before. If anyone could manage that, it would have been his master. And this man. He almost knocked him unconscious.

“As for the girl, she’ll be coming with us,” Darius said.

Mr. Swordsman clenched his fists. Take Emilia? His duty was clear: to protect her. No one else had that responsibility—he was chosen for this task because he was the strongest.

He dove into the time-ridden space, moving with blinding speed straight toward Darius. “I’ll finish this with a single strike!” His sword flashed, slicing through the air as he decapitated Darius.

But Darius’s body dissipated like smoke.

“You let your anger cloud your judgment, young man,” Darius’s voice came from behind him. “Is it the girl you care for... or is it something more?”

Mr Swordsman screamed, swinging for Darius only for his blade to be held by Thorne again.

“Stop swinging and listen- “

“Damm you!” Mr. Swordsman’s energy surged. He blasted Thorne away, sending the towering figure hurtling through the snowy landscape, tearing the frozen earth apart as he skidded through the ice.

Thorne steadied himself as the ice crumbled beneath him. When he looked up, Mr. Swordsman was already meeting eyes with him, his sword aiming directly for Thorne’s neck.

Thorne remained still, not attempting to dodge.

“I get it now,” Mr. Swordsman whispered as his sword pressed against Thorne’s neck. “It’s your damn hair.”

Thorne’s body grew, muscles expanding monstrously as his size doubled. He towered over Mr Swordsman, looking down at him. “This is your end.”

Mr. Swordsman raised his sword. “Let’s see you try.”

Thorne slammed his fist into the ice, unleashing a massive burst of energy that shattered the terrain into shards. The ground fractured beneath them, but Mr. Swordsman leapt into the air just in time.

“Get back down here,” Thorne whispered. He leapt after Mr Swordsman, swinging his massive fist.

Mid-air, Mr. Swordsman had no time to dodge. He raised his blade, using its edge to deflect Thorne’s punch by a mere inch.

The force of Thorne’s strike obliterated the snow beneath them, sending shockwaves through the air and clearing the surrounding cold.

Mr. Swordsman landed, his breath heavy. “That punch,” he whispered, his hands trembling. “If I hadn’t diverted it, my arms would have been shattered.”

**His skin... it’s tougher than anything I’ve ever faced. Those damn hairs, protect him like armour. If I’m going to cut through him, I’ll need far more strength.** Mr Swordsman, smiled. This battle will be entertaining.

“You are pathetic,” Thorne said.

Mr Swordsman gritted his teeth. “What did you just say?”

“You think I’m playing with you? Think this is some child’s play. Aren’t you a swordsman? So why play the fool?”

“Who’re you calling a fool?” Mr Swordsman asked, clenching his sword.

“You are ignorant, proud and incredibly weak in spirit,” Thorne said, observing the storms heading in. “This is a fight, and one of us will die. Why are you smiling like some child who just picked up his first sword? And to think they called you special. What a disappointment.”

Mr Swordsman had enough. He charged at Thorne, swinging his sword, each strike aimed to kill. But the hair on Thorne’s body absorbed the blows, rendering them useless.

“You can’t even control your emotions,” Thorne whispered, stepping forward unfazed by the strikes. “Anger, fear, self-hatred... You are no warrior.”

“SHUT UP!” Mr. Swordsman roared, unleashing a flurry of attacks. Each swing of his blade tore through the air, demolishing the ruins around them, but still, Thorne stood firm, as if the blows were nothing more than a light breeze trimming his hair.

Thorne sighed. He jumped back and ripped a massive tree from the ground, snapping it in half. He hurled one half at Mr. Swordsman with devastating speed.

Mr Swordsman sliced the flying wood clean in half, but the moment his blade finished cutting, Thorne was already upon him, swinging the other half of the tree like a massive club.

The impact sent Mr Swordsman hurtling through the air, crashing through the ruins in a cloud of debris and dust.

“Hehehe, is he dead? Tell me he’s dead, right?” Bastian giggled, still flipping through his worn playbook.

Pasta watched at Mr Swordsman while protecting Emilia. She trembled behind him. Mr Swordsman was being beaten without mercy.

Pasta ground his teeth. He still couldn’t shake the feeling. Something troubled him, insulted him. These guys are insane.

He observed Bastian. The one strangest of them all. There was something about him that troubled Pasta. Bastian had no life force.

Every living creature had one, a pulse of energy but Bastian was empty. And the two others—theirs were so overwhelming, so suffocating, that he couldn’t move a muscle.

“Bastian,” Darius whispered. “You’ll be escorting the young lady to Jinni. I have more work to do”

He laughed again. “Yes boss”

Thorne remained silent, staring at the collapsing ruins.

From the crumbled wreckage, Mr. Swordsman emerged. His body was battered and bloodied, but his eyes blazed with fury. The very air seemed to change, thickening with his murderous intent.

“I am going to kill every last one of you,” he whispered.

Darius stood from his stony seat. “It’s about time we finished this.”

Pasta held Emilia tighter. What do they want with her? Did they know their real identities? It didn’t matter. He was her knight, her protector. If they wanted her, they would have to go through him first.

Darius frowned, his hand shooting up to catch something mid-air—a bullet.

From a distance, Shot lay on a branch, his rifle still smoking. “Damn it. Of all the hunters... why them?”

He fired again. And again. And again. Every shot missed its mark. What’s going on? Darius wasn’t even moving. How was he dodging?

Darius glanced toward the hunter. He had mastered parallel space to such a degree that he was always in it. The world was always slow in his eyes.

He picked the rock, he once sat on. The sheer size of it was half of a boulder. Darius calculated and prayed for mercy under his breath.

