Another 15-minute write-off between friends. Once again, the writing is sub-par.
My blade sliced through his heart. He was dead before he hit the ground. But I showed no remorse. No pity. No compassion. This was war.
I removed my blade, the crimson liquid clearly visible in the midday sun. The incandescent light reflected brilliantly off my chainmail which was covered in thick leather. Around my neck a clasp held together the tattered and dirty viridian hooded cloak which I faithfully wore at all times. It was a small pin with an intricate design laid in silver. It was a symbol of who I was. Where I belonged.
I quickly moved to my next target: a man rushing forward toward me. I parried his weak attacks a couple times before I had an opening. I struck again, this time in the lower abdomen. Blood gushed forth from the open wound, spilling on my hands as I drove the blade completely into his body, the handle pressed against his skin. But it didn’t bother me.
I slid the blade out from the corpse in time to block another blow. I caught his blade in my own, and, grabbing his arm forced him back. That one second was all I needed. I swiftly swung my blade, cutting clean through my enemy’s neck, slicing the jugular and providing instant death.
~ :: ~
Hours later the fighting was all but done. I could see a few of my comrades still pressing on, but I knew the war would soon be over. We were victorious.
I surveyed the battlefield around me; bloodied corpses, many with amputated limbs, lay everywhere as far as the eye could see. A sharp pang of remorse entered my heart.
No, what is this? I desperately asked myself, willing the feeling to leave. But it didn’t. No, I shoved away any sense of honor or dignity I had when this war started.
Immediately my memory flew back to the past. Images of a better life. Before the war. Before I changed. Our group was created for the soul purpose of stopping those who performed malice acts against others. We had a goal of changing the world, making it at better place for all. Free from the rule of tyrants, criminals and terrorists. We had a code. A code sacred to each member of our group. A code of honor, dignity, integrity. We vowed to never become like the people we were fighting against.
But it wasn’t long until they banded together to declare all-out war. It was then that things changed. We transformed into the monsters we were desperately trying rid from the world. We abandoned our code. Our honor. Any respect we once had was gone. No longer were we heroes, trying to release the world from the grasp of evil. But we had become criminals.
Our code was broken.