Monarch of Slaughter

The moon hung high in the sky, casting a shimmering silver light across the vast expanse of mountains. The rugged peaks were adorned with wild trees and the rocky terrain glittered under the moon's radiance. The only sounds to be heard were the whistling of the night breeze and the screeching of crickets, their chorus filling the otherwise silent air.

As the night deepened, a scream pierced the tranquillity of the mountains, echoing off the rocky faces and sending shivers down the spine. The source of the scream was a young woman in labour, her pains ringing through the wooden house perched on a little elevated ground to the village. Beside her, a woman in her forties held her hand, trying to ease her suffering.

With one final cry of agony, the baby was born, a little boy with pitch-black eyes. But something was wrong; the young woman was bleeding heavily, losing more blood than she should. The older woman took the baby boy in her arms as the young woman lay back, a faint smile of contentment on her lips.

The other woman, the young woman's mother, watched with a bitter smile and tear-filled eyes as her daughter's life slipped away.

The mother's gaze remained fixed on the newborn boy cradled in her daughter's arms. Her heart ached with the realization that her daughter's time on this earth was coming to an end. But as she watched the baby's eyes close, she felt a glimmer of hope. 

With a bittersweet smile, the mother placed a gentle hand on her daughter's forehead. The young woman leaned back against the pillows, a faint smile on her lips as she looked at her baby. The mother's hand trembled as tears streamed down her face, mixing with the sweat and blood that covered her daughter's skin.

The young woman was still in her late teens and the childbirth had been tough on her physique. During the birth, she had lost a lot of blood and her mother had no means of saving her at that time. 

*

As the days passed, the tribe rallied around the boy. His grandmother became his sole caregiver, raising him with the love and devotion that only a mother could provide. 

He loved his grandmother so much that he didn't leave for any second, staying at home all the time with her.

In such a way, the life of the boy in that small village continued.

His father had been killed in a hunt, and his mother had been pregnant with him at the time. Since learning about their deaths, his mood had shifted, and he often wondered about the cause of their passing. Though they had died of natural causes, he couldn't help but feel unlucky that both of his parents were gone. His granny now cared for him, the only close family he had left.

The boy, despite his tender age, understood the weight of his parent's deaths.

The small tribe that lived in the valley of the mountains was a close-knit community of around 300 to 500 people. Their wooden houses were constructed on the hilly terrain, each one perched at a certain altitude to support the dwellings. It was in one of these wooden houses that a five-year-old boy sat eating his meal.

Aragon awoke early in the morning, his hunger awakening with him. After devouring his meal, he made his way to the open plain area. This was where the young boys of their tribe would engage in brutal brawls. Most of the fights were one-on-one, and the rule was always the same: might make right. Any disputes would be resolved through combat, with the winner taking all.

These boys were filled with hot blood, their impatience to hunt spilling over into their daily fights.

Aragon would sometimes watch them for the whole day, simply observing the fights. This has become a habit for him to visit these grounds every day.

His grandmother, Freja, was a strong and skilled woman, the only one in the entire tribe who was adept with the sword. As such, she was highly respected by everyone. But she was feeling helpless when it came to her grandson. Aragon was not like the other children, and whenever she asked him why he refused to play with them, he would simply reply that it was boring.

One day he asked his granny about the men with weapons. As he saw them leave for the hunt. He inquired about all types of weapons and what would they do. He talked non-stop and Freja asked him if he wanted to play with them. He nodded his head in joy with a face full of smile. Surprised and satisfied, Seeing that he was showing interest in something and that too in what she was good at. His nonstop questions eventually led to Freja offering to train him with a sword.

Late one night, past midnight, they both were walking towards the mountain peak. She said to him that she was taking him to a special place.

"How much longer Grandma?"

They walked for a couple of hours, he has seen nothing but trees and rocks. Feeling a little excited he asked her.

"Patience, My lil' boy."

"Remember, What I told you. A man should have patience. If not he won't be able to achieve anything."

"Hmm mm" Aragon nodded his head with closed eyes, imitating her.

She put her hand on his head. "Little brat."

She smiled and continued walking.

"Just a little more. It should be around somewhere here."

She looked around and spotted a certain area where the rocks were caved in forming an entrance.

They stood in front of those rocks. Freja raised her hand and placed it on the rock. The rocks vibrated for a few seconds and then an entrance was formed enough for them to walk.

She walked into the cave with Aragon.

As soon as they walked in the cave's entrance was back to its previous state. The fallen rock pieces were moved back.

They entered the cave, which was not much of a light cave. As they entered, a faint blue haze of light emerged from a certain point and showed them the way.

They both walked following the light. At the end of the cave,

The cave had a large space inside. It was just an empty space.

"Lil' Aragon, We may have to stay here for a while. Wait while I arrange something."

A bottle appeared in her hand, it came from the ring on her right-hand finger. Then she gave the bottle to Aragon. "First sit here and just meditate as I told you."

Aragon nodded and took the bottle.

He sat on the ground and drank liquid from the bottle. He closed his eyes and started to meditate. After a few minutes, he began to sweat. His breathing was starting to become haggard.

Freja with a worried look quickly sat behind him and placed her hand on his back. then a faint glow on the bottom of her hand. Aragon was able to breathe properly again.

It lasted for a whole day. They both sat without moving an inch. The bottle contained the elixir of frozen blood. That elixir helps one remove the impurities in the body and helps one to open the meridians, which in turn enables the person's body to have a free flow of mana.