The one-ton ball and chain wedged itself into the chest of a man, bursting through his flesh like it was made of wet paper. Blood spewed from his mouth mixed with the bile of his stomach from the chicken he had been digesting earlier. And before he was even dead, his ally tried to retaliate with an arrow shot at Loy's head.
The prince didn't even have to look behind him to pivot away. And he didn't turn around still when swinging his weapon again. The eight-foot-long ball and chain extended magically behind him, slicing through two more men. It was a clean cut through their torsos. Their top halves landed on the stage of the gondola and their legs toppled down the steps. Whoever happened upon the remains would have to guess which bottoms belonged to who.
The smell of copper had never stung Loy's senses as harshly as it did now. Not even the time his fighting instructors broke his nose. Not even all the blood he had seen in his entire life combined could account for the amount spilled around him now. Very little of it was his. Most came from the children and women. Their butchered bodies lay sprawled across the clearing in the small village's center. Whatever color their clothes or hair had been before, now dyed the same dark red, as was the dirt their blood soaked into.
The prince looked upon the massacre with his vision a crimson haze from the blood splattered in his eyes. His weapon's silver metal shimmered in the sunlight in the few spots that didn't have blood caked onto it. His only injury was a cut on his neck that drew down to his collarbone in one line, with a break in the middle where the blade hadn't pierced his skin. The attack had been on an angle and so was the scar that would remain there.
He surveyed the amassed corpses. Most would be recognizable except for the man whose face he had bashed in with the hilt of his weapon. Now that he had killed them he wished he hadn't ended it so fast. He could have delighted in making them suffer like the dying man in front of him was now.
His eyes gaped upon Loy like he was inhuman, like a psychotic demon, until he gargled his last breath with his lungs drowning in blood.
Loy stared the man down in utter indifference, his chest simply rising and falling in calm rhythm—his ball and chain, steady at his side.
YOU ARE READING
Algernon Black
Romance"Gods aren't born. They rise." Algernon Black is the most infamous boy known throughout his world for a prophecy that would make him a god if he sacrificed the one he loved most. Downcast and disheartened, Algernon never paid the rumors much mind, u...
