1 Forgotten Cliff

"Hack!"

Woodbane coughed without break. Ever since the great calamity, he had been alone. All that he had left was a broken sword and some used clothes on his back. As he sat there, bleeding his last drops of blood until he entered the darkness, his thoughts wandered to his past.

The everlasting chill that rummaged through his bones couldn't keep is mind from reminiscing on his memories: good and bad. His childhood, epitomized by carelessness, which he spent in search of the many joys and wonders the world had to offer him. Cultivation, the path in life that had both given him everything and taken it all away in mere moments. Love, familial and romantic, a concept that even now, thousands of years later, he couldn't truly comprehend.

At his peak, he had been an overlord of the Thunder Yang Domain. Above many and bellow one. Yet it was all for naught, since he now laid at the bottom of a cliff in a desolate planet, taking his last breath.

'Ironic isn't it. I sacrificed everything to achieve my dreams, but when I achieved them, there was nothing left.'

Woodbane's gaze moved to the broken sword, more of a token than an actual weapon. He had found it during his youth in an abandoned ruin, but it was no better than a random iron blade. He had kept it as a reminder, a reminder of his lowly past, to remind him of his roots and guide him in the future.

He had lived a good life, even if his end was unsatisfying.

In his final moments, one image stood out in his mind. The back of youth, imposing in his every move. His hair running in the wind as he strolled through a battlefield, leaving a path of blood in his wake. Even now he was still getting goosebumps, the Sage-Emperor.

The person he had dedicated his life to, to serve and protect no matter what. While he achieved unimaginable glory, Woodbane acted as his shadow. When he would slaughter an entire army in his wake, never stopping in his path, Woodbane would remain behind and cut any of the survivors. Woodbane took in the gory scenes of war and the blistering iron smell of blood in order to make sure he wouldn't be soiled in any matter of the word.

Most would feel angered over remaining in someone's shadow their whole lives, acting as a second in command to someone else's legend. However, all Woodbane felt was honor. He had served a purpose far greater than himself, far greater than most could even comprehend.

It was not as if he hadn't been rewarded for his loyalty, being given the title of Divine General of the Thunder Yang Domain. Still, anything that was given could be taken away in a moments notice.

Woodbane felt a myriad of emotions at that moment, worry and in some ways relief, but most of all fear. He was afraid about what was going to happen next, about what was in the store for him, about never waking up again.

The colder Woodbane felt the more tired he becomes and the more close he became to entering his final sleep. Even if he was still breathing, he was already dead.

Woodbane held the blade in his hand with the tightest grip he could muster, his last act against death. With so much effort that his hand followed by his fingers started to bleed, but he didn't even feel it.

Surrounded by darkness, Woodbane left life the same way he entered it, alone.