1 Take It All Away

For the longest time, a small remote village in the middle of nowhere, beyond the mountains and dense forests throughout the land, lived in relative peace. A population of two hundred people meant that it was rather easy to know almost everyone. Making friends was never a challenge and living a normal life was just as simple. If something terrible happened, everyone knew and the mystery would immediately be solved. A thief looting a small store wouldn't stay hidden for long. Celebrations, big or small, were often celebrated with everyone in the village due to how close they were with one another. 

     A forest was nearby for food and even water with the waterfall. The use of horseback was the common mode of transportation, and even the young children knew how to ride one. Not many had the chance to fight others in the village, only a few brawls started due to misunderstanding from the young adults. 

     The world outside of the village was also plagued with mystery. News from the capital city or surrounding towns a few miles away were never brought to the attention of the villagers who disconnected themselves from any more human contact. 

     Perhaps that was the reason why they were taken off the map in a single night. No one outside of the village knew of their existence, so losing them did not mean a single thing to those that destroyed everything. The Daemons, entities birthed from something that ordinary humans are incapable of understanding. A collective of all negative human emotion and sins was the origin of their existence. That was the only piece of information that years of research was able to gather. Their goal? Unknown. Their utmost limit? Also unknown. Their forms, personalities, abilities were never the same. One demon would never be the same as another. 

     "Why," asked a young boy, who observed the village in horror from afar after accompanying his father to hunt in the forest. The sky was red and the smell of blood was potent enough to be smelled from an incredibly far distance. The boy continued, "Why would anyone do this?" His question was unknowingly posed to the Daemons. Screams stretched across the land. Tears began to stream down his face as the flames raged on the houses and shops surrounded by those stone walls. 

     He felt his father's gentle hand pat him on the head. As he looked up, his father's stern eyes started into his son's. Kneeling down, his father said to him, "Stay here, son. The men here will go and fight for the village. We'll save everyone we can, including your mother. We'll be back to get you." He was sure of himself and the people around him. Not a single part of his body shook in fear, his determination overshadowed any weakness he might have had. His father stood up and brought himself up on his horse, and the men followed suit. 

     The young boy walked over and hid behind a large tree, one large enough to hide him. He was an obedient child, a sort of obedience brought up by trust in his father. The last thing he wanted to see is every single person in the village dead. If just a group of people survived, they could go and find another village and remember everyone else that could not go with them. Despite his young age, he understood that in situations like that, not everyone can survive. The world he lived in was a cruel one, so the belief in a happy and peaceful life was cast away. His only want was to survive in that very moment. "We didn't even do anything to deserve this. . . we were just happy being alone. . ." he said, his head resting against the bark of the tree, eyes staring up through the trees into the starry sky. 

     "I'll survive," he continued. While his belief in his father was strong, the boy of just eight years old knew of his basic human instincts. Survival was his priority, to live another day. "I promise you, everyone, that if none of you come back, I will survive in your place. Just give me the strength to go on. Please."

     His eyelids became heavy, his strength to keep them up was fading the longer he struggled to keep them open. Before long, his will to keep his head up also diminished, as he slowly slumped over before swiftly falling asleep, unknowing that the slaughter's end was coming on that very same night. An end that meant he had to shoulder the will of the people in the village. 

[ Skill: Will of the Undying has been acquired. ]