The Boy with the Aztec Code. •UNDER MAJOR REVISION!!•

6 (Revised)

⚠️WARNING!! TW: BLOOD, MURDER, GRUESOME DEATH, VIOLENCE. MAYBE INSANITY??⚠️

LONG ASS CHAPTER AHEAD!!
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Again and again.
The man's head made contact with the wet muddy earth as he begged for mercy, his skull being slowly opened more and more by the rocks mixed in the blood and mud, but his attacker paid no attention to his cries and pleas.

"PLEASE I -thud- DONT KNOW!! -Thud- PLEASE HAVE -Thub- MERCY!!"
The man begged, trying to not choke on the rain and his blood. The attacker stopped, slowly pulling the man closer to his face, and looked the beaten man in the eyes. As if he was searching for any sign of lies in his defense. Thunder rolled into the night as he sobbed and shook.

He didn't need to prove the man was lying, the mark on the man's left arm, almost as if it was branded on, ratted him out. And this pissed him off, he just wanted the truth. He needed it. And the man was going to give it to him or there would be a price to pay.

"What was your people's saying again?"

The attacker asked as he tilted his head back, his dark curly hair following in a sarcastic tone  as he looked up to the storm,
"Oh! That's right. The truth will set you free, right?"

The beaten man shook even more in fear, not wanting to answer which only pissed him off more. But silence proved to just as worse if he were to spew out words.

"RIGHT?!"

The man stuttered over his words and the taste of his own blood trying to answer the man, but could only shake his head.

The attacker looked deep in the man's eyes with his own deep blue eyes once again, before scoffing and throwing him to the ground with no mercy and a glare cold enough to cut through ice. But the man's blood was boiling, and all he could see was red.

"Relinquo. Exies a facie mea."

The attacker hissed, lacing every native word with venom and hatred as he stood up straight over the bloody man. He wipe his face of the red blood as the beaten and bloody Man scrambled to his feet as fast as he could, slipping in the mud and rain. It was sad yet amusing to the man. It almost make him laugh, looking like a fawn Strider as he stumbled over his own feet. All the weaker had to do was tell the truth the first time and maybe he would be given mercy, maybe. He ran as far as he could from the attacker, making a beeline to the Walled and guarded city just to the north, seeing its bright lights lighting the dark stormy night, but little did he know he was in the sights of the attackers rage.

Taking a deep breath, the man drew his bow string back as he noched the arrow, letting it rest between his pointer and middle finger as a guide. He slowly pulled the string back until his thumb rested against his cheek and steadied his arm.
With exhale of his breath, the hunter relaxed his finger, letting the lethal, handmade arrow fly.

It only took two seconds or less for the arrow's whistle to be replaced with a threatening thud, then gruesome gurgling over the rain and thunder.

Straight through the man's neck, the arrow sliced through skin and bone, drowning the victim in his own blood as he desperately gasped for air. The man fell to his knees as he uselessly clawed at the lodged arrow in his neck in desperation for air as his lungs were filled with the substance he needed to live, now being his death.

The attacker could only watch in hatred and anger as the man drowned in is own blood by his arrow. He felt it was right and justified. They took his betrothed, so he would take their lives until he could find him again.

Soon, only the sound of the light rain could be heard, no gasping, no choking, no propulsing blood. Just silence with the welcoming company of the rain, the tears of the sky washing away the red blood and the guilt of taking a sentient life.