The stone flew with piercing speed.

Shot eyes widened.

But it was too late.

The entire forest was decimated. Strong winds pluck out the trees, taking everything to the skies.

Emilia watched. Among the broken woods, and leaves she spotted Shot’s bloody and broken body, his hands still gripping his weapon.

She screamed, reaching for her sword. Pasta grabbed her before she could charge forward. “Let me go!” she shouted, struggling against him, but then her strength gave out, and she collapsed into his arms, crying.

Pasta looked away. Rubbing her head. His tears flowed. He couldn’t do anything. He was too scared to move, the air was too heavy. He just couldn’t.

“I thought you defeated a true dragon,” Emilia whispered. Raising her teary eyes to meet his. “So why can’t you beat them?”

Pasta couldn’t meet her gaze. She’s right. He didn’t even remember how he’d beaten Valdorith. Was he deceived? Was the only fight he held proudly a lie?

His fists clenched.

Darius stood behind him. “Hand me the girl,” he whispered, kneeling so that he was at eye level. “I don’t want to hurt either of you”

Emilia held Pasta’s shirt tightly, her hands still shaking.

He held her hand and faced Darius, drawing his blade. All he needed was a single strike. Just one.

Darius smiled. “Admirable. Now... come.”

With a yell, Pasta swung his sword, aiming for Darius’s throat. Darius didn’t flinch. The poison that dripped from Pasta’s blade—he recognized it instantly. So it’s him, Darius thought. This is the boy who killed Valdorith.

With ease, Darius dodged the strike and delivered a brutal punch to Pasta’s gut, sending him crashing to the ground.

Pasta gasped, clutching his stomach, pain wracking his body.

Emilia ran to Darius, screaming.

“No Emilia!” Pasta screamed for her to stop, but she didn’t.

As Pasta reached out, a memory flashed before his eyes—his diseased older sister standing before him, shielding him from harm. A memory he had sworn to bury.

Just this once... let me do something, Emilia thought.

Darius released a slight burst, sending her asleep.

He caught her before she hit the floor, cradling her limp body in his arms, and began to walk away.

Pasta’s vision blurred with tears. The scene was all too familiar. Naga, the swordsmith—back on that beach—Something terrible is going to happen to her.

“Mr Swordsman!” He screamed. “Please save Emilia!”

Mr Swordsman kept fighting Thorne. His attack got stronger than the last as his energy increased.

Who do they think they are? How dare they!

Mr Swordsman fought and fought while Thorne used his fists to block each attack.

It was time to end it all. The sky above split, clouds tearing apart as the heavens themselves seemed to tremble. Mr. Swordsman’s eyes glowed a deep, blood-red, the unmistakable mark of his power—the Gift of Wrath. It was a gift that defied time itself, releasing the world’s catastrophes and increasing the user’s life force and strength beyond mortal limits, but at a terrible cost.

Thorne, sensing the shift, gritted his teeth. This... this isn’t good.

Mr. Swordsman heard Pasta’s cries, but he didn’t turn. Not yet. These hunters... they need to be shown their place.

He charged at Thorne, moving so fast that the ice shattered beneath his feet. Thorne braced himself, coating his body in energy.

Mr. Swordsman’s blade broke through the barrier. He roared, summoning every last ounce of life force he had. If he could just take Thorne’s arm—!

Thorne punched Mr Swordsman again and again, but the swordsman’s coating held strong, now more durable than before. Blood dripped as Mr Swordsman’s sword sliced deeper into Thorne’s flesh.

Pasta screamed for him, trying to rise to his feet, but his body wouldn’t obey. He coughed up blood, pain coursing through him from Darius’ earlier blow. He could tell Darius was holding back with that punch, why didn’t he just kill him? He rather dies than watch this. Watch his sister get taken away.

His only sister. I can’t lose her. I don’t want to.

“Mr Swordsman, please help!”

Mr Swordsman kept yelling. Thorne’s punches began to affect him, his face now more bloodied.

The force of energy dispelled.

“That’s enough,” Darius said, appearing beside them. He grabbed Mr Swordsman’s sword, flicking him on the forehead. The force sent Mr Swordsman crashing into the ruins once more, debris scattering in his wake.

This time, he didn’t rise. His stamina was gone, his vision dim.

“Are you alright?” Darius asked, glancing at Thorne, who was clutching his injured arm.

“A little treatment and I’ll manage,” Thorne replied through gritted teeth. “So, that’s the Weeping Swordsman’s gift.”

Darius eyed Mr. Swordsman. “I decided to spare his life,” he murmured. “Let’s go.”

Pasta stretched out his arm to them. He was taking Emilia away. More of the dragon’s memories flashed in his eyes.

He fell on his face, head to the floor. “Please don’t take her. I beg you,” he whispered.

Darius stopped and turned back. “Raise your head,” Darius said, angry. “A man shouldn’t bow his head ever”

“She’s my sister. I can’t afford to lose her, ” Pasta whispered.

“You can’t protect anyone the way you are now,” he said, almost gently. “But... you’re admirable. I like that.”

Bastian cackled, reaching for Emilia. “I’ll take her to Jinni. Don’t worry, boss.”

But Darius waved him off. “Change of plans. I’ll take her myself.”

From the ruins, Ryder emerged with the other masked hunters. “Our job here is done,” he said, walking alongside Darius. He cast one last glance at Pasta and Mr. Swordsman, his lip curling in disdain. “What a pathetic sight.”

The band of hunters left the ruins behind, Emilia in their grasp.

Mr. Swordsman lay in the rubble, barely conscious. I’m... losing someone again.

Sometimes, I wish... I prayed... I never received this gift.