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Sample Chapter #1

A cold night ensues in the world of Remnant. Stars above, millions of it covered the cloudy sky, twinkled like fireflies in the dark; the white shattered moon shoned as brilliant as it always be, illuminating the sky like a bulb of light. Somewhere in the region of Mistral, there was a large, remote village deep within the dense, gloomy forest.

Or what is left of it...

Buildings were destroyed; scorched, farms and houses left in a rural decay, and the ground is corroded with dried blood. The streets of the dead village is now littered with the lifeless bodies of men, women, and children who once lived happily here.

Mutilated.

Broken.

Dismembered.

It was a terrible, terrible massacre--a monstrous act...

And it happened a dozen hours ago...

In a particular part of the forest in the west, a group of three dozen murderous bandits were travelled back to their camp after their successful pillage. Clothes stained and stench of blood of the innocents. Some even had fresh skulls of the villagers they murdered, which were brought with them; as for their use is... decorations of sorts and others.

The journey was long and tiring, and the bandits had to carry all the loots they pillaged all the way back to their camp, due to them not bringing their pack horses. They could have if it were to made the journey a tad bit easier (if only someone among them had to informed it sooner than usual). They brought their lanterns with them to light their path, as the transculent mists sneaked to the forest floors, weaving its way between the trees like tendrils of smoke.

"Our camp is near ahead of us, to be sure." The bandit leader, with his greataxe on rest on his right shoulder, said to their fellow comrades as they laid their eyes on him.

"We must make haste. The night's already dark, so don't be a fuckin' rat and keep moving. Unless you're a believer in some scary bedtime stories for children. Makes you really think twice about setting foot on this place now, ain't it?"

Few laughs came from the members, their apparent mood was lightened by the joke in this dark forest.

Along their way home, the bandit group began mocking some of the folklores, stories and others they know off, laughing like they didn't really care. The sounds of their cackling echoed throughout the forest floors.

A member of the group is the next one to spoke up. "Then what about the rumour everyone is unfamiliar with? The "Ghost Wolf" coming to kill baddies and shit? Tis but a made-up story with a bad plotline." He chuckled, though no one laughed with him.

They were gone heavily silent at the mention of that alias. The air around them felt tense just hearing the word "ghost wolf". It alone made the bandits grimaced and shivered, even the leader is slightly scared in spite of his tough exterior.

Seeing all of them were in such state, the bandit decided not to mention that ever again, and bowed his head down in shame.

They were unsure that the said figure he mentioned is just as easy to be killed as any other person before them.

While on the way, a hat-wearing scrawny bandit is chugging down a bottle of liquor--which he stole from one of the villages the group raided--in one, big swig. It was one of the several bottles he had drank from their journey home, and this was his last. He throws the emptied bottle away, earning a sound of glass shattering in return as it hits the ground. The sound now echoes in the forest; this caught a few of his fellow comrades off guard.

"What in the hell was that?" One of them muttered loudly.

"Oh, it's just Tim being Tim; always drinks wherever he goes and throws away like he doesn't care. Just like every single day he does that shit." The other bandit answered, continued their travel.

After almost a minute of walking over the leaf-covered path, the bandit named Tim felt his bladder is going to explode at any moment.

"Piss time..." Tim quietly muttered to himself.

Hands covered his crotch, legs tightened, it is no wonder how much can his bladder store an absurd amount of urine after all the bottles he dranked.

With no time to waste, Tim left the group and runs off to a tree. The group hasn't noticed yet by the time he went away from them. Placing the lantern and his rifle next to the tree, he pulled his dirt-stained pants off and began to leak, to which, he felt a wave of satisfaction washing over him.

And it goes on for almost a minute.

Having done emptied his bladder, Tim put his pants on once again and went on his journey back to his clan's encampment, with a lantern in his hand, and the rifle on his back.