Deathslayer: A Return to Damnation

Chapter Ten - The Poverty King

A man is more than what he owns. He is what he does, how he talks, how he walks, how he thinks, how he stalks. Life is a hunt for men like Styrkar, men like the Poverty King. Styrkar began to approach the looming bronze gate of Zira. Thanks to Proktek industries it was easily the most advanced nation besides, of course, Telemachus. As he trudged through the forest Styrkar came into a field. He saw beautiful crops of golden color glistening with the newly risen sun. He saw, as the Poverty king's men walked through the field with their arms replaced with huge flamethrowers and burned all the golden crops to ash. It was a sight befitting the past of Zira.

It was a city ruled by greed and separated by class. The upper class stepped on the lower class, and the lower class leeched off the upper class. That's all Styrkar saw in his mind when he thought of the Poverty King, a leech.

Styrkar marched up to the huge metal gate that separated those without a pass into the city from those with a pass. A voice echoed out, "Pass please," and a small slit opened in the door. A hand passed through the slit and waited to be handed something, expectantly. Styrkar grabbed the hand and pulled it with all his might. It came clean off, blood splattering everywhere as a scream echoed on the other side of the wall. "Open up, if you value your other arm," Styrkar shouted. A second layer of metal slid closed over the top of the door as the tower entered defense mode. All the Poverty King's men turned around, still wielding their flamethrowers and stared at Styrkar.

"What's the big idea!" one of them shouted as they all started slowly marching towards Styrkar, leaving the flames in the field burning behind him. Styrkar sighed before unsheathing his ax and unfolding it in his hand. "I'm tired and pissed, you all get one chance to turn and run now," Styrkar let them know. They all kept approaching. Styrkar began to march towards them slowly. "Your funeral," Styrkar said as he unbuttoned his cape and threw it to the side to make sure it didn't get scorched. The rest of his armor was metal so he wasn't worried. They all aimed their flamethrowers at him and began to blast him with flames as he got close.

Clouds of smoke rose into the air as they cheered in excitement at the smell of smoking flesh. Then one of them looked to the side and noticed that something was wrong. "Where'd Eyeow go?" a blonde on towards the left shouted when he noticed that his best friend was missing. The others looked at where Eyeow once stood and quickly stopped their flamethrowers. Styrkar marched out from the flames holding a charred and barely recognizable head with a metal implant on the side. Eyeow's head. He tossed the head in the air and they all watched as he marched forward and wrapped his fingers around one of the neck of the soldiers. His armor was glowing a bright orange from the heat and the man he had grabbed scream of the scorching pain he felt. Styrkar didn't flinch as he swung the man into the ground and then planted his ax into the man's skull. Blood splattered all over the dirt as he turned around and grabbed two others. He banged their heads together and they were crushed between his hands. Another one charged at him with a dagger, he punched his hand through the man's chest and tore out his heart. When another charged he shoved the heart down that one's throat and then picked him up and tore him in half, showering himself in the blood. There was only one more soldier left, he looked that soldier in the eyes. The soldier began running as fast as his legs would allow. Styrkar grabbed his ax and tossed it, it landed right in the soldier's back. The soldier was on the floor crying, "Don't kill me, please don't kill me- I need to see my son please-"

Maybe there was a time when Styrkar would've spared him, but now he grabbed the man's head and pressed it against the floor, crushing his skull under Styrkar's strength. "Stop!" A familiar Jamaican voice shouted. Styrkar chuckled and turned around to see the Poverty King's right hand standing behind him. "Jormungandr, how polite of you to come say hi," Styrkar called out. He folded his ax and shoved it into his belt. "You've come to join me on my quest?" Styrkar asked him. His face grimaced as he reeled back a large metal arm with a spike on the end. He attempted to stab Styrkar but the spike stopped at the armor. Jormungandr looked at him with surprise. Styrkar grimaced, realizing that he was pissed about something. "Damnit," Styrkar said as he grabbed the man's metal arm and snapped it in half. "We were friends damnit, don't you remember?" Styrkar told him. "Your little crusade of madness cost me my arm!" Jormundandr shouted.