ONCE A WARRIOR | dreamsmp

𝐱𝐢 - 𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐠𝐨𝐝

chapter xi , blood for the blood god

       I TREADED ON THE BARREN GROUND OF THE BATTLEFIELD.

       It was littered with arrows, tips buried in the dried soil.  Some were shot onto shields that lay abandoned next to the fallen soldiers, faces ending up disfigured.  I was careful to not step on the pitied corpses.

       In front of me laid an army of 50,000, all dead by my axe of peace.

       The irony.

       "Blood for the blood god." The voices chanted in a synchronization. It would have been delightful if it weren't suffocating me in its amplification.

I have committed a thousand sins to silence these voices.  Yet, they'll never shut up entirely. The voices always come back for more. They thirst for blood—the blood of anyone. The voices want violence, mass chaos, and insanity to be actuated upon all.

       I spat out the guck that made me want to regurgitate. I kicked some dirt over it with my diamond boots.

       Netherite they called it, a new discovery of this ore that would change the lives of everyone as well as the industrial world itself. Said to be indestructible by lava, assertive against whoever the opponent of the wearer is, amongst many other valued traits for protective wear.

       The soldiers in this war were fortunate enough to at least receive gold armor, some chainmail and leather, or just simply none at all.  Supplies were scarce.

       I, myself, was a humble farmer in my fields of potatoes before all of this calamity. I got dragged into war by a letter that stated messengers of the country will knock at all civilians' doors, and if old enough, will be drafted out in war against our neighboring kingdom, Shroomsdom.

       I had always thought of that name as unusual.

       But then again, the faction I'm established in is the Mesaire—home to the desert and much of the world's gold.  Glory and fame was what would be bestowed upon the fighters—although many could care less.

       It wasn't until the wars that the voices started to materialize.  My theory is that it is the anguished spirits are of those are deprived of their live from my hands, wanting to procure their revenge from cutting their lives short of what it should've been.

       The crepuscular light. The sun concluded it's departure of the day. I suppose I should call it a day also and make my way back to the site.

       I turned around and sighed.

       Though it was only for a moment—

       "BAM!"

       My shield withstood the surprise blow from individual.

       I looped my arm around.

       It was a teenager—or a kid, maybe a few years younger than me. They were covered head to toe in netherite armor, the enchants emitting from the defense. They had a slow burn flickering in their eyes.