Chain Of Tragedies (4)

Blood and flesh splattered on Tain's face as the man hacked away at Dilet's corpses until there was nothing left.

Tain's eyes widened at the scene unfolding in front of him. His mouth opened slightly as he saw bits and bits of his brother's body being splattered everywhere.

'No…this can't be true…' Tain thought.

Beads of sweat formed on his forehead, his breathing pattern was erratic, his body trembling out of fear and he seemed to be muttering incoherent words under his breath as well.

As if trying to escape from reality, Tain stood on his knees, and grabbed Dilet's severed head—before hugging it tightly—embracing the last bit of warmth that slowly dissipated every second that passed by.

The brilliant light held deep within his pair of sky blue eyes began to waver as Tain desperately tried to convince himself that Dilet was still alive.

Nevertheless, the clear evidence of Dilet's death that he had witnessed first-hand just a few minutes ago prevented him from doing so.

A rush of undiluted emotions overwhelmed Tain as he kept his grip on Dilet's severed head tight—yet the expression etched onto his face bore an uncanny resemblance to that of a neutral expression often made by an average Joe when experiencing an average day without many ups and downs.

As the man finished his business with Dilet's corpse—he then redirected his attention towards the trembling Tain.

"So-" as the man brandished his pair of beautifully designed sickles "Want to meet your brother yet?" he asked in a playful yet mocking tone.

The man had a wide—creepy almost—smile etched onto his face. His pair of blood red eyes gave him a devilish look and paired up with the blood stains on his face could undoubtedly convince anyone that he was a murderer.

Tain felt his soul and his body shiver from the man's presence. But, he didn't know how to react. He was still perplexed by Dilet's demise, and couldn't move on from the traumatizing incident that had just transpired. Thus, all Tain could do was lie there motionlessly—not responding to the man's threat.

The man looked down at Tain's impassive attitude in disappointment. He had anticipated to receive even the tiniest bit of reaction from his victim—even if they were merely a child—yet to his dismay, this particular victim of his—showed no signs of being frightened on their face.

The man let out an exasperated sigh before he opened his mouth once again.

"Well, I suppose it doesn't matter. Give your brother my regards when you meet him." the man spoke coldly.

The demeanor of the man changed drastically—expressing little to none of his once playful and mocking attitude. His expression hidden beneath a barely intact mask he wore and brought out from the depths of his robe.

Taking a deep breath, he raised his right sickle high into the sky as the moon's light glinted off the unnaturally razor sharp curve—the man was prepared to complete the sole reason he was tasked here in the first place.

As the sickle descended onto the shivering Tain—a loud thud pierced the man's ears—deafening him, albeit momentarily.

Perhaps by a stroke of luck, the man's action was interrupted by the sudden emergence of an unforeseen iron blade halting his sickle from going any further than it should've gone.

"Are you alright, Tain?" a feminine voice awoke Tain from his deep shock.

Looking upwards, he saw Elena's bloodied white shirt in front of him. He felt an urge to say something—yet only silence escaped his lips. Even if Tain looked fine from the outside—his mind was still hazy due to being unable to accept Dilet's death.

The man grumbled at the entity that stood in his path—but his rage was short lived and was quickly replaced with a sense of dread instead.

Beneath him stood Elena on one knee. Her arms stretched outwards while holding her sword in order to block his strike. She glared at him with rage presented in her eyes.

The man trembled as he saw rage flashes by her pair of orange eyes. He broke in cold sweat as the rage became even more prominent within her eyes. Despite the mask concealing his expression, it was evident that he was flustered by Elena's abrupt appearance.

Suddenly, he felt an intense bloodlust crawling up his back, and in the spur of the moment—he instinctively jumped backwards and breathed a quick sigh of relief—convinced that he might just have eluded from his imminent death.

Elena stood up after the man had widened the distance between the both of them. Slowly, she took small steps as she marched towards the man.

In her left hand, she held her trusty sword with a firm grip. Although transparent, a yellow coloured aura could be seen encircling her figure. Her face showed her usual trademarked neutral expression—often found etched on her face while she was in the middle of training Tain.

The man felt goosebumps seeing the current state Elena was in. Despite the prominent rage he saw earlier—her walking posture exuded a calm and elegant aura oddly enough, and not someone who is overflowing with hostility.

The man then let out a chuckle as he presumed that Elena was still in a miserable state as all of her stamina was drained just a few minutes earlier, and she was just forcing herself to keep up her strong facade.

With him being convinced that Elena might still be in a feeble state—he advanced towards her with excitement lingering in his eyes. His once terrified condition had entirely vanished. All that was left was a feeling of enthusiasm with the expectations of killing the world renowned swordmaster standing so stoutly in front of him.

He soon rushed towards Elena—flaunting his pair of sickles as he sprinted at his so-called prey. Once he had reached an appropriate distance—he took a leap and simultaneously raised both of his scythe high into the sky as well.

With the velocity of his fall and combined body mass, he was determined that this attack of his would be powerful enough to slay Elena.

Amidst his descent, he had already fantasized how his life would play out upon taking the life of the renowned swordmaster. Riches, beautiful women, and power would all come to him once he had accomplished his task…or so he fantasized.

The closer his body drew to Elena, the more exhilarated he became. This was his day. This was the moment he would rise up from being a simple henchman to a notorious villain.

Just as his pair of sickles were about to hit Elena, the man couldn't help but to feel something amiss. Something didn't seem right but what was it?

As he pondered, he soon discovered the reason for his uneasiness. Still in midair, he saw both of his hands being pulverized right in front of his eyes.

Once he landed back onto the ground, his first course of action was to examine both of his hands. Blood gushed out of the open wound as flesh slowly regenerated to close up the wound. Excruciating pain rampaged throughout his entire body—nevertheless, he could care less about that.

The man's eyes darted everywhere, searching for his valuable pair of sickles. He soon saw his precious sitting atop of a pile of flesh—still perfectly intact just like before.

He let out a sigh of relief, but it was short lived as he perceived a thin, razor sharp object passing through his neck.

Once the mysterious object had fully slashed through his neck—the man found himself high in the sky. On the ground, he sees a pile of flesh lying in front of Elena.

It took him a moment to unravel and connect the series of events that had just occurred. But once he did, he soon felt the sense of dread he felt earlier, albeit stronger and more prominent than ever before.

His head shivered as he desperately searched for a solution to this unforeseen present. If a solution doesn't emerge from his brain—the likelihood of him surviving is almost a guaranteed 0%.

…