The Fallen Hero King

The Sword and the Woman.

Author's note - This is my original story and it's going to be dark, twisted and very R-18+

So Enjoy!!

And do suggest a name for the main character, if anything comes to mind! I can't decide on one, need it to be majestic (maybe long)

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Under a dark, dreary sky, the light crept from beyond the dark cloud that covered the sky.

One ray of light sneaked across the dark trees and fell on the boy lay on the shining blue glass.

He stared towards the dull, cloudy sky - the eighteen or nineteen-year-old boy raised his hand as if trying to stop the few rays of light from falling on his face.

"So the legend was true..." He muttered.

The boy raised his body, sitting up - his smooth spiky black hairs shook as he stood up. His red eyes stared down at his body - there was just one piece of clothing covering his body, an old cloak black cloak with a few holes in it.

He randomly chose a direction and started walking; the boy wasn't sure how long he walked. He walked a while before reaching the edge of the forest - stepping out of it, his red eyes fell on burning lights in the distance.

The boy walked towards the light, reaching a village. The village had few arrows and rusty weapons lying around. The houses were broken, some people were fetching water from a well.

There weren't many people in the village, around twenty or thirty. A few men and women were wearing old broken clothes, sitting around the bonfire.

The boy went around the fire, sitting on the empty place on the wooden logs that the few men and women were sitting on.

One of the women glanced in his way, "Oh, we get fresh blood after so long, and all we get is a pretty boy?" On the surface, she seemed to be an ordinary village's housewife, but there was an air of warrior around her.

"Don't be so harsh on him - Boy! which Kingdom are you exiled from?" A man came sitting beside him, patting his back.

The boy raised his hand, pointing forward in a random direction.

"Isengard...the Kingdom of the Traitor King."

One of the men, the one with the scar, spoke, staring in that direction, "I am also from there." He suddenly laughed, "I was sent here for killing the bar owner. He dared asked me for money!!"

Crazed laughter rose from the people that surrounded the fire - it was as if they heard the funniest joke ever.

The boy stared at them before turning his eyes towards other villagers; the few other tens of people looked at this group with nervous eyes.

The boy watched them, his eyes darting between their faces. He stared at the fire, hearing them brag about their crimes and the reason why they were sent to this place.

He soaked information from them as they tried to brag - this world seemed to have three human kingdoms. But there were also monster races that kept the three kingdoms on their toes and stopped them from expanding.

The broken village where they were - it was close to the area that the Goblins ruled over.

Because there were so many monsters to fight and protect their kingdom from, criminals weren't killed. They were put under a dark magic contract and sent to the boundary areas to survive. If you could stay alive long enough and kill enough monsters, then not only you'd be forgiven, but you'd get a title for nobility. But well, no one ever survived long enough.