The Dark Invader

Chapter Four

Fear of Death, as an apprentice of an Alchemist and a part time squire, he had always feared death. Death was the only thing that couldn't be reversed in the arts of a skilled master of alchemy. It marked the end of all things. And he himself will experience it one day. He will not be able to take anything with him. Albedo had always been scared of death, and now he was facing it head on...

Blood was forming at the corner of the cursed left eye of the swordsman, dripping like a waterfall from the eye's corners. The situation is nowhere near being under control. The invader's demons have been unleashed. With the negative thoughts and emotions from such a populous city, the demons are now even stronger than they ever have been.

Those blackened souls clawed at the swordsman, under his black cloak was a set of black armor. It was no ordinary armor, made by the blackstone of hell, crafted by one of the three smithlords of hell, it was very heavy and it restricted movement for even the strongest of warriors, but with his inhuman amount of strength and power, he was able to wield it. The Swordsman's head was covered by what looked like a black iron helmet that was covered by the black torn cloak.

The armor had many markings for multiple seals that make the swordsman feel no pain; this allowed him to swing his blade even if his bones are shattered. This made him an unstoppable force to beckon with. At the cost of his life energy, the blackstone armor repaired and healed all wounds he gotten during his daily clashes. It acted slow, and it only heals him when he's asleep, as it's easier to drain the swordsman's life energy when his willpower isn't present.

The swordsman continued to charge at the entrance gate. There was something that didn't feel natural to the swordsman. It was as if something he been familiar with for far too long had changed. The swordsman's cursed left eye bled. The bloody tears still followed their same route, down the upper part of his cheek and into the scar that spread wide across his left jawline. Something was different. The tears felt heavier. A demon was now in the swordsman's line of sight.

The demon had different features. Now it is a big lump of red rotten flesh with 2 eyes and a curved mouth with sharp human bones as teeth. The lump of flesh had that reddish bloody color. The lump of flesh was actually what remained of the humans the demon had consumed to give itself a definite shape. Unlike what it was before, a sort of dark spirit that can only be warded off by some special enchanted weapons that can slash through those dark spiritual beings.

The bloody lumps of flesh stormed the city; the people were in a state of complete terror. Even the houses were no longer safe; the people's only hope is the army of their lord, Ulrich. However, Ulrich may have been a good king, yet, as all the ones that are cursed with the same fate of the swordsman, they fight to survive, they hunt the demons in hopes of living another day. Ulrich was one of the first, but he was completely burned out. He had been consumed by his own darkness. He himself had turned into a beast. You either die a hunter, or you live long enough to become the beast.

The cursed black swordsman is the last sane one of the League of the Eagles, all the others had turned into beasts, with their own demons controlling them. This was all planned by him, the leader of the league. He cursed all 7 of his commanders with this horrible fate, and the black swordsman had hunted four of the commanders. There are two left, and after that he can finally charge at his old leader.

Slashing through the crowd of fleshy demons, his giant sword slashed through eight at once, yet he didn't notice the mess he left at the entrance gate and the confusion with the guards. "Hey wait!" announced the young boy that had been following behind the swordsman, "Just what are you? How can you do that?" The swordsman payed no attention to the kid. He walked away in silence after placing his sword on his shoulders.

The boy followed the swordsman, until the swordsman got annoyed. The black swordsman dropped his sword point first into the ground, it penetrated the cobblestone road. The swordsman took off his black helmet and tilted his head to the right. His face wasn't chubby nor thin. He had an unevenly cut dark black hair, and his visible right side had a scruffy stubble beard on his right chin and extending on his jawline, with a small-sized long nose, with a green eye that looked so cautious, yet so preserved. It had witnessed thousands of things mortal men shouldn't have. It stared into the young boy's soul.

Albedo was still wearing his squire armor, his entire body was covered by tin armor, and his head was covered by a tin helmet. He hated iron armor, it had always annoyed him. It had always restricted his movement, and the helmet's eye holes were simply too small to look through. Thank goodness I haven't died yet, but he looks like he can cut through anything in his way. The little alchemist thought to himself as the great swordsman placed back the hooded helmet on his head, lifted his greatsword, and continued his killing spree.

The real monster here isn't the possessed flesh demons, the real beast still lies ahead. The cursed eye aches for the two cursed men, yet only one of them understands the reason for that. The swordsman can't stop until the end of this rampage. Ever since killing the other 5 commanders, he can feel that he doesn't have much time left. His inner beast had been forged through battle for years, ever since he was a young lad. The beast inside of him feeds on battle, it feeds on the blood spoiled in it. Hard fought battles now interest him, they give him this feeling of enjoyment, this bloodlust, this beastly smell, this satisfaction. Even if he dies while doing so, he must have his rival's head, even if he would turn into a beast, the will and wrath of the swordsman won't allow him to rest